#Sad Quotes About Life That Make You Cry

[heyitslapis]

its times like this when i really wish i had an SO's shoulder to cry on

Because I think i factrued/sprained my foot the other day it happened wednesday but its still pretty swollen and pops when i try to walk on it without hobbling. i know i signed up for health insurance through work. i wrote down the insurance company name as Bayside and I have my personal insurance id number but the card never came in/got lost in the mail (and i already called for one replacement that never came so idk if theyll send me a third) so i cant confirm the insurance name nor call them, but i need to because ive called/visited 5 health care facilities around me and NONE of them have even heard of Bayside. So im calling the phone number that my manager provided me with telling me that was the insurance company. I keep calling the number (and mind you ive called them before to try to get a second insurance card sent to me but that was in like April) and i get that its saturday but theres no answer and the stupid automated machine wont let me leave a voicemail. the automated answering voice on the phone also says that theyre called National Benefit Plans by SafetyNet and google says the phone number im using belongs to National Benefit Plans out in San Antonio Tx (i live no where near there). I found National Benefit Plans' website on SafetyNetPlus dot com but National Benefit Plans doesnt have their own website, just through SafetyNet, and also the SafetyNet website says on a side panel that "this is NOT insurance" and instead keeps saying "health benefits" instead so idk what the fuck ive been paying for for the last 6 months tbh and im having an emotional breakdown bc i dont want to fuck my foot up for life just cause i couldnt figure out my health insurance/benefits shit

[asakurahaos]

genuinely kinda mad that youtiful sounds like a song a close friend would write for me and its by a random korean-australian dude and aimed at no one in particular instead

[hoshifighting]

𖧷 crybaby

— synopsis: seungcheol can’t help but be a crybaby every time you break his heart, yet he always comes running back to you, desperate for your attention. even when you leave him cold for days or push him away, he can’t seem to stay away. his friends and family don’t get it—they hate how you treat him.

— WC: 4.6k — WARNINGS: agnst, smut, emotionallly detached!reader, emotionally attached!seungcheol, crying, he kind of pisses his friends and family out because of his whiny ass, explicit language, blowjob, cock riding, clit stimulation, face slapping, choking. — inspired by: cry baby by megan thee stallion — ''his friends and his dad hate me, I broke his lil' heart, he's a crybaby"

seungcheol was such a fucking crybaby. like, how does a man that big, that beefy, built like he could crush a watermelon between his thighs, have the emotional resilience of a damp tissue? 5′10 of pure gym dedication and somehow, here he was, sulking like a kicked puppy in the corner of his own damn birthday party. honestly, you broke his heart so many times you’d lost count, but the man was like a boomerang—always came back. didn’t matter how hard you threw him.

his friends absolutely hated you. well, maybe hate was strong—more like they hated how he acted because of you. jeonghan said you lived rent-free in his head, which you knew was true. but the real kicker was his family. they couldn’t stand hearing your name. apparently, he cried into his whiskey glass over you at his last family dinner. like, straight-up sniffles and shaky voice in front of his dad. the boys’ nights weren’t any better; they’d barely crack open a soju bottle before seungcheol was teary-eyed, rambling about you like you were the love of his life and not the emotional hurricane you were.

but that’s the thing, though. seungcheol was built for family. the whole package—white picket fence, Sunday brunches, PTA meetings. meanwhile, you were emotionally unavailable as fuck. couldn’t even commit to a favorite boba flavor, let alone a relationship. and now, you’d ghosted him for a week. a whole-ass week. no texts, no calls, not even the stupid memes you usually sent him at 3 a.m.

today was his birthday. his fucking birthday.

the party at his place was in full swing—laughter, good food, good drinks, jeonghan and mingyu lowkey roasting him about his “girlfriend” (air quotes and all). his parents were there too, of course. his brother had even flown in. but cheol barely moved from the couch all night. just sat there, one arm slung over the backrest, looking at his phone like a guy waiting for a miracle.

because in his head, if you were his girlfriend—like, properly his—you’d be here. with him. celebrating, holding his hand, maybe sitting in his lap. but instead, he got radio silence.

“bro, seriously, what the fuck is your problem?” jeonghan hissed, leaning over the couch to snatch the beer from cheol’s hand. “your mom’s asking why you look like you’re about to cry into the birthday cake.”

“i’m fine,” cheol muttered, but even he didn’t sound convinced.

“no, you’re not. you’ve checked your phone like a hundred times, and it’s giving ‘sad loser.’ cut it out before mingyu makes a meme out of you.”

but cheol didn’t cut it out. he just stared at the screen, lips pulled into a pout so tragic it could’ve been a fucking Greek play. the hours dragged. one by one, people started leaving, and eventually, it wasn’t even his birthday anymore.

august 9th. 9:54 p.m.

cheol sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking like he was about to combust.

and then, his phone buzzed.

one message.

from: future girlfriend ❤️ - “come over.”

that’s it. two words, no explanation. cheol shot up from the couch so fast he nearly knocked over the coffee table.

jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “where the hell are you going?”

cheol didn’t answer. he was already grabbing his keys, muttering something about how he’d “she texted me.”

he hard his friend groan out in defeat, disappointment, some even surprised that seungcheol would leave his own party like that.

while you were still just chilling at your place, sitting there like nothing had happened, waiting to see if this man who you’d left on read for a week would actually show up.

spoiler alert—he would.

the door wasn’t even locked—like you’d left it wide open for him, knowing he’d come running the second you told him to. seungcheol stepped inside your apartment, and it was so you in a way that made his chest tighten. that familiar scent? god, it was everywhere. in the air, clinging to the couch, the walls, probably gonna soak into his clothes and stay there for days, torturing him. like you’d marked your territory without even trying.

he moved on autopilot, his feet carrying him down the hallway to your bedroom like he didn’t even need directions. the door was cracked open, and he froze for a second when he saw you.

you were standing there, slipping a sheer robe over your shoulders—transparent. and it wasn’t doing a damn thing to hide you. the way the fabric barely skimmed over your hips, nipples peeking through, leading his eyes all the way down to the hem that just teased your thighs… it was insane.

you turned your head slightly, catching him in the doorway like some kind of lost puppy. your expression was unreadable, but he looked at you like you were magic or something—eyes wide, lips slightly parted. pathetic.

you stepped toward him, and before he could even process it, his hands moved to your waist like they belonged there. your arms looped lazily around his neck, and the warmth of your skin had his breath hitching. you glanced over his shoulder at the clock on the wall—10:01 p.m.—then met his gaze, your lips curling.

“happy birthday… birthday boy,” you said, your voice smooth as velvet.

he exhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering shut like the sound of your voice was too much. his brows knit together in that pitiful little frown you’d missed more than you cared to admit.

“why’d you leave me like that?” he muttered, voice cracking slightly. “did… did i do something? i’m sorry, i—”

you didn’t answer, didn’t even flinch, because honestly? you didn’t have a reason. there was no deep, dark explanation, no hidden agenda. you just did.

instead, you pushed him backward toward the bed, your hands firm on his chest. he stumbled slightly but kept talking, his voice climbing higher in pitch.

“please, just—just tell me. what did i do? i can fix it, i swear, just—”

you pushed him harder this time, and he landed on the bed with a bounce. he stared up at you, eyes glassy, lips trembling. “answer me,” he whined, his voice soft and desperate.

“shhh,” you hushed, pressing a finger to his lips.

he whimpered at the touch, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “why—why won’t you just—”

your hand came down on his cheek in a sharp slap. not too hard, but enough to make him moan, his mouth falling open in a perfect little “o.”

“quiet,” you said firmly, watching as his expression shifted. the sting seemed to zap the fight out of him, his mouth closing into a pout as his tears spilled over.

“aww,” you cooed, leaning down to brush your thumb under his eye. “don’t cry, birthday boy. let me give you a gift.”

his gaze flickered immesiately. a gift? he nodded eagerly.

“you gonna be good for me?” you asked, tilting your head.

“y-yeah,” he stammered, his voice so small it made you smile.

your hands moving to his belt. the way he watched you, like you were about to destroy his dignity, was almost comical.

you tugged his pants and underwear down in with a graceful sweep, leaving him bare and exposed. his cock was already rock hard, flushed red and leaking precum that smeared against his stomach.

“look at you,” you teased, wrapping a hand around the base. his breath hitched at the contact, his hips jerking slightly. “crying all over yourself, huh?”

he let out a choked whimper, his hands fisting the sheets beside him. “i—i can’t help it,” he whispered.

“poor baby,” you mocked, your thumb swiping over the tip to collect the sticky wetness. his whole body twitched at the motion, his eyes squeezing shut as more tears slipped down his cheeks.

you leaned down, letting your lips hover just above him. “you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? never let you have it before, but tonight… you’re special.”

he nodded frantically, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “please,” he begged, his voice breaking.

you smiled, finally taking him into your mouth. the heat and wetness made him sob outright, his hands flying to your hair but stopping short—like he was scared to touch you without permission.

“oh—fuck, fuck, fuck,” he babbled, his thighs trembling as you worked him over. your tongue dragged along the veins as your hand played with his balls, and he keened, his head falling back against the pillows.

“so good,” he choked out, tears streaming down his face. “m-missed you.”

you hummed around him, and the vibrations nearly sent him over the edge. his whole body tensed, his hips bucking slightly as he moaned your name.

“gonna be good for me?” you asked, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze.

“y-yes,” he stammered, his eyes glassy and desperate. “so good, i’ll be so good, please—”

“then take it,” you said, and he did.

your tongue swirled around the swollen tip of his cock, drawing a shuddering breath out of him that turned into a whimper when you pulled back slightly, letting a string of spit connect your lips to his flushed skin. his chest heaved, his abs clenching under the weight of your stare.

you fold your tongue up and slid along the underside of his length, like you had all the time in the world. his thighs trembled as you worked your way down, your nails scratching lightly along the sides of his hips, keeping him still. by the time you reached his base, his whole body was taut, his hands fisted so tightly into the sheets you thought he might rip them.

“you’re so sensitive,” you murmured, letting your breath ghost over his skin.

“i can’t—” he choked, cutting himself off with a high-pitched moan when your tongue flicked over the soft skin of his balls.

you smiled against him, pressing a kiss to one of the heavy globes before taking it into your mouth, sucking gently. his hips jerked off the bed, but your hand pressed firmly against his stomach, pinning him down.

“stay still,” you ordered.

“i’m trying—fuck, i’m trying,” he babbled, his voice cracking. his head lolled to the side, his lips parted in a silent cry as you continued to suck and lick at him, your tongue tracing slow, wet circles.

your free hand moved back to his cock, wrapping around the shaft and stroking it slowly, your thumb smearing the precum that was steadily leaking from the tip.

“look at me,” you said, your voice softer this time.

his eyes fluttered open, glassy and red-rimmed, his gaze locking onto yours. the sight of you, lips wrapped around him, your hand working him in tandem, had him letting out a desperate, broken sound that went straight to your core.

“you like this?” you asked, pulling back slightly, your hand still stroking him as you kissed along his inner thigh.

“yes,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “fuck, yes. feels so good.”

“yeah?” you teased, your lips quirking into a smirk as you nipped at his skin. “you’ve been waiting for this? waiting for me to touch you like this?”

he nodded frantically, “always,” he admitted. “always wanted you like this. please don’t stop.”

you purred, letting your tongue glide back up to his base before taking him into your mouth again, this time deeper, letting him feel the heat of your throat. “fuck—oh my god,” he sobbed, his hands twitching at his sides, like he wanted to touch you but didn’t dare.

“go on,” you encouraged, pulling off just enough to speak. “touch me. you’re being good, aren’t you?”

his hands immediately flew to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he let out another choked moan. “yes,” he breathed, “yes, so good, i’ll be so good for you.”

you hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head slowly, your hand working in time with your movements. his thighs shook beneath you, his breath hitching every time your tongue pressed against the sensitive vein running along the underside of his cock.

“you’re so fucking pretty like this,” you said, pulling back just enough to let your spit-coated hand continue stroking him. “all flushed and crying for me. does it feel that good?”

“so good!” he gasped, tears spilling over again as he bucked his hips involuntarily.

you hummed in approval, your tongue flicking over the tip before dipping lower again, taking one of his balls into your mouth once more. the way his entire body shook beneath you, his voice breaking into desperate little cries—it was everything.

“you’re mine,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin. “aren’t you?”

“yours!” he sobbed, his voice cracking. “all yours...”

you pulled back, your lips slick with spit and precum, watching as seungcheol’s chest heaved like he’d just run a marathon. his head was tilted back against the pillows, mouth slightly open, a trail of drool glistening at the corner of his lips. his cock twitched in your hand, still throbbing and leaking like it couldn’t survive a second without you.

“cheol,” you said, your voice sharp enough to cut through the haze.

he didn’t answer. his eyes were half-lidded, rolling back as another pathetic whimper slipped past his lips.

“yah,” you hissed, your free hand moving down to cup his balls, squeezing them just enough to snap him out of it.

he jerked, his hips twitching as a choked cry tore from his throat. his wide, glassy eyes met yours, full of confusion, like he wasn’t sure whether to apologize or beg for more.

“you listening now?” you asked, your tone playful but firm.

“y-yeah,” he stammered.

you smirked, leaning forward just enough to let your breath fan over his cock. “good. now, tell me—do you want me to make you cum like this?” your hand gave his length a slow, deliberate stroke, watching as his eyes fluttered shut again. “or do you want me to ride you?”

his eyes snapped open at the second option, but he still didn’t answer. his mouth opened and closed like he was trying to speak but couldn’t get the words out, and you swore he looked like a little kid trying to pick between candy flavors.

“cheol,” you said again, your grip on his balls tightening just enough to make him yelp. “i’m not giving you both, so choose. now.”

he whimpered, his lower lip trembling as he looked at you like you were some kind of goddess and he didn’t want to disappoint.

“i—i want…” he trailed off, his voice cracking as his cock twitched in your hand again.

“come on,” you urged. “use your words, birthday boy.”

his cheeks flushed deeper, and he swallowed hard before finally stammering out, “i want you to ride me.”

“do you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as your hand gave him one last teasing stroke.

“mhmm,” he breathed, his voice shaky but certain. “please. want to feel you. need to—need to be close to you.”

you smiled, your chest swelling. “good boy,” you murmured, releasing him completely and watching as he whimpered at the cut-off.

you climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips as his hands immediately flew to your thighs, gripping them like he was scared you’d disappear—again. the way his eyes roamed over your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin through the transparency of the robe, and the big slit that have been created as the robe opened up, made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

you reached between your legs, guiding his cock to your entrance, letting the tip tease your folds just enough to have him squirming beneath you.

“mm..fuck” he groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. “you’re so wet. is that—fuck, is that for me?”

“all for you,” you lied, he knew you were mocking him as you slowly sank down onto him.

the stretch was so good, never fails to make you arch your back, his cock filled you so perfectly had your breath hitching. but the sound he made was way down pathetic. it was half moan, half sob, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“oh my god,” he choked, his hands flying to your waist as his hips jerked involuntarily. “you’re so—so tight. best birthday gift ever.”

you rolled your hips slowly, letting him feel every inch of your gummy walls, and his grip tightened, you can feel his strong fingers marking your meat.

“you like being used like this?”

“yes!” he gasped, his voice high and broken. “love it. love you.”

you froze for half a second, the words catching you off guard, but you quickly recovered, your lips curling into a smirk. “that so?”

“yeah,” he breathed, his eyes squeezing shut as you started to move again. “fuck, i love you. love everything about you.”

every roll of your hips, pulled more sounds from him than you thought possible—moans, gasps, sobs, all spilling from his lips like a declaration.

your hips moved in a steady rhythm, dragging his cock in and out of you in a way that made your thighs burn, but the way seungcheol looked at you—like you were the fucking universe—made it impossible to stop. you clenched around him, squeezing tightly, and his mouth fell open, a strained whimper spilling out as his fingers dug into your hips as you rocked your pussy back and forth.

you pushed his shirt up higher, your eyes falling on his chest, where his nipples were flushed a deep red against his tan skin. his brows furrowed in confusion when he noticed your gaze.

“what?” he asked, his voice hoarse and breathless.

“you don’t even know, do you?” you teased, your nails trailing up his chest. “how red they get when you’re about to cum?”

“what?” he repeated, his tone higher this time, all embarassed.

“oh, baby,” you cooed, leaning down to brush your lips against his. “you’re so fucking cute.”

his face flushed even deeper, and you felt his cock twitch inside you as your hands wrapped around his neck. his eyes widened immediately, his breath hitching as he stared up at you, his lips parted in surprise.

“you like this?” you asked, your grip tightening just enough to make his pulse race beneath your fingers.

he let out a strangled moan, his hands flying up to your thighs like he didn’t know whether to stop you or hold on tighter. “y-yeah,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “fuck, yeah.”

“then be good for me, cum for me, cheol. now.”

his entire body tensed, his hips jerking up. you clenched around him again, your grip on his neck firm as you ground down harder as the first waves of your orgasm hit you.

you raised your hips just in time, letting his cock slip out of you as he spilled all over his stomach, ropes of cum painting his skin. his head fell back against the pillows, his chest heaving as he let out a broken sob, his hands trembling against your thighs.

you collapsed onto his chest, your hand moving between your legs to circle your clit frantically, your moans muffled against his ear as you chased the last remnants of your own orgasm.

“oh my fucking god...” you panted, your fingers working faster as your hips ground against his thigh.

he turned his head slightly, his eyes hazy as he watched you, his lips parted in awe. “you’re…so beautiful...”

you moaned loudly as your orgasm hit you, your body shaking against his as you buried your face in his neck, your hand slowing to a stop.

as the high ebbed away, your body melted into his, your limbs heavy and your breath evening out. you let your full weight settle on him, and he groaned softly, the sound less of discomfort and more of deep, satisfied contentment. his arms came around you instinctively, holding you close, his hands splayed wide against your back like he never wanted to let go.

you lay there, your cheek pressed to his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. you tried to ignore how your own heart raced, guilt creeping in as you replayed the last week in your head.

sometimes, you really felt like shit about the way you treated him. seungcheol was too good for you, with that big heart of his—always giving, always forgiving. the problem wasn’t him. it was you.

you hoped he couldn’t feel the way your heart thudded against his chest, the weight of your remorse making it beat faster.

you lifted your head slightly, pressing soft kisses to his cheek, your fingers tangling in his hair as you gently scratched at his scalp. he sighed, leaning into your touch like it was the only thing keeping him tethered.

“cheol,” you murmured, your voice softer than you planned. “can i give you one more gift tonight?”

he didn’t answer right away. his eyes drifted to the ceiling, a small, thoughtful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“only one?” he asked after a moment.

you hummed, matching his teasing tone. “yeah. just one. better make it count, birthday boy.”

he chuckled softly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. instead, his gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your back.

“i don’t think you can give me what i really want...” he said finally.

you tilted your head, your brows furrowing. “what do you mean?”

he hesitated before he turned his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours.

“i want to be here with you... but knowing that you… that you actually like me back.”

he held your gaze, his eyes raw and vulnerable, waiting for a response that you didn’t know how to give.

“cheol, you know that right now i—” you started, your voice cracking.

but he shook his head, his lips curving into a small, sad smile. “it’s okay,” he said quickly, though the way his arms tightened around you betrayed his words. “i didn’t mean to ruin the moment. i just… i had to say it.”

you didn’t know what to say. guilt churned in your stomach, your heart pounding against his chest as his words echoed in your head.

he deserved so much more than you could give, and yet here he was, holding you like you were his whole world.

seungcheol let out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against the curve of your spine. “but since that won’t happen…” he trailed off, his voice wistful.

your chest tightened, the words striking a nerve you weren’t ready to deal with. you stayed silent, pressing your cheek against his shoulder, hoping he couldn’t see the way your brows knitted together.

“can you…” he hesitated, his fingers twitching against your skin. “can you come to my birthday party tonight? i know it’s late, but it’s probably still going. i’d love to see you there.”

you froze. you knew what he was asking—he wanted you to show up for him, to step into his world, even if it made you uncomfortable.

“cheol,” you said slowly, lifting your head to look at him. his expression was expectant.

“please,” he added, whispering in an almost pityful way. “just for a little while. it’s my birthday.”

you bit your lip, glancing away. the idea of walking into a room full of people who probably hated you wasn’t exactly appealing, but the way he looked at you, made it hard to say no.

“fine,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.

“really?” he asked, his face lighting up instantly.

“yeah, really,” you said, rolling your eyes.

he sat up, pulling you with him.

you groaned, pushing against his chest. “ugh, fine. let me get ready, then.”

he followed you into the bathroom like a puppy, leaning against the doorway as you washed your face and fixed your hair. his gaze was soft, trailing over you like he was memorizing every detail.

“stop staring,” you said, your tone sharp but lacking any real bite.

“can’t help it,” he replied, his voice warm. “you’re gorgeous.”

you rolled your eyes again, but your cheeks flushed anyway, and you hated how easily he got to you.

“you should get ready too,” you said, pointing at him with a toothbrush in hand.

“i’m fine like this,” he said with a shrug, gesturing to his wrinkled shirt and jeans.

“you’re not showing up to your own party looking like you just got laid,” you shot back, smirking when his ears turned red.

“fine,” he grumbled, shuffling off.

by the time you were both dressed and ready, the nerves in your stomach were in full swing. seungcheol, however, looked ridiculously pleased with himself, his hand finding yours as he led you toward the door.

seungcheol practically vibrated with happiness as he led you up to the front door of his house. he tried so damn hard to play it cool, to keep his steps measured and his grin from stretching too wide. but his chest felt like it might burst at any moment, the thought of walking in with you by his side enough to make him wanna jump like some kind of elf in a fairytale.

this was it. you were here. about to meet his family, his friends. his whole world.

he took a deep breath and opened the door, immediately met with a chorus of voices.

“finally!” jeonghan shouted, throwing his arms up like he’d been waiting for years.

“where the hell have you been?” his brother added exasperatedly.

seungcheol pressed his lips together, holding back a smile as he glanced over his shoulder at you. “i, uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down for a second before looking back up, his voice soft but proud. “i needed to bring someone special before the ‘happy birthday.’”

the room fell silent as you stepped out from behind him, your hands clutching the straps of your bag like a lifeline. your small, tentative smile was enough to stop everyone in their tracks.

you shifted awkwardly under the weight of their stares, the sound of the music thumping softly in the background the only thing filling the silence.

and that’s when it hit them.

oh.

this was the reason seungcheol had been acting so out of character, the reason he’d been spiraling for months. you weren’t just some girl he was into. no, you were a fucking vision. gorgeous in a way that made the room seem brighter. mesmerizing without even trying.

now they understood. now it all made sense.

of course he was crazy over you. of course he’d been spiraling. who wouldn’t be?

but the realization also came with a quieter, more awkward truth: this was the girl they’d all cursed out in private. the girl they’d ranted about after every drunken night where seungcheol had cried into his beer or disappeared to avoid them.

they exchanged quick glances. yeah, they got it now, but it didn’t erase the fact that they’d judged you before even meeting you.

a nagging question none of them dared to voice but couldn’t shake.

were you really worth it?

jeonghan, the one who never held his tongue, raised a brow and smirked. “well, shit. now i get it.”

seungcheol’s face flushed a deep red, his hand instinctively finding the small of your back as if to shield you from the inevitable onslaught of teasing.

but instead of cracking a joke, jeonghan just smiled and nodded, his eyes softening. “welcome,” he said, his voice genuine.

the others slowly followed suit, their smiles tentative but warm as they tried to mask their lingering curiosity.

and as seungcheol led you further into the house, his hand never leaving your back, he felt like he’d just won the lottery. because for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t walking into this house feeling defeated or embarrassed.

this time, he was walking in with you.

© 2024 Hoshi Fighting | All Rights Reserved

[skvaderarts]

You guys want to hear something really funny?

I've been slowly showing my almost 80 year old grandma Arcane recently and she absolutely adores Viktor and Jayce, but especially Viktor. She's made me replay the part where Viktor made his speech to Jayce when he stopped him from jumping in season one like 10 times, she loves the "I'm from the undercity" part, she started crying when he ran across that bridge, and she looked physically devastated when she thought he was going to step off that ledge after Sky died and kept quietly repeating "no no honey no" over and over again and looked away from the screen until Jayce showed up and she literally sighed in relief when they started talking. She's actively upset that she can't adopt child Viktor because she said, and I quote "He would have loved Legos" and "has such sad pretty brown eyes". She has started making jokes about the "wait, this isn't my bedroom" line when she goes places in our house (much to my mom's confusion because she hasn't seen the show yet and can clearly tell she's missing out on an inside joke because we keep laughing so hard about it) and every time that Jayce says "partners" she just goes "uh-huh" and laughs a little. It's deeply funny.

Well, tonight I made a joke on a discord call with a friend about Viktor and Jayce and I said "The question isn't IF their fucking it's who's fucking who" and my grandma, in the background, completely unprompted just said "Oh, Viktor is obviously the one taking charge in that situation. Look how he looks at him and touches him. Jayce is a puppy. He's gonna do whatever Viktor wants."

And I don't think I have ever laughed harder at anything she's ever said in my whole goddamn life. I didn't realize she was on team Jayvik THAT HARD LMFAO. My grandma is part of Viktor Nation.

W GRANDMA!

Side note:

She loves the soundtrack. She doesn't understand how music streaming works so I basically had to make a playlist that just plays What Could've Been, The Line, Remember Me, Blood, Sweat, and Tears, and Enemy on loop for her. She likes bass, what can I say lol! She has good taste. I expect nothing less from the woman who wants me to take her to a Hozier concert next year 😭 She also likes What Have They Done To Us and Guns for Hire but said she can't listen to them as often because it makes her too sad lol she's real for that.

... She also loves Isha... She doesn't know yet. She's gonna be so sad.

[nagichi-boop]

Gerald’s Journal - Disability representation

I read scans of Gerald’s Journal and I have to talk about it. Not the lore or anything like that, but the disability rep. I didn’t expect to cry reading this.

Please don’t look at this post if you don’t want to be spoiled about what’s in this journal. If you do want to read it, you can find scans here. Credit to this Twitter/X thread for the images I’ll use.

I don’t have much to say about this image, but it is nice to see Maria using a mobility aid. It’s not often we get representation for an ambulatory wheelchair user.

I do wonder about Maria’s relationship with her parents. They weren’t happy with Gerald’s wish to bring her to the ARK so that he could research a cure for her, but they let her go anyways? Maybe Gerald got some sort of order to get her to go or Maria decided she wanted to go with him, but it seems a little odd to me. I’ll expand on this a little later.

Quote from right page: “[Maria] is growing into a lovely young woman. It breaks my heart that someone as bright and energetic as her is diminished by disease. There are no visible effects, and I’ve caught my fellow researchers muttering to each other, doubting her illness. It is infuriating. I find all my reason and restraint vanished when she’s slighted.”

Oh my days, I’ve never felt so seen by a piece of media and it just so happens to be my special interest video game. I am tearing up again thinking about this. Maybe that’s silly but to have a character express his frustrations about people doubting the invisible disability of his grandchild is so touching. I wish people in my life were more like Gerald. People with invisible illnesses get doubted so much because we “look fine”, but it’s so invalidating to have your struggles questioned just because the symptoms aren’t as visibly obvious.

Quote from left page: “[Maria] doesn’t know the full scope of what [Shadow] has been designed for, but she understands he will be under tremendous strain. She’s helped me conceptualize a number of accessories that will help focus his power and aid in his mobility.”

So we now have confirmation that Shadow’s air shoes and inhibitor rings are akin to mobility aids. I headcanoned this but I didn’t know they’d flat out confirm it like that. My favourite character is canonically disabled physically (and I’d argue mentally given his PTSD). I don’t have much to say about this besides being happy that my favourite character is now even more relatable.

It also makes a lot of sense for Maria to help create them because she has experience with her own disability and can offer a perspective that an able bodied person couldn’t. That and it makes Shadow’s connection so much stronger. His mobility aids were designed by Maria. He didn’t just help her with her disability - she helped with his. He wouldn’t be able to function without what she and Gerald created for him.

Quote from the right: “Back on Earth [Maria’s?] parents have been blessed with another little girl. They’re already run tech(?) and she has none of the genetic markers like to [Maria’s] condition. While this was welcomed news, the unspoken commentary was received loud and clear.”

(I am assuming they’re talking about Maria’s sister, but I guess they could also be talking about her cousin.)

So did Maria’s parents see their new daughter as a replacement? If I’m reading that correctly, it’s so sad. Do you think Gerald told Maria about her sister/cousin? If she did know about it, I bet she was excited to meet her. But I get the feeling that her parents back home didn’t really care about her anymore given what Gerald says in his journal. It hurts that much more when you consider how much Maria wanted to go home, perhaps even return to her family.

I feel like all of this makes Maria’s death more tragic for both Gerald and Shadow. For Gerald, he did so much reason and sacrificed so much in order to try and find a cure for Maria. He supported her when no one else did. And from his perspective, despite her illness and the judgement of others, including potentially her own family, she was still positive. And yet she was killed, and he only found out about her death because of a report that had her name on it (I think anyways?).

From Shadow’s perspective, she is the person who gave his name meaning. Despite most being distant and weary of her, she was immediately friendly to him and helped teach him about the world. She helped created the devices used to reduce his pain and control his powers. He quite literally carries part of him with her. She was his sole reason for existing for a long time. And despite being this super supportive, kind, loving person, she was killed. I can imagine him being mad at Gerald for messing with his memories, but I figure there’s a degree of understanding, even if he doesn’t fully agree with what Gerald did. The difference between them both is Shadow’s purpose shifted beyond Maria while Gerald’s did not. Anyways, I digress - this post is about disability rep, not Shadow lore.

I love this and Dark Beginnings for their direct and indirect disability rep. My love for Shadow and Maria has only grown and I have a deeper appreciation for Gerald. I wish more people were as understanding as he is towards people with invisible disabilities.

I don’t really have a conclusion. I just really wanted to yap about the journal entries.

[prlssprfctn]

"Who Is Afraid of Little Old Me?" is so Jason Todd core, and you are READY for this conversation.

'The scandal was contained

The bullet had just grazed

At all costs, keep your good name

You don't get to tell me you feel bad'

You tell me it is not about that one time Batman had finally faced Red Hood, with Joker being between them - as a reminder and a choice - ended up throwing a batarang in his neck (while Jason barely hurt him) and never told anyone else about this?

Is it a wonder I broke? Let's hear one more joke

Then we could all just laugh until I cry

And you tell me this is not about Jason's death? About his last minutes with Joker, about how they forever imprinted in the core of his memory, to the point that sometimes he laughs at them instinctively, until the realization doesn't kick in?

So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street

Crash the party like a record scratch as I scream

"Who's afraid of little old me?"

I was tame, I was gentle till the circus life made me mean

"Don't you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth"

Who's afraid of little old me?

Well, you should be

Is it not Red Hood who is back again, trying to return to Manor to remind others what happened to him?

So tell me everything is not about me

But what if it is?

Then say they didn't do it to hurt me

But what if they did?

… I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me

You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me

Had Bruce and Dick ever wanted to hurt Jason, both in the past and in the present? No. Did it still happen? Is Jason still the one to live with these memories, unable to explain how it makes him feel? Yes.

So all you kids can sneak into my house with all the cobwebs

I'm always drunk on my own tears, isn't that what they all said?

That I'll sue you if you step on my lawn

That I'm fearsome and I'm wretched and I'm wrong

And if I say it is about Jason and all the kids that came after him that doesn't fully know who he is, but heard stories of Red Hood and violent Robin? They don't know a little boy who thought Robin gave him magic, the boy that died a hero — but they know Red Hood. And they heard of what a doomed, angry Robin he used to be.

And you hurt me

And you taught me

… You caged me and then you called me crazy

I am what I am 'cause you trained me

What is it if not Jason's POV towards Bruce? He is the crazy one now, a killer, a wrong one (not to mention these comics, where they actually threaten to send him to Arkham or Blackgate), but he is his father. His mentor. Still.

And some additional parts I want to add, because I think that they speak volumes too:

- "But my bare hands paved their paths, you don't get to tell me about sad"? I can't fully explain to you what I mean by putting this quote, but it is about Jason, crawling out from his grave (literally) and it is about everyone who stepped on the Robin path after. It is about his family making his death and grief about themselves at some point, leaving him nothing;

- "If you wanted me dead, you should've just said. Nothing makes me feel more alive" just one sentence — it is Jason about the batarang incident;

- A little detail, but I heard a lot of people complaining after the song's release that "Who is afraid of little old me?!" parts were at first loud, and they expected it to get to the full scream, but only ever got it becoming weaker, almost a whisper-like. And it is so Jason, too. Because he returns to scream, to yell, and he does at first. Until his anger washes out under disappointment and realization that he will never be chosen in a way he chooses people. And he doesn't scream anymore. Just whispers.

[wastemanjohn]

i'm not at all bothered about people disliking john because entirely valid tbh and someone else's opinion changes nothing for me. i just think the militant anti john brigade - that is, those that make up textually unsupported and entirely leftfield reasons to dislike him - are really missing out.

the thing is, we've got an absolute buffet of an interesting and irreparably fucked up character here. we could debate the absolute Horrors of john winchester and his a+ parenting for days on end literally from the two seconds of screentime he had. because he does suck! it's totally fair to say that canon john is selfish, neglectful and at best emotionally abusive. now i'm defo no apologist (see username) - but he's also the furthest thing from a cardboard shitty abusive dad. there is serious context for the things he does and the way he thinks.

john's life was hell man. his own dad, for all he knew, abandoned him. he went to war young and almost certainly came back with ptsd. these things alone don't exactly make life easy but then your wife burns to death on a ceiling and you're left a widower and a single dad to a baby and a pre schooler before you're even thirty? then discover that it couldn't even be a plain old housefire but no - there is actual Evil out there and you and your children are not safe and never will be?

the desire for revenge is understandable. the desire to do stupid and paradoxically dangerous things to protect your children are understandable. right, good or healthy? no. but understandable. and that's what makes a good sympathetic character.

basically i think a lot of negative readings of john exaggerate the badness of his intentions and ignore his humanity. it's also understandable that john is not a beacon of emotional regulation. it's also understandable that he cant always balance being emotionally and physically there for his kids with Fighting The Horrors. pour alcohol misuse onto this dumpster fire and you're not getting a perfect person, or a perfect parent. you're getting a broken human who was focused only on keeping his kids safe, alive, protected, and able to protect themselves. sure, he had tunnel vision about it. he did it very badly. he controlled sam as the youngest and parentified dean as the oldest. he made sam feel misunderstood and smothered. he made dean feel completely responsible for the welfare of his brother and dependent on john's praise and approval as his second in command.

john fucked his kids up IMMEASURABLY. he thought he was doing the right thing.

also - remember young john? remember how he's softly spoken and loves his cars and adores his girlfriend and respects his fucking elders and, to quote mary, "believes in happy endings"? remember the doting dad we see for like a minute in the pilot? is that not meant to show us that, had his life not taken the turn it did - he would likely have been an entirely different person? how is the tragedy of that not also completely DELICIOUS??

so why homophobic john? why john who beat dean senseless regularly? why john who gave no shits and wanted his boys to be miserable? why these embellishments that make him someone else, someone with nothing good inside of him, when what canon gives us is so much better?

come on guys. the tragic messy sad angry selfish HUMAN john we got in the show is an absolute treat. why are we making him an irredeemable, unfeeling and uncomplicated asshole who doesn't give a shit about his boys. ya'll saw him spending a good 50% of his screen time crying about how much he loved them right? and sam and dean KNEW he loved them. they also knew, or in dean's case came to realise, that he was a terrible father in many ways. real life is messy and nuanced. families are messy and nuanced. and imo spn got this so right.

[irafuwas]

some thoughts on how lilia views love

I’ve been watching through the Stitch event and there’s a bit of dialogue Lilia says that unfortunately made me Think, so I wanted to gather my babblings here.

This post contains spoilers for: Book 7, Tsumsted Wonderland 2, Lost in the Book with Stitch, Spectral Soiree/Endless Halloween, and Tamashina Mina

After spending the day fighting off Gantu’s robots, scavenging for food, and exploring the island, the boys rest for a bit in an old cottage they found. Lilia wants to take the opportunity to spruce up the cottage and make it more resort-like while they’re enjoying this “vacation”, and Riddle and Jack are both surprised and a bit peeved to hear him say this.

Riddle: Don’t you want to find a way off this island as soon as possible, Lilia Senpai? Malleus Senpai, Silver, and Sebek… Everyone at Diasomnia must be worried sick about you right now. I should think you’d want to assuage their concerns a tad bit faster!

Lilia: …Thing is, I trust them.

Riddle: You trust them?

Lilia: Mm-hmm. Knowing them, no doubt they understand I’m safe and sound and having a good time right now. Malleus and the others know I’m not the type of guy who’d get in a pickle over something as trivial as this. And that’s because they know me very, very well – just like family!

(snipped)

Lilia: It’s truly wonderful having people in your life who trust you and wish the best for you - and for whom you do the same in return - no matter how far apart you may be.

When you take this dialogue and look at in isolation of this event, then it’s a wonderful thing to hear Lilia say. He trusts his boys and they trust him - because they’re family, and that’s what families do. It’s always great to hear the characters themselves acknowledge their strong bonds with each other, and I thought it was really cute how Stitch got so happy to hear Lilia talking about his Ohana.

But when you take what he said and consider the broader story of Twisted Wonderland (vignettes and events, included), and you consider other things he’s said and done in the past… This dialogue just hurts.

There’s been small moments here and there that made me think Lilia has kind of an unhealthy(?) or warped(?) view of love. I’m not sure what the best word for it is, but I’ve noticed that he doesn’t like people worrying over him, he doesn’t like emotional farewells/sappiness, and he really doesn’t like letting others see him when he’s weak.  Additionally, he seems to value himself very little – he doesn’t think people would be worried about him if he were in danger, or that people would be happy getting pictures of him, or that his departure in Book 7 would hurt those around him so much. I’ll go ahead and put examples for each point so you all can understand better what I’m trying to say.

He doesn’t like people worrying about him

We can see this partly from the quote this whole post is based on, as well as from Book 7.

Based on his conversation with Riddle, Lilia’s way of thinking appears to be:

If someone trusts me -> that means they wouldn’t worry about me

As well as:

If someone worries about me -> that means they don’t trust me

But we do worry about the people we love and care about, don’t we? We worry about our spouses getting home safely from a business trip, and our kids making friends at school, and our friends acing the interview they’ve been practicing for because we love them, don’t we? And because we want the best for them. But it doesn’t seem like Lilia thinks the same way.

And to add onto this point, it’s very clear the boys do worry about Lilia a lot, contrary to what Lilia claims. Due to Lilia’s departure, Malleus brought a snowstorm to the island in his sadness, Silver considered dropping out of school and leaving with his father, only to end up breaking down and crying in front of their crown prince of all people, and Sebek used his one wish to make Lilia be healthy and have him stay with Silver forever. They were all worried terribly about him in their own ways, but it doesn’t seem like Lilia ever noticed (or maybe he did, and just didn’t want to bring it up for some reason. Who knows.)

At any rate, he also gets mad (well, more like tsundere lol) at Silver when the boy was on the verge of tears after Lilia took a nasty hit for him. (I know this exchange occurred with General Vanrouge, and he was quite the asshole back then, but he’s still retained that dislike for people worrying over him.)

Lilia: Oh, would you quit it with the sniveling. I drank the potion, didn’t I? I just to rest for a little bit, and then I’ll be good as new.

He doesn’t like emotional farewells/sappiness

He exhibits his distaste of sappiness in Book 7 and the Welcome to Tsumsted Wonderland 2 event. In the latter, when everyone is saying goodbye to their tsums, he mentions he doesn’t like the gloomy atmosphere. He wants goodbyes to be happy (and most likely, free of any emotional weight). The same can be said in Book 7, when he wholeheartedly agrees to the going away party the students wanted to put on for him, as well as when Silver mentions his father had wanted them all to send him off with a smile. I’m not sure if Lilia just doesn’t enjoy people getting serious with their emotions towards him, or if he doesn’t like seeing it in general. It gives me Macho Man (tm) vibes, kind of? Like, “don’t let people see you cry and feel sad because then you look weak” kind of thing but idk.

Lilia: Farewells are certainly sorrowful, but I hate leaving things on such a gloomy note. Let’s keep our chins up until the end. Tsum, your ability to surprise others was exceptional, and you made today so much fun. So long!

He really doesn’t like letting others see him when he’s weak

There’s still a lot of loose ends to be resolved in Book 7, one of them being the full extent of Lilia’s motives for wanting to leave so suddenly. It does seem to be he’s telling the truth that his magic ran out early, since he couldn’t muster up enough strength to fight back against Malleus when he was about to Overblot, but we don’t know if the real reason for that is just because he “went a little to wild” in his youth, like he claimed, or if something else caused his magic to deplete so prematurely. But we did hear him reveal a little bit of his motives when he was talking to Floyd at the party.

Floyd was dismayed he never got a chance to fight Lilia, and he wished he could’ve seen Lilia go all out at least once. When he asks Lilia why he’s dropping out, Lilia says under his breathe that he didn’t want “them” to see him so weak.

Lilia (whispering to himself): …It’s because I didn’t want them to see me so feeble.

Regardless of why his magic ran out and why he wants to go the Land of Red Dragons of all places, we know part of the reason for his departure is because he doesn’t want Malleus and the others to see how far he’d fallen from his former military glory. (sidebar: I have a feeling he thought he’d be a burden on Silver and co. with him losing his magic, and he was trying to leave so quickly to escape his shame towards his rapid loss of strength and independence (I imagine since he’s a magical being who comes from a country that runs on magic, him losing his powers must feel very isolating and limiting, like he’s lost a lot of the control he used to have over his own life).)

He doesn’t think people would be worried about him if he were in danger

In Endless Halloween/Spectral Soiree, Lilia was surprised by how much Silver and the others had been worrying about him and Malleus when they disappeared. Interestingly, even though Lilia is the one that Silver was the most relieved to see (it’s hard to tell with the live 2d models, but it looked like he went up to hug? Lilia and Lilia slapped his hand away), Lilia later says “I didn’t think you’d be so worried about us.” (referring to himself and the others involved with the party shenanigans).

(I am aware they changed this line to “I didn’t think you’d be so worried about me” In TWST EN, but I’m just focusing on the JP version).

I just found it weird that even though Silver was very clearly worried about Lilia the most, Lilia kind of redirected Silver’s concern over from “Lilia” to “Lilia and everyone else”. Did it make him uncomfortable to hear Silver was that worried about him? I’m not sure, but it just stood out to me as being a little strange how he responded, and how surprised he was that his own son would get worried about him suddenly disappearing.

He didn’t think people would be happy getting pictures of him

At the end of Lilia’s Tamashina Mina vignette, Yuu stops by Diasomnia to give him some photos he’d taken of Lilia on their trip, and Sebek, Silver, and Malleus are delighted to see them, since it’s not often they get to see photos of Lilia. Lilia is surprised at how happy they are to receive those pictures of himself. But why wouldn’t they be happy? They love him and treasure him dearly, of course they’d be overjoyed to have pictures of him to remember him by. It’s like he thought they wouldn’t care about him that much, which is really bizarre, considering the whole “even if we’re not related by blood we’re still family” thing he told Malleus before.

Lilia: To think, you’d all be so delighted just to see some pictures of me. I never would’ve imagined you’d all react like this.

He didn’t think his departure in Book 7 would hurt those around him so much

This relates back to what I mentioned in the first point, but there’s one scene that demonstrates this perfectly.

After Silver breaks down in front of Malleus, Malleus teleports both of them to Lilia’s going away party. All eyes should have been on Malleus with how strangely he was acting, but the first thing Lilia honed in on was that Silver had been crying. And not only that, but Lilia looked surprised that Silver had been crying. And why wouldn’t he cry? The one person who formed Silver’s entire world and sun and stars was about to leave him and go die all by himself on the other side of the planet. There is no reason Lilia should’ve been surprised at Silver’s tears, yet he was. And I gather that’s because he never thought the boy could ever possibly want to choose to stay by his side, to choose him over all the hopes and dreams he’d burdened on the poor child from the moment he could walk, to choose him over his real friends and his real family members.

I hope when Lilia “wakes up” from his dream, the first he does is ask Silver what he’d been crying about back at the party. And I pray to god they will actually talk things out and Lilia will finally apologize for how much of a complete idiot he’s been acting.

My headache’s coming back so to wrap this up quickly, my current understanding of Lilia Vanrouge is that he either doesn’t realize just how loved and cherished he is by his family members, or that he does realize it and just pretends not to. If it’s the latter, which is what I personally lean towards, I think he does this as a means to protect himself.

He’s already lost so many of his loved ones, and he very well may be putting up these walls around his heart and pushing away the people who love him just so he doesn’t have to get hurt again. We don’t know how he became an orphan, but his birth family either gave him up or passed away and left him behind. Even when Queen Maleficia took him in, he was always made the scapegoat for the princess’s schemes, and it sounded like he was brought up more as Levan and Mallenoa’s inferior than their equal. And then war struck their nation. And then his one best friend went missing and the other one probably gave up her life trying to protect the very child who'd go on to shatter the ice surrounding his wounded heart.

Perhaps with Malleus and Silver and Sebek now, he thought his best option would be to exit their lives before they had a chance to do the same to him, because he knew they would do the same to him. Everyone does.

As a final note, I still keep going to back to what he said in Cater’s Halloween vignette. I think this one line sums up his views of love better than I ever could:

“But the more precious a bond is, the more pain it can inflict.”

(source)

[creepyclothdoll]

I set Angel Free

All of this is gonna sound pretty mean but let me preface this by saying that this girl, Angel, thought she was God’s gift. And I mean that in the most literal sense. Like she’d literally introduce herself by saying, 

“My name is Angel, because I’m a gift from Heaven.”

She’d say it with this smile that was so fake and sickly-sweet you could taste your teeth rotting just looking at it. All her mannerisms were stolen from disney movies, like how she’d talk in this high-pitched little girl voice that she thought made her seem so cute. Like, yeah, yeah, you’re supposed to be nice to people like that, but it was so hard to tolerate her. 

So we messed with her. It wasn’t because she was in a wheelchair, I wanna make that clear. I don’t have a problem with people in wheelchairs. Just Angel. You’d feel the same way if you knew her. Honestly everyone did. 

She literally didn’t know where babies came from. Like one time my friends were joking about having Nick Jonas’s babies and Angel was like “how would you make the baby his?” And we had to literally explain to her where babies come from and ask where she thought they came from. She said, and I quote,

“When a mommy makes a very special wish, and gives it a special kiss and sends it to God, God cuts a piece of Heaven in the shape of a baby and wraps it in the wish and sends it back to the mommy, to grow up and be loved and kept safe on the earth forever.”

This was, by far, the stupidest thing I ever heard in my entire life. So of course I responded by telling her her mommy was lying to her, most likely because she was a whore. 

This made everyone at lunch laugh really hard because her mom, Ms CJ, was the school’s frumpiest old cat lady, and she literally had those 80’s coke-bottle glasses like that guy from Trailer Park Boys and the idea of her getting sexed up for dollar bills was enough to make you piss yourself laughing. 

Angel started crying and doing that annoying pouting thing. Frankly I doubt she even knew what a whore was, just that it was bad. I think she wanted to storm off, but it’s not like she could go very far. Which I pointed out as well, to uproarious laughter. 

Okay again, I don’t have an issue with people in wheelchairs. It was just really easy to mess with her. But this was the incident that, for some reason, made everyone think of me as the Designated Angel Watchman. Like, any time Angel did anything weird and cringey, everyone would look at me like they were Jim from the Office and I was the camera. And then if I didn’t say something funny about it, they’d get all disappointed. But when I did say something funny, it became the new Angel Thing Of The Week that everyone would be saying in the halls between classes, and I’d feel like a genius. Did it go too far sometimes? Sure. But that’s not my fault. All Angel ever had to do was act like a normal person for once and it all would have stopped. 

Angel was homeschooled her whole life until seventh grade, which is probably why she was so weird. 

I wanna be clear– she wasn’t like, mentally disabled or anything like that. That would make me look pretty bad. She was just weird. She was always singing by herself– pop songs, disney princess songs, sometimes songs in japanese from anime. She was convinced she had the best voice in the class, and flaunted it all the time like she thought we were gonna be impressed. She wore these huge ugly cat sweaters with glitter and frills every single day. 

And any time we watched a movie in class, she’d laugh this awful snickering long laugh at ANY joke and then bawl her goddamn eyes out if there was even a little bit of a sad part. It was so annoying!

She refused to do anything outside her comfort zone– no scary stories, no new foods, no games she’d never played before. She turned her nose up at anything unfamiliar.

So let me be clear: Angel deserved most of what we did to her. 

But she didn’t deserve what I did that last day.

Before I met Angel, I thought Ms CJ was okay. After, though, I realized she was batshit. She only let Angel come to our school for seventh grade because she knew she’d be Angel’s homeroom teacher and that she’d be able to flit in and coddle her throughout the day. Ms CJ was Angel’s constant guardian, which should be humiliating for anyone who has shame, but Angel loved the attention. She’d beg Ms CJ to stay with her longer every time she popped in during class. And that sucked, because I couldn’t say shit about anything cringe Angel did when Ms CJ was around, so I missed a lot of really good opportunities to mess with her. 

Ms CJ always sat with her daughter at lunch, which was honestly bad parenting because there was no way Angel would ever be able to make any friends like that. Ms CJ never let Angel join the rest of us for recess. Or for field trips. Once during a group project in French class, as a joke, I invited Angel to a made-up party in the woods. Angel replied by saying,

“I can’t go if it’s in the woods, silly! My mommy doesn’t let me outside!”

She said this like it was the most normal thing in the world for her, so I asked some clarifying questions. She explained, in her girly sing-song voice, that she’s not ever allowed to be outside for more than a few seconds at a time, and only when her mommy is there to hold her hand. 

“My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost,” she said.

“It’s not like you can run away,” I joked.

“I can run,” Angel replied, pouting. “Look.” She kicked her legs slightly. I heard the clack of chains. 

That was the first time I ever noticed that Angel was shackled around her ankles. 

“I run all the time at home,” Angel bragged. “I run alllll over, over all the rooms. I wish I could run here too, but it’s too dangerous. The windows,” she added, like that would clarify it. I was baffled. So she didn’t even need the wheelchair.

“Um, why are you chained? Are you like, under house arrest or something?” I asked.

“No. My mommy just doesn’t want me to get lost. She’s the only one with the key.”

“Your mommy sounds like a psycho. You should call the cops,” I replied.

The French teacher overheard her crying and she got me sent to the principal’s office again. But I swear this time I wasn’t being smart or anything, I was genuinely freaked out for her. I told my friends, who all agreed with me that it was weird. But I guess I hadn’t been the first one to notice the chains. The others who had assumed it was because Angel was like, prone to fits or something. That made sense for Angel, but it still made me feel weird and didn’t sit right.

My mommy doesn’t want me to get lost.

I started to feel sorry for her. She was still weird and annoying, but she was weird and annoying because her mom was out of her mind and wouldn’t let her be a normal kid. How was she supposed to learn to be normal if she couldn’t even go outside, for god’s sake? 

I still messed with Angel when she did weird stuff like quote anime characters in class and bring stuffed animals to school. But if it was ever just her and me, I was nice to her and asked her stuff about her life. 

Her favorite movie was The Little Mermaid. No, she had never been to summer camp. Her favorite time of the week was church. She disliked onions and wanted to be a vegetarian except that her mom was very insistent about her getting enough protein in her diet. She loved those Warrior cat books and wanted to be a veterinarian someday. She didn’t have a dad. Ms CJ took the shackles off her ankles only once they were inside their house and all the doors and windows were closed and locked. That was also when Ms CJ took the locked metal bar off of her chair so she could get up. The bar went over her waist and prevented her from standing. She wore those big ugly cat sweaters every day so we wouldn’t see it. Her mom didn’t want people to know about her special condition, which, as far as I could tell, was all made-up. Any time I asked about her “condition,” she’d just say some stuff about being a very special heaven baby or whatever.

“Do you ever think about running away?” I asked finally. “Why don’t you just… leave?”

She looked shocked.

“Of course not!” she said. “I love my mommy. Where would I even go?” She shuddered visibly. 

The shudder pissed me off. I blew up at her and called her a whiny scaredy baby until she cried, and I got sent to the principal again. 

 She didn’t even want to be normal. That’s what pissed me off the most. 

It was springtime, and the snow was finally mostly gone. I’d been in Mr Bevends’ science class before, so I knew what to expect that day– first real nice day of spring was always a “class outside” day. We’d go out and look at moss and leaf buds and stuff and he’d talk about natural changes during the season. It was all a big excuse for us to get outside– no one liked it more than Mr Bevends himself. He was so excited to announce we were taking class outside, he didn’t even notice Angel’s face go stark white as he led the rest of the class out the doors.

“I– I can’t–” she stuttered, but I interrupted her.

“It’s the most beautiful day in months,” I said. “It’s a perfect day. You’ll love it.”

“I’m not allowed,” she whispered, embarrassed. 

“You wanna be a baby forever?” I said. “Come on. You’ve never broken a single rule in your life. Live a little.”

After a long moment, Angel nodded. She followed me out the back doors of the school, onto the sidewalk. I walked next to her for awhile. She looked scared, but also fascinated by the dripping icicles from the roof gutter above us, and the ice-blue sky above, and the rows of black trees stretching up into the air. 

“It’s cold,” she said. 

“Yeah, that happens when you’re outside for more than a few seconds.”

“I think… I like the cold.”

We caught up to the rest of the science class, and listened to Mr Bevends talk about leaves and crap. Angel oscilated between this vibrating excitement and a frightened, hunted look, like her mom was gonna show up at any second and punish her for disobeying and doing one normal thing in her life. Angel touched the trees reverently. My friends made fun of her for “fondling the foliage.” I didn’t join in this time. I had bigger things planned.

When we broke off into groups of two, I went with Angel. My friends knew I was up to something great then, so they followed us, chuckling eagerly. I grinned back at them when Angel wasn’t looking.

We were supposed to identify different types of trees in the woods behind the school. I helped push Angel’s chair up the hill– it was insanely heavy. The wheels snagged on the muddy grass, but it didn’t matter. It’s not like she actually needed the thing.

“What are you doing?” Angel asked with rising terror as I leaned over her and produced the key. 

Everyone knew Mr Bevends always had class outside the first nice day of spring. It was really easy to slip the key from Ms CJ’s lanyard when she always left it out on her desk during homeroom. It was the one with little white wings on the chain. 

“I’m setting you free,” I said. I unlocked the shackles around her feet first, then the bar around her waist. She screamed at me to stop the entire time, but I knew I was doing the right thing. Someone had to teach her to be independent. Someone had to throw her out of her comfort zone. 

And that’s what I did. I set Angel free.

Angel rose from the chair. 

And rose. And rose.

Her shoes went over her head. She kicked her legs wildly as they drifted rapidly upwards. Angel shrieked and tried to grab onto the top of the chair– the handles, even trying to clutch a handful of my hair– desperate to stay anchored to the ground. But it was too late. She was already six feet in the air. 

Then twelve. 

Then thirty.

I couldn’t do anything other than watch on in shock as Angel shot up into the sky like a helium balloon. She twisted and clawed at the open air. 

It happened in seconds. One second, we were watching Angel make frantic grabbing motions at the ground, howling with terror, and the next second all we could see of her was the glint of the sunlight on her glittery pink cat sweater as she disappeared up into the vast emptiness above.

When Mr Bevends came to see what was the matter, all any of us could do was to point up. But by then, she was just a pinprick against the deep, endless blue sky. 

Then there was nothing.

[scar-lie]

Save us [Natasha & Scarlett]

Summary : You're tired of fighting, you're losing hope and giving up for your relationship with your two girlfriends who don't want to fight for you

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x Female!Reader, Scarlett Johansson x Female!Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Scarlett Johansson

Warning : Arguing

Word count : 1,723

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

You rub the side of your eyes, getting stressed by the endless argument you have had with your two girlfriends for four years now, and you're losing hope; you're losing everything you have to give for them the further you three argue.

You're getting tired and drained from giving all you have to them without receiving anything back. It feels like you're playing house with them, where they're going to need to go or get tired; they’ll just leave without considering you or your feelings, while you're left without anyone but your thoughts.

“Why can't you fucking understand that?! There are things that're more important than staying here. To what? ...to stay here, so you wouldn't mope around about how sad you are alone! "Natasha screamed, getting frustrated and irritated by the simple things you're asking, and so was Scarlett.

“I do; I do understand what you're pointing at, but you're not listening." You quickly shut your mount when Scarlett interrupts you, so you put your hand to your face, covering how broken you are.

“I act for a living, Y/N. This is what I do before you come into my life; this is my life. I can't just say to them, "Sorry, I’m going to be gone for a week or two; my girlfriend wants me to stay in.” That's not how fucking works.” They are ready to leave, bags already packed, already dressed up; only this argument is making them stay.

“And I save lives for living, so I can't just stop taking a break; just fucking think before you become selfish,” Natasha screamed, slamming the door shut on her way out.

“Not everything is in your favor, not because you're our girlfriend; you can just decide or dictate what we're going to do; you're just our girlfriend,” Scarlett followed suit, leaving you completely alone in your shared home, the one they bought because of how welcoming it is, how the house welcomes the natural light, how peaceful the place is, the big backyard where you're obsessed with growing flowers, fruits, and vegetables—this house is just perfect for their liking and yours. That's why they surprised you with the house.

This is your mark of a happy life ahead of you, and this is the house. That's why they surprise you with the house. “This is our mark of a happy life ahead of us,” “and this is our house that we will make happy memories,” they quote.

But now you're asking yourself if this house makes you three happy anymore—the same house the three of you are planning to have a family with and grow old with until your grandchildren drag your ass out to the backyard to play or do something interesting.

You're losing hope that this relationship will be the same; you're falling into a deep hole further and further down until you reach the peak, where there's no way out if you keep pushing yourself to them.

You're body collided in the soft mattress, your sobs are getting muffled by the pillow you're hugging—their pillow to be exact—soaking it with your tears, all the pent-up frustrating, sleepless nights, the feelings you're bottling are now erupting, making your body shake while crying, not caring if the neighbor can hear you—it's just all too much.

You have nothing else to give anymore; you're drained and done with months of arguing and please them to give you at least a little bit of their time, to put you in their first priority. You're tired of forgiving them over and over again, and you don't think you can open the door to let them in one more time. You have no cards to give to them anymore; all the best cards are already used.

They are again saying how sorry they are and how they are going to make it up to you—key word make-up "sex"—through text the next day, but you can't find any word to reply, so you stick with “ok, it's fine," laying your phone face down on the couch while watching some random movies, rom-coms, TV series, or just anything that can pass your time since you don't have anything to do.

But this doesn't sit right with Natasha and Scarlett, waiting for further massages that never come, or maybe they are waiting for your caring self to text them how they are doing, asking if they already eat or how's their day, or maybe they are waiting for your rambling or complaining about how’s your day goes, or how boring it is that your friends are being bitchy on the internet.

but that never came even in the following days; all they got was a short reply and a cold shoulder, making them uneasy through the next few weeks until they got home, worried and hopeful that once they step in the front door, you're going to throw yourself into them like you always do.

"Darling, we're home! "Natasha and Scarlett shout, dropping their bags in the hallway and locking the door.

“In the lounge,” you reply back, not bothering to stand up to great them properly, you're just sitting there in front of a TV while scrolling through social media.

“Hey, there's no kisses or hugs? "Scarlett sat down next to you, so you kissed her on the cheek, doing the same thing to Natasha when she sat on the other side, mumbling, “Welcome home,” then go back, scrolling down through your phone.

"Hey, stop giving us a cold shoulder; we're here. Isn't that what you want? "Natasha whispers softly, caressing your exposed thigh while trying to read you while Scarlett lays her head on your shoulder. The moves you know from the back of your hand indicate they want sex.

“I’m not in the mood.” You push Nat's hand and Scar's head gently, then stand up, going up to your shared bedroom.

“I think we should give her some space for now,” Scarlett whispered, following you with her eyes and sighing in frustration.

“She's just being dramatic, Scar; she's come running to us eventually,” Nat dismissed, going in the kitchen to drink some water and hoping there's food but finding nothing, so she looked back, giving Scarlett a smile, shaking her head while chuckling.

“Fine, what do you want? "Nat gives her a smirk, knowing her way to get her to cooking.

" Pasta, please” With that, they both chat in the kitchen, catching up and having a little fun like they always do right before you come on the picture.

Hearing them giggling and chuckling from the bedroom makes you hate yourself because they are happy without you, they can go to their day without you, and you hate how they can just continue their day without bothering if you're okay or include you.

So in the end, you just move to the farthest room, which is the guestroom. You three didn't use it much, but these past few months, Natasha and Scarlett have usually used it since you three were always arguing and they ended up sleeping in the guestroom while you're alone in your shared bedroom.

But as each day passes, you're feeling yourself uninterested. Sure, you three interact, but not like before, and today is another argument in Natasha and Scarlett’s minds since they need to go again.

“We're heading out now; be safe here.” Natasha kisses your forehead, followed by Scarlett, and you hum, continuing to read your book.

"Ok,” you simply reply, which sends a shiver down their spine.

“Ok? Aren't you going to tell us how workaholic we are? How come we don't spend time here anymore? Leaving you alone, aren't you going to ask us to give you some of our time? "Scarlett frowns while standing, and Natasha thinks the same way, waiting for your answer.

"No,” you're unbothered; not even a single emotion is showing in your face; you're just calm.

“Why? "You shrug at Natasha's question, turning to the next page.

“Why? "You chuckle sarcastically, making Scarlett uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to another and picking her skin, making Natasha step forward to stop her from getting herself hurt.

“You mean ‘begged you for your time? ’, what's the point? To make myself look desperate? Needy? Selfish? Self-centered? "You shake your head with a scrawl face.

“No thanks, plus whatever I say or do will never stop you from leaving or doing what you want; if you want to leave, then go leave; I don't care anymore.” Their hearts both sank down to the pit of their stomachs.

“Like you always say, what you do is more important than being with me for a few minutes, so I’m saving both of you and me the energy you needed for something and time.” Scarlett held Natasha's arm tightly, finding herself starting to have an anxiety attack, but Natasha was rubbing her back. Natasha felt hurt and worried that they pushed you too far.

Sure, she dearly loves Scarlett. I mean, they're already in a relationship when you join the couple, but that doesn't mean she loves you any less. You're the heart of this house; you're keeping them in their toes; you're their center; you're their foundation that's keeping everything in their surroundings magical; you're their Alice in their Wonderland; the apple in their eyes; their home in their heart; and their key to their locks.

In short, they couldn't function without you; you're the center of everything to them, so this makes their world turn upside down, but in a bad way.

“I-I wanna stay……I-I’ll just call to have at least 2 weeks leave,” Scarlett mumbles, getting lost of words, and all she can think about is being with you, to cuddle you, kiss you, hug you, and just be with you, and so does Natasha.

‘I-I wanna….stay too,” but before they can dial a number, you quickly stop them.

“Oh no, please don't. Don't let me hold you back. Just because I speak what's on my mind, please do leave and go on with your week.” You give them a tight smile, then go back to reading.

But the two shake their heads no, wanting to be as close to you as possible, but before they can approach the bed, their whole world crashes into pieces.

“Besides, I’ve fallen out of love.”

[multi-fandom-imagine]

•EVEN MORE THE BLUE EYE SAMURAI INCORRECT QUOTES•

Reader: Do you ever do anything except whine like a little bitch.

Taigen: Some times I whine like a big Bitch!

Ringo: Do you think when Butterflies are in love that they feel human's in their stomach?

Reader: Ringo! What the fuck!

Reader: • • •_-• - / ... - •_• •_• -.-

Mizu: What is that

Reader: Remorse Code.

Mizu: I am even angery now.

Reader: Hey Mizu, what are you eating?

Mizu: A family sized bag of sweets.

Reader...that's not family sized....that's regular sized....

Mizu:Everything is family sized when you dont have a family.

Reader: *whispering* Mizu...nOo

Reader: *Laying in bed* Do you think birds get sad for not having arms?

Mizu: Well do you get sad for not having wings?

Reader: *Choke up* Every single day.

Taigen: If I say I love you will you say it back?

Reader: Yes

Taigen: I love you

Reader: It back

*Five Minutes later*

Mizu: Why is Taigen sobbing face down on the floor?

Reader: I wish I could block people in real life.

Akemi: Restraining order

Mizu: Murder

Reader: What are you five?

Taigen: Yea! Five head's taller than you.

Reader:

Taigen:

Reader:

Taigen:....Please don't kill me.

Mizu: Are you high?

Reader: Am I what?

Mizu: High?

Reader: Hello.

Taigen: Can you be quiet?! I'm trying to think.

Reader: Don't worry. Doing anything for the first time is difficult.

Mizu: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO-

Reader: It was me...

Mizu: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

Reader: Why are you on the floor?

Mizu: I’m depressed.

Mizu: Also I was stabbed, can you get Ringo, please

Taigen: I guess I’m just a bad person.

Reader: Nah, you’re not a bad person. You’re a terrific person. You’re my favourite person. But sometimes you can be a real cunt

Reader: Hey Mizu?

Mizu, internally: There they are. My favorite person in the world, the love of my life. Fuck I just want to stare at them and hold them and kiss them for the rest of my life—

Mizu: What the FUCK do you want?

Akemi staring at Reader: “You look like an angel.”

Reader who wasn’t paying attention: “What?”

Akemi: “I said you look ugly at every angle.”

Mizu *screeching*: YOU MEAN A LOT TO ME!

Reader: wh-

Mizu: YOU’RE ESSENTIAL TO MY EXISTENCE!

Reader:why are you screaming??

Mizu: BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF! IT HELPS TO YELL SENTIMENTAL THINGS IN AN AGRESSIVE TONE!

Reader: I-

Mizu: I FUCKING LOVE YOU!

Ringo: Wow, it’s a barren featureless wasteland out there isn’t it?

Reader: … Ringo, try turning the map around.

Reader: You’re mad at me.

Mizu: I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.

Reader: Oh, come on. Everyone knows that’s worse

Mizu: Don’t worry, you’ve got everything you need to defeat them.

Reader: The power to believe in myself?

Mizu: No, a Sword.

Mizu: Stab them.

Reader: Don’t kill me, I have a wife

Assassin: I don’t care about that

Reader: That wasn’t a plea for mercy, that was a warning

Mizu kicking the door down: You called, love?

Reader: Here you are, Mizu. Nice hot cup of tea.

Mizu: …It’s cold.

Reader: Nice cup of tea.

Mizu: It’s horrible.

Reader: Cup of tea.

Mizu: I’m not even sure it is tea.

Reader: Cup.

Reader: You need to react when people cry.

Mizu: I did, I rolled my eyes.

Reader: Gotta love knitting needles, I can make a scarf, I can make a hat, I can stab someones eyes out, I can make mittens.

Akemi: What was that middle part?

Reader: I can make a hat?

Mizu: How much sleep did you get?

Reader: Eight.

Mizu: Hours?

Reader: Minutes. God! Taigen, would you shut the fuck up?

Taigen*Fixing his hair*: What the fuck? I didn’t even say anything!

Taigen: how come you’ve been abnormally nice to me lately?

Reader what do you mean?

Taigen: you just seem nicer than usual

Mizu: They can punch you in the face if you want.

Fowler: I could kill you if I wanted.

Reader: Yeah? So could any other human being. So could a dog. So could a dedicated duck. You aren't special.

Akemi: Did you really have to stab him?

Reader: You weren't there, you didn't hear what he said to me.

Akemi: And what did he say?

Reader: "What are you gonna do? Stab me?"

Mizu, nodding: That's fair.

Akemi: NO!

Reader: *Screams*

Taigen: *Screams louder to establish dominance*

Ringo: Should we do something?

Mizu: No, I want to see who wins.

Ringo:Let's speak about our talents.

Ringo:...I'll start, I like to cook.

Akemi: I'm good at languages.

Reader: I'm good instruments.

Mizu: I'm good at killing people.

Reader: *Does something stupid*

Mizu: What an absolute fucking idiot.

Mizu: I can't believe I would die for them.

[thatfandomslut]

The Wedding Song

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 1k

Trigger Warnings: Regina & Reader are in their 20s, Reader is about to marry someone else, Regina stops the wedding (a bit of Speak Now vibes), steam The Wedding Song by Renee Rapp

Requests:

Valentine's Day / Followers Celebration; Regina George w/ quote 54 and piece of chocolate 8. Or: "Choose me. Marry me. Let me make you happy.” w/ crushing

This was messy but it's just a silly goofy fic, so I hope you enjoy.

Valentine's / Followers Celebration Requests are closed.

Being (Y/n)'s maid of honor was a bittersweet feeling for Regina. Standing beside (Y/n) during the rehearsal dinner, she felt queasy. In high school, she would have been able to get with whoever she wanted. Now, the person Regina wanted most in the world was about to marry someone else, and Regina felt like her whole world was falling apart. She was happy for (Y/n), and she was happy that (Y/n) trusted and loved her enough to ask her to be her maid of honor out of everyone, but a bigger part of Regina felt sad and hurt that (Y/n) would never feel that way about her.

She always felt like (Y/n) was her world, she set her world on fire. But (Y/n) was standing in front of another person with a giant grin, beaming. Regina felt guilty that she felt all these ways for her. She didn't know if she should approach (Y/n) and tell her just how she felt. What would it even achieve? In the end, there was an even bigger chance that it would tear their friendship apart, and she wasn't sure she could survive in a world without (Y/n). With that said, did the long-lasting stare across the wedding hall mean nothing to (Y/n)? Their eyes were set on each other for so long, and (Y/n) was no longer grinning at her partner, she was grinning at Regina.

"Are you ready to go? It's going to be a long night. I hope you have enough party left in you after this… exhilarating dinner." Regina smirked as (Y/n) approached her. She had just wished her grandparents a good night. She looked beautiful in her white dress. It wasn't her wedding dress, but Regina would marry her in it anyway. She was stunning. Regina cleared her throat to stop herself from looking at the girl in front of her up and down. She couldn't help her eyes. They trailed without thinking of the repercussions if caught. "I think you're going to have a fun night."

(Y/n) beamed up at Regina before hugging her tightly. Regina's eyes widened as she hugged back. "Thank you for being here Regina. I don't think I could do any of this without you." She whispered into Regina's neck, and all of a sudden Regina felt like she could cry. Repressing her feelings, Regina threw on a smile as she rubbed the girl's back. Then, she guided her to the limo that she had her dad pay for in full. She worked for him, therefore; she could still use his money whenever she so pleased. She was going to make sure that (Y/n)'s last night without another's last name attached to hers would be the best night of her life. Maybe, Regina decided, she needed it more than the bride-to-be.

As (Y/n) and Regina sat by each other, despite the rest of the party dancing out on the floor, (Y/n) swirled her drink in the glass she had. Regina's head was getting foggy as the night went on. She wondered if she would remember this in the morning. "Are you doing okay, Regina?" (Y/n) questioned, gently placing her hand on Regina's thigh. That was dangerous territory, and it made the blonde gulp as she looked over to her with a nod. "I was only saying that this whole wedding is weird for me to think about. I just… I hope this doesn't ruin anything between us, but… I always thought we'd be the ones getting married." (Y/n) confessed, though it was obvious she was just as drunk as Regina.

Regina then wondered if she would remember this in the morning either. She wouldn't dare kiss (Y/n). She knew that she was taken, even if (Y/n)'s words made her lips more kissable. "If you were to tell me not to marry them, I wouldn't marry them. I would break it off right now, and I would run away with you. That's fucked though, isn't it?" She wondered out loud. To be honest, it was. But Regina was learning that she didn't care if it was fucked. The girl she had crushed on since their freshman year of college was into her, and she'd be damned if she passed up on this opportunity.

Regina's hands fell onto (Y/n)'s shoulder, and she looked at (Y/n) like the world was ending. "Then do it. Choose me. Marry me. Let me make you happy." Regina practically begged, and (Y/n) looked at her as if she were sobering up. Her brows had furrowed and she stared at Regina for a long moment. She was beginning to give up hope until (Y/n) stood up. There was a new determination in her eyes as she nodded.

"Isn't this fucked up though? What would I say to them? At least let me go to their place." (Y/n) said, feeling dizzy. She didn't know if it was the alcohol or the decision to run away with Regina making her feel so ill. Regina nodded in understanding and maybe it was because she was drunk and in love, too, that she called a cab for them. When they got to the hotel, (Y/n) knocked on the door, and went inside the hotel room. Regina sat outside the room, and she stared at the ugly carpet that was peeling slightly. She felt gross. Partially because of the carpet, and partially because she was having (Y/n) break up with her partner over a drunk conversation.

When (Y/n) emerged, she had a giant smile. "It's over, it can just be us now." Despite how crazy this was, the two girls ran. Just like that, they decided that they would marry each other the next day. (Y/n)'s partner confessed they always knew, and that they would always support her. They agreed to be friends, despite it all. "I will marry you," (Y/n) whispered softly.

[psychebutterflysol]

𝟬𝟬. 𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂

a/u: an expanded version of this drabble right here. i want to flesh the reader's background out a bit more, and their relationship with their 'spouse' too. remember that unreliable narrator is a very real thing thing.

warning: toxic relationship, implied dead and blood, stuff happens.

where did it begin?

all this ridiculous, unfair, and blindly foolish surferring.

eyes of ones you once regarded as mere characters you once enjoyed and loved, bore into your tattered form, puncturing into the fresh wound that dripped red.

'imposter!' they sang in their accusatory timbre, satisfied laughs and a saccharine cheerfulness you could taste on the tip of your tongue. As if there was an invisible force, your lips were sealed tights. eyes sore from nights of weeping, prayers falling deaf to anyone but the celestial. you had cried your heart out, to the point there was no tear left to pour. some words didn't make it into your ears, and as you were forced to kneel, humiliation overtook your heart, you glimpsed at her weeping form. your blood boiled at her audacity to cry, for all of these moments that led to this outcome caused by her. 

wasn't it ironic? for she was the one who once so lovingly looked at you, for this was the person you shared warmth with at night and touches of laughter by days.

your life was normal, halting from a well-off family and wrapping up with a high-paid job. in truth, your parents' marriage wasn't that of love, but benefitting the two parties. born as the youngest child, you were allowed to have no involvement in the dull lessons from private tutors to become a perfect heir. your older sister and you had a complex relationship, one sired from a shared trauma. the earliest memories about your parents were their backs, hands clutched in papers, and eyes glued to computer screens. every so often they would spare you a glance, and say nothing. there was no affection, nor the saccharine name callings, as if this union was another cold business. it didn't surprise you when you witnessed the blatant affairs of your father, and how your older sister shut you down whenever it was mentioned. you were indifferent, but a little irritated since you noticed how your father's mistress looked at you funny. additionally, she always fiddled with your mom's white rose pin. it was a heirloom, quoted your mother, which she would then pass on to your older sister. there was an uncommon hint of sadness in her timbre, and the sparks in her eyes shone shortly before abruptly returning to normal. perhaps she desired a better life for your older sister, for she was no reflection of her husband. you stood beside her in palpable silence, childishly thinking of the undisciplined classmates. at the age of 18, things changed, when your father was found bleeding in his office room. you were heading towards the company to return that pin, due to your mother's incomprehensible and persistent pleas. at the time, your older sister was traveling abroad, and still, no real connection. it was fine, finding the heirloom being painted in red. eyes cast down on his cold corpse, and a sense of boredom numbed your senses.

the funeral cut the luxurious peace that was long rooted in your family, as swift and cold as your father's disappointment. pure droplets dotted your outfit, a face devoid of any emotions hidden beneath the black veil. your gloved hands were nearly placed together, and as you were listening to your sister's practiced eulogy to the unfamiliar guests about how great the man was, your eyes caught with hers.

her eyes were a light shade of the sky, sore from all her weeping. your father, though his silent cruelty, was a loving and caring figure to his mistress's family. the pitiful blonde girl had not once considered him a father, for she was well aware of how wrong his relationship was to your family. she simply cried, since her mother had also passed away in a successful attempt of suicide. overwhelmed by losing her caretaker, and thrust into attending an event about the very man she disliked, crying was a natural reaction. at the time, you didn't know why you felt drawn to her. perhaps, you two fell victim to the same people, and for the first time, you viewed a humane being as beautiful. you tripped over your words, much to your dismay, and quietly offered a handkerchief. when the funeral ended, you took in your surroundings, a faint sadness tugged your lips as you noticed that the girl had already left.  

"did you...like her?" it had been ages since you heard that voice, a more mature and wary timbre rang from your ears. her presence, in your mind, was but another part of the mundane painting you carefully crafted for yourself. at the same time, she was an existence in a world that wasn't created for her, a space where there were you in it. her being, as a whole, remained an anomaly to your eternal gray winter, not a spring, nor a light of summer, but rather a yellow leaf from a tried and profound autumn. 

"i...don't know. she doesn't have a proper use to our company...." you shivered at your hesitation, biting back the urge to swallow as you rubbed your hands together. 

"....and yet, i want to talk more with her, to comfort those pretty eyes." you failed miserably at noticing how your sister's lips widened ever so slightly.

"is it weird, to find her more beautiful than a painting? to think that she could surpass a star?" when you turned your head to her, surprised at her silence, only to be taken back at her humming and smiling brightly. you knew of her since childhood, and yet this sight, akin to a rising dawn, bewildered you.

"it's normal, very normal." she chuckled. "it's like... what the little mermaid feels for the prince." 

"but, doesn't she end up....dead? i don't want to die because of a girl. is it a disease? i must have fallen ill. my heart keeps beating faster when I think of her...." 

"... it's admiration, silly. you want to become her friend." 

"ah, is that so? then....where shall i start? i keep stammering..."

"just put your trust in your sister."

it had been many years since then. your love story, despite being shrouded in much controversy, was unremarkable, but tranquil at the same time. she, the girl whose eyes were like diamonds from the sky, proposed to you underneath the honeyed sunlight. you pretended to be surprised, widened eyes before a smile tugged your lips. you blindly accepted her, a little diamond ring wrapped around your finger. had you known the tragic fate that is below you in the future, you wouldn't have thought of love, much less a marriage. 

since then, there has been something wrong, a missing puzzle that should have been completed in your life.

your fiancee changed, for the worse, after the engagement. she wasn't abusive nor neglected, but rather became more and more possessive. lingering touches and gazes started to seem overbearing, too suffocating, like tight vines around your form. the butterflies previously resided in your stomach's morphed into skull moths, and you weren’t sure if you could contain them anymore. they crawled towards your neck, gnawing into every fiber of your skin. it was disorientated, and the bad-mouthing at your workplace didn't make the situation any better. you were worn out, exhausted from all these peculiarities that suddenly poured down. 

it was the fifth anniversary of your relationship. heading home, with a slight hum, and a phone in your clutches, you failed to notice the lurking shadow that had been following you since the subway. unexpectedly, you were stabbed from behind by the stalker. the sky had already been coated in darkness, the streets had been well neigh emptied, creating a perfect formula for a murder. you didn't ask to be rich nor having the privilege to earn a position in your sister's company, were your thoughts as blood gushed out, red tainted the outfit you loved. black blots danced in your vision, and hands desperately replied a meaningless 'i love you'. a kick in your head was enough for death to take you from this miserable world of ennui.

at least, you could rest, right?

fate decided to toy with you by placing you in genshin impact, a game you used to waste time on. you remembered only caring for the lore and didn't bother to build any character properly. when you woke up, you wore the skin of a fontaine's citizen, and spent years as a florist, while withholding your knowledge about the fate of this world. for once, there was a noticeable change, which was the worship of an entity called the creator. you recalled vaguely about reading fanfic about this alternate universe, so you didn't want to be accused as an enigmatic imposter. the characters' religious frenzies were also a headache since you had to act as if you were so devoted to a figure you could care less of. through the years, your business was flourishing, not worldwide famous nor near the bridge of closing down. your life was utterly beige, following the melusines' requests and seeing the neverending commotions of the bustling region. strangely enough, you had never missed your lover, but it was understandable, in your defense. you grew bored of her keen eyes, viscous fingers, and clandestine jealousy, as those weren't your expectations. 

this life, though jaded, was the freedom you longed for.

recently, there sparked a rumor about the descent of a who had been claimed to be a prophet sent by the creator to lead teyvat to a propitious future. you paid no attention to it, much to estelle's dismay.

"[name]! you should be more excited! the flowers you sell are more lively than you!" she exclaimed, sighing at your seemingly aloof demeanors. you and she became acquainted after you 'accidentally' sent small lamp grasses to truand, which were whopperflowers in disguise. no one knew how you contained those beats, but your success in doing so had earned you an infamous reputation among fontaine. 

"i don't care. what's more, it is up to our archon to decide whether this is an imposter or not." you scoffed, squinted eyes as you thought of furina's facade for the past 500 years in the game. the woman was humiliated publicly and received no apologies. you would have continued back to your business, working as normal, if the saintess hadn't turned out to be the girl you abandoned.

it was unforeseen and frightfully startling when her body engulfed you in an embrace. you were acutely aware of the breaths that were squeezed out of your body, instincts that practically screamed to run, as their eyes prickled against your skin. they didn't understand why the vessel of the benevolent and caring creator was rejected by this unheard mortal. in their eyes, you should have been overjoyed upon being pampered by the saintess. since then, the tranquility you experienced shattered easily underneath the pressure of these beings. your shop was demolished, your reputation was torn apart, and your privacy was out of the picture, as you were regarded as the saintess’s lover. however, to add to your misery, when you swore to her that you would never sacrifice your dignity, and your regret of daring to be lured into a trance by her, she smiled. you had two options at the time, either your submission or a perturbed death. 

you chose death and were subjected to multiple torture, mostly from the fate harbingers, and the tsaritsa. 

before the day of your execution, she visited your prison, tears struck her face, as she embraced you tenderly.

"don't worry, my dear. after this, you could finally be mine."

they granted you a lenient death, a deft swipe from your neck.

upon your last minute, you contemplated your life.

it should have been you.

you were the one to arrive first, not her.

you knew more than her, knew more about this forsaken digital world then her.

there, along with the flow of time, sung a tale of a picturesque saintess, and a mysterious traveler, along with a floating oddity. they embarked on a journey through the seven lands of teyvat. 

what a shame, you died even before the story could begin.

“oh issue of the stars, may fate beest so kind to blesseth thee with anoth'r chance. may teyvat learneth to loveth thee, liketh how the 'saintess’ loveth thee. ”

[izzytheloser12]

~~~~ More kaishin incorrect quotes~~~~

*kaito trying to flirt with Shinichi*

Kaito: Dom or sub?

Shinichi: I guess Domino's, since I don't go to Subway that much. Don't see why you'd put them in the same category though.

~~~~~~

Kaito: You look good in that hoodie.

Shinichi: You know where else I'd look good?

Kaito, zero hesitation: My bed.

Shinichi, at the same time: By your side- wait, what?

~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Hey, wanna take a shower with me?

Kaito: I have a gun in that nightstand beside the bed. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to take it out and shot me because I’ve obviously gone crazy.

Shinichi: WHAT

~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: *Holding up a pack of pencils* These are kinda cute.

Kaito: Shinichi, that’s gay.

Shinichi: We’ve been dating for 2 years—

~~~~~~~~

*kaito trying to flirt with Shinichi part 2*

Kaito: I like your new pants!

Shinichi: Thanks, they were 50% off!

Kaito: I’d like them better if they were 100% off. *winks*

Shinichi: The store can’t just give away clothes for free.

Kaito: Thats’s… not what I meant.

Shinichi: That’s a terrible way to run a business, Kaito.

~~~~~~~

Shinichi: You know, Kaito, when you generalize, you tell general... lies.

Kaito: ...

Kaito: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kaito: Shinichi, why are you crying?

Shinichi: This book is so sad!!

Kaito, picking it up: But this is my diary-

Shinichi: your life is really sad kaito

~~~~~~~~~~

Kaito: I want to be with you for the rest of my life.

Shinichi: Damn, that sounds like a marriage proposal.

Kaito, getting down on one knee: That's 'cause it is.

~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Kaito: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Shinichi: But you’re always acting stupid?

Kaito: ...

Kaito: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Did it hurt when you fell-

Kaito: From heaven? Wow, I didn’t think you were such a flirt-

Shinichi: No, I meant when you fell down the stairs.

Kaito: ...

Shinichi: You just laid there for 15 minutes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kaito: We should get you to a doctor for a check up immediately. What if it happens again, and there isn’t anyone around to help you? What if it’s congenital? Oh my God! Was it me? Did I hurt you?

Shinichi: …You realize any other person that made their partner pass out in bed would simply feel really proud of themselves, right?

~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: Bonjour, Kaito. Voulez–vous coucher avec moi?

Kaito: No, I don't want to sleep with you.

Shinichi: Is that what that means? Oh, man, I had a really gross tennis instructor.

Kaito: WHAT

~~~~~~~

Shinichi: I truly go into housewife mode when I'm someone's soulmate- like, I'll make you pancakes and bacon every morning.

Kaito: This is a lie.

Kaito: I'm literally dating him. This is a lie.

Kaito: HE DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO COOK A PANCAKE, WHAT IS THIS.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shinichi: I'm at a loss for words!

Kaito: Despite being ‘at a loss for words’, Shinichi yelled at me for the next 45 minutes.

~~~~~~~~

Kaito: Why are you like this??

Shinichi: I used too much "No More Tears" shampoo as a kid and I haven't felt a single emotion since.

~~~~~~

Kaito, singing: He's making a list, checking it twice, gonna find out who's on thin fucking ice

Shinichi, also singing: Santa Claus is calling you out!

~~~~~~

Shinichi: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this...

Kaito: *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card?

Shinichi: Holy shit-

~~~~~~

Kaito: Shinichi and I are no longer dating.

Shinichi: Kaito, that’s a horrible way of telling people we’re married.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello I love your blog!

That being said woud really like to read your take on Harry's relationship with death and grief

And wich death do you think that impacted him the most

Thank you so much! I'm glad you love my blog!

I will warn this post mentions some suicidal ideation, mentions of self-harm, and a lot of Harry's grief methods and coping mechanisms, so be aware.

Now, Harry has a lot of grief in his life, and each death is one he reacts to differently, not only because of who dies but because his grief accumulates. So with every death, Harry is pushed closer and closer to his threshold. You kinda see this threshold in Deathly Hallows:

He could not draw breath. He could not bear to look at any of the other bodies, to see who else had died for him. He could not bear to join the Weasleys, could not look into their eyes, when if he had given himself up in the first place, Fred might never have died. . . He turned away and ran up the marble staircase. Lupin, Tonks. . . He yearned not to feel. . . He wished he could rip out his heart, his innards, everything that was screaming inside him. . .

[...]

The images of Fred, Lupin, and Tonks lying dead in the Great Hall forced their way back into his mind’s eye, and for a moment he could hardly breathe: Death was impatient. . . .

(DH)

Harry saw Fred die, and he was sure that was it. After Sirius, Dumbledore, Hedwig, Dobby, and even Snape, no one else should be able to die, and then he sees Lupin and Tonks are dead and his mind doesn't even know how he's supposed to handle all this grief. He actually can't process it at the moment. He feels so much pain and guilt because Harry blames himself for each and everyone that died. Even though they were adults who chose to fight on their own, he didn't force them, but he feels responsible for their deaths.

Even for his parents' deaths as I mention later. This is really a theme with Harry's grief — he always blames himself. If he just called Sirius in the mirror, if he just knew Occlumancy, if he just drunk the potion instead of Dumbledore. At points, Harry actually wishes he was dead instead of having to carry all his grief and pain:

And tears came before he could stop them, boiling hot then instantly freezing on his face, and what was the point in wiping them off or pretending? He let them fall, his lips pressed hard together, looking down at the thick snow hiding from his eyes the place where the last of Lily and James lay, bones now, surely, or dust, not knowing or caring that their living son stood so near, his heart still beating, alive because of their sacrifice and close to wishing, at this moment, that he was sleeping under the snow with them.

(DH) - is it just me who feels like crying every time I read this quote?

Obviously, his parents' deaths affected how his life went more than any other death, but Harry never knew them. He never really grieved them growing up. He grieved the childhood he could've had. That above scene in Godric's Hallow is the first time Harry truly grieves for James and Lily themselves, not just as a family he could've had.

Cedric's death was the first Harry had to watch, and it was mixed in with a lot of other trauma. So, Harry doesn't really grieve Cedric, not really. He is sad he had to die, but Harry mostly grieves himself. He doesn't want to think about the graveyard and the nightmares. He comes off as somewhat numb to Cedric's death because they weren't all that close and Harry is suffering and has no idea how to process any of it, so he pushes all of it aside because there are other things more important.

Sirius, I think, is the death that hit him hardest. I mentioned how Harry's behavior changes after Sirius dies. Sirius was one of Harry's only support lines, and then he was gone. Harry's reaction to his death is the worst too.

He tries and somewhat succeeds in casting a crucio on Bellatrix. He has his outburst in Dumbledore's office that makes me want to throttle Dumbledore and hug Harry whenever I read it:

“Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human —” “THEN — I — DON’T — WANT — TO — BE — HUMAN!” Harry roared, and he seized one of the delicate silver instruments from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room. It shattered into a hundred tiny pieces against the wall.

[...]

“I DON’T CARE!” Harry yelled at them, snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. “I’VE HAD ENOUGH, I’VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON’T CARE ANYMORE —”

(OotP)

After that, we see this grief in Harry's behavior. He becomes more reckless, more mouthy. In the first books, Harry does a lot to try and avoid unnecessary danger. From the end of book 5, Harry just doesn't care about himself as much.

Sirius is a character Harry grieves. He mentions Sirius constantly in the early chapters of book 6 and I think we see him grieving Sirius all throughout the final few books as more deaths just mount on top of his guilty consciousness as Harry keeps blaming himself:

And Harry saw very clearly as he sat there under the hot sun how people who cared about him had stood in front of him one by one, his mother, his father, his godfather, and finally Dumbledore, all determined to protect him; but now that was over. He could not let anybody else stand between him and Voldemort; he must abandon forever the illusion he ought to have lost at the age of one, that the shelter of a parent’s arms meant that nothing could hurt him. There was no waking from his nightmare, no comforting whisper in the dark that he was safe really, that it was all in his imagination; the last and greatest of his protectors had died, and he was more alone than he had ever been before.

(HBP)

Dumbledore is a weird one. Harry grieves Dumbledore for both what he was and what he wasn't rather than the man himself. Harry grieves not actually knowing Dumbledore and Dumbledore's perceived betrayal throughout the majority of book 7:

But he shook his head. Some inner certainty had crashed down inside him; it was exactly as he had felt after Ron left. He had trusted Dumbledore, believed him the embodiment of goodness and wisdom. All was ashes: How much more could he lose?

(DH)

He mourns losing the trust he had in Dumbledore, not just the man himself. He mourns no knowing if Dumbledore really cared for him. He mourns not actually knowing Dumbledore and he mourns the loss of the one man Harry trusted would save him — his last and greatest protector.

Unlike Sirius, Dumbledore is a person Harry has a more complicated relationship with, so his grief for him is similarly more complicated. Where he thinks of Dumbledore the idea and Dumbledore the man as very different things and he isn't sure which one of them was more honest. And he mourns not knowing.

All of this is mixed up with his helplessness in book 7 and wishing Dumbledore had told him more to prepare him. All these frustrations affect the way he grieves. And, as we see, book 7 is Harry at his most reckless — because when Harry's in emotional pain, he throws himself into danger.

Harry's grief at Dobby's death is one that really stuck with me when reading DH, specifically this scene:

“I want to do it properly,” were the first words of which Harry was fully conscious of speaking. “Not by magic. Have you got a spade?” And shortly afterward he had set to work, alone, digging the grave in the place that Bill had shown him at the end of the garden, between bushes. He dug with a kind of fury, relishing the manual work, glorying in the non-magic of it, for every drop of his sweat and every blister felt like a gift to the elf who had saved their lives. His scar burned, but he was master of the pain, he felt it, yet was apart from it. He had learned control at last, learned to shut his mind to Voldemort, the very thing Dumbledore had wanted him to learn from Snape. Just as Voldemort had not been able to possess Harry while Harry was consumed with grief for Sirius, so his thoughts could not penetrate Harry now while he mourned Dobby. Grief, it seemed, drove Voldemort out. . . though Dumbledore, of course, would have said that it was love.

(DH)

Harry is right in saying grief drove out Voldemort more than love. Harry's magic is very intuned with his emotions and pushes Voldemort out on instinct. I believe this is a type of Occlumancy.

See, Occlumancy requires a clear and focused mind, Harry, not knowing how to process grief, turns to manual labor that causes him pain. There is the pain from his blisters, pain from his muscles, pain from his scar — and he relishes in that pain because it makes him feel numb. It clears his head and allows him to actually practice Occlumancy.

This is a kind of self-harm. Not a super obvious act of self-harm, but it is a kind of self-harm. Working himself to the point of pain and exhaustion so he won't feel it all anymore. Just like he shouted at Dumbledore at the end of book 5. We actually see Harry in this almost numb state in book 7 quite a bit.

His recklessness is a form of self-harm too, in a way.

As he followed Bill back to the others a wry thought came to him, born no doubt of the wine he had drunk. He seemed set on course to become just as reckless a godfather to Teddy Lupin as Sirius Black had been to him.

(DH)

As I mentioned a grieving Harry is much more dangerous to himself than a happy Harry. He's angrier, more reckless, and more prone to outbursts. He relishes in his own pain and danger in a way he hasn't before. Add that to his PTSD from everything else, and... god, I feel so bad for my boy...

Then we have all the deaths in the Battle of Hogwarts, of which Fred affected him most I think. But by that point, Harry is half numb.

The world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased, the castle fallen silent in horror, and every combatant laid down their arms? Harry’s mind was in free fall, spinning out of control, unable to grasp the impossibility, because Fred Weasley could not be dead, the evidence of all his senses must be lying—

(DH)

They're in the middle of the battle and immediately after this paragraph, Harry shouts at everyone to get down and away as more curses start flying and the Acrumentulas come in. He pushes everyone to act and to move because Harry has become so accustomed to grief and pain that by this point it's second nature to him to be in a state of pain:

Why was it so easy? Because his scar had been burning for hours, yearning to show him Voldemort’s thoughts? He closed his eyes on her command, and at once, the screams and bangs and all the discordant sounds of the battle were drowned until they became distant, as though he stood far, far away from them. . . .

(DH)

I mentioned in the past that all mind arts require a focused and clear mind. This state of numbness from grief Harry pushes himself into is what allows him such good control over his connection with Voldemort and when and what he sees from it.

Harry only lets himself start to grieve Fred when he sees his body again in the hall. And he doesn't want to grieve or feel, so he runs to Dumbledore's office to view Snape's memories. At that point, towards his own death, Harry's in the mindset where he's willing to do anything to not feel the pain and grief and guilt anymore, so much so that when Dumbledore asks him to die, Harry does:

And while that fragment of soul, unmissed by Voldemort, remains attached to and protected by Harry, Lord Voldemort cannot die.” Harry seemed to be watching the two men from one end of a long tunnel, they were so far away from him, their voices echoing strangely in his ears.

[...]

His job was to walk calmly into Death’s welcoming arms. Along the way, he was to dispose of Voldemort’s remaining links to life, so that when at last he flung himself across Voldemort’s path, and did not raise a wand to defend himself, the end would be clean, and the job that ought to have been done in Godric’s Hollow would be finished: Neither would live, neither could survive.

[...]

Terror washed over him as he lay on the floor, with that funeral drum pounding inside him. Would it hurt to die? All those times he had thought that it was about to happen and escaped, he had never really thought of the thing itself: His will to live had always been so much stronger than his fear of death. Yet it did not occur to him now to try to escape, to outrun Voldemort. It was over, he knew it, and all that was left was the thing itself: dying.

[...]

Dumbledore’s betrayal was almost nothing. Of course there had been a bigger plan; Harry had simply been too foolish to see it, he realized that now. He had never questioned that his own assumption: that Dumbledore wanted him alive. Now h saw that his life span had always been determined by how long it took to eliminate all the Horcruxes. Dumbledore had passed the job of destroying them to him, and obediently he had continued to chip away at the bonds tying not only Voldemort, but himself, to life! How neat, how elegant, not to waste any more lives, but to give the dangerous task to the boy who had already been marked for slaughter, and whose death would not me a calamity, but another blow against Voldemort.

(DH)

Not for a moment does Harry consider not dying. He mentions he wants to shout out, and wants someone to care enough to stop him:

He wanted to shout out to the night, he wanted Ginny to know that he was there, he wanted her to know where he was going. He wanted to be stopped, to be dragged back, to be sent back home. . . .

(DH)

But he doesn't shout out, because the only home he ever had was for a year at Godric's Hallow, and that home was six feet under, where Harry knows he should be.

Just, all of Harry's thoughts as he walks towards his death, to me feel like a reaction to grief. He heard Dumbledore's plan when he reached his threshold of pain and grief. It's why he doesn't consider another option if there's another way. He doesn't want there to be another way. He wants to live, but he also wants it to be over.

And in death, Harry considers staying:

Harry nodded and sighed. Leaving this place would not be nearly as hard as walking into the forest had been, but it was warm and light and peaceful here, and he knew that he was heading back to pain and the fear of more loss.

(DH)

Staying where it's warm and peaceful and there's no pain. But he chooses to return, he chooses to live, and I think that is such an important moment for his character and his journey with grief. It's the moment he accepts life is pain and decides he wants to live anyway.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Never felt so...

John Egan X Reader

Summary: John's letter to his girlfriend...

Warning: Sad/ talk about death/ kissing./ crying/

Word count: 800 words.

Dear Y/n,

My darling I miss you so much, I’ve been in this camp for so long now, I’ve lost track of time. Recently, I’ve been thinking about my life a lot. That German officer said something that got stuck in my mind. He said that you’re going to remember the last time you’ve never felt so, and he got cut off by a gun shot. I’ve been thinking about the time I never felt so loved in my life. A moment comes to my mind, it was the night before I got shipped away. We danced together all night and the way you looked at me is still stuck in my mind. I think about it constantly. That’s the night I knew that all the love songs were about you. It’s true what they say: Distance makes you love harder. Because I love you so much. You will forever be my always. When I think about that night, I know that I’ve never felt so loved.

Yours, Bucky.

-

His cheeks were hurting from smiling this much. Dancing with her was the best thing in the hole world. She was beautiful, like art. Her laugh filled his ears, it was the best sound he ever heard. ‘’I’ll miss you so much’’ she whispered in his ear. He trapped her in a hug as they looked around the room, they were the last one, the band were the only people left in the room. ‘’Why are you whispering, darling?’’ he asked her. ‘’Because I’m afraid that if I speak too loudly, you’ll forget what I said. You tend to listen more when I whisper’’ she smiles. John smiled even more. ‘’John, like breathing, loving you is the most natural feeling I’ve ever known. You’re my person’’ she said against his lips. When their lips touched, it felt like home. Their soul found their home. John Egan never loved anyone more than he loved her, and he’d never felt so loved before.

Dear Y/n,

I just had another moment thinking about the quote from the German prick. It was when I learned that Buck ‘died’ in that moment, in that red cabin in London, I’ve never felt so low. You know what he means to me, but to learn that he went down was a punch to the stomach. We thought we were invincible, so to know that he went down was like watching the superhero lose a fight. So that’s the moment where, I’ve never felt so low. I love you my dear.

Yours, Bucky.

-

All alone in that telephone box, breathing the pain away. His brain couldn’t understand what just happened. How could Gale Cleven go down? It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. It was a trick to get him back on the base. Buck was alive, he was going to be waiting for him at the base. His brain couldn’t function properly, John didn’t want to believe the fact that his best friend was dead. He was in pure denial, he can’t die. Bucky felt like he was being punched in the stomach, he was out of breath. All of his happy thoughts with his friend went through his mind. He couldn’t be dead, but is he was the Germans were going to regret it. He never felt so low before.

Dear Y/n,

I’m sorry that this paper is filled with tears. I’m so alone. I never felt so alone. I don’t even know if this letter will come to you. I’m currently in a German prison, I got captured and I’m alone in my cell. I’m alone. I’m going crazy, I’ve been gone for far too long, I forgot the sound of your voice. I’m crying because I’m tired, because I miss you, because my best friend is dead and I’m crying because I’m alone. I don’t know who I’m going to be when I come home, but I’m not going to be the man you knew. All alone, in this cell, I don’t know how long I can hold on, I’ll fight for you; to get back to you. But it’s so hard… I’ve never felt so alone…

-

He’d been crying for a while. The letter was in his coat pocket, he wanted to send it to her, but he didn’t know when. Looking around, he noticed the drawings on the walls. All the men that were there before him had draw on the wall, so he decided to do the same, he took out his pocketknife and started to draw on the wall. He drew two people hugging each other, he drew inside one of the people. For him, it was Y/n and him. When he finished, he looked at his art, crying again. He’d never felt so…