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george-fabian-weasley · 4 years ago

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if we had 5 more minutes — f. w.

Summary: You thought you could save Fred from the rumbles of falling stones; you did your best, only to be in the rumbles with him instead.

Words: 2,160 words

Warnings ⚠ : ANGST, TW: Death, TW: Battle of Hogwarts, TW: war, TW: injuries, Fred died, you died, big Pain™, I strongly suggest tissues and a dozen of comfort chocolates, I cried so you will too, Basically An Emotional Rollercoaster, Read At Your Own Risk

Disclaimer: inspired by Billie Eilish's cover of The End of The World, so... ya'll know this is going to be a painful ride. Buckle up your seatbelts and enjoy. Reblogs and Comments are Highly Appreciated! <3 p/s: reading this with the song at the background really helps with the tear pouring effect ;)

Disclaimer 2.0: i know what yall are thinking... what tf is syaf doing, posting a fic when she’s in a hiatus she just posted yesterday? Also where is mad hatter chap 5 and epilogue? well, my brain likes to conjure up ideas at very inappropriate times (like rn) so bare with me and uh i’ve been really physically and mentally exhausted from work (retail is bathshit crazy) to write the mad hatter series so idk when will i update the two chapters but i’m working on it! thank you for being patient, and im sorry for causing you guys to wait for so long, ilysm don’t kill me <3

masterlist! | general taglist! | buy me a coffee!

The end of the world.

The Battle of Hogwarts looked like the end of the world. Curses and spells thrown left to right, different kinds of bodies found at each corner and crook, walls here and there crumbling as down as hope for freedom. And blood.

At that point of time, the pools of blood on the floor look the same; pureblood or not. Because they bleed the same anguish red.

You didn't need to see the apocalypse of the world anymore. Screw the end of Mother Earth; this battle in front of your eyes was more than enough — sadly — to be your end of the world.

“Hey,” You called, causing Fred to turn his head around to your direction, his lips etched up a smile before replying with another hey. You sat next to him, the place where George had sat before he got up and left to speak with Professor Lupin.

Evil is winning, and good is losing. But then again, what difference would it make; if good kills as many as evil? At the end of the world, there is no good and evil alone. There are desperation, madness, and hunger for power, lust for victory brought along with them.

So, at the end of the world, you chose to be side by side with your lover, Fred Weasley. The red-headed dork you’ve taught yourself to pour your love into had become the very source of your life. He is your elixir, he is your soul, heart, and happiness.

It was silent for a while, none of you had anything to say. Yet the silence was comforting, with only the presence of each other as calming as it is. “Y/N,” Fred suddenly turned his head to you, biting his lower lip in contemplation. “Hm?” “Can you just stay at the Burrow?”

You blinked, “What?” Fred sighed, “Can you just stay at the Burrow right now and not join the war? I- I don’t want you to join in-” “Fred-” “I-It’s dangerous and it’s literally a war a-and I don’t want you to get hurt I would- I would rather die than have you hurt-”

“Fred!” You raised your voice, your hand clasping onto his securely, an effort to calm his frenzied thoughts. He stopped rambling and stared at you with those doe eyes you adored so much, “You know I can’t do that.”

“We need everyone on board for this war. I am no exception- bloody hell, even your parents are joining in, Freddie!” You tried to explain slowly, and Fred closed his eyes in denial of defeat.

“I love you,” he suddenly blurted out. He noticed the slight fluster you had, your eyebrows were raised for a millisecond before they furrowed upon a realization, “Wait, why are you saying this now? I-“ “I love you, Y/N,” he repeated himself and you shook your head, realizing what he was doing, “Wait, hold on a minute, no-“

He was saying it in case anything happens.

“Y/N, I love you-” “Don’t you dare say it one more time like you’re not gonna make it, Fred Weasley, I swear to Merlin,” You cut him off, your jaw clenching at his absurdness. “… Aren’t you gonna say it back?” Fred asked, his voice was small.

“I-” You sighed, “No, I won’t because I don’t want to say it right now, given the circumstances,” You paused, your voice quieting down, “It felt like a goodbye when you say it like that.” “Then when will you say it? We’ve been dating for almost a year and you'd never say it before,” He said.

“Really? This is the time to argue about this?” You gave him a pointed look, but your expression softened as you understood the meaning behind his actions. “Look, Freddie, I- You know how I feel about us,” You sighed, looking down at your hands on your lap, “You know I’m not that expressive with my words but- but I’m trying and- okay, let’s make a deal,” Fred’s ears perked up the mention of a deal. "I'm listening," he drawled.

“I’ll say the words when the war is over,” Fred gave you a sour look that clearly said ‘really?’ and it caused you to huff a smile, “Once everything is over, and everything is okay again, I’ll say them as many times as you want me to, okay?” Fred leaned into your touch as you cupped his cheek with your hand, kissing his forehead.

“Even if I made you say it a thousand times?” He asked and you chuckled, your heart warming at his childlike question, “I’ll say it for an hour if you asked me to.”

It happened so fast.

One second you were fighting off the Death Eaters with Percy and Fred, and then the other, you find your body aching at the major pressure from the rocks and debris that used to be Hogwarts’ protective wall from the outside world.

It was dark, and it was dusty, but you were too unconscious to notice. That was until you felt your cheek being patted a few times. As you gained consciousness with a cough or two, you also gained the pending pain spreading all across your whole body. You couldn’t feel your legs, or safe to say your whole lower body part.

Memories of you a few moments ago trying to push Fred away from the rumbles but ended up facing the falling stones head-on with him instead began to flow back into your mind. How foolish could you be to act like a hero, as if you could sacrifice yourself for him to live.

“… Y-Y/N…”

You turned your head with a silent grunt, and your eyes fixate at the body beside you, a few feet away, Fred.

He had blood leaking from his nose and ears, probably from the impact, and his face was dusty with debris from the stones. As he looked at you, he threw you a smile; a weak, hiding the fact that he’s in immense pain kind of smile.

“F-fancy seeing you here,” he grunted with a wince, a smile nevertheless rested on his lips. “Fred…” you could only mutter his name, closing your eyes for a brief second at the growing pain on your thighs. The pressure from the rumbles had slowly increased, and you felt yourself losing consciousness again. Only to be brought back to open your eyes as Fred poked your cheeks a few more times, “Hey, hey, s-stay with me, love.”

“We’ll… We’ll be okay.”

You winced at the trickling sensation on your skin as you tried to move your fingers towards him, “It’s… It’s impossible, Fred…” You voiced out, your voice cracking up. You saw Fred’s lips quivered before he threw you another comforting smile, “Don’t… Don’t say that. We’ll make it… I-I know we will.”

“We… We will?”

Groaning from the injuries on his body as he tried to move closer to you, he nodded, “We will.”

You felt his fingers trying to reach for yours, and you handed him assistance as you hooked your fingers with his. His hand was cold, trembling. But it was Fred’s. And Fred’s hand is always warm.

“It’s… It’s so heavy,” You whimpered in pain, looking at Fred for comfort. All Fred wished to do at the moment was to be strong enough. Strong enough to push off these rumbles pressing onto his body. Strong enough to pull you out from the pain. All he wished for was for you to not be in pain anymore. But he knew he couldn’t do anything. The rumbles were too big, too heavy, and it would take a while for anyone to find them at the bottom of everything.

Fred breathed out heavily through his mouth, slowly finding it difficult to breathe through his nose anymore, trying his best to look strong for you, “Stay with me, love. S-stay with me. Five more minutes. F-five more minutes and they’ll- they’ll save us…”

“Fred…”

“Five more minutes, I promise…”

You saw the desperation in his eyes, trying his best to somehow keep you afloat until you two are saved. You heard muffles from the other side, Percy screaming for Fred and you. His screams were sad and painful to hear; you would’ve cried for him if it wasn’t for the constant high-pitched ringing in your ears.

“Fred, h-hold my hand. P-please,” You whispered, finding no more strength to say anything louder than a whisper. He instantly intertwined your fingers with his, stretching as far as he could to reach you; no matter how screeching the pain in his lower body was.

“Fred,” You called him again. He chuckled a bit, “You’re… you’re saying my name a lot of times right now, darling.” You huffed a smile, the corner of your lips twitched, “… I want to ask you something.”

“… Anything.”

Your eyes met his, even in the darkness, his eyes still managed to look so beautiful. So earthly beautiful. “… Are you happy, Freddie?”

There was something about the way you say it, Fred couldn’t get a touch of what it was but… it felt like a goodbye. As much as Fred hated to admit, he wasn’t holding on much longer either. He was bleeding heavily from everywhere, his wand was out of his reach, and his body was starting to numb. His vision began to blur by itself, hence he blinked his eyes repeatedly. Trying his best to see your features clearly, one last time, if the worst happens.

This is it, he thought. This is the end of my line.

Finding an urge to cry, but didn’t have enough strength to sob, Fred let out a tear or two onto the dusty surface he laid his head on, his eyes closing after the content stare of your beautiful— though bloody and dusty— face. How ironic, he’s slipping away first even though he was the one who said five more minutes.

If only you had five more minutes.

“W-with… With you? Heh, always… “ The whisper coming out from his mouth caused you to narrow your eyes at him. It felt strange, it felt wrong. Was he saying goodbye? Watching Fred close his eyes was alarming, so you gained all your strength to pat his hand a few times, “H-hey, Freddie… Five more minutes. Hang… Hang on for five more minutes, please.”

You squeezed his hand, and he naturally squeezed back, only this time it was weaker than usual. His grip on your hand started to soften, but you tightened yours desperately. The pain all over your body was partially forgotten, your only focus was on keeping Fred breathing and alive, as well as yourself.

“I’m… I’m trying, my love… but I’m sleepy… and tired…” he mumbled, his words became slurred by time. He was on the edge, you realized that. Upon the sad realization, you bit your tongue, trying your best to prepare for the worst. “L-look at me, darling,” Your voice quivered, feeling the sandy surface on your temple as you tried to force your eyes open, to properly look at him, “Look at me.”

You knew it. He was slipping away from your fingers, and you were slipping too. It didn’t matter anymore even if Percy bulldozed his way to you now, it was too late. Simply too late. And that’s none of his faults. It’s none of his and none of yours.

Some things are just meant to be.

You took your other hand and placed it onto his cold, dirty cheek. Caressing his cheekbone gently, you gave him a comforting smile, “Fred.”

He looked at you, a faint smile on his lips. He’s at the end, you acknowledged. You widen your smile to assure him, although the tears escaping your eyes say otherwise, “… You make me happy. You make me so so happy. And I… I love you.”

“I love you, Freddie.”

With a big smile, Fred widened his eyes weakly, letting out a sigh of content as he looked at you with gentle eyes,“… Now that wasn’t so hard, now was it?“

Gentle eyes that soon hollowed empty.

“Yeah,” the dam of your tears broke down, “Took me a long time...” You squeezed his now lifeless hand, trying to find comfort and warmth from him for the last time. You smiled at Fred, whilst tears rolling down your temple slowly as if mourning the passing of your lover for you. You inched closer to him, careful not to graze your injuries, and met your nose with his.

You caressed his cheek, finally feeling yourself lose consciousness. This is it, you thought, I won’t wake up ever again. “You said we’ll be okay,” You whispered weakly, huffing a content smile on your lips. Staring into his eyes that had held so much love and pure unadulterated affection for you all these years, now empty with no trace of life, had sent you into pain more powerful than the injuries present on and in your body.

“I guess we will be, after this.”

“… You spent your last five minutes with me, huh?” You felt yourself going in and out of consciousness, and your vision blurring continuously, “Aren’t you a sappy git,” the mere whisper escaped your mouth with a sigh. The warm smile never left your lips, and the only thing in your mind was how peaceful he looked as of that moment, and you wondered if you’ll ever be in that state of peace, with him.

“No- no- no!” someone was shouting. “No! Fred! no!” And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them with his hand on Y/N’s head, and the pair of lovers stared at each other without seeing, the ghost of their last smile still etched upon their faces.

On our last few drags of air, we agree

I was, and you were

Happy

TAGLIST:

@multifandom-but @sirenswhispers @lilac-skies-xd @obsessedunicorn24 @foggyturtleknightangel @evewithluv @softlyqoos @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lilypad-55449 @fiantomartell @hopemalfoyweasley @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @bucketandpotato @klausdatprettyboi @adoregin @littlechillies @phuvioqhile @sweetnspicysimp @wand3ringr0s3 @harrypotter289 @emptyporsche @tallyovie @potters-heart @amourtentiaa @lunalovecroft @loveboyhalo @lupinsclassroom @breadqueen95 @iwritesiriusly @rcwenaclaw @sevsbitxh @freds-slut @acosmis-t @colorfulprofessornickelangel @vote4weasleys @anchoeritic @alluringshawn @cute-sidney @anna-banana-13 @lostaurorax @emrysts @rosietoesy @lilgeorgie78 @prismarts @an2402lths

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fic #fred weasley fanfiction #fredweasley #frederick gideon weasley

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bibliocratic · 5 years ago

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Ooo jonmartin prompts ya say? 👀 If you're still taking requests, I'm really feeling some Supportive Monster Boyfriends angst rn. Either jon being Very Eye and martin calming him down, or martin being Very Lonely and Jon pulling him back, whichever....😁 --@screaming-introvertedly

Here you are! Supportive Martin and the Eye-based horror his boyfriend sometimes turns into like some sort of shitty superpower

(some content warnings for violent imagery and graphic hurt/comfort, I’ll add more detail to the tags.

Jon rocks him awake violently, his nails leaving reddened half-moons in the skin of Martin’s arm, clamping his other hand vice-tight over his mouth. He is panicked and panicking and Martin’s pulling his beaten, aching body up out of muddy awakening, dredging together the scraps of energy he has left.

Jon releases him, and makes sloppy gestures, their meaning imperfectly delivered with how rushed he’s being; Up. Leave. Corruption. Now. Leave. Now. Now.

His mouth and hands make a terrified picture of desperation, and Martin’s staggering to standing, steadying himself on the rust-mossed bannister of the car park stairwell they’ve been sheltering in, trying to shuck exhaustion from his limbs to paw around for his backpack.

It’s too late anyway.

Martin can hear the skittering, scraping tumult approaching up the floors below, and Jon must know something he doesn’t, because he’s grabbing Martin’s hand and tugging him manically up, pushing him when he thinks Martin’s going too slow, and their feet are tripping on the concrete stairwell and still Jon is trying to pull them both upwards with nothing but his will and shaky legs. Their thumping, irregular steps echo in the boxy space, and still they aren’t fast enough.

They come as a mass. A roiling, compacted sea of matted, boil-plagued fur and knotted tails. Mouths frothing rapid cry out a hideous rending song that scampers and squeals, and they pour up the steps like a wave and break against them as they run.

Martin fights hard as they’re blocked in at a higher landing. He’s getting good at fighting these days. He scythes with a home-made weapon of brute force and nails while Jon burrows into their backpack, and then he’s being handed a flare as Jon casts down a glugging spill of petrol, and that when illuminates in a fetid barbecue stench takes out a good few of them. Yet they are legion and there are only two of them, and they were shattered and wasting before even this assault, and Martin is not fast enough.

He remembers hearing Jon holler in agony, his body turning in a pirouette of violent motion and intended impact and private terror, and he doesn’t even manage to complete his turn. A rat-king, made of up dozens of writhing furry bodies latches into his leg, using the leverage to claw savagely at his chest with a dozen back legs, a mauling amalgamation of impossible, flesh-rot limbs.

Something chomps into the meat of his arm and dangles there. He screams himself, the sound too big in the stairwell, a return cry of a dozen distant howling Martins, and his body shudders felled as he’s pulled down, and he keeps on screaming. He’s lost sight of Jon. There’s blood and matted fur over his eyes. His lungs expanding with a breathless terror, he tries to batter them away like midges in a summer heat as they swarm over him and take him for food.

The patter of their nailed feet over his cheeks, the paper-cut, dig-drag sensation of the onslaught, the decisive and brutal splitting bite and rip of the skin of his throat.

“Stop.”

The rats stop. So does Martin. The scream bubbles un-made and unvoiced in his chest and he can’t blink the blood out of his eyes. He can’t see Jon, but he doesn’t expect to. It’s not Jon that’s here with them any more.

“Tell me,” whisper-demands-croons-sings the thing that is no longer Jon, voice crashing on the rocks of them with with a wave-foam aftertaste of static and Martin’s mouth fills with the saliva of every shameful story he’s ever kept secret, every unkind thought, every mistake, every evidence of his fragile humanity laid bare.

“Tell me your story, Tangled Hoarde of Many Claws,” compells the voice of the Archive. “Let me rip your song from your spines.”

Martin pays hideous witnessing to the rats’ screaming. He sees when they start rocking their mismatched, desecrated bodies, moaning and keening, when they start dying with all the violent grace that was probably afforded to Peter Lukas. The infected bodies that survive turn delirious, wailing in confusion, lost from their hive, dragging their broken-backed, broken-brained bodies from the battleground, and the Watcher drinks it all in.

Martin feels the compulsion flicker and falter like a loss of pressure. His mouth remembers the agony of his body.

The thing that is not Jon watches him for a steady moment. The edging of its eyes stretches, retracts like the bodies of jellyfish, and pupils bloom into existence like opening flowers with a sucking, popping sound. Still the thing stares and Martin wails at the torn places of his skin, and the flayed torn places in his head that the thing is calmly perusing through as his movements get weaker.

He wants Jon here. He is trembling, and blood-loss woozy and he wants Jon to tell him it’ll be ok.

It is a body in all the ways something can be technically a body, and it moves in all the ways something can mechanically move. The hands that touch him are not the thin-spindle fingers that are deceptively calloused, they are not hands he knows, hands that have held him with a cherishing softness. There is nothing soft in this gaze, like being the only thing in the sights of some predator on a desolate, wind-scoured moor, nothing soft in its hold as it observes the violence done to Martin’s body.

Martin gasps and thrashes faintly, gargles blood through the weeping gash in his throat, and the thing makes a sound like a snarl of tape being wound back.

“Breathe,” his body is commanded. It doesn’t even have a mouth any more. It sounds its demand in the fibres of his skin, in the tendrils of his slipping-away consciousness, and Martin almost weeps at the meat-hook immoveable yank of it as he’s made to persist.

It is unendurable to continue. And the thing, that flexes the outline of a face that could have been Jon’s, whose eyes have lost all colour, replaced by the shock-wide black of pupils like the unblinking gaze of owls, will not permit him to drop into unconsciousness. Martin is instructed to live and breathe and survive in this blood-soaked, echoing stairwell, and his abused body does as instructed. It is efficient, this brutality of meatball surgery, but there is nothing human in it, and Martin’s throat gags on a wail as a tourniquet is applied to his leg.

Finally, eyes that could be eyes he knows boil down to the front of the thing’s face.

“Sleep. Long and dreamless,” comes the final command. Martin has no choice in the matter.

He awakes in a different place. There was a multi-level shopping centre running off one of the floors of the car park, and he opens his eyes in the plush-carpeted, desolate foyer of a multiscreen cinema. His body an anguish, aching and bruised to the bones of him. He blearily looks at the patch on his arm, the neatly sewn stitches and tape marking his skin, manages to move his arm with a pained wince to touch at the padding of gauze at his throat, his upper leg.

Around him like the elements of a summoning circle; medical gear, antiseptic and needle driver, tissue forceps, blood-heavy bindings discarded along with make-shift compressions. Martin wonders how much of his body needed mending. How much of it was commanded to.

Jon is there. His face ashen and smeared with Martin’s blood, the horrifying vista of his face returned to almost normal. Martin watches an eyeball roll back and into the scar tissue of Jon’s throat. He has his back against a circular plinth, body collapsed and folded uncomfortably like he’s lying where he fell.

He’s not looking at Martin. His eyes – his own dark pupils returned to him – staring off at a distance Martin cannot reach, a horizon he cannot venture to.

There are the drying trails of tears down Jon’s cheeks. His mouth is moving but it is not his voice that spools out but a testament of horror bestowed by some other poor soul using a mimicry of their voice.

Jon has the expression on his face of a man who has spent a long time drowning.

Martin wonders if he’s too late to bring him back to shore.

Martin reaches out, fumbling, his motions jerky, imprecise. His reach limited by the bindings of his wounds, he flails his hand to touch Jon’s leg, the bare skin revealed below the line of the trouser leg, the only part of him he can reach.

“Jon, come back,” he pleads hoarsely, and stares at him as if hoping to snag his gaze away. “Come on, you can do it, come back to me.”

Jon’s eyes blink slowly, like a lizard. His mouth doesn’t stop moving. His body has started shivering, though it’s warm enough here.

Martin wets his lips and wishes for water.

“I broke my wrist when I was six,” he says, the words scraping up the side of his throat. Jon’s eyes flick to him, and there are still the embers of a hungry light there. He has stopped talking. He is paying attention. “I used to play rugby, though I was never any good at it. There was a fight in the changing rooms when I was thirteen, and I stopped playing after that.” Martin sucks in more air and Jon’s gaze doesn’t leave him. He’s stopped shivering.

The Eye likes the tales of minor tragedies, of fears and hurts and heartaches and so Martin feeds it like a praying man might light votive candles to try and lead his loved ones home.

“The first boy I loved, it-it was, we were at uni, but he was so ashamed of who he was he kept me a secret too,” he continues. “I am frightened that one day I’ll become my dad. I miss Tim and Sasha. I knew I had a crush on you when you told me I could stay in the Archives, and even then, I wished it gone because I didn’t want to be hurt again and I thought you’d be the sort of man who’d tear me down to build himself up.” He clenches his fingers around Jon’s ankle. “I am scared that one day you’ll drown. Come back, Jon. It can’t have you, come back to me.”

Jon sways and blinks woozy. He looks at Martin, seeing again, and his gaze is thready and human and terrified.

He’s stumbling, crawling on hands and knees to Martin’s side. Stuffed in his mouth are all the sorries and regrets and pains Martin can see writ large over his face; his hands span bird-flighty over Martin’s healing, shattered places.

“Jon, I’m ok, you saved me, Jon, we’re alive.”

Martin uses his arm to pull him close. Jon’s hands are beginning to scatter in explanation, in apology, but Martin shushes him with a croaky, relieved sound and holds him, a known quantity cradled in his hands, rocking his creaking, bruised painfully human body as tight as his battered limbs can bear.

#tma #the magnus archives #prompt fill #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #cw hurt/comfort #cw violence #cw bloody imagery #cw compulsion

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alice-chan-chan · 7 years ago

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I was tagged by @akutagawaas and @kyoka-izumi (couldn’t avoid this tag game after being tagged twice haah)

won’t tag anyone this time, feel free to pick this game up if you want to :)

THE LAST

1. DRINK: tea 2. PHONE CALL: to mobile operator techsupport >_< 3. TEXT MESSAGE: don't remember 4. SONG YOU LISTENED TO: the same as yesterday I guess? smth from the Kiss Dum Ost 5. TIME YOU CRIED: a couple of weeks ago 6. DATED SOMEONE TWICE: ??? 7. KISSED SOMEONE AND REGRETTED IT: a couple of years ago 8. BEEN CHEATED ON: same as previous?? Idk 9. LOST SOMEONE SPECIAL: last month probably, Idk for sure. My cat has ran off shortly after we've temporarily moved to our summer house. I don't know if he comes back or not... 10. BEEN DEPRESSED: right now I guess?? I'm on antidepressants tho. 11. GOTTEN DRUNK AND THROWN UP: a couple of years ago.

3 FAVORITE COLOURS

12. violet 13. green 14. some shades of orange

IN THE LAST YEAR HAVE YOU

15. MADE NEW FRIENDS: yes 16. FALLEN OUT OF LOVE: no 17. LAUGHED UNTIL YOU CRIED: probably?? 18. FOUND OUT SOMEONE WAS TALKING ABOUT YOU: Idk 19. MET SOMEONE WHO CHANGED YOU: no 20. FOUND OUT WHO YOUR FRIENDS ARE: ??? 21. KISSED SOMEONE ON YOUR FACEBOOK LIST: nope

GENERAL

22. HOW MANY OF YOUR FACEBOOK FRIENDS DO YOU KNOW IN REAL LIFE: Idk, I rarely use fb, I don’t remember my current friendlist there 23. DO YOU HAVE ANY PETS: not sure anymore. T_T 24. DO YOU WANT TO CHANGE YOUR NAME: yes 25. WHAT DID YOU DO FOR YOUR LAST BIRTHDAY: had a chocolate cake and some beer later x) 26. WHAT TIME DID YOU WAKE UP: around 1 pm 27. WHAT WERE YOU DOING AT MIDNIGHT LAST NIGHT: struggling with my internet connection, which disappeared without any warning 28. NAME SOMETHING YOU CAN’T WAIT FOR: my cat to return 29. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAW YOUR MOM: *turns back* rn 31. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW: nothing 32. HAVE YOU EVER TALKED TO A PERSON NAMED TOM: nope, although I talked to a person named Toma, just like Kate did XD 33. SOMETHING THAT IS GETTING ON YOUR NERVES: my cat being absent for several weeks 34. MOST VISITED WEBSITE: tumblr, diary.ru, vk 35. HAIR COLOR: light brown I guess? my hair has got darker than it used to be when I was at school, surprisingly 36. LONG OR SHORT HAIR: short 37. DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON SOMEONE: if Akutagawa counts, then yes 38. WHAT DO YOU LIKE ABOUT YOURSELF: I rarely get bored 39. PIERCINGS: nope 40. BLOOD TYPE: no idea 41. NICKNAME: Alice-chan 42. RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single 43. ZODIAC: cancer 44. PRONOUNS: she/her, but I don't stress about this too much. They/them is ok too, and I wont be offended if someone refers to me as he/him, since I wanted to be a boy when I was a kid XD 45. FAVOURITE TV SHOW: I don't watch TV 46. TATTOOS: nope 47. RIGHT OR LEFT HANDED: I was originally left handed, but I was taught to be right handed before going to school. I am mostly right handed now, but sometimes I unconsciously do smth with my left hand 48. SURGERY: on a toe about 15 years ago 50. SPORT: I'm not into sports 51. VACATION: any nice and warm sea surrounded by mountains would be nice 52. PAIR OF TRAINERS: Idk

MORE GENERAL

53. EATING: nothing atm 54. DRINKING: nothing atm 55. I’M ABOUT TO: reply to one more tag game 56. WAITING FOR: my cat to return... 57. WANT: my cat to return 58. GET MARRIED: I don't have a s/o 59. CAREER: I wish I were doin smth related to graphic design 60. HUGS OR KISSES: hugs 61. LIPS OR EYES: eyes 62. SHORTER OR TALLER: taller 63. OLDER OR YOUNGER: older 64. NICE ARMS OR NICE STOMACH: Idk 65. HOOK UP OR RELATIONSHIP: relationship 66. TROUBLEMAKER OR HESITANT: Idk

HAVE YOU EVER:

67. KISSED A STRANGER: nope 68. DRANK HARD LIQUOR: yes 69. LOST GLASSES/CONTACT LENSES: no 70. TURNED SOMEONE DOWN: yes 71. SEX ON THE FIRST DATE: no 72. BROKEN SOMEONE’S HEART: yes, probably 73. HAD YOUR HEART BROKEN: yes 74. BEEN ARRESTED: no 75. CRIED WHEN SOMEONE DIED: yes 76. FALLEN FOR A FRIEND: yes

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

77. YOURSELF: Idk?? 78. MIRACLES: sometimes 79. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT: probably 80. SANTA CLAUS: no 81. KISS ON THE FIRST DATE: why not 82. ANGELS: maybe

OTHER:

84. EYE COLOR: blue 85. FAVORITE MOVIE: Star Wars, probably

#flashmob #about me #thanks for tagging me!#this game was kinda hard for me somehow #I hope I don't sound too depressed x)#I'm ok #more or less

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legalmargamind · 7 years ago

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(1)This girl, she has been my best friend, my parents, my everything since 6 years ago Whenever we're together, everybody think we are date. I have tell her that i love her like more than once, and she did the same We keep together untul finally it's become more complicate, when she has a boyfriend and i really broken heart And i decide i have to tell her about my feeling officially, honestly i'm doing that not to ruin she and her boyfriend I just want her to know

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(2) and i told her everything, we both cry but you know whatshe said ? She said that she never has a special feeling for me except afriendship. And after that she ignoring me. We never talk, and I can't eventell you how hurt i am. I need to consume this anti depressant pill 3 times aday. I lost my weight. Its really hard to lost someone that means everythingfor you I can't imagine how to survive at that time

(3) after more than 7 months never talk to each other, shecomes to me, hug me tight and i am trying to let it go, but she is hug me moretightly she said "please I can't be like this, I can't losing youanymore" and at that time for the first time after 7 months i saw her fromclose, and i realize that all of my friends was right (they don't know whathappened between us) she was very thin, and i don't understand she look so sadand desperate.

(4) it is not easy to forgive someone who already break yourheart, i mean how can she doing that ? Acting like i am the only one whofalling in love ? She is still with my boyfriend and i'm sure they will getmarried, but she keep call me or texting me. Until now she never told me abouther feeling, did she love me like the way i love her ? Or she just love me as afriend. For god sake i really don't understand. Hope you understand mylanguage, i am from singapore and my English is not too good

(5) being gay was really a big deal in country. But i nevercan to open my heart to someone else, no matter for a girl or a boy. But i amtrying to forget her too or at least pretending like i have already forget her.But when i am not texting her or call her she will ask about me to my friendsand it's make me more confused. I wish i can move as far as i can so i willnever meet her again and she will be more happy with her rich and perfectboyfriend -thanks marga-

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First of all, I just want to say that I am sorry to hear that you are under such devastating situation rn. Bless your heart.

I know it is hard to love again once you have been consumed by your feelings for a person but this is what I can tell you, in order for you to fully move on.. you have to ignore the idea of her. By that I mean, don’t ask about her with your common friends, don’t talk about her with people you commonly know, you have to clear your mind, heart, and soul rn. Tell your friends that you don’t want any news from her, explain to them that it is only making it difficult for you to fully move on, they will support you on this. Actually, she might be doing this on purpose to keep you hooked. Don’t look back now, you have gone a long way, cutting the wound would make you numb in the long run, please don’t do that to yourself. Let go. Let yourself be happy again without her. You need to do this for yourself. You need to get back there. The reason why you cannot open to another person is because unconsciously you are still hooked to the past and it is not good for you anymore. Love yourself. It all starts with you. Let her be with that guy. They deserve each other, you on the other hand deserves someone who truly cares for you.

I know what it’s like to grow up in a conservative country where the LGBT community is not very visible so I understand completely where you are coming from. But you have to be brave. You have to fight the norms. You have to go out there and do what is best for you. I live in a country like yours but I had five girlfriends, why? because I pursued what I want. I did what made me happy. Don’t mind the problems, only mind the solutions. Best of luck! Update me on your progress. I am just here if you need me. xx

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