#but they can also be infinite sad and pained and broken

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Ze during the Fourth Crimea Platform Leaders Summit

[glamourscat]

⋆｡°✩ Songs I associate with the BLLK characters

౨ৎ CHIGIRI, BACHIRA, SHIDOU, RIN, KAISER, ISAGI, CHARLES, REO+NAGI, REO+CHIGIRI

CHIGIRI

boys don’t cry, by the cure

The song highlights the complexity of male invulnerability. With the song protagonist full on refusing to admit he has tears in his eyes. It’s reminds me of him for his struggles in admitting he needed help and how he hid his feelings after breaking his ACL. We saw the way he shut off, almost losing his drive and passion in football.

BACHIRA

dancing with myself, by Gen X

The song explores the complicated and bittersweet duality of being human and thus the connection we form. It’s about feeling alone in a crowded room, being on a crowded dance floor and yet being alone. Letting the world rush and move past you; while you have this profound sense of isolation within you. It’s about people who end up dancing with their own reflections, while struggling to deal with their own internal loneliness. Need to say more?

SHIDOU

dahlia by X Japan

A song about the inner turmoils we face as human beings, while we search the meaning of life, facing the pain that it brings during the journey. Both the beauty and the struggle that comes with life

“Time after time, you ask the night sky the reason why you were born… The river of undying tears shines like silver… Blowing in the cold wind, the birds are unable to fly… I embrace each dream, beneath the sky at dawn… Destiny, Alive Heaven, Love, Innocence, Always, Destroy, Aftermath, Hell, Life, Infinite”

REO AND CHIGIRI’s friendship

chiquitita by ABBA

However you wish to see Nagi and Reo’s dynamic, I personally see them as lovers. Maybe I will do a separate post about it. The song is a message of comfort for a heartbroken friend, giving hope for better days. It says heartaches come and go, leaving scars, but you’ll dance again and the pain will end eventually.

“You're enchained by your own sorrow In your eyes there is no hope for tomorrow How i hate to see you like this There is no way you can deny it I can see that you're oh so sad, so quiet”

REO AND NAGI

the winner take it all by ABBA (I’m sorry but they literally fit in so many abba songs 😭)

A cry out about the difficulty of breaking up with someone. One person is clinging to the relationship, finding it difficult to let go, whilst the other can easily move on. Must I say more?

ISAGI

vienna by Billy Joel

Is no secret that Isagi has done huge steps in blue lock. But is also true that at times, he faced harsh realities and self doubt. Resulting him into rushing head first, to not feel like he was “being left behind”. Vienna, is a song about patience, self discovery and the passage of time. Exploring the importance of taking life at your own pace, rather than rushing because of societal expectations in order to grow.

CHARLES

alright by supergrass

This song is literally the embodiment of the spirit of youth. Being free to hang out, being free and silly. It captures Charles free like personality, with that “explosive” and almost child like aspect he has

KAISER

lose yourself by Eminem

The courage; despite all of the odds being against you, to push forward and to be determined to make it. Eminem talks about his broken family life, abuse and neglected from his mother, the struggles of growing up poor but still having the strength to push forward. To grab that one life time chance and to make it yours, turn the game in your favour

RIN

strappati lungo i bordi by Giancane

The song, main theme of the Italian hit animated series “tear along the dotted line”, highlights many themes. Some in particular reflect with Rin. It’s a song that heavy focuses on internal struggles. Like Rin, who is left stranded after everything that happened with Sae, he is trying to understand who he is and who he wants to be. Yet, he is torn between his insecurities, the pressure of having to excel and the need to prove something to Sae. The song expresses the conflict and the journey that comes with growth, but also the sense of being left behind while everyone moves forward.

pt2? :)

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr) likes, reblogs and comments welcomed <3

[maeby-cursed]

KISS ME, TRY TO FIX IT…

𓂃 COULD YOU JUST TRY TO LISTEN ?

a/n: starting a new series of songfics ! this one is very obviously inspired by sad, beautiful, tragic, so you can see where this might be going. enjoy the results of my brainrot ♡ (also, i’ve never written for gojo before, please have mercy)

✧ synopsis: you’ve been waiting for satoru gojo for ten years, but there’s no trace of the man you fell in love with when you were sixteen years old. it’s time to let go, but he might not want to.

✧ pairings: satoru gojo x fem!reader

✧ wc: 2k

✧ rating: angst. so much of it, angst to drown in. might get suggestive at some points.

✧ cw: mentions of drinking, of the great jjk tragedy of 2006 and its aftermath, implied cheating, gojo may be ooc, toxic relationship ??

An ice-cold wind blows through the window as you wait.

It’s not even December yet but it’s already snowing.

Soft snowflakes the size of stars, far away in their firmament, enter your living room. When they land on the sofa, they dissolve, leaving in their wake thousands of specks of water that look disturbingly like tears.

It doesn't matter. You don't think he's going to notice anyway.

It's been ten long years of waiting. Ten long years of fighting, of fixing what's broken and denying that it's ever been broken.

It's over. Let winter freeze everything in its path.

When Satoru walks in through the door, you hesitate for a moment. A moment of madness when you see his hair, as white as the snowfall that has invaded your home. Just a moment when you see him in his burgundy turtleneck sweater, his tight-fitting coat. One single moment when you recognize the cold in his pink cheeks.

But it's all over when you meet his crystalline eyes. The fault is theirs.

"Is the window broken again?" he asks, dropping his keys on the entryway’s table.

The window has been broken since September.

You nod and he grunts, running a hand over his face.

"I'll call someone tomorrow, although you could have said something," he says. This is your fault. Of course.

You keep your eyes fixed on the snow. From the living room you can see the sidewalk across the street, covered in a blanket of white that sparkles under the street lamps. It's so painfully beautiful it makes you nostalgic.

You and Satoru moved into this house three years ago, when he got his teaching position, and you can't quite get over the fact that it's time to say goodbye.

You've spent three years of solstices here. You've seen the sidewalks covered with dead leaves, with thousands of little flowers that broke the pavement in their wake. But it’s never snowed. 

It’s not fair, not one bit.

Satoru says no more. He goes to your room and undresses; he replaces his street clothes with a black outfit that seems very appropriate for the occasion. Since you’ve known him, he always takes off his glasses when he crosses the hall of your building, but for once, you wish he'd put them back on. 

When he returns, his hair is dripping over his forehead. You hadn't even noticed that he was taking a shower. 

But he hasn't noticed that your bedside table is empty, either; that your slippers are missing, that there's a seeping coldness in the hearth of your house, and it's not coming from the window.

"What's for dinner?" he asks, plopping down on the couch with his cell phone in his hand.

You get up.

9:26 p.m., November 8. This is where it ends.

"I don't know. I'm going out to dinner," you say.

He doesn’t even bother to look up.

"Hmm, where are you going? Are you bringing something back or should I order myself a pizza?"

It's painful to watch as nothing seems to touch him. He’s infinite — always infinite.

"I'm going to a work friend's house."

"The one with the lovely curly hair and those pretty hazel eyes?"

Christ.

"No. I'm moving in with Rhea. Dark-eyed, blonde, leggy."

"Hmm, how nice."

A moment passes where he just keeps staring at the screen, and you despair.

"Satoru."

"What's up, baby?"

"I'm moving."

At last – at last – he looks up. In his eyes you see nothing; two blue marbles that have sworn you two to an unjust fate.

"You're moving out? Why?"

Where to begin? Because you have been loving a man destined to save everything and everyone for a decade, because you have been trying to fill a void that is not your size for eight years, because the windows are broken and the bed is cold and Satoru arrives several nights smelling of anisette and the perfume of another, because you don't want to live looking at the Strongest, the possessor of the Six Eyes. Because you thought that in some hidden corner Satoru Gojo was still there, and he isn’t.

"Because it's killing me to live like this.” You settle for that as your explanation and try to keep your stare unwavering.

"Like this how?" he questions, suddenly irritated. "In a luxurious house?" He gestures around him with the cell phone in his hand. "Comfortably, with your dream job? Knowing you'll never have to worry about money?"

"No, Satoru. Like this, without you loving me."

That chills him to the bone.

"Of course I love you."

"Do you? Do you want me for anything other than to warm your bed and your cock? Do you want me here, as your partner? Do you need me for anything at all?"

You don’t gesticulate, you barely move from your spot in the middle of the room. Everything in this fucking place is white and uncannily clean; the sofas, the coffee table, the walls, even the snow; but you and Satoru. He’s in all black, you’re in all red. It’s almost dreamlike, and you struggle to stay grounded. 

The only thing you could remove from this house that would grab his attention would be you.

"Yesterday you weren't complaining about any of this, what the fuck is the matter with you today?"

And you can't stand it anymore. The winter current lifts your hair, soaks the back of your neck and disguises your tears.

"THE MATTER IS THAT I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR TEN YEARS. WAITING FOR YOU. WAITING FOR THE MAN I MET AT SIXTEEN TO COME BACK, SLEEPING WITH A MAN OF ABSENT GAZE WHO STAGGERS INTO MY BED WHEN HE'S TIRED OF BEING IN EVERYONE ELSE'S. I DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR DOG, SATORU. I DON'T WANT YOU TO COME HOME AND FEEL OBLIGATED TO GIVE ME A WALK, A PETTING."

The words come spilling out of you without remedy, every wound bursting open through the stitches. He just looks at you.

"You think I don't love you?"

It hurts to hear him say it, it fucking hurts. You were prepared for the yelling and the coldness, even for a quick vulnerable stare. But never for his trembling voice and soft frown.

You inhale deeply.

"I don't think your love is of any use to me any longer."

Satoru stands up at that.

He's tall, tall and beautiful like Michelangelo's David. All your life, you've been feeling like you had no right to touch him. His infinity assured you that was the case. 

He takes a step in your direction and whispers:

"Then what should I do now?"

Your eyes, fixed on the ground, rise to meet his. There's something in the void and you're not sure if it's just your reflection.

"What?" you mutter. 

"How do I fix it? What do you need that I can't give you? Do you want me to quit work, for us to leave, for me to come home and kiss your temple, to cook for you, to listen to you, to cherish you in bed?” A heartbeat. “I will."

There’s something about the desperation in his tone, you aren’t sure of what to say next.

Satoru knows how to lie, but you don't know how to tell the difference.

"I don't want anything, Satoru. I'm tired," you whisper back, eyes full of water. "I want it to end. I want you to let it end."

He shakes his head, frowning, and through the mist of your tears you recognize that he is crying too.

"There has to be something. Anything. Something I can do, I can do it all."

It's partly true. He's Satoru Gojo; all-powerful, all-knowing. Eternal and young and beautiful and tragic as a poem.

You are just another person. You cried when Suguru left, when Haibara died, when Kento gave up the Jujutsu world and when Ieri locked herself in her office. You clung to Satoru, who resembled an empty seashell more than a person. 

You remember those nights back in 2007. You remember blindfolding him so he wouldn't activate infinity by accident, by reflex, out of overstimulation. You remember cutting his hair when he couldn’t and looking for him in his old antics. You remember taking care of Megumi – always reluctant – and Tsumiki – who you felt was too mature for her age. You remember the burden of being eighteen and having lost a world.

And, above all else, you remember Satoru under the rain. Under the pressure of the world you had lost, the one that he was trying to put back together. There was a month where he seemed catatonic; no smiles, drinking anisette as if it were his one source of life. A thirty-day period followed by the rebirth of a person who looked like the one that stood before, but who seemed cold and alien to you.

"Don't you love me, my darling?" he seeks for you, reaching out a hand to brush against your cheek.

Of course you love him. You love him even like this, like you have loved each and every one of his versions.

"I adore you, Satoru. But I can't stay; you can't fix it."

"Of course I can," he reaches out to you, holding your face between his fingers, "Of course I can."

His lips connect with yours — one last attempt, you don't know by whom.

Snow fills the room and it's cold, but you drink from his mouth, from his everlasting warmth; everything in him lasts forever.

Between kisses, you show him everything you have been for years. Ten years of kisses, of hands looking for hands and flesh searching for flesh.

He moves backwards, keeping you between his hands and guiding you towards the hallway and from the hallway to your shared bed.

This is where it ends.

"Satoru..." you whisper.

"I'm here. I'm here, beautiful, my favorite girl. Talk to me."

A sob escapes you as he utters those words. My favorite girl. That’s what he used to call you. Talk to me, he used to plead, that year at sixteen, when everything was about to start.

Isn't it beautiful that it ends the exact same way?

"Satoru, I'm leaving," you press a farewell kiss to his jaw.

"No, you're not leaving," he murmurs, smiling against your mouth, searching for your lips.

You back away and look at him one more time. And you smile, because there's nothing left.

"I'm already gone. Just let go of me, please."

"But..." he starts, his smile hesitant, "But I'm going to fix it."

You take one of his hands between yours and kiss it as it presses against your cheek, before lowering it to your lap.

"Satoru..." You pronounce each syllable of his name carefully and he stifles a cry. "I'm not going to go any further. I've already made the move and Rhea's expecting me at her house in an hour. I love you, I’ll love you until I run out of kisses, but it does me no good to love you. It is of no use to me, this love. I wanted to tell you. I wanted you one last time. Wasn’t it my turn to be the selfish one for once?"

He watches you, and his mouth shuts close. You've never seen Satoru lose. 

No, that's not true. There was a time, one time, where you saw him lose everything.

His eyes fill up with you one second and empty the next.

This is his second time.

He lifts his chin with an arrogance that no longer means anything and lets go of your hands.

"Go then, if you want. I'm not going to do anything to stop you,” he drags the words with feign disinterest. “I can't do anything."

That's the last gift he can give you. An honesty unbecoming of him, a truth that will never belong to Satoru Gojo ever again. 

From god to human in three kisses and a goodbye.

"Thank you," you say to him. Then you get up, heading for the living room, where your coat and your escape door await you.

He stays in the bedroom – with himself as he always is – after you leave. 

And he hides you where he always hides the things he breaks, in the back of his eyes, where no one can reach to see anything.

© 2023, MAEBY-CURSED — do not copy/repost/edit.

(reblogs are appreciated !!)

[bearsclubsstuff]

2.7 is like 10 days away and something that I need an explanation for is this poem “death of the crow”(which is also a reference to the raven by Edgar Allen Poe) that was clearly about Sunday 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while you pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten dreams —
While you nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping at your chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," you muttered, "tapping at my chamber door —
Only this and nothing more."

Ah, do you distinctly remember the dew-doused window pane;
And a dying baby dove laid like a shadow upon the floor.
Eagerly you had wished the story to meet a happy end
Eagerly you had wished no birds would plummet, their demise to bewail.
Some soared like shining stars, bound for the sky...
While others found only demise, in dust they lie.

Deep into that darkness peering, long you stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
Worms have stained satin, and flames consumed doves with broken wings,
A flame-bathed raven greeted you, its voice's rasp that sings.
"Sweet dreams are no paradise of mine," you whispered and sighed. "When I cast my eyes around —"
Darkness there and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling your sad fancy into smiling,
"The echoes of ghosts bring no salvation to light."
"People repent, their hearts sincere, only due to them seeking greater gains."
"Drink this blessed potion from the Great One, erasing your painful memories."
As Harmony's tune changed, you hear a dirge played amidst the dancing ashes...
Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

The unbroken stillness remains silently, mocking any reply so aptly spoken,
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
This and more I sat divining, scrying the source of the world's pain
Your heart grew resolute, no longer held back by confusion and doubt.
"Liar," you declared, "the Great One is blind to worldly sorrow —"
Merely this and nothing more.

You ascended the stage, you stole the authority, you strived for divinity
You raised the dim curtain, your self-directed farce skillfully honed.
Your heart overflew with pureness, while the shadows of the puppets cast grim shadows in their play.
Your soul embraced compassion, daring to forge a scale that will never sway.
"Behold," you proclaimed, "the utopia of absolute bliss,"
Yet the dream shattered, "Nevermore."

The velvet nest fell, the golden bed withered away,
But the bird remained perched, as did you, come what may.
The gods, who once bestowed upon you love's sweet hue,
Withdrew their favor, leaving your paradise askew.
Liberated from the shadow of young dove's demise, your soul will take flight,
Merely this and nothing more.

Your old dreams are as dead soil, barren of hope and bereft,
Yet how can a noble soul wither and fade, left adrift?
I shall await your arrival, with open arms and boundless hope,
Here lie the truest dreams, where infinite possibilities lope.
Here, all your ambitions shall be fulfilled and set aflame,
The past forever transformed, and nevermore

Yours, Most Sincerely

Cecil Simmes

—

What catches my attention is this being and invitation.

I remember people theorized that this was written by Elio but now we know that likely isn’t the case. What we do know now from an npc at Paperfold university is that the name came from a horror novel. There is a readable that backs this up (I can’t find it rn) but the radio host name is Cecil.

A confusing error about this though is that the letter was not found in the grand theater it was in dreamflux reef and you could collect it even before the fight with Sunday.

Perhaps it really is just a different letter but either way the author is the same “Cecil Simmes”

[mummers-of-the-heart]

To My Dearest One (Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader)

Premise: Leon comes home after a mission.

Sad Vibes/Slight Comfort, Song fic

Word count: 1072

Content warning: Not beta read or really edited if I'm honest. Vague Infinite Darkness and RE6 spoilers. Leon and his whole deal, especially post-RE4 stuff. Depression. Isolation. Implied suicidal thoughts. Reader is sort of a living emotional crutch for Leon. Also reader is not quite all right. I can't write domestic fluff for the life of me. Look, the grammar is going to be a mess, I constantly switch between using APA, AP, and MLA on a regular basis for professional stuff. My brain is gonna zone out here.

Song fic time and first time writing Leon. Came up with the idea while I was studying for my interrogation test for history and I had a concert where this song was performed playing in the background. Finished writing this in between studying for my psych exam in a couple days. Hope you enjoy (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

Song: Itoshiki Hito E (To My Dearest One) by Kotobuki Reiji (CV: Morikubo Showtaro), Translation by Utapri No Sekai (slight variation by me)

The apartment is quiet besides the sounds of light music and cooking as he enters. Despite living there for a few years, it lacks much character causing it to feel hollow. One of the only things proving that it was Leon's apartment was the sun damaged photos, yellowed with time.

One of them from years ago as he visited Sherry on her birthday. The smile on the girl's face. Claire.

It all felt so distant.

Everything grew out of reach. Nothing seemed to last for a broken man, especially for one who had the bright sparkle in his eyes beaten out so violently.

As he approaches the kitchen, the smell of onion and herbs wafting through the air, Leon notices the nostalgic yellow tinted light that colors the white walls.

At the stove-top was a familiar figure standing before a pot of soup.

You.

A heart made of glass is always... hurting anything that tries to touch it. Yet you embrace it so tight without fear.

His arms wrap around your waist as his head sits upon yours in this rehearsed dance. He smells your shampoo as he takes a deep breath.

"Welcome back, Leon.” You say in a light tone as if he wasn't gone for a little over a week. "I'm making tortellini soup tonight."

He can hear how much you missed him. Even if you don't say it, those feelings tinge your voice.

"Mmm," he sighs with closed eyes, "That sounds good. Haven't had that in awhile."

Leon’s hold on you is strong. He wants to savor the moment.

There’s an itch in the back of his mind; one that would never leave. That this relationship would only hurt you. That he was taking advantage of your kindness. That he could never express just how much he loved the sense of normalcy you brought.

As if sensing his emotions, you quietly grab his left hand with a softness Leon wasn’t used to feeling.

Your hands were light compared to his calloused hands, which were covered in blood. Regrets marred his digits.

The plush feeling of your lips is unfamiliar to his inner wrist. This intimate touch caused Leon to melt.

A simple touch, a simple act, a simple situation in your eyes but it doesn’t feel so simple to him.

A clink as the spoon is set down. You turn around to face him.

But such happiness is sometimes, through cruelty of God, suddenly in front of my eyes… disappears and it makes me so scared.

The look in your eyes, how greatly it contrasted the steely eyes he would see everyday. Fresh eyes that didn’t twist with fear, changed. Not hardened by painful experiences. The look in your eyes is different.

Tired but understanding.

It is something that Leon was grateful for. A calm in a life that he felt so little choice or support in. A happiness from not feeling alone.

A deep hunger satiated but it caused a fear to rise.

What if you saw what he faces everyday? What if you got hurt even more than before? What if… you left?

They kept scratching at the back of his mind.

I live only for your sake. This voice will take an oath, to my dearest one.

Night carried on. Dinner came and went. No discussion of his work.

The ticking of the clock counting down the seconds before the feeling of the mattress would soon greet the two of you. The nighttime routine felt so unfamiliar. He was a stranger to this domestic moment.

“Apparently Sara,” your coworker, Leon had to remind himself as you spoke, “had decided to drag me out while you were gone. Saying that I was being too focused on work again.”

You roll your eyes in a familiar manner as you wipe the skin of your face with a cloth. There’s a soft, tired look, one that is aware of reality.

“Right.” Leon responds. “I already know you were hunched over your desk, typing away at a proposal looking like Gollum." He chuckles as he remembers the first time he saw you at work.

“Hey.” You pout cutely in response, before sitting on the bathroom counter and sighing. “Let me see your face.”

You put out your hand expectantly and he obliges as he puts his chin in your hand. Reaching with your other to grab his cloth and wetting it with water, you smile sweetly with the look that Leon loved.

A careful caress with the cloth as you clean his face. Your thumb traces over faint scars, reminders of the memories he can never escape. There’s a tightening in his heart at this touch.

As you finish and wring out the cloth, you turn back to face him still sitting on the counter. The softness of your hand shifts to cradle the side of his face.

In response, he lifts your chin with his fingers and gives that charming smile of his. “I have the world in my hands.”

“Not sure about that.” You reply softly. “Pretty sure I got it in mine.”

As you get into bed, due to a learned habit after living with Leon for four months, get into the side of the bed away from the door. He lies across from you and lets out a heavy sigh, as he feels exhaustion wash over him.

His hand finds its way to your waist as the light turns off. Leon’s face burrows itself in the crook of your neck, like something was commanding him to get as close as possible to you. To find the core to the warmth. The rhythm of your breath, a lullaby, gently sends him to sleep as his fingers curl atop your skin slightly.

Even at that moment, the scratching turned into digging.

Your eyes heavy and on the verge of the precipice, a whisper drifts from Leon’s lips as he is asleep.

“My only… Make me happy when…”

Will it be sent to you? Will it be conveyed? Words will never be enough… for this feeling of mine, to my dearest one.

By the time the rays of the sun bounce off your gentle skin, Leon is awake and doesn’t move as he watches you sleep peacefully. A smile creeps onto his face as he notices a line of drool.

In that moment, the man, who long lost his faith and wishes, says a silent prayer.

AN: Like what you read? Consider reblogging or leaving a comment. Thanks for reading.

[our-lady-of-haymakers]

Masks, Ave Mujica argues, are constructs as fragile as they are infinite- you can never wear one forever, and yet you can also never be sure that you haven't been wearing one all your life already. Those who wish to conceal themselves and take on new identities are traumatically unmasked, and those who wish to embody a natural and inherent authenticity are revealed to be mere fakes locked in a farcical game.

Like dolls, they are too realistic to be dismissed as toys, and too artificial to be seen as people, and thus hover in a tragicomic symbolic limbo, appropriated and twisted into whatever permutation their puppeteers mould them into, promised not freedom or dignity or love, but only beauty- the awful fascination of the uncanny, of faces marred by masks and masks broken by reality, suspended in a play that rends them apart so inexorably that they can always be sure there's needles nearby to patch them up again, to cover up the stitches with dresses, and the dresses with stitches, dancing like a thing in pain.

So too does this post, which began as a way to ponder the sad fate of Sakiko as a failed princess, conclude with the firm belief in the ascendancy of Anon as a successful clown. Her joyous recitation of "To-Ga-Wa- Grooooup! :)", when performed before the patriarch of that esteemed and grotesque family, shall surely bring a tear to his eyes- was this bliss, this loving acceptance of the mantle and the crown, not what he had always desired from his children? He shall adopt her, in the folly of his dotage, as his heir and successor, making her into the new Sakiko, a deserving princess at last. And she shall laugh as she takes a needle and thread to their toy kingdom, and remakes it in her image.

Bang Dream! It's MyGO!!! was a story about women exiled from the kingdom of God for the sin of loving too deeply. Bang Dream! Ave Mujica is a story about women creating a new capital on earth, a city that moves beyond truth and lies to celebrate the glamour of fantasy. And the name of that heaven? ANON TOKYO. A new age is upon us.

[jakowskis]

Day 2 - Who’s your favorite Torchwood member? (And if it’s not one of them, who’s your favorite character?) Why are they your favorite? Do you have any secondary favorites (maybe a one-off or minor character that really stuck with you)?

owen, infinitely. i could write essays on why i love owen - hell, i have written essays. and at this point, you know when a character means so much to you there’s not even words for it anymore, they’re just kind of a fundamental part of you? Yeah. but nonetheless, i guess to majorly sum it up, he’s just one of the most utterly broken and fascinating characters i’ve ever had the pleasure of coming across. there's just a visceral sadness and anger to him that immediately reeled me in and i don’t think i’ll ever get over it, like he actually haunts me. and he made his way into my top 3 characters of all time in just a few months, which is pretty damn impressive. something just kinda clicked there. (and i highlight how fucked up he is, but then he's also complex enough that he's got a silly/dorky side too, which im super endeared by as well. i love his complexity. perf character for me, hes got like 30 things going on and im intrigued and compelled by all of them. i love him endlessly.)

also, okay, i’ve observed my favorite characters tend to unintentionally fit certain criteria, like when i look back at all my favs i can sort them into three categories. namely, it's 1) characters that make me lose my mind bc theyre so interesting (and/or endearing), 2) characters i relate to, and 3) characters i’d smash. fhdjkf. i tend to visualize it as a venn diagram, and most characters sit in one or two of the circles - owen is, i believe, the absolute only fav i’ve ever had who’s firmly in the middle. which probably has something to do with why he’s top 3. dhfdsjk

as for secondary favs… well, i absolutely adore the rest of the team, especially ianto and the girls (including suzie!!!!!!!! my girl suzie). i’m not sure why, gwen’s become a particular favorite. she gives me like cuteness aggression HFKSDF i wanna squish her (lovingly). she’s so fucked up n interesting, but also a lil gremlin to me. i love her playful side she’s such a love.

one-off characters… actually, quite a few have stood out to me and made an emotional impact. torchwood has had some wonderfully talented guest actors who really managed to get me attached to their characters, despite having so little screentime. carys, eugene, and beth all come to mind. i think about beth a lot. and maggie, ohhhh maggie. ill talk about aditd a bit tomorrow, ff.

also the episodes with mothers, oh g-d. eugene’s mom, and jonah’s, and jasmine’s. all really heart-wrenching, and damn good actresses. i always get emotional with plotlines about parents + their kids, fff. parental pain + fear just hits diff idk. i used to watch a ton of criminal minds and that was about the only place my empathy jumped out fhsdkfjd.

i also love the various romantic interests - john, diane, mary, lisa, mark (cough), katie, tommy. rhys!! i love you rhys. torchwood is such a character-focused fixation for me like g-d i just adore every character sm. so many good ones. AND HOW COULD I FORGET MY FAV GUY OF ALL - ANDY!!!!!!!! ily pc andy <3 <3 <3

[dreamingangels]

Neptune is tear drops and deep breathing and hysteria. Boundary-less and dangerously elevated energy like God, infiniteness, Neptune is the beyond. All that lies beyond the physical, everything that does not encompass the real or rational. She is in a way, almost the complete opposite of Saturn, there is nothing hard about her; besides the life she will most definitely live; subject to what feels like never ending cruel harshness. Neptune is this constantly bruised, aching, longing feeling for home; a chronic emptiness, an unfathomable sadness. A sort of manic depression, the pain of the impoverished artist, a complete back of boundaries and far too high a dose of empathy has left this being truly psychically vulnerable. The craving for oneness is excruciating; like flesh being ripped off a body, or bones being broken one by one. Neptune is sleeping pills, poetry books and candles, magic; the irony of being completely withdrawn due to being so overly connected. Neptune is an angel trying to make its way out of the flesh; trapped inside this material and limited form. She is the nostalgic missing of flight, wings, ecstasy, euphoria and bliss never ending. She is that Divine being ripped away from its warm and cosy heaven, poured mercilessly into a human body. Neptune is vague, and enchanting and mystifying and hypnotic and captivating and foggy. She is lethargic, and weak, vulnerable and devouring. She is deep pain, anxiety but also numbingly powerful intuition. There is something almost sickeningly pure about Neptunian women; they can be standing stark naked in front of you, and somehow it is still impossible to feel lust. How can one lust after something so pure? So innocent? The unconscious urge is to immediately defend or protect such virtue. There is nothing vulgar about her even in all of her shouting, and swearing, and kicking and crying and screaming she is still a deity. She is an entity, a carrier of something Light that this world desperately needs, so pure; no longer just a body or woman or a person. There can be nothing base or animalistic about Neptune, she is Divine. 

The Venusian woman is graceful, and elegant and charming; but still highly sexed; almost too passionate to be clean, she is tainted. She is too red, too pink, too sweet to truly be innocent, but Neptune is as clean as water. Neptune is the return to purity; mystical elevation. Moral purity, purity of the Soul and Heart; true purity; causing her to transcendent this physical world in ways Venus can’t. The love is no longer selfish; or sexed, it is unconditional; like that of a God. She is the mystical longing, the deep mystical longing behind all religious institution. Don’t look into her eyes because you will face God; powerful and hypnotic in the most safe and truthful of ways; the most painful of ways; ways which force you to break down immediately and surrender because you finally can; you are safe now. She is a mirror; she is you facing the darkest and purest parts of yourself, she allows you to have all your fantasies and longings and still loves you completely. She is immediate forgiveness; all compassion and that is often why she is so sick, so wounded, so mentally ill, so drained; so hysterical, she is constantly being projected on by the masses and they almost resent her impossible levels of purity and faithfulness. No amount of abuse will cause her to try and harm you back, which makes you hate her even more; she is Divine. All she longs and aches for is love; the love that she is, the love that she remembers before coming to a sickening and dreadful time and place like this. 

[ronniesan2006]

I WANT TO CONTRIBUTE TOO-

My contribution is based on reinforcing the idea of ​​changing gods during God Games, mainly with Hestia and Dionysus. But I'm going slowly.

Artemis changing with Apollo, not only because they are siblings and the counterpart of each other, but because there are quite a few aspects that Artemis could reproach Ares about Penelope (although I consider that like Apollo, she doesn't know her well and just made the first mistake that occurred to her, lol). The first one: Why would Penelope deliberately slaughter wild animals? Didn't she first wonder if those sheep had an owner? Of course Penelope is wrong

"You know I love wild animals, but hunting is something that shouldn't be taken as a game. Knowing that those sheep belonged to someone, I think Penny is wrong"

I have a feeling that Ares would answer her something like this

"Sadly, she learned the lesson the hard way, but I'm sure that because of that event, something of this caliber will never happen and she will be more careful when hunting"

Personally, my favorite change, Hephaestus with Hestia. Here, Hestia, would not only be the most difficult to convince (for me) but she would also be touching on an important subject. Penelope went to war and let the fire of her family go out because of her absence and it gets worse if we consider that with her, an important member of that family, Ctimene (Odysseus' younger sister) went.

"I think the punishment they gave that warrior is fair. She left her family, which caused her home to become cold to the point that it doesn't feel like a home anymore and don't get me started on the fact that she took someone very important to that family…"

Ares would clearly be nervous, and I can even imagine how, unlike how he showed up with Artemis, he took off his helmet as a sign of respect towards his aunt and spoke kindly.

"Hestia, protector of the home fire, let me tell you that her sister in arms forgave her and also, I promise you that if you help me free her, she will return to her home where that flame will rekindle in your name" (Hestia would accept a little reluctantly)

Dionysus, at first it made me a lot of noise because I said "But- he never participated in the Trojan War" and then I remembered that this is an AU and it's horrible to limit creativity (xd). Well, the things that Dionysus reproaches Ares would be how Penelope let her father drown in wine out of sadness and he died with a broken heart for not seeing his daughter. Ares rolling his eyes when he hears Dionysus speak as well as Athena when she sees Aphrodite

"Your little and beloved Penelope, says she loves her father very much and yet, she let him drown in wine and in his own sadness"

"She was fighting"

"Rather, mocking the cursed nymph. Why don't you let her also drown in infinite pain, just like her poor father and finally rot?"

"Wait!… Please reconsider"

And I'll only leave those three because I'm still in doubt with Athena and Zeus (How curious). I really love this AU and I wanted to contribute with ideas that I had and this also helps me to organize my ideas and be able to write my own fanfiction xd

UPDATED WARRIOR! PENELOPE AU SWAP LIST!!

Characters who swap:

-Penelope 🔁 Odysseus

-Ares 🔁 Athena

-Hera 🔁 Zeus

- Ctimene 🔁 Eurylochus

- Aeolus 🔁 Polites

-Tiresias(the prophet) 🔁 Circe

-Aphitrite (Poseidon’s wife) 🔁 Poseidon

-Calypso 🔁 Antonious

-Scylla 🔁 Polyphemus (the cyclops)

-Dionysus 🔁 Aphrodite

-Artemis 🔁 Apollo

-Hestia 🔁 Hephaestus

Characters who don’t swap:

-Telemachus

-Hermes

DISCLAIMER!!

This might change over time since I’m still developing this AU and I’m the kind of person who changes ideas constantly, if anything changes then I’ll leave it here

[amandak-to-mom-at-christmas]

2014

I recently watched an interview with one of my favorite actors in which he discussed, related to a role in his new film, the question of what makes us human. In the interview, he described these as the fundamental questions of life: what makes us human, what defines the human condition? Most people who know me well know that I spend a lot of time (probably too much time) in my head; I spend too much time thinking. So it is probably not surprising that after I saw this interview, I thought about it for a several days afterward.

The holiday season – Thanksgiving, Christmas, the New Year – is in many ways a joyous, happy time. As we celebrate and commemorate, there is a lot to be thankful for, and the end of the year is a good time to be mindful of all of our blessings and the good things in our lives. But at the same time, this happy season exposes some of the deepest wounds and hurts most of us feel: a family member who is no longer with us, a broken relationship, a difficult financial situation, a chronic illness or terrifying diagnosis, an empty part of our lives. In thinking about this season and the question of what makes us human, my thoughts turned to what we all want. No matter our age, our race, our sex, our walk of life, our political persuasion, our religious beliefs, we want the same thing ultimately. No matter our differences – and there are many – we have one thing, I think, in common. We all want to be seen. By this, I mean that we have a need for other people to see us, to see who we are. We have a need to feel like we matter, to feel like we are loved And we want, I believe, to feel like we are seen and accepted and loved just as we are with all of our flaws and annoying habits and broken parts.

This need looks different in everyone’s life. For some of us, it is a lifelong desire to be seen and accepted and loved by a parent. No matter how old we get or where we go in life, part of us is still waiting for Mom or Dad to say “I love you” and mean it – not just with their words but with their actions. Others of us desire this from a significant other – that special someone who could have chosen to be with anyone but chose to be with us. Some of us long for this kind of love from a child or from a friend. Parents, partners, children, and friends: these are the people who define our lives; these are the relationships that make us feel whole or make us feel incomplete. And what defines us as humans, I think, is the feeling of that completeness or the lack of it. Sadly, few of us have been blessed enough to have the whole package: parents who loved us unconditionally, a faithful, loving spouse, a child who never strays away, a friend who is truly there through thick and thin. And even those lucky enough to indeed have that whole package, we have undoubtedly gone through seasons of life when we felt invisible, when we felt like we didn’t matter.

The Christmas story, God sending His son to lie in a manger and one day die on a cross, is a story of many things. It is a story of hope, of forgiveness, of joy, of love.  It is also, I think, a story of being seen. God – the magnificent, holy, infinite One – sent His son to earth as a Savior. He sent a Savior because He knew we needed to be saved. In essence, He saw us. He saw our need. He saw his broken, flawed, messed-up children, and by sending His son, He was saying that we were worth saving. We mattered. We mattered to the God of the universe.

This season can be a difficult one. Somehow all the happiness of this time of year can magnify those parts of our lives that are lacking, those parts of our lives that bring sadness or pain. Despite that, I believe there is comfort in knowing that Christmas is a reminder of both our greatest human need and God’s greatest answer to that need: I see you. I love you. You matter to me. Just the way you are.

[okaythisone]

So I read the entirety of Heaven Official's Blessing book 6 in one day. And damn. That hurt. I just want to hug Xie Lian so much? I want good things to happen to him.

And somehow the situation with Feng Xin and Mu Qing hurts most? I mean the actual torture the white ghost sets up is hard to read, but his friends leaving him also scapes me out inside. The way Mu Qing sides with people that are just bullying him when he's at his lowest, no matter his good intentions. The way Xie Lian tries to test Feng Xin to see if he will stay with him even at his lowest, and he doesn't - even his parents wouldn't. That scene too, like, hey you thought you were broken, but look how much infinitely worse it can get. And you can't even die.

God, I just wonder what would have happened if Feng Xin hadn't assumed he left on his own for two months. If he assumed something must have happened to keep him away. Ahh, I know he going through his own loss of his love right then, but...

And Xie Lian's calamity era was tough. He just need one person to show him a scrap of kindness.

Spirit flame Hua Cheng was adorable though - in a terribly sad way. And how, as a wrath, he tries to make himself into Xie Lian's blade because he knew he'd hate his own actions when he came back to himself - ouch.

Ahhh this book was painful - in a good writing kind of way.

Though I'm also dying to know what was on the murals Xie Lian didn't get to see.

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

For the WIP game: Reunion

"And you're sure you want to take the final exams?" Volodymyr looked at his daughter questioningly as she stirred the tea in her cup. Oleksandra smiled at her father and then nodded slowly. But Volodymyr didn't get the feeling that she was particularly enthusiastic. He also definitely didn't want her to feel pressured. Even though he knew that Olena had already talked to Oleksandra about this very thing several times. "You know that Mama and I would completely understand if you postponed the exams for a year?" "I know, Papa. But I want to take them like everyone else this year. In the end, I am like everyone else. And there's never been an exception because I'm the President's daughter. So there shall be no exception for me now," she said softly, smiling again, but Volodymyr saw the sadness in her face. Volodymyr had a feeling that there was more. He looked briefly at Olena and Kyrylo, but they continued to talk with Andriy and Podolyak before looking again at Oleksandra. "Is there a reason you're so eager to do them now?! You're not like everyone else, though, Sasha. You're in a special position. You're in a different situation than your classmates." Oleksandra shrugged at first, but Volodymyr continued to look at her, and Oleksandra finally lifted her eyes from her teacup. She had never been able to keep secrets from her parents, and she certainly didn't want to start now. "I want to at least graduate that way with my friends if I can't do it right. That way, we'll still do it together somehow, and I can do something with my friends," she finally admitted, smiling sadly as she swallowed hard. Volodymyr nodded, but he had the feeling that something was breaking inside him. His heart ached when he saw the sad look on his daughter's face. He had never been able to bear it when his children were unhappy. Oleksandra was trying to be valiant, he could see that, but that didn't hide the pain and dejection on her face. And that she was like this, going through all this, was all his fault. He saw her draw her eyebrows together and eye him. "Papa, what's wrong?!" With a less-than-successful attempt, Volodymyr tried to swallow the tears, but one rolled down his cheek. He quickly shook his head and lowered his gaze, but Oleksandra put her hand on his arm and slid a little closer. "Papa?! What's wrong?" Volodymyr took a deep breath before looking at his daughter again. "You know I'm infinitely sorry, right?" he asked in a broken voice, and he saw Oleksandra shrink a little at that. "Sorry for what?" "That because of me you …" - "No." Before he could even continue speaking, Oleksandra interrupted him forcefully, shaking her head. "Let me finish, Sasha." "No!" she repeated more forcefully, sliding closer to her father. "I know what you're going to say, but I don't want to hear it. Because it's bullshit. You didn't do anything to me, nor are you to blame. If you weren't the President, I still wouldn't graduate with my friends. We would still be at war. But because you're the President, at least I can still be in my homeland and graduate here."

Answer to the WIP Game.

[sheistamararose]

Father's Day is a powerful piece of work. I am still in tears.

Christians aren't perfect. Some of us acknowledge this and know that we are struggling and carrying a lot of pain. However, we are expected to be different, walk different, and talk different and many of us do, but we are also human. We are not perfect alone but with God we are made perfect.

Everyday I am reminded of the power of God. Even when it hurts and even when it's difficult, I am reminded of how great God is. I think to myself often, who would I be and where would I be if I didn't trust and believe in God and what Jesus's life and story has meant and still means for my life. How would I see people? Would I constantly live in the parts of myself that feel so dark and lost? It is highly likely because when I try to separate my mind from that of the person I could be if I didn't acknowledge God's hand in my life, I feel a deep sadness, pain, and heaviness that can't be described. But, because I know and believe there is a God and I believe Jesus died for my sins, I know there is always a chance for me to see the brighter days, maintain hope, keep fighting for my calling, purpose, and place in this world not on my own behalf but on behalf of my Heavenly Father.

Watching Kirk's story made me cry for many reasons because children often need and want to know their parents and their families. They need and want to know their story. It is especially difficult when you are adopted, a foster child, or a child who doesn't know one or both of your parents. You're often watching others around you who seem to know more of who they are than you do. You are constantly questioning yourself, your identity, and your why in concert with the story that others are crafting for you.That's a lot to carry as a child and depending on who you are and your circumstances, it's even more difficult to face as an adult, because so much time has usually been lost and your understanding is far more advanced. You can't get back what was lost and your ability to choose your levels of responsibility in the healing process and what can oftentimes feel like self-inflicted pain is that much more real and present. Therefore, achieving peace feels a little more difficult to obtain.

Where would I be without knowing God's power? How weak and alone I would be? Who would Kirk Franklin be if he hadn't found a friend in God? Who would he have been if he had known his biological father and his Father which art in heaven growing up? These are some of the questions that I asked while watching this short documentary. I was left writing this post and saying to myself, "He can only write the story going forward now while still working to heal the pain of the little boy he still holds inside, and that kind of journey, much like the one he had been living not knowing his story, requires strength, more patience, and the power of something greater. I am glad he still has a friend in Jesus even though he may find himself angry with God and his circumstances at times throughout his process."

2 Corinthians 12:9

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

Psalm 147:3-6

3 He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.

4 He telleth the number of the astars; he calleth them all by their names.

5 Great is our Lord, and of great power: his understanding is infinite.

#FathersDay #Healing #Love #GodsLove

[lesbiangummybearmafia]

I was LiveJournal alot people I followed there were all talking about and using this new social media site to put up pics, gifs, icons and fanfiction from the fandom I was into BSG. Slowly they started leaving LiveJournal to come solely to Tumblr. So I thought I'd check out why everyone was leaving LiveJournal and coming over here. I got myself account soon figured why. Tumblr was infinitely easier to use then LiveJournal had ever been. Tumblr also just a better social media site for fandoms in my opinion. We can inner act freer here then say we ever could on Twitter or Facebook. Be more a true community of people in a fandom. I remember in Marvel/MCU community after Avengers Endgame. So many of us, including myself were just broken heart by what happened. As fandom we really rallied around each other from all over the world in our grief, sadness and lose to support of each other through a very painful and really just sad time for our fandom. I didn't see that happening on any other social media sites in quite the same way it happened here. I've also made lasting friendships in IRL because of Tumblr and the fandoms on here. Because I'm able to be my true fangirl self here in a way I can't in my every day life. I've been here from almost the beginning 15 years on Tumblr, I'm never leaving. I'm so happy I follow everyone from BSG fandom over here. I know some of those people are still on here too. So that's my origin story of how I came to be on Tumblr.

How did you find tumblr?

I really enjoy talking with tumblr users so I thought I'd try posting more prompts to get some conversations started.

I was in a nostalgic mood this week and was trying to remember how I first came to tumblr. It got me thinking that it would be cool to learn other's origin stories. I'll go first.

Even though I'm a big nerd who loves Star Trek (DS9 4 life) and Anime (Fairy Tail forever) it was WordPress that brought me to tumblr. Back in 2010 while in college I worked part time for a WordPress theme shop called Obox Themes. They were looking for new markets and decided that tumblr themes would be a good area to get into. I fell in love with how easy it was to modify my digital home and how there was a whole community of people hacking and releasing themes. Creating a WordPress theme from scratch would have been impossible with my skillset then but with tumblr I could do anything with my handy CSS guide and a few energy drinks.

Over the years what kept bringing me back was the themes. They were funky, weird and sometimes a little broken but who cares. It seemed like the entire web was trying to be grown up but tumblr was Toys R Us, they said it’s ok to be a kid. I loved that. Whenever I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere else I’d come back to tumblr and make a new theme (https://www.tumblr.com/themes/by/nick). I use to love clicking on the installs and seeing what kind of fun folks were using my stuff. What kind of people liked the weird stuff I did. It's your turn. What brought you to tumblr?

[dustyro0m]

Can I make a Jason x reader request

!!CANON DIVERGENT AND MAJOR SPOILERS FOR TITANS!!

Titans Jason Todd x jokers gn child reader. (Not explicitly stated though)

Angst at the start, and ambiguous ending. Can be seen as angst or fluff.

I have changed some things from the request to make it more suited to more audiences. I also didn't really understand the ask so I tried my best! I'm very sorry this took so long, school has been very hard these past few weeks...Thank you very much!

Warnings- mentions of murder, extreme sadness, guilt, anger, abuse, crying, and running away. (LMK if I’ve missed anything!!)

Please excuse any spelling or grammatical errors, this is proofread but if I have made any pronoun mistakes, or any other mistakes let me know and I will fix it! Just please be polite :D

...

Everything is supposed to be different now. Everything was perfect.

No more death, no more suffering, everything was...serene. There was a routine.

You were finally distanced from your father. No more was his name attached to yours. And Jason. With him it felt like the entire city was yours and his. No more pain, no more suffering no more guilt and regret.

But now it feels like how it was before you met Jason. Before everything changed.

You never really liked Hawk. You knew that he and Jason had quarreled in the past, and the way he looked at you when he found out that you and Jason were dating just sealed the deal. But he was a good person. He helped people. That made him good.

Never would you have expected Jason to have killed Hawk.

He remembers everything vividly. The look on his older 'brothers' face. How Dove cried. How everyone looked at him when he sobered up from the gas. He didn't have anyone to turn to but you.

You wiped the blood off of his face, and stayed with him through the long nights. You were mad at him but you sympathised. Cranes recipe was scary, no matter who was under it.

It feels like your whole world came crashing down around you. There wasn't supposed to be any more death. Not from you, and not from Jason.

He's not supposed to kill innocent people. Hank had a life, he helped people.

You werent neccesarily a good person. You fell in love with Jason Todd for example. And trying to take over Gotham would land you the moniker of being a not so good person. But you had one rule and that was to not kill good people. Your father had done that and you hate your father.

You had told Jason not to kill innocent people. He had this anger inside of him. The best way to describe it was a burning rage fuled by loneliness and regret. And he listened to you. He didn't kill anyone innocent. Which makes the recent news even more devastating.

You remember being around your father. Everytime you were around him you would get this feeling, like a deep rooted disgust that could never go away. It was a disgusting ugly feeling felt like liquid anger and revulsion mixing with shame and guilt pooling up to your chest and spilling out of you through your words and actions.

You thought you would never feel it with Jason. But as you look at his mask, discarded on the floor of your shared apartment you feel it again.

Disgust.

Revulsion.

Fear.

Shame.

Ashamed of your boyfriend. What a horrible feeling for a horrible situation. You loved Jason, and you told yourself (and him too) that your love for him was infinite. But why are you feeling shame now?

You pick up his mask silently. Equally as silently, you throw it to the ground.

Again, and again and again.

You hated scarecrow. You hated Hank, you hated Dawn. You hated Dick, Bruce, Gar, Rachel and Donna.

You hated Jason.

The mask lies in pieces at your feet as you feel regret wash over you.

Jason has extra masks, and he would easily forgive you just as you could easily lie about what happened to his mask. But all that anger that you felt subsides.

You pick up all the broken pieces and place them together in vain. Nothing would bring that mask back. Exhausted by your emotions, you throw the pieces away and slump into the couch.

Jason walks into the house as you're watching TV. He doesn't say anything to you and you don't say anything to him. He microwaves some crappy TV dinner and serves it to the both of you.

You study him as he eats. Sharp features that blend together softly. Piercing blue eyes that made your heart skip a beat. Big warm hands with prominent veins and prominent scars.

All features that made you feel giddy. You can feel the giddiness fade away as you look at him now.

After dinner, he goes to take a shower.

It feels like staying in this house with him is sufficating you. It feels like he himself is wrapping his hands around your neck, and squeezing and squeezing.

Is this the life you wanted? Is how you want to spend the rest of your time with Jason? Angry, confused, guilty, shameful?

You decide you’re going to leave. You’ll stay with Dick for a bit, maybe Donna, or even Bruce if worst comes to worst. But just away from here.

Jason passes out at 11.PM on days where he doesn’t patrol. He’s completely wiped out as you pack up your bags. Clothes, burner phones and cables are all tossed into your duffel.

You bought this house with him. It took a long time and you still remember moving in with him. How he held you up to the high ceilings to change the light bulbs, how you and him spend afternoons shopping for furniture. How it felt so surreal that you and him made a house a home.

And now you were leaving it all behind.

You send Dick a quick text asking him to pick you up soon. He responds quickly with no questions. You appreciate that. Just thirty minutes and then you’re going to be gone from here.

Regret swirls in your stomach as you watch Jason sleep. But you push it aside. You know what you want. You’re going to try your hardest to go through with this.

You close the door behind you as softly as you can. It clicks behind you and you let out a sigh. Your heart clenches as you walk to the door.

“Y/N? What are you-”

He wipes wipes the sleep from his eyes, confusedly. His eyes flicker down to your duffel bag and your hand on the door.

“Jason…I’m sorry, I can’t…I don’t…” years start to sting in your eyes and streak down your face. Warm and hot, his face mirrors yours. You drop the bag, and before you know it your face is in his chest. Your arms wrap around each other and you both cry and cry and cry. It’s warm in his arms, and you haven’t hugged him in so, so long. It feels amazing.

“Stay. Please” he whispers.

You look him in the eyes, and you know what you're going to do.

[theresthesnitch]

Been thinking about the last snippet from One Last Time (Never Enough) and...

I totally understand why she wouldn't tell everyone the truth right away. She's lived in hiding for who knows how long, and from what I've gathered, the war has just ended so she's still getting adjusted to this different life.

It must feel overwhelming to get back to 'normal', and on top of that I think she's very protective of Harry (and rightly so) and she's so used to him being a secret that she still doesn't trust other people with this information.

Gosh, I can only imagine her horror when she fully realised the consequences of Peter's betrayal. It proved that she was right in not telling James back then... And this further strengthens her belief that Harry was in danger, and it doesn't certainly make her more trusting of the world she's been shielded from for so long.

Yes, she probably wants to keep Harry away from the dangers of the real world but she's also not sure how Harry would react to all of this, and as much as she loves James, Harry is her priority now. She has to handle this carefully.

James, on the other hand, has waited for her all these years, his love has never waned. To see that she's moved on shook him to the core and probably feels like another betrayal from someone he loved: Peter's betrayal was very important in the context of the war, but there's nothing quite like the pain of a broken heart. While he was risking his life for her, she had left him in the past.

I can see why he refuses to confront her, because it's one thing to see she's moved on, but to hear those words coming from her mouth is infinitely worse, and he would never recover. It would be the final nail in the coffin.

That, and he's also incredibly stubborn and arrogant to the point of being stupid lol he believes that there's no other plausible explanation for Lily having a kid.

Sorry for my little rant, but the fic has been on my mind a lot these past few days and these thoughts needed to come out.

Thank you for sharing your writing with us, it's truly a gift ❤️

I hope life treats you well xx

I adore you so much. I can't tell you how excited it made me to receive this. You're spending this much time thinking about my little fic that I haven't even posted yet? Love SO much love.

You've hit James exactly. I couldn't have said it better. He's spent all this time fighting for her and wanting her and thinking about how coming back home to her when this is all over will be... and the first thing he hears is that she's got a kid, and he just... doesn't react well.

Lily though, you're very close, but I think there's another piece to it yet that no one has really hit on yet. Instead of me trying to explain, how about I let Lily tell you? This snippet is after Mary gets home from the pub. There's a bit more at the pub scene, when James comes back to the table, but this is pretty quick after.

***

Lily heard the door close, but she waited on the couch, sipping her glass of red wine. It was her second, both poured some time after Harry finally fell asleep. The first one she downed fairly quickly. The second she sipped slowly, trying to erase the unreadable look on James’s face that was glued to the back of her eyelids. Each time she blinked, the look changed to anger or to sadness or to hurt, but she couldn’t nail down a single theory. 

Mary walked into the room, grabbing the glass out of Lily’s hand and taking a sip. “You didn’t tell him.” 

Lily grabbed her glass back and drained it, then poured a third glass. “Nope.” 

“You should.” 

Lily let out a harsh laugh. “When? Should I have shouted it at his back as he ran away from me?”

Mary sat next to her on the couch, a hand on her knee. “He tried to ask me about him.”

“What did you say?” Lily didn’t look at her friend, but stared ahead into the blank darkness in front of them. 

“Nothing. It’s not my story to tell.” Mary grabbed the glass again, and took another long drink. “You should though. He has a right to know, and Harry has a right to know his father.” 

“I know. I’ll tell him eventually.” Lily grabbed the glass back. 

“Eventually? Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

Lily drank down half the glass again, pressing her fingers to her lips as she swallowed down the heady liquid and her own emotions. “Probably because you won’t.” 

Mary sighed, grabbing the glass again. “Lily, I know it won’t be easy—”

Lily scoffed. “Easy? You think this is about it being difficult to say? I mean, bloody hell, of course it’s going to be hard to say, but I’ve had 5 years to think about how to say it. It’s not that.” Lily reached up over her head, and pulled out the clip holding her hair up in the artful updo that she spent far too long working on just to have James avoid looking at her. “I meant what I said tonight. I have loved him every day since we parted, and I hoped he loved me too. Loved me for me rather than because I’m the mother of his son. I just—” the words came out at a choked gasp, and Lily covered her lips once more. “I just need to know that he would still choose me. I need him to love me.” 

The tears were flowing down her cheeks, and she couldn’t really say when exactly they started, but she could do nothing to stop them. Mary wrapped her arms around Lily as sobs started to shake her shoulders. Lily melted against her, once again taking comfort in her friend’s arms when James seemed so far away, by miles or by years.

“It’s okay, Lily.” Mary smoothed her hair down, a comforting gesture that she had used several times in their time alone. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out together.” 

“I’ll tell him. I promise, I will.” 

Mary kissed her forehead, and settled back onto the couch with Lily in her arms. “I know you will. Just don’t wait too long.”