#and I'm afraid of failure

[la-pheacienne]

marius is always so passionate about everything and yet he never belongs anywhere. he's impressionable yet distant, reckless and impulsive yet observing from the outside. he's obsessive yet fickle. he is ready to give his life like it's nothing yet he's not truly one of les amis. he never went to their meetings, yet he will forever mourn their loss. he refuses the comforts of the bourgeoisie and feeds off his love and his ideals alone, yet he ends up a rich lawyer. he's weak and miserable and lonely yet so loved and cherished that people sacrificed their lives to save him. he's a neglected orphan, yet a privileged kid. abandoned by his father, who adored him. he wanted nothing to do with his father while he was alive, yet latched onto his ghost when he was gone. he's pitiful in his misery, cruel in his happiness. he's the epitome of idealism yet he's selfish. his intentions are pure yet he inadvertedly caused great suffering and death. he has something about him that suggested day - and night. his face was illuminated by the light of the dying day and by the thought of a soul that is taking flight. not yet a ghost, no longer a man. he's truly the most character ever and u guys just don't get him like I get him

[stabble]

Survey for jrwi fans 'cause I'm curious:

Edit for clarification: Go ahead and say yes if you've listened to part of the campaign, I just want to see how much of the fanbase knows anything about it.

[all-pacas]

camchase as a hilson parallel except it’s chase who is 100% wilson and cameron who is 160% house

[hickeygender]

researching how a guy could feasably induce and survive an abortion on a ship frozen in the arctic for years has truly nuked my search history

[shind91]

Goat will definitely not a good parent, at least not good at teaching children

They tried to not become a person like their father, they did it, they won't hit their kids, but will use every words they can use and yelled at the children when they made them upset

Redniran have noticed this problem, he had the long conversation everytime they yell at children

[rainbowangel110]

Hm. I might need help actually.

[ndostairlyrium]

Kerry and Cullen for A1?

no, we're not going into "maybe later" territory because they're not into that - not with each other at least 👀

My dear, thank you for this option ;; the height gap gives me life 💛

The Meme

[leonsrightarm]

i think if i go back to school i want to go study phycology or some shit and then go live out on a boat in the middle of the pacific and study the kind of nearly invisible stuff that hangs out in hydrothermal vents. this would have the dual benefits of living constantly in the opening scene of a horror movie and also as far from human society as is reasonably possible. the downside, of course, is that there's no phone in bed out on the ocean. or so i hear.

[probayern]

went on a plane, had a normal plane epiphany about my life, texted my best friend about it, subsequently realized i haven't been talking to anyone in my life like. actually. about how bad this year has been lmao

[arcadian-vampire]

I've had impostor syndrome so bad lately that I can't bring myself to paint, so I've been treating my artistic urges to making lil clay figurines. They're naturally silly goofy imperfect, and I get to messily paint them once they're done. Much less scary than Serious Painting On Serious Canvas that I'm supposed to be good at

[foxstens]

why is killing vultures so much easier as spearmaster

[loopielupie]

Whumptober Day 9 - Alt prompt: Aftermath of Failure & Day 15: Suppressed Suffering/"I'm fine"

"Now you'll never be able to forget your failure."

Izuku jolts upright, grunting as pain alights in his chest and back. He slumps against a solid surface, hissing shallow breaths through gritted teeth as he tries to collect himself. Something cold prickles through his shirt and he presses shaking fingers against it. A wall.

A chilled breeze sends a shiver through him and his eyes flutter open to the sight of a filthy alley, dimly lit by the orange streetlights close by. His head lolls back with a soft thud as the sounds of the night susurrate around him; the rush of a passing car, the rustle of leaves.

I'm outside.

He let me go.

Tears well unbidden at the memory of cold brown eyes, the feeling of helplessness, the pain, and he has to pinch himself to stop the panic only just held back by the remaining threads of his composure.

You have to move, Izuku. You can't stay here.

Where is...here?

With clumsy fingers, he manages to retrieve his phone and he wilts in relief when he sees he's still in Mustafu. Testing his balance and mindful of the wounds he knows are hidden under his shirt, he pushes away from the rough surface of the bricks and gathers his legs under him. He stumbles, overcome with a fresh wave of searing pain that threatens to send him right back to his knees, but he grits his teeth and plants his feet. His heart rabbits in his chest, but the added adrenaline forces the pain away, dulling it just enough for him to stagger away from the support of the wall and out onto the open street.

It's late, or early? He's not certain, but he finds himself glad of the quiet, the lack of human life to see him struggling so much as he limps away from the alley, wincing with each movement. A voice, far too gruff to be his own screams in his mind, for him to go to the hospital, to get himself the help he knows he needs. But he can’t.

Can’t. Let anyone see me like this.

With a queasy swallow Izuku forces it away, back beneath the building haze of static, overpowered by the mantra that repeats over and over:

C'mon. Keep going. Keep Walking. Don't stop. You can't stop. C'mon-

A rattling sound brings him back to the present and he squints at the keys clutched in his trembling fist, thoughts slow and wooly as he tries to understand how he made it home. But a sharp sting in his back spurs him onwards and he manages to fumble the keys into the lock. He fights with the door, begging quietly, desperately through cracked lips until finally, mercifully, it swings open and he staggers through, only just catching himself on the wall. The sound of his phone vibrating intrudes through the static in his mind but he ignores it in favour of limping towards the bathroom. 

In the harsh light, Izuku takes in his pale face, the sweat beading his brow and the tremor in his limbs, catching sight of a corner of angry skin just peeking out of the collar of his t-shirt.

Weak…

He recoils from the voice in his mind pressing his palm to the cold tile to ground himself. His eyes track down to the hem of his shirt, fingers playing with the edge as he worries his bottom lip between his teeth. Apprehension crawls cold along his spine, opening the pit in his stomach even wider. But he sets his jaw and gives the fabric an experimental tug.

He bites back a whine, feeling the cotton catch, stuck fast to the inflamed skin underneath.

Pathetic.

“Stop.” he begs, the plea echoing off the tiles with no one to hear or heed. Haggard breaths hiss through gritted teeth as he grips the hem of his shirt again.

I have to get on with it, I have patrol soon.

“I can’t let anyone else down.”

The curse is lost amongst the strangled shriek as he pulls, feeling tender skin ripped away as he forces the shirt over his head. The pain is immediate, white hot and all encompassing as his vision blurs, dizziness sending him boneless to the tiles with a sharp smack. The thunder of blood in his ears eclipses all sound as he collapses forward, digging blunt nails into his palms and pressing his heated forehead against the cold tile until one by one his senses return to him; the choked gasps of his breaths, the searing sting in his wounds, the off-white of his fixtures and the black of his discarded shirt.  He can taste the copper tang of blood across his tongue and he gags, spitting a clot of bright red as a stark contrast to the tile. 

Slowly, tentatively, he eases himself to unsteady feet, balance tenuous as he grips for the edge of the sink once again, fighting to keep himself upright as his eyes flick unbidden to the mirror.

And his whole world tilts again as he takes in the words seared into his skin, the still fresh burns weeping clear liquid. He can’t hold back the panic any more, the cold ceramic of the sink replaced with the frigid metal of cuffs, his small bathroom morphing into a dingy, faceless basement.

A man standing over him, smoke curling into the air from his fingers, spitting venom with every word and lighting up Izuku’s skin with every pass of his quirk.

“You’re weak,” he had cursed, branding the characters across Izuku’s left pectoral, slowly, relishing in his squirms and whimpers. “You prance and pretend, but you don’t give one thought to those you leave behind, those you fail to save. Like my mother when you worked with Endeavour, that disgusting excuse for a human being.”

He had ignored Izuku’s every word, every attempt to understand, to reason had been met with stony silence, searing pain, the acrid scent of burning flesh. 

“I’m going to teach you what your hero name means. You seem so eager to live up to it.”

“Useless.” More characters burned into Izuku’s skin, big, visible, unforgettable.

“Pathetic.” 

“Failure”

“False Hero.”

“Wooden doll”

Overlapping, brands on brands, all of his failings laid bare by scorching fingers until Izuku had finally succumbed to unconsciousness.

“Now you’ll never be able to forget your failure.”

A loud crack snaps him back into reality and when he comes to, the sides of the sink are spiderwebbed under his fingers, tiny shards of porcelain scattered on the floor. His chest heaves for ragged breaths, stinging with each one.

His phone rings again and he whines, scrambling to turn it off when he registers the number of missed calls and the name of the person calling. He answers it, continuing to ignore him would only be worse.

“H-hey, Kacchan. S-sorry about that. What’s up?”

He fights to keep his tone neutral but he knows the moment his voice hitches that it’s over and he feels the all too familiar slick of shame slide over his shaking shoulders in the ensuing heartbeat of silence.

“What happened?”

It’s quiet, gruff and demanding, but edged in something softer, like concern. And the shame threatens to suffocate him.

“I’m fine,” he protests, trying for an affronted tone but even he hears the desperation in it.

“Deku, stop.” Katsuki barks. “If you won’t tell me over the phone, I’m comin’ over to fuckin’ beat it out of you.”

Izuku licks cracked lips, tastes the salt of tears and wonders distantly when he’d started crying.

“I…need help.”

It comes out far more frail than he’d wanted and he barely hears Katsuki’s reply before the call cuts out, his phone finally out of battery. Izuku curls in on himself over his cracked sink, swaying dangerously as his vision starts to tunnel. He’s exhausted, hollowed out and he briefly considers letting himself give in to the lure of unconsciousness as it beckons him closer. But he can’t. So he reaches for the first aid kit to at least try and tend to everything before anyone else has to see him.

[yumichikah]

☆ Put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. It's time to spread positivity!

[brightclothesforwinter]

i promise you it's not the aphantasia ;) sure i have no particular idea what, say, darkening eyes 'look' like, but I also have no idea what the character looked like before that, and I understand the emotional shift being conveyed just fine!

I’m so sorry but in the nicest way possible do yall actually read books or just read words??? Cause I’ve been seeing that trend of people not understanding how “snarled” and “eyes darkened” and “eyes softened” etc. was used in a book and like…

Genuinely, do yall just not have imagination?? Or not understand figurative language??? Also eyes do literally darken and soften have you not lived a life??? How do you read with no imagination? Is this how you get through so many books in one month - you simply don’t take the time the understand the words as they are read?

[actual-corpse]

The bipolar depression cycle where when you feel super low, you want to get so drunk you pass out in a pool of your own fluids and the healing cycle of knowing NOT to do that bc it will LEGITIMATELY make everything WORSE.

[sir-failure-mcmistake]

Remember this, me.

As we dream, we will find our purpose. And through this purpose, we will hopefully reach contentment. And as we reach contentment, we gained happiness.

Dream is akin to a star. It will forever out of reach, but its light will always be with us. Highlighting the right path to move onward. To go to our utopia.

The illusory star of Ideal and Hope, Eidolon.

However, when the world is bleak and you seem to have lost your way in this fog filled maze. Remember, your star is there. It doesn't disappear. Your utopia is still reachable. It's just covered by the thick fog, you just have to find its glimmer again. No matter how hard it is, you'd have to try.

But, when your star is made of vague and disjointed dream. Those that are closer to fantasy than reality. Your star's light will have a harder time to break through the fog. Your path to reach it will be confusing, as it branch out and loop in again and again.

"I just want to be happy," "I want to be at peace," "Why can't the world be what I wish it would be?" Disjointed, confusing. Illusory, vague. Alike those of the distant star. So minute and small, it's impossible to see it with the naked eye. And when your night sky are only composed of such star, what differentiate it from a dark starless sky?

I know it, because I too am an aimless wanderer. Meandering their way within this lightless labyrinth we called "life". Without a star nor a compass to guide me, I have lost my path.

But if I change my way. Put in the effort to understand what I want, and how to do it. Maybe, hopefully, like fireflies gathering together, no longer disjointed and vague, my star will shed its light again onto me. And like the sun, it will finally rid the fog and the darkness from my world.

Small, reachable goal. The process that I must goes through. A goal point. With my compass, I will reach it.

Big, lofty ideal. A star. The light that make sure I will never lose my path and forget what I want.

With my compass, I will never lose my sense of the ground beneath my feet. To never lose my rationale and be confused.

A compass to walk the Earth.

With my star, I will never forget the meaning of my life. To dream and to live.

A star in heaven to guide my path.