#i truly don’t matter in the grand scheme of things

[scrimple]

i think i’ve been slowly inching towards crisis and at this point i feel like all i can do is watch myself burn

[justauthoring]

the winner takes it all.

in which, leander prewett is a prick and sebastian shows him not mess with his girl.

a/n: i truly am the queen of being late to the partyyyyyyyyyyyy (ive wanted to write for sebastian since hogwarts legacy came out but just finally got around to finally writing for him :) )

warnings: leander prewett bashing because i said so :), being drugged?

pairing: sebastian sallow x f!slytherin!reader

“I don’t need to have eyes to know you’re staring, Sebastian.”

Ominis’ rather bland comment pulls Sebastian from the spiraling thoughts that had been coursing through his mind, a blink of the eye as he shifts, turning to face his long time friend with a frown. 

“I’m not staring,” Sebastian argues, voice sharper than he meant it to be. Guilt runs through him when he realizes he’s being unfairly cross with Ominis, a boy that despite all has had to deal with Sebastian’s rather cross moods as of late and in the grand scheme of things, has done so with very little complaint.

“Sorry,” Sebastian sighs after a moment of silence passes, shoulders sinking. “It’s just…”

Ominis sets his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder across the table, squeezing reassuringly. “You don’t need to explain, Sebastian. I understand,” he offers softly, voice warm with what is meant to be comfort. Sebastian, despite the hurt in his heart, does feel himself ease, even if only a little, at Ominis’ words. The boy has always been exceptionally good at understanding others and knowing what to say to help someone—something Sebastian often found he lacked in retrospect. But then again, given who Ominis was, it made complete sense for him to understand and see things other’s couldn’t (even if he lacked the actual sight to do so).

“I just worry you’ll do something rash,” Ominis adds tentatively, as if afraid of Sebastian’s reaction. 

But Sebastian isn’t offended—honestly, he’s been rather scared of his own limits as of late. Especially when he was faced with that mocking grin and gaze that seemed to scream; I beat you.

It all started two days ago when, instead of meeting Sebastian in your shared common room as you normally did, you never showed up. The act was odd but Sebastian had brushed it off as a simple lack of communication, figuring you’d headed to the Great Hall ahead of him for whatever reason since Anne had assured him you weren’t in your room. Maybe you forgot to let him, he figures; the possibilities of why you’d left early were endless and it wasn’t like Sebastian wasn’t capable of walking the halls without you so he’d shrugged it off and joined Ominis and Anne instead.

It was really when he entered the Great Hall that everything went wrong.

Despite his brush off earlier, the second he was in the hall, his eyes had strained to search for you, missing the familiar and comfortable conversation he could find in you. He missed seeing your face first thing and making you laugh with one of his silly quips or light teasing, watching you stuff your face full of food because you couldn’t possibly just choose one thing and rather had to have it all and—

And all of that seemed to feel a lot worse when he finally found you and saw you sat at not only the wrong table but with Leander Prewett of all people. If that wasn’t bad enough, you were practically sitting on his lap, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist as you cuddled into his side, giggling as the boy practically fed you.

Sebastian’s feet had moved on their own, despite Anne’s worried call after him and Ominis trying to grab him (because despite not being able to see what Sebastian had, he’d known the boy long enough to know something was terribly wrong). Neither of them had mattered in that moment as Sebastian blindly made his way over to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the curious pairs of eyes that watched him, marching straight up to you and Leander. The latter lazily glanced up at him, looking entirely too smug and pleased about himself as your eyes slowly flickered over to him, blinking, before smiling; “Sebastian!”

The way you’d called his name sounded all wrong. Although you looked pleased, a bright grin on your face, your eyes weren’t sparkling with the mischief he’d come to expect from you and rather you looked dazed.

Lovesick. The word made Sebastian want to throw up.

“Can we help you, Sallow?” Leander grinned, tilting his head in mock curiosity.

Sebastian’s lips part, but he hesitates, bewildered. His eyes flicker from Leander, to you, to the grip he has on you, to the way you’re holding him. “What… what the bloody hell is this?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Leander asks, voice sickly sweet. “Y/N and I were just enjoying breakfast together, weren’t we, love?” And to add to it all, Leander presses a kiss to your cheek and what shocks Sebastian most of all is that you don’t push him away or slap him or anything—you… you respond to the kiss.

Now, it wasn’t like you hated Leander. You knew of Sebastian’s… distaste towards the boy, and that Anne and Ominis in one way or another felt the same, though just not as much. You didn’t care for the boy either, as you’ve told Sebastian plenty, but you’d told him plenty of times not to be too mean or cruel or at least, try to get along with him.

Sebastian feels like he’s going crazy—was this why? Did you want him to at least try and get along with Leander because all along you’d had a secret crush on him or something? 

Had Sebastian misread everything?

The walks together every morning? The late nights spent together? The lingering touches? Longing looks? Flirts and teases and…—

“That’s right,” you grin at Leander, brushing at his bright, red hair and smiling. 

“But…” Sebastian swears he sounds more pathetic than he ever has… he certainly feels it. Watching you stare at Leander with that lovesick expression, smiling and touching him and… had Sebastian just never seen it? Had he been that blind by his own emotions? “You weren’t in the common room this morning,” is what he eventually manages, though it’s rather pointless.

It was obvious where you were.

“Oh,” you call out, blinking, as if you’d just remembered—oddly, that hurts the most. That you’d… forgotten about him. “Sorry Sebastian, I had such an urge to see Leander this morning and… well, I’m glad I did. Because I was finally able to tell him of my feelings,” you smile at him, cupping his cheek. “And i’ve never been so happy to hear he returned them.”

Sebastian’s lips part, his gaze shifting to Leander who’s watching him carefully.

The glare is clear. The meaning is plain.

I win.

Thankfully Anne is flanking his side before he can make more of an embarrassment of himself, grabbing Sebastian firmly by the arm and offering you a small, albeit bewildered smile and a glare at Leander before leading Sebastian away.

It had been two days since then and you hadn’t left Leander’s side once.

The only time you were alone was in the classes you didn’t share with him, and despite the fact that Sebastian had luckily shared one of those classes with you, his hopes at finding out some sort of answer had been quickly squashed when you spent the entire class in a daze. You hadn’t paid attention to the professor at all and spent your time staring off in a blissful, oblivious smile, ever so often whispering Leander’s name under your breath.

Sebastian was heartbroken. And angry. And hurt. And everything in between.

“I want to,” Sebastian admits to Ominis as he pulls himself from the memory. But, then, he sighs. “I won’t though. If… Y/N is happy, well, I guess there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Ominis frowns. “You’re not going to fight it even a little?”

Sebastian turns to him, confused; “you just said you didn’t want me doing that.”

“I just don’t want you to do anything rash,” Ominis argues, shaking his head. “It all still feels so strange to me. I mean, had Y/N given any sort of inclination about her feelings for Leander? I certainly don’t remember her saying anything and neither does Anne.”

Sebastian pauses, “well, no… I guess not. But maybe it was because we’d been clear how we felt about him.”

“Still,” Ominis expresses, leaning forward. “It’s so sudden. She went to bed fine and then woke up that morning and she’s barely spoken two words to us since. We were once her best friends, no?”

Sebastian had been so caught up in his own hurt he hadn’t even begun to think about how Ominis and Anne must be feeling. They were your best friends just as much as they were his after all and it wasn’t just Sebastian you’d steered clear of… you’d been avoiding all three of them like they were the plague. 

Sebastian sighs; “I think she’s just—”

“—She’s been poisoned!”

Both Ominis and Sebastian rear their heads back in surprise at both Anne’s words and her very sudden arrival, not to mention the loud bang that echoes as she slams the box in her hands onto the table with no care for those around. Some Slytherins nearby send her glares but she ignores them, her wide eyes strictly on both Sebastian and Ominis as she pants, out of breath.

“Anne,” Ominis calls, blinking. “What are you talking about? Who?”

“Y/N,” she all but breathes, turning to Sebastian who’s sat beside her. “Y/N’s been poisoned.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed; “what the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“Look,” she calls, pushing the box in her hands forward. Sebastian eyes it as she takes the lid off, taking in the red and gold wrapping paper, before eyeing the wrapped piece of chocolate Anne pulls out of it. 

Sebastian stares; “it’s chocolate.”

Anne huffs, exasperated. “It’s laced,” she explains, pushing it to Sebastian’s face. “Smell it.”

Completely baffled but unable to resist with the way Anne is shoving the chocolate in his face, Sebastian does as he’s told. Leaning forward, he takes a small whiff, almost immediately frowning in confusion when he does; “it smells like… Y/N.”

For a moment, Anne pauses; “well, that fits,” she laughs, before pulling the chocolate closer to her. “It smells different to me. It smells like—” but she hastily cuts herself off, growing red in the cheeks as her eyes flicker over to Ominis.

A moment passes.

“Okay…” Ominis finally sighs, probably the most confused. “But what does this have to do with Y/N being—” He halts, eyes widening. “Amortentia!”

Anne grins; “exactly.”

“What?” Sebastian cries.

“I found these chocolates on Y/N’s bed,” Anne explains, “with a note attached, signed by Leander.”

The cogs in Sebastian’s mind slowly click together.

“He… he drugged her!” he calls out in disbelief, feeling a new wave of rage flood through him. His eyes snap back to his right, where he’d been staring before, where you are, coddled up next to Leander as he smiles sickly down at you, touching you, kissing you. “I’m gonna kill him.”

Anne is quick to grab onto him, “no.” And at the bewildered look he sends her, she frowns. “We need to get her to Blainey. She’s the only one who can heal Y/N and then the school will deal with him.”

Sebastian wants to argue but despite the anger radiating through him, he knows his sister is right.

-

Your head hurts as you blink away, the bright light above your head causing you to moan in dejection, confused.

Where were you?

Pressing a hand to your face, you try to block the light, using your other hand to push yourself up, slowly, since your whole body hurts in a dull ache everywhere. It takes you a moment to realize you’re in the hospital wing, recognizing the startling white of the room, before a set of hands are falling on you, pulling your attention to your left.

You gasp, panicked, until you see a familiar pair of warm brown eyes staring back at you in concern.

“Sebastian…” You mumble, voice coarse.

He shakes his head at you; “don’t push yourself.” He urges gently, his hand on your back as the other reaches behind you, helping prop you up with your pillows. You let him, still confused, as you glance around the room.

“How… How did I get here?” You asked, not remembering how you ended up here or why… actually, everything feels like a dull blur. The last thing you clearly remember is coming to your dorm after a long day of classes, surprised to see a box of chocolates on your bed and they’d been from… Leander!

Your eyes snap to Sebastian; “Sebastian! I think… I think I may have been poisoned by—”

“Leander Prewett,” Sebastian cuts in, face darkening as he nods at you. “Yes, well, Y/N…”

“You were given the love potion, my dear,” Blainey calls out, stepping into your view with a sheet of paper in her hands, eyes slowly flickering to meet your own with a worried frown. “Amortentia,” she nods, lips pursed. “Thanks to this young man, I was able to give you the remedy rather quickly but it looks like you were drugged for at least a couple days. Your body aches because of the antidote, so I’d like to keep you for a few hours just to make sure everything is alright but overall, there should be no lasting effects.”

Stunned, you let her words register.

Letting your hands fall numbly to your lap, you stare at them.

“Y/N?” Sebastian calls out quietly, pulling your eyes on him as he glances at you in concern. “Are you…?” his words trail, not really sure how to gauge the look on your face.

“I’m alright,” you whisper, “just… embarrassed.”

Sebastian shakes his head; “it’s not your fault—”

The door slamming open catches both of your attention, and your eyes widen when Leander comes storming into the room. The concerned look on his face is quickly replaced with rage when he sees Sebastian at your side, and Leander wastes no time; “just what are you doing—”

But Leander never gets to finish what he’s saying because in the next second Sebastian’s fist is colliding with his cheek, hard, and knocking him off his feet and straight into the ground. Nurse Blainey lets out a cry in surprise as you jump, body tensing as your eyes flicker from Leander to Sebastian, but you’re not afraid. At least not of Sebastian. Rather, his actions fill you with an odd warmth.

“I normally wouldn’t send you straight to detention for that, Mr. Sallow,” Professor Weasley’s voice rings out as she makes her way inside the room, and your eyes widen when you see Ominis and Anne trailing closely behind her. “But given the circumstances, I guess I’ll let such violence pass this once. Just don’t let it happen again, Mr. Sallow.”

Still breathing heavily, Sebastian takes a step back, his eyes easing when he turns to look at the professor. “You got it, Professor Weasley.”

“Now, Mr. Prewett,” Weasley’s voice calls out and the boy jumps as her steely eyes fall on him, scrambling to his feet as he looks around at everyone. “I believe you and I need to have a long chat.”

“B-But—” Leander sounds absolutely pathetic, his eyes falling on you as you simply glare at him, arms crossed over your chest, before falling on Sebastian who grins at him widely.

I win.

“Now, Mr. Prewett.”

Leander all but skulks out behind Weasley.

The second he’s gone, Anne rushes to your side, taking your hands in hers. “I was so worried when you started acting like a lovesick fool for Prewett of all people,” she cries, shaking her head as your cheeks burn, thinking of all the embarrassing things you must’ve been doing for the past few days. “I’m so glad none of it was real.”

Letting out a light laugh, you rub at the back of your neck; “I imagine I embarrassed myself quite a bit, huh?”

“A little,” Ominis says honestly, grimacing. “But it wasn’t your fault and the school is sure to know that when Leander is expelled for using a potion on you like that.”

His words bring comfort, even if a little.

“Y/N must be tired, guys,” Sebastian calls out after a moment. “Let’s leave her to rest.”

Ominis nods, offering you a small squeeze on the shoulder before pulling Anne with him who just grins at her brother; “I trust you’ll take good care of her for me though, won’t you, brother?”

Sebastian’s cheeks burn red and you turn away, but he doesn't argue.

Once Anne and Ominis have left, Sebastian returns to the seat he’d been in beside your bed, Blainey having left to give the both of you a bit of space. There’s a silence that swallows the both of you, and then, slowly, you let your hand fall on his.

“I’m sorry.”

Sebastian blinks, turning to you. “Why are you…”

You bite your lip, looking at your lap, cheeks flushed. “Whatever I did… I know Ominis said it already, but really, none of it was me… you know that, right?”

Sebastian flips his hand, taking yours in his and squeezing. “You have no idea how reassuring that is to hear.” 

Your eyes snap to his, lips parting.

He shakes his head. “Even when Anne discovered you’d been drugged, there was still a part of me that… I–I guess, it’s just… seeing you act that way with him, kissing and holding and-and being with him like that… It made me terribly uncomfortable.”

You shift, leaning closer to him; “just uncomfortable?”

“Jealous.”

He glances up at you, and you meet his eyes, hand still in his as your free hand reaches forward, daring yourself to brush your fingers through his curls. Sebastian lets you, eyes watching you, before suddenly he’s leaning forward and then his lips are on yours, soft and warm albeit nervous, pulling away too soon as your lips part and you stare back at him.

“Incredibly jealous.”

You smile softly, “I didn’t mean any of it.” You whisper, emphasizing the words. “I didn't mean any of it with him because I wanted it to be with you, Sebastian.”

He grins, his face easing for the first time since you’d woken up and the sight of it is enough to fill you with warmth.

Then, Sebastian’s lip part and he’s grinning a little too widely; “that’s a relief because it was almost embarrassing for me to see you fawning over—”

You cut him off with a sharp slap to his shoulder, one he gasps in response to, holding the offended spot but the grin never fades from his lips as he smirks over at you.

“You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”And of course, his eyes sparkle with glee; “nope.”

[fictionalsimp09]

sea – @rosekillermicrofic – 234 words 

One of Evan’s favourite places in the world is the beach. The gentle crash of waves against the shore lulls him, and he lets his mind wander. Looking at the horizon, he remembers just how small they are in the grand scheme of things. Nothing truly matters other than being happy, life’s too short to worry. 

“You okay?” Barty asks. 

Evan invited Barty, the one person he has told exactly what this place means to him, and are watching the remnants of the sunset they just watched, the sky slowly fading into black. 

“Yeah, I’m just thinking.” 

“Ooh, dangerous,” he jokes. 

“Piss off.” Evan shoves his shoulder. 

“But you’re okay though?” he repeats a bit more seriously. 

Evan smiles softly, something he rarely does. “I’m okay.” Barty’s eyes look him up and down, assessing, before he smirks devilishly. “No, I’m not okay. Whatever you are thinking, don’t.” 

“Too late, Rosie,” Barty takes a step towards him. “You know nothing can change my mind when I want to do something.” 

“What do you want to do?” he asks sceptically. 

“Race you to the sea.” 

Barty starts running and Evan catches up. Soon enough they are feeling the cool water against their skin, and Barty splashes some at Evan, who reciprocates. They laugh until their cheeks hurt and swim until their skin wrinkles. It’s just him and Barty in the world. Everything else is not important. 

[under-loch-n-key]

Hi everyone. Obviously everyone has seen the news and read the polls and obviously you can tell that we’re likely cooked.

For some reason our country wants to elect the Mango Menace and his gaggle of orange stained goons once again.

I am terrified for myself, my loved ones, my country, our climate, and just everything.

However, I’d like to tell the LGBTQIA+ community these things because I know we are terrified right now.

What happened today, it’s devastating. It angers me too. Some of my closest family voted for that horrible man. I don’t think I can look at them the same way anymore. Especially, when they hold no guilt or remorse about it even after I explained his policies to them. What do I know, I guess.. 🤷🏻‍♂️🙄

However, as a queer, trans man in this little community, I want ALL of the LGBTQIA+ people who will see this post to know that things will be alright. We all have each other. We know we exist here in the states even if none of us have met. We EXIST.

Just because those orange stained dunderheads want to silence us doesn't change the fact that we exist. We do. We always will. Bigotry cannot fight facts and science. We'll always exist. The only time trans people won't exist is when the human race dies out. Even then, we have other animal species that are queer and trans. No matter what, we will always exist in nature. They cannot change that. They cannot take that from us. Do not lose hope. Even though it's really fucking hard not to.

Do not lose it. The fact that you and I exist is a beacon of hope to another trans and queer person. We exist. None of us want to be left here alone. So we must go on. We must continue to exist. Things WILL be okay. I'll always keep fighting and living for you and every one of my trans and queer brothers, sisters, and siblings.

You existing and simply being here is a beacon of hope to me. Someone who has understands how I'm feeling. Someone who is LIKE me but so different at the same time.

In the grand scheme of the universe, we are very small. However, even though it's small, the fact is that it EXISTS. It's so fucking small in this big void of the cosmos but we're here. We're made of similar components as stars, ones that had to die for us to exist.

I like to think of the sky as when humanity was truly equal. When we were just atoms in the big ol' void, ya know? We didn't fight. We didn't give a shit about all of this stuff. We were allll different types of stars and matter. We were all random as hell, but we just WERE. We coexisted peacefully together in the universe.

Now that those stars are dead as a door nail and some dumb fishy bastard decided to get curious and walk on land, we're all human. Humanity fucking sucks ass sometimes but it's also such a beautiful fucking thing. No matter what happens, a part of us will always exist.

Our existence is embedded in the universe. Nothing can change that. So, please keep living. Be safe, but keep living. Always keep fighting. We belong here just like anyone else.

You belong. You are loved. You are cherished. You are noticed by me and other people here. We all understand each other. So keep going. Again, one day we will all have a better tomorrow. I swear to fucking god or whatever the hell is out there, if anything, however it's unlikely, I will ALWAYS keep fighting for you and WITH you.

Every protest l attend. Every petition I sign. Every time I vote. Every time I go to pride. Every time l simply leave my home as I am. I am doing it for you and all of us. Our people WILL have our damn tomorrow. I'm sick of us not having it. I swear to you we will. So, again, please keep going. Keep fighting. Keep living. Exist. Your existence may be a threat to some bigoted fucker but your existence is precious to someone else. Please do not let them take your right to exist away from you. Keep going.

We’ll have a better tomorrow, the one that we deserve eventually, but we just need get through the hard, bumpy, dirty road first.

Again, we will be okay. Everything will be okay. We’ll get through it. Yes, unfortunately, we will likely see suicide rates and hate crime rates go up and that's disgusting and just all types of awful and depressing. It angers me beyond words.

However, we are strong.

We shouldn't have to be strong though.

What we should be and need to be is loved, accepted, warm, fed, have shelter, and are safe.

For now though, we remain strong. You will always have a place here.

You will live. You will not die, hun. I know the thought creeps in and believe me, I understand. Those thoughts creep in for me too, but we must learn to try to control them. If there's anything I know about us trans and queer folk it's that we're strong, feisty, kind, very sexy, and cheeky as hell. So, if we live, we live because it's our damn right and to be spiteful. We do not owe the people who want to harm us our lives. We just don't. We deserve healthcare. We deserve to love and get married.

We deserve to grow old.

You will grow old. You will be able to go on those trips you've always wanted. You will be able to have that cheesy romance you've always wanted, if you are someone who is wanting a relationship.

You'll be able to sit down and watch your favourite movie. Why? Because you stayed. You didn't give up. Ever. We will always exist.

We will ALWAYS live.

Being transgender has existed before humans even walked this earth and it will still exist when all of us book our holy bus tickets and the blessed holy tax collector comes to collect our debted souls. No matter what, we will live on. They can silence us all they want and erase whatever the fuck they want but that doesn't mean that it's the truth. We're HERE.

We've been here since forever ago. Those Cheeto dusted dunderheads cannot change that. Like I told another person here, other animals and even plants are trans and queer! We've always been here. That won't change, hun.

Everything WILL be okay. We'll always survive and live on. Look at how far we've come in these past years. Many of us thought that we'd be gone already but here we are, two trans people typing away in comment sections on an app where middle age men get off to octopus porn and neko ladies in Japanese school girl outfits because men. and welcome to the internet, I guess. Lmao.

Everything will work out on way or another. We'll have our tomorrow, hun. For now, we gotta buckle down because we're in for a bumpy ride but hey, thankfully on bumpy you have those moments where ya hit the bump just right and you're like

"WOAH, HELLO!- mister bump, you better watch yourself, you saucy boy~ You can't be doin' that. You better take me to dinner first." Lmao. Okay, on a more serious note, we just gotta buckle down together and get through this bumpy ass dirt road because after awhile you make it through that rocky dirt road in the woods and come out to feel smooth pavement again. It'll be alright. We just need to band together and make it through. We all are always stronger together. You're not alone, my friends.

You're talkin' to a guy who has the personality of a gay muppet with a big mouth. I'm shocked nothin’ has happened to me yet with my yappy ass screeching and getting over 80+ gay people to start baa-ing like sheep at a bigot at last year's pride event, but that's a wholeeeee different situation.

My point is, we'll be okay. We'll make it through.

You'll survive. You have me. You have everyoneeeee here and on other social forums. Sure, it's not the same as in-person interactions but it's somethin'. It’s better than nothing I guess. If we’ve gotta go stealth mode eventually and make secret groups for us trans and queer folk, then so be it.

Just do whatever you feel you need to do to keep yourselves safe.

We'll have a better tomorrow. We just need to keep pushing through this rough shit. We'll get out of the woods and onto smooth pavement with open skies eventually.

Continue to exist. Fight. Be safe, but live. Live for yourself, fellow trans people, and simply for spite.

Fuck bigots. Not actually though. Like DON'T fuck them. Who knows where they've been. But fuck them. They're not worth your life. Their bigotry is not worth your life. Live because it's your right.

Those guys are all so far up Donald Trump’s ass he fired his doctor and hired his supporters to give him a colonoscopy.

So, live long. Live for love and live for spite, my friends. We'll get through this.

It’s Trump 2: Electric Boogaloo. SPOILER: The first movie sucked too. They even tried to make a third one — Mango Menace Strikes Back! We didn’t want to come to the theatre to see the second one but it was a class field trip that most of America signed for us. So, we’ve allll got no choice but to go on the trip to the cinema.

Anyways, things will be okay. We’ll make it through. We’ll out get it figured out. We always do. We’ll take care of each other. Everything will be alright. 🤙🏼💛⚧️🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️✨

(Sorry for typos and repetitive speech- it’s 4:14 a.m. EST. 😭😭)

[maxdibert]

In my opinion, Albus Dumbledore is one of the most hypocritical and despicable characters in Harry Potter—if not the most. I find it outrageous that this old man dares to say he’s disgusted by Severus when he’s not all that different. My soul cringes at all the "greatness" surrounding him, and his whole "for the greater good" rhetoric feels like a cold shower, as if people have a moral obligation to die to save the world.

Severus, a mere pawn in the grand scheme of things, is disgusting because he joined the wrong side, but the great and kind Albus is a symbol of the resistance against evil—even though he was practically Grindelwald's right-hand man. This attitude of placing himself above someone like Severus is so infuriating.

Not to mention all the mental gymnastics he does, belittling and minimizing Severus’s trauma, making him seem crazy when he snapped in POA. Apparently, the past is only condemnable when it’s convenient.

My problem with Dumbledore goes way back, long before the whole thing with Severus even came into play. I already thought he was quite a self-righteous prick for claiming to care so much about people and then leaving Sirius Black to fend for himself. I mean, the whole situation with Sirius, Peter, and the Potters never sat right with me. Seriously, with all of them supposedly under his command—because he was the ultimate leader of the four—when Sirius is allegedly the culprit, Dumbledore just lets him go to Azkaban without even probing his mind to see what happened?

Having a supposed Voldemort ally, a double-agent serial killer, and you seriously don’t want to extract every piece of information from him? You’re not interested in investigating what really went down there? Or maybe he probably knew Sirius wasn’t a threat but didn’t care because he’d already achieved what he wanted: Voldemort out of the picture for a while and the kid being watched over at his aunt and uncle’s house. That initial question then evolved into: The kid at his aunt’s house protected by his dead mother’s spell while a double agent infiltrates the enemy ranks, willing to do anything for Dumbledore’s validation? (Once it became known about Lily’s spell and that Severus had been working for Dumbledore).

Even before I had the full picture, Dumbledore’s attitude toward Sirius smelled fishy. It seemed really off and totally incoherent for someone who supposedly cared about the people under his command. This feeling intensified for me in the fourth book and then really hit home in the fifth. Sirius is essentially the only emotional support Harry truly finds in an adult. Sure, Sirius is dysfunctional in himself, but Harry sees him as the father figure he never had, or at least that connection to his parents he so desperately needs. It’s canon that he needs to talk to him, even if it’s just to vent.

Doesn’t the kid matter to you enough to use your super-powerful, highly respected wizard influence to clear Sirius’s name so the kid can at least spend weekends with him in Hogsmeade? I mean, come on. I’ve seen many people try to justify this by saying, “If Sirius were available, Harry would have wanted to go live with him and leave the Dursleys, and Lily’s spell wouldn’t work,” but that’s pure bullshit. Just tell Sirius that what keeps Harry alive is being at his aunt’s house. Sirius is rich enough to buy a house in Privet Drive and be close to the kid so he wouldn’t have to leave. It’s not that complicated.

But this is something I thought of later with the last book. What really bothered me in the fourth was: why wasn’t Dumbledore doing anything? Why, in the fifth book, does he have a guy who’s clearly a walking time bomb locked up in his childhood home? Just waiting for him to finally explode? Honestly, when I read the fifth book, I thought maybe Dumbledore put Sirius there and set all those restrictions because he knew him well enough to know he’d eventually snap and do something reckless, and Dumbledore could just wash his hands of it. Even before all the truth came out, before the seventh book, Dumbledore already disgusted me. With everything in hindsight, not only does my nearly two-decade-old theory still make sense, but I firmly believe it’s true. I think Sirius Black annoyed Dumbledore, not only because of how he could influence Harry but because he was a disruptive element. He was a soldier who didn’t blindly follow orders, someone explosive, with an uncontrollable temperament, whose leitmotif had always been opposing authority. I think Dumbledore knew that Sirius probably only stayed somewhat stable in the Order because of James, and once James was out of the picture, there was no one to handle him. So, indeed, he became a nuisance. He could do without him. Sirius wasn’t useful because he was too temperamental and impulsive for espionage or information gathering. He wasn’t helpful offensively because he systematically questioned authority and wouldn’t follow Dumbledore’s orders unless he had a good reason. So, Dumbledore let him remain a fugitive and then locked him up in his childhood home, which was essentially his greatest trauma, and left him there to drink himself into misery until he couldn’t take it anymore, snapped, did something stupid, and ended up dead.

But not only that, Dumbledore’s attitude toward his students always annoyed me. I’ve always hated favoritism because I was raised that way. My mother was a teacher at the school I attended until I was about 12, and I never got any special treatment. She was literally tougher on me than on anyone else. As a kid, I could never understand why Dumbledore showed so much favoritism toward Gryffindors. I could kind of get that Slytherins were the “bad guys” and blah blah blah, but there were two other houses he completely ignored. Over time, and with maturity, this feeling only grew stronger.

When I read the sixth book, I was genuinely outraged because the guy condemned Tom Riddle when he was just a kid. Like, ??? How is it possible to make those judgments when they’re just children? I also thought it was absurd that he told Draco not to do it. I mean, after six years of totally ignoring him because to you, he’s just a Slytherin son of purists doomed to darkness, you tell him not to follow the orders of the maniac threatening his family?? Don’t you think if you’d done your job as a teacher and stepped in earlier to make the kid question what his parents were telling him, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up in this situation? Don’t you realize you abandoned and ostracized an ENTIRE HOUSE FULL OF KIDS highly susceptible to supremacist ideas, didn’t give a damn, and now you’re surprised when decades of negligence result in those kids choosing the wrong path? Don’t you understand that the alternative to following Voldemort is following you, and the only thing they know about you is that you either ignore them or constantly favor their rivals? Like, WHAT THE HELL DID YOU EXPECT?

And then there’s the Severus issue. Some people say Dumbledore was the only one who understood Severus. Yeah, sure, he understood him all right. He understood him well enough to use all his traumas against him, manipulate him, and turn him into a weapon. Some people also say Dumbledore was like a father figure to him. I don’t doubt that Severus might have seen him that way, as a positive paternal figure (finally, after his father and Voldemort) whom he wanted to please because he felt that if Dumbledore validated him, it meant he was becoming a better person and redeeming himself—maybe in a way similar to how he saw Lily as someone through whom to measure the right direction. But this wasn’t reciprocal. Dumbledore didn’t give a damn. Dumbledore saw Severus the same way he saw Harry: as a weapon. He realized Severus was an unstable, scared boy with a massive load of guilt, and being fully aware of the power of guilt from his own experience, he decided to exploit it. He knew Severus was talented, knew he could become even more so, so he locked him in a gilded cage: left him at Hogwarts, which had never been a home to him but a torment, kept him closely monitored, and used his skills whenever he wanted.

Dumbledore is the perfect kind of person to be a general in a war. Honestly, he’s amazing at it. He understands that soldiers are weapons and must be prepared to die for the greater cause. He understands that wars have casualties and that’s okay as long as those casualties help move closer to victory. He understands that sacrifices must be made and that if those sacrifices bring us closer to the goal, that’s fine. He gets that disruptive or dissonant elements that could jeopardize his plans need to be eliminated. He perfectly combines Machiavelli’s style with Sun Tzu’s: make your soldiers see you not as a superior but as a father.

He earns absolute devotion by embodying this fatherly figure that inspires trust, but deep down, his mind is a tangle of plans. His goal is to defeat Voldemort (who, by the way, is also a product of his own negligence, because if he hadn’t been such a crappy teacher, maybe he would’ve noticed the red flags and stopped Riddle earlier, but okay). If defeating Voldemort means a bunch of teenagers have to die, another kid ends up in prison, a child has to sacrifice his life, or the people around him are manipulated, so be it.

I understand this philosophy—it’s very military—but I don’t agree with it because I hate that kind of mentality. I could respect it if it weren’t for the fact that Dumbledore, on top of it all, is so moralistic. The guy who should be the last to pass judgment on others’ decisions, who should keep his damn mouth shut, is constantly moralizing, being condescending, and posing as the champion of morality and the compass of good and evil. Honestly, I would have slapped him in the face, I swear. What a jerk. So many messed-up people, all because he was a narcissistic prick. Screw him.

[slaymitchabernathy]

Family First

“Mr. President, over here!”

“Mr. President, a quick word please!”

“Mr. President, what are your thoughts on the upcoming elections?”

Coriolanus has grown used to ignoring these pestering questions. Especially when walking to his front door.

These pesky reporters haven’t let up since the day he moved into the Presidential Mansion, waiting outside the front gates, desperate for something juicy.

As if he’d ever answer them.

They can’t get through the fence but their words certainly can, their annoying questions about things that don’t truly matter in the grand scheme of things.

He’s got much more important things to worry about today.

He has to address the nation.

Riots have been breaking out across the Districts, causing shortages of food and supplies in the Capitol. If he doesn’t get things under control they might have another war on their hands. And he can’t have that.

Coriolanus nods at the two Peacekeepers stationed outside of the side entrance to the Mansion, a less impressive one yes, but easier to walk out of compared to the front door where everyone is watching.

He steps inside the Mansion and is immediately greeted by Eudora Trinket, his trusted coordinator who hopefully, has whipped something up for him to say to all the citizens of Panem.

“You’re terribly last minute with these things, you know that don’t you?” She asks as they briskly walk down the great hall towards one of the many conference rooms they have in the Mansion.

Coriolanus merely glances down at the middle-aged woman who is always sporting a new colored wig with eyelashes to match. She keeps him on task so he doesn’t comment on her fashion choices.

“Do you have a speech?”

Eudora scoffs, whipping out a stack of notecards, “Do I have a speech? Of course, I have a speech Coriolanus. This isn’t amateur hour!”

Coriolanus takes the cards from her, glancing over the prepared lines she’s written for him. They seem good, strong, and authoritative, not leaving any room for argument.

“Let’s just hope everything’s ready,” he mumbles as they walk into the largest conference room they have in the Mansion, already occupied by all his advisors and several diplomats whose jobs are all currently on the line for letting this happen.

They said they could handle it. Now he has to clean up their mess.

Coriolanus makes his way to the podium, a camera already positioned in front of it, ready to roll to the entire nation at his command.

Coriolanus grips the edges of the podium, reminding himself to breathe. Eudora says he’s going to get gray hairs before he turns thirty but running a country can be stressful.

He glances around the room and finds the one person he truly cares about it missing.

But there’s a good reason for that.

Ten years ago, Coriolanus met the love of his life, Soarynn Nightingale.

He knew from the moment he saw her that she was the one for him, no questions asked. He courted her, learned about her, and fell in love with her. They got married right after graduating from University and right before he began his campaign to become the youngest President of Panem.

She had supported him through everything, the hardships, and the victories. And just when he thought she couldn't possibly give him anything else, she gave him a daughter. Ceraphina Snow was two years old and the apple of his eye. With her golden curls and eyes identical to her mother's, she had him wrapped around her little finger.

He didn't get to see her as often as he liked, spending most of his time working on keeping this country under control but he cherished every moment he had with his baby girl.

He listens to the sound of quiet yet stressed whispers throughout the room, all from men who might be fired by the end of the night. They all look so pathetic in their seats, nervously looking at him before looking back at each other, trying to shift the blame off of themselves.

Coriolanus stares back down at the podium, looking at the cards Eudora wrote for him. He usually prefers to write these things himself but he was pulled out of a meeting to do this. This was a dire circumstance it seemed.

A hush falls over the room and he glances up to see why.

Soarynn is finally here.

She looks jarred, like she was just sleeping which she probably was, she's been more tired lately but there's good reason for that. His eyes zero in on his darling daughter who's hugged to Soarynn's hip, curiously looking around at all these men who will be jobless by the end of the night.

Her eyes finally find his and Ceraphina lets out a shriek of excitement, "Daddy!"

Coriolanus can't help but grin at how cute she is, reaching out for him. Soarynn is quick to quiet down their child, bouncing her up and down for a moment. She looks beautiful as always, with her hair pinned up while wearing a green dress, flowy and flattering.

He feels so bad about dragging her into this at the last minute but as President of Panem, it's important that his family is always seen by his side.

Soarynn gives him a small smile before nodding at everyone who stood up the moment she stepped into the room, silently telling them to sit down again. They do and several men let out sighs of relief as if an ounce of kindness from Soarynn can save them from a lifetime of wrath from their employer.

Soarynn takes her seat next to Eudora, to the immediate right of the podium and Ceraphina immediately reaches out for Eudora, most likely to touch her eyelashes which have always fascinated their daughter since the day she was born.

Eudora who claims to not like children gives her hand a little squeeze before she turns to look up at Coriolanus and give him a nod to go ahead. It's time.

The room falls silent once again and the nation's anthem begins to play, the cameras begin to roll and Coriolanus begins to speak directly to the camera, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

"Over the course of the past six weeks, rebels have been wreaking havoc in the Districts, disrupting production and challenging those who are above them." He eyes his advisors who are nearly on the edge of their seats. "But I am here to put an end to these foolish attempts to disrupt what we know to be a great nation, rich with resources that are so gladly provided to the citizens of the Capitol."

Ceraphina tugs on Soarynn's dress, already tired of sitting still while her father talks.

"Starting today, all working District citizens will be given four additional hours of work to make up for lost production time. Those who have been detained for inciting riots will be executed."

A few eyes widen at his words but Coriolanus means every bit of them. If they let these rebels live, they'll spread this ideology to other people until the Capitol is left with Districts full of rebels and roaches.

"Let me be clear, we do not tolerate rebels in Panem, we will not ever tolerate rebels in Panem. This way of thinking will get you nowhere, it will only harm those you wish to help. We are a great nation that will rise together out of the ashes that these rebels have so foolishly created. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever."

The camera cuts off and Coriolanus is met with words of praise from every man in the room.

"Excellent speech sir."

"They won't dare to try and cross us now."

"Wonderfully said Mr. President."

He'd kill all of them right now if there weren't ladies present.

"Tonight we'll have a meeting to discuss further plans," he tells them, "eight o'clock." Then at nine o'clock, he'll start hiring new men to take their places.

He steps down from the podium and is greeted by Ceraphina beaming up at him, a big smile on her sweet little face. "Daddy!" Coriolanus grins down at her, unable to ignore her sweet nature, "Hello my darling, were you sleeping with your mother before you two arrived?"

Soarynn sighs and brushes a stray curl out from Ceraphina's face, "We were having very pleasant dreams before we found out that you'd be addressing the nation and threatening to execute half of it if things didn’t start to shape up.”

Eudora hums and gives him a sharp poke, “I don’t believe I mentioned anything about executions in my speech,” she hisses but Coriolanus ignores her, taking Ceraphina into his hold and pressing a kiss to her cheek. She thinks the world of her father, even if he is sometimes a heartless man, and he’d like to keep it that way.

“Sometimes we have to do hard things,” he tells both women, blowing a raspberry against Ceraphina’s cheek which makes her tumble into a fit of laughter, “Daddy no!”

Soarynn watches the sweet sight with a small smile on her lips but he can tell she’s still exhausted, probably more so after hearing that speech, “We’re having lunch if you’d like to join us,” he offers, already knowing she’ll likely decline.

Soarynn shakes her head and rests her hand on the side of his face, a gesture she’s done at least a thousand times to comfort him in times of stress, “I wish we could darling, but we’re both rather tired today, aren’t we Ceraphina?”

“No Mommy,” Ceraphina says with a shake of her head, curls bouncing, “lunch with Daddy.”

Coriolanus presses another kiss to his daughter's cheek before handing her back over to his wife, "Next time my darling," he promises Ceraphina, "you'd be terribly bored anyway."

Ceraphina pouts but doesn't cry, at two years old, she's already quite well behaved and Coriolanus has Soarynn to thank for that. She's been quite involved in raising their daughter, causing her to be oh-so-sweet and polite to all she comes across, just like Soarynn.

Soarynn hums, brushing back Ceraphina's curls, "He's right darling, we'll have much more fun upstairs." Ceraphina doesn't look too convinced but Coriolanus is already being pulled in another direction by one of his trusted advisors, Quintus Heavensbee, someone who will not be fired tonight.

"Actually, it might be good for people to see all three of you together," he suggests in a hushed whisper, eyeing Soarynn for a moment, "or all four of you." Coriolanus rests a hand on Soarynn's stomach, just starting to show signs of pregnancy at five months which has only led him to be more protective over her.

He's kept her away from the news and media as much as possible, wanting her to have a calm and quiet pregnancy with their second little girl but it seems that duty comes before desire sometimes.

Before he can suggest something else that doesn't involve the love of his life, Soarynn cuts in with that sweet smile of hers, known to calm down the most tense situations, "A few minutes in front of the cameras couldn't hurt darling," she says, "it's our job to speak directly to our people."

Coriolanus bites the inside of his cheek, sometimes he wishes she weren't so selflessly devoted to this country and its well-being. From the beginning, Soarynn has always been the perfect First Lady, speaking at events, shaking important hands, and always knowing just what to say.

"Five minutes," he decides, giving both Soarynn and Quintus a knowing look, "I still have a lunch to attend." He also doesn’t want Soarynn to exhaust herself but he keeps that to himself.

Quintus smiles, pleased that Coriolanus agreed to his suggestion so easily and Ceraphina smiles too, excited to be with her father for a little longer. "Daddy carry me," she reaches out for him again. He can hardly deny such a request and takes her from Soarynn, "Best manners Ceraphina," he reminds her as they make their way out of the room and down the hallway.

The reporters are still outside waiting for him once they walk through the side entrance, sticking their hands and cameras through the iron fence that surrounds the entirety of the President's Mansion.

Coriolanus rests one hand on Soarynn's lower back while the other holds Ceraphina to his hip. A group of Peacekeepers surround the Presidential Family while they walk to the front gates of the Mansion and Coriolanus hates every second of it. He wants Soarynn inside, away from all of this.

"Mr. President, how do you plan to follow through with your threats of executions?"

"President Snow, by how many weeks will you continue to increase the District's workload?"

"Mrs. Snow, what do you think of your husband's brutish threats towards those in the Districts?"

It's the last question that makes his nostrils flare so of course it's the one Soarynn chooses to answer. "I trust in my husband's ability to keep our country safe and under control," she answers in a calm tone, the same one she uses whenever Ceraphina gets fussy, "the Capitol wants everyone to stay safe and riots endanger everyone."

Quintus lets out a grunt of approval, even Coriolanus is impressed by her answer, short and to the point and above all, praising the Capitol. Ceraphina kicks her feet, bored already, "Mommy I want to go play!"

Coriolanus quickly quiets her down with a stern look, he can't afford to have her say something contradicting, "Mr. President, when can we be expecting your second child?" Perhaps Ceraphina's small outburst can help shift the conversation elsewhere, he wraps his arm around Soarynn's waist, pulling her into him.

"Our precious little girl will be born in four months," he says proudly, "we're overjoyed with healthy reports on her growth and can't wait to strengthen and expand our family."

Soarynn leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder and the cameras all start flashing, capturing the sweet moment between the President and First Lady.

"Do you have any names planned?"

Soarynn smiles up at him, "We have a few ideas," she says, "but we still have a while to go."

Ceraphina reaches out for her mother and Soarynn takes hold of her small hand, once again, causing the cameras to flash. "Thank you for your time gentlemen," Coriolanus says to the reporters, ready to go back inside, "we hope to see you again soon."

He wishes he could banish anyone from waiting outside of his home, desperate for a blurry photograph of him or his family but he can only do so much before raising concerns about his harsh behavior. Threatening to execute any rebels certainly hasn't helped his case.

"Excellent job sir," Quintus commends him once they're all back inside, safe from the cameras and prying questions. Coriolanus hands Ceraphina back to Soarynn, straightening out his tie, "They're relentless with the questions," he mumbles, shaking his head, "and they're not even good questions."

Ceraphina giggles when Soarynn tickles under her chin, momentarily causing Coriolanus to forget about his stressful job, he wishes he could spend the rest of the day with his girls but he can't.

"Any news is good news," Quintus reminds him.

Coriolanus doesn't quite agree with that way of thinking but he doesn't say anything against it, instead, he presses a kiss to Soarynn's temple, "I'll see you tonight darling," he promises her.

He tries to have dinner with his family but it doesn't always happen, especially on days like today. But Soarynn understands that, giving his arm an encouraging squeeze, "Don't work too hard Coryo," she says softly, pulling at his heartstrings. If Soarynn had her way, they'd be nobodies, happily married and living a quiet life in his old penthouse apartment.

She's been so devoted to him and his dreams that she sacrificed her own dreams of raising a family out of the spotlight. A small price to pay for a lifetime of happiness with him but he recognizes all she's done for him.

"I'll try," is all he says, pinching Ceraphina's cheek, "be good for your mother sweetheart."

Watching them walk up the stairs feels like parting with a piece of his soul but he pushes that soft part of him away, right now he needs to do his job and be the cold, heartless man people know him to be.

It's better this way, safer this way.

꧁ ꧂

Later that night after firing every man who caused him strife today, Coriolanus sits in his bedroom on the sofa by the fireplace. Soarynn is in the bathroom getting ready for bed and he's got a newspaper in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other.

It's the perfect way to end the night.

Eudora threw the newspaper on his desk right before she left for the night. Fresh off the presses from their impromptu family interview this afternoon after he addressed and threatened the entire nation.

'President Snow is a Family Man' the headline reads.

He smiles at the photograph on the front page, Soarynn pressed to his side and Ceraphina on the other, holding each other's hands in a loving manner while Soarynn looks up at him so adoringly. He couldn't have planned it better himself.

He reads a few of the lines written about what Soarynn said, calling Coriolanus a President who puts his family first. Exactly. He's so glad the reporters can see it that way.

He’s more than pleased with how today turned out. He had been angry at first, angry at the men who made him look bad due to their own incompetence but Soarynn’s sweet voice seems to be the cure for everything.

He peers into the bathroom and catches a glimpse of his glowing wife dressed merely in her underwear, a hand resting on her baby bump. He smiles to himself, in a few months their baby girl will be here and they’ll be a perfect family unit.

Soarynn has truly given him so much, endless support, two children in about two years and she’s stunning on top of all of that.

The press can say all they want about him and so can people in the Districts for that matter. At the end of the day, so long as he has Soarynn by his side, he’ll always be known as a man who puts family first.

| tumblr oneshot/drabble |

| taglist: @kickmybark @strawberriicakes @wonderlandbound111 @melodyoflovee @thevoicesinmyprettylittlehead @erensrealgf |

[iheartuwu]

₊˚ ♡ random relationship hc’s ◞ leon s. kennedy

fem!reader, fluff, angst, established relationship, implied age gap for like one or two hc’s, wrote these in an id leon brainrot fueled spur lmfao so mostly for an older leon ig !? would love to expand on some of these in a fic, wc 0.6k ╮

gift giving is definitely one of his strongest love languages, however he’s not one for grand gestures or overtly romantic gifts. his gifts are practical, thoughtful, consistent reminders that he’s always thinking of you because he’s never been good with words. he prefers to not be present when you receive them and he’s SO deliberately discreet about it too. subtly replacing your skincare or fav products that are running out with brand new ones, delving into his mental notes of what you’re running low on when he’s at a shop. scheduling food or flower deliveries for when he’s away on a mission or work related tasks. any praise would probably make his skin crawl because he just can’t handle it

terms of endearment feel unnatural to him and rarely fall past his lips unless you seem to react positively to them. i don’t see him as someone who’s that experienced in committed long term relationships ( or relationships in general ) due to the nature of his work and lifestyle. he defaults to ‘babe’ until he learns which terms you prefer / dislike

leon would never accept your offers or attempts to pay for a thing ( i swear by this ). this doesn’t come from a place of arrogance or urge to fulfill some ‘traditionally’ masculine role. his disposable income is plentiful, and he’s happy to pay when the opportunity arises, he honestly doesn’t even think about it and merely hands over his credit card. receiving gifts can often be hard for him but he’ll never purposely display his discomfort or refuse

extremely dry texter and doesn’t really use his phone despite being tech savvy, all of his texts end with periods. rarely ever uses emojis ( his personal favs are 👍👎 and the occasional ❤️ ). typically one word responses. doesn’t understand half of the abbreviations you use. send him a keyboard smash and he’ll think you’re having a stroke. prefers to call you instead

always the driver ( he insists on it ). always has the seat warmer on for you. if you do drive he becomes a backseat driver which can be mildly frustrating. comments on your song choices when you play music in his car but would never tell you to stop no matter how grating it is on his ears and simply endures. sometimes opts for his motorcycle over his car solely because he gets to be held onto by you. would literally never let you even fathom the idea of driving his motorcycle

frequent date nights at borderline obnoxiously ritzy restaurants to compensate for his time spent away from you due to his job. also bc this man cannot cook. does not let you know in advance. he simply says “we have a reservation tonight” like an hour before which often results in you scrambling to get ready

he struggles with sharing his ( darker ) emotions, accompanied by a habit of opting to brush your concerns off. vulnerability is a foreign language to him. he’s scarily good at pretending he is fine, but you manage to see glimpses of his deteriorating wellbeing in his body language. the heavy sighs upon waking up, his slight recoil from your touch, his posture stiffening after you ask him what’s on his mind. this doesn’t come from a place of distrust in any way, he truly just doesn’t want to ‘burden’ you and convinces himself that his struggles aren’t important in the grand scheme of things. he also knows the source of his stress and trauma is for the most part confidential and he tells himself he’s doing it for your own safety and protection. when he does open up by his own volition, he keeps it brief, spares most of the details, his composure rarely falters and he’s itching to move on from the subject. you’ve never seen him cry :(

[grapejuicestyless]

What A Waste

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: You and Harry swore that you would one day marry each other if you were to grow up and not already have a lover. Yet, when the time comes and the two of you are wed, Harry cannot let himself enjoy it.

ANGST

I’m standing at the alter, hands clasped together and eyes looking towards the door at the end of the aisle. Yet my hands do not shake, and my cheeks dk not ache with the pain only a genuine smile can cause. My heart does not pound out of my chest because I am not in love. The girl coming down the aisle is nothing more but a pawn in the grand scheme of things.

Maybe once, I would’ve held those feelings towards her, but our blood has since ran cold. Any fond memories tainted by our final goodbye.

She wasn’t very interesting to look at. Maybe, at least if my heart couldn’t love her, I could have something nice to look at. Something delicate, pretty. But her lips were pouty and her eyes held clouds over them. There was nothing attractive about the solemn face that hid her beauty.

When her hands hold mine, and her face is just inches from my own, I find it within myself to recite the vows I’d written for her. Carefully constructed to sound like a true loving husband, but with no true emotion that not even she, in her most oblivious state would ever have accounted for.

When she read hers, I saw her hands shaking. Her lip trembling and the furrow in her brow as she stumbled on her words. How embarrassing, how nervous she was. Acting like it was all real. Finding a way to make theater into reality.

How softly, she told me she would. Love me forever, take care of me and support me from the sidelines. Even softer, she mumbled about how even when she was riddled with arthritis, sick and tired, she would still twirl my hair the way I lived when we were children. When I kissed her, I felt nothing. When I pulled away, her smile could have fooled me. How genuinely happy she looked. But I remember the way she left me, and I remember how it could never truly be real. And I remember why I hate her, how I could never love her. Not even a little bit, not even at all.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“H?” She calls me by the nickname she gave to me when we were younger. I don’t realize that even now, twenty years later her mind had still clung to it as if it would be any importance to her anymore.

“Don’t call me that.” I’m bitter, I hate the way it sounds so sweet on her tongue. I hate the way her smile falls when I reprimand her, and most of all I hate the way I’m forever bound to her. With all the money in the world, nothing could separate us, no matter how hard I tried.

She rubs her arms, wearing her fluffy pink pajama pants and a shirt thats reads, “We think Harry had the X-Factor” so cracked, it almost doesn’t even read correctly anymore. The words die on her tongue, look at what I found? I see her enthusiasm melt away. When her eyes drift to the unmade bed and her feet start to move, I speak again.

“No.” Her confused face infuriates me. How could she not understand the justification of my cruelty.

“Your room is down the hall.” The one with the squeaky mattress and dusty floorboards. The one with photos of my old house, with the old garden and the old cats. It’s empty and the heat doesn’t work very well. But the cold from her heart wouldn’t mind it, truly.

I hate how her hair lingers on every surface. I hate how her perfume wafts into the bathroom while I shower. And now, more than all, I hate how she looks at me with rounded eyes glossed over almost too innocently.

But she is not an idiot. We both know it. Silence speaks volumes, I know she pieces together the puzzle as she walks away. The shirt hanging loosely off of her shoulder and her face hidden from my view. She never looks back. She doesn’t say goodnight.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“Do you think we’d be soulmates in another universe?” I ask, tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. The fresh England summer air hot and humid. I say it with dirt on my skin, grass stuck to my knees. I pull at the ribbons in her hair and watch how she smiles. We were only children then. Fourteen and convinced we were all grown up.

“Why not in this one?” She asked honestly, looking at me with so much truth in her eyes, I believed her. And the way her hand fit into mine, I could feel my heart pounding. And I knew then, she was the one for me. The way my body reacted, how quickly my heart pounded so violently, I thought it might burst from my chest. Too young to be kissing and too old to not think about it, we stare at each other in the wet grass in the backyard and wait for the final sunset to disappear into the horizon, my eyes looking into hers and her hand in my hair.

For a long while, I believed what she did. We were soulmates, we were bound together. Always by my side, always encouraging me. She makes shirts for my family while I start my career. She helps me rehearse my songs and her voice makes me believe that it should be her on stage, not me.

When the band is formed, and One Directions fate is sealed into greatness, I spend the last summer of normalcy singing in the fields and holding her hand like real good friends would. Her hand in my hair again, twirling it between her finger and her thumb. I want to kiss her, but the smile on her face makes me too nervous to. I think she has the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. I think she is the prettiest girl I’ll ever see.

“When we are twenty eight and not married yet, will you marry me?” She asks me in the last week of that August. It confuses me, it’s such a random age. It’s so young. But the idea of getting to be with her forever makes my cheeks flush.

“Why twenty eight? Why not forty?” She laughs, says something on how I’ll find it silly. For a girl with as much potential as her to wish for something so silly.

“I want to have a warm house with a soft bed. A dog and two cats and children. I want two boys and a girl. I want a white fence to keep them in from the street and little family trips where we can all laugh and be happy. And with all of that, I hope I am a writer still. I hope I have critically acclaimed novels and a Nobel Peace Prize.” And I don’t think her dreams are stupid. And even though her dreams are so hard to make real, the way she dreams about it out loud makes me believe it will happen to her.

When we leave the grassy field that night, I have no idea it will be the last I’ll see of her for a while. All I know is in the morning my mother has a solemn look on her face and a letter in her hand. When she sits me down to read it, all I hear beyond the violent ringing is my mother telling me she is gone. She left, only leaving behind her empty promises and a tainted memory of what I once believed to be something so pure and precious.

I don’t see the letter. Maybe if I had, I would have known it was in her father’s handwriting. And my dear Y/n hadn’t left me because the beating of her heart lost its rhythm in me, but because she was forced away into a house that would never be her home.

…………………………………………………………………………………

“God, you are a self-righteous prick.” She huffs, quickly untying the apron from her waist, letting the blue and yellow fabric fold over her hips and be discarded on the shiny tile floors. Not yet scuffed from the lack of dancing. Never truly loved. But I wouldn’t know what the difference was. I stopped learning how to love when love walked out on me.

“And you must be a victim!” She sticks out her tongue and groans, rolling her eyes and walking down the hall. The lights are dim, candles burning. It’s her own touch. She claimed she hated the big lights. The smaller ones made it much more homely. I didn’t care enough to fight her then, but as I stumble around I wish I had.

“I gave you everything! I gave you a roof to live under. All the money on the goddamn earth and all the glory! And yet you are ungrateful!” I spit at her with venom I don’t even know I possess.

“Oh my god, you don’t even know me!” She turns, and her eyes are crazy, hair wild. “My own husband doesn’t even know me!” She says it like it hurts her.

“Don’t call me that.” I tell her firmly. I try not to look at the rock on her finger, how it taunts me.

“What does it embarrass you? I hope it does. I hope all of your friends tease and taunt you for marrying the girl you never wanted, but had to have!” She laughs then, stepping closer to me, her finger in my chest.

“I will not let a loveless marriage strip me of my heart and my soul. You can hate me, but you should know better than to think you would have any power to strip me of my humanity.” She said it with such power, her voice shook with the same fierceness she felt in her bones. And yet, her anger didn’t lead me astray. For the first time in our loveless marriage, I felt a twinge of guilt for the innocent girl who I let bleed so gruesomely on the floor of our own home.

“Believe it or not, I am not the cruel witch you make me out to be. I am a woman, the same woman who loved you all those years ago. I still dream of having children and cats and a dog. A damn white picket fence! But, what a waste! Our agreement! If it could have at least given me that, or god forbid it had brought us together! I am still the same woman who loved you, and it is clear to me you are not the same man. You are bitter and I pity you because you must be so unhappy to feel the need to be that way.”

“And what else? Do you still dream of a medal in your honor for your writing? Or has that woman finally grown up to smell the roses and see that the world isn’t always built just for her.” I should’ve backed down, the moment she showed vulnerability, but for some reason I could not shut my mouth. I needed the last word.

“I outgrew those dreams the second I married you.” If my heart wasn’t shattered completely then, it had been now. And why? Over some words a girl I claimed to hate had to share?

“What a shame too. A book full of stories of us destined to the fire on our wedding night. And even if I were to write again, who would read about how you broke my heart? And how I continue to let you stomp it out until there is nothing but the dust that remains.” When she leaves, her dress sways behind her. She’s wearing my sweatshirt and she has the same white ribbons in her hair she had all those years ago. She never really did lie to me, did she.

She was only a girl. Ribbons tied into her hair and a white dress with lace so frilly, it resembled her wedding dress. A dress I never appreciated. I wondered if I looked into the old box of photos of the day we were destined for failure, if I would find any photos of her in all her innocence. Or, if that same smile she greeted me with before she knew me would be tainted with the same hate I bred inside of her through my own negligence.

I regret every feeling I’d ever felt towards her. How I called her plain, uninteresting, unlikable. The realization of this guilt hits so hard, it is undeniable. I feel this way because I have succeeded. I have crushed the heart of a girl who continued to love me through my greed. And I know I have succeeded through the look in her eyes and the frown lines by her lips. The lines that once represented deep smiles gone in an instant.

She only solidifies what I know when I see her suitcase by the door. Practically empty, nothing in this house is truly hers. She has gone from one loveless house to another, not yet finding her home. Not yet living her dream.

“You don’t need to divorce me, but I can’t stay. Not now. Not when I still love you. I can’t come back until every piece of you is gone. Maybe then, your insults won’t hurt so much, and we could get along.” She smiles softly, but it’s so fake it hurts my heart.

I don’t stop her, but I wish I had. This house isn’t a home without her. If I could change it, I would. I still loved her, and thats what makes it all sting so much more. The tormenting, the pain and the tears. All a result of two soulmates bound to be together, yet one of them refused to let it happen.

I hope she’ll come back soon. Sooner than last time. And I hope her heart still yearns for me. I’ll propose to her for real this time, not just under circumstance. And when she walks down the aisle, I’ll shake just as badly as she did the first time. And we can laugh about our experience in our first try at rekindling our flame, and we can finally have a house with a fence and two boys and a girl, a dog and two cats. And she can write about how wonderful her life is and win every award there is to win. And I will stand beside her like a good husband because I love her.

I will spend each hour she is gone wishing for her to come back. For the ache to ease itself. And what a waste. If only I could write a good song about it without ranting and going off into small tangents. If only I could’ve done it right. If only it could have brought us together.

[kyluxtrashpit]

Sergey + Lera going for a drive and having a Deep Talk about stuff

Lera tried very hard to stay calm. The last time she’d been stuck alone in a car with Sergey Razumovsky, he’d at least only talked her ear off the whole time. Well, and led her to a warehouse where she’d ended up crumpled at the bottom of a stairwell with her body bruised to hell, but she’d survived the encounter, something that hadn’t been a guarantee. Not dying was starting to feel like an accomplishment.

Now, Lera thought she was smart to be worried. Working for a serial killer and terrorist always had risks, but somehow being alone with Sergey was when it felt the worst. Oleg was also a killer, sure, but he seemed… sane about it. She felt like he was at least somewhat trustworthy, that he wouldn’t turn on her unless he had a good reason. With Sergey, though, it felt like she could never truly trust that he wouldn’t suddenly decide that she was disposable. As much as she had confidence in her own skills, especially considering all the weird shit she’d had to deal with by now, she knew that he could easily catch her off guard if she wasn’t careful.

For the moment, he was just talking again. He really did love to talk. Something about him and Oleg, how they’d grown up together, how much Oleg mattered to him… Well, Lera had eyes, none of this was new to her. In the grand scheme of everything, the fact that the wanted criminals blackmailing her were also a couple didn’t really matter to her.

“Do you understand?” Sergey suddenly asked and Lera, admittedly, hadn’t been paying full attention to what he’d been saying, more concerned with memorizing the route they were taking just in case.

“I’m not sure I do,” Lera said, honestly just wanting him to come out with it already so they could get whatever this was over with.

Sergey sighed, sounding slightly aggravated. “The point is that you have to be honest with yourself. Denial won’t work, it’ll just make things take longer.”

Denial- what? “Okay…”

“You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?” Sergey asked, giving her a look that was almost… pitying?

“No, honestly, I don’t,” Lera said, sighing – if she really did end up dead after this, she was going to be so pissed.

“See, I told Oleg you’d never get there on your own. That girl of yours – Toma,” Sergey said, making Lera perk up a bit. “Would you just make your damn move already? It’s getting painful to watch.”

Lera’s brain came to a screeching halt, her mouth opening without her being able to think about her reaction. “What?”

“She’s definitely interested, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Sergey said, as if Lera could process that right now. “See, this is what I mean about being honest with yourself, you-”

On the bright side, Lera was no longer worried that she was going to be murdered today. There was far too much that she was suddenly having to come to terms with to even think about that, including the fact that she was now receiving life lessons from the wanted criminal blackmailing her. A life lesson she hadn’t even realized she’d needed, but once her brain had come back online, she was certainly not going to waste it. Maybe Sergey could be right about something once in a while…

[thehuntfortrencherlostmedia]

Hello folks.

So, I waited a while to let everything marinate in my brain before writing this. Haven is an interesting album to discuss in the grand scheme of the Trench discography. Everything feels familiar & status quo, but different, new & exciting all at once. Its production is fantastic throughout and truly allows for everything to shine. It’s also their most cinematic album to date, which is saying something given what Astoria was inspired by.

So let’s break down each track, shall we?

A Normal Life: Already gushed about this one when it came out and my thoughts haven’t changed one bit. This just might be my new favourite opener. There’s just a little sprinkling of everything from all across their discography that allows this beauty to marinate and stand on its own.

Lightning & Thunder: I’m torn. I like it still, but I do think that when you listen to it within the context of the album it loses something. It was definitely made to be a radio single. There’s nothing wrong with that.

I’m Not Getting Better: Straight to the point, catchy & fun. I really have nothing else to say on the song.

Down To You: Arguably the biggest earworm on the album. This one gets in your head and it just stays with you.

Now or Never: The By Now of the record for me. Soft & yet full of momentum all at once. This is a dream worth fighting for, indeed. Also, while both INGB & DTY show off a more R&B/Funk flow, it really sticks on this song, and now that you’ve noticed it, you’ll be hearing it a lot throughout the record.

Into The Storm: Hello, Porcelain. But also… it’s own thing. It might not be giving up, but I don’t see it as surrender either. I see it as going with the flow, facing your problems head on. This is also the first true dive into Josh’s relationship with Amanda on the album, and how he’s so happy they finally figured out how to co-exist.

Ancient History: Oh hi, Astoria. You mind if I take elements of Burning Up & Yesterday and blend them into something new? And how about the past arguments in his and Amanda’s relationship don’t matter, and how it was nice to meet back up with her. It shows how time can heal relationships. Also, SAXOPHONE. That is all.

Stand and Fight: The actual Porcelain of the record. People thought they were gonna go in a This Meets War for this song, when instead it’s a slow burn that truly stays with you.

Turn & Run: Here’s how you do a sequel song and then make it stand out from its older brother. Much like the combos of Celebrity Status/Perfect & B-Team/Toy Soldiers, both sides of the coin make me giddy inside. And holy cow… welcome to the edge indeed. That hint of Fix Me screaming… I need more of it Josh. Please? I’ll be a good girl. There’s also a lot of Masterpiece Theatre II on this one. Easily my favourite of the short songs.

Worlds Collide: I go back and forth on this one in my head. There’s parts of me that love it, there’s parts of me that feels it’s too similar to the two tracks before it…. And then we have the end. And that just… made me smile. Also, I love Josh SCREAMING “Nobody’s Safe” and the fact they left in the vocal crack. That’s how you can tell his emotions are in full display here. So yeah.

Nights Like These: The comforting palette cleanser after three songs hit you with whiplash back to back to back. It’s very reminiscent of tavern songs, sea shanty’s & is just a warm hug of a track. Also, breaking down the fact that sometimes it’s nice to have just a cozy, relaxing night with friends. Feels like the Who Do You Love of the record too.

Remember Me By: Um, Micheal? Did you just possess Josh again? This feels so 80’s R&B I can’t help but love it. Also, Ian! Nice to hear you sing, bud. We’ve heard the other three all throughout this record and now we get your voice on top of the amazing percussion. Kudos.

Haven: So, here we are. The closing track. And, it’s good. It feels like they took The Killing Kind , Masterpiece Theatre III & End of An Era Abd threw them in a blender… and the result came out great, but… it does lack something to me? And if anything, it brings out the fact this album fits into the Relationship Theory too: It is about starting anew like I said ages ago but also about how their relationship (Josh & Amanda) isn’t perfect but he loves the imperfection now that they’ve figured out how to make it work. She might’ve broke his heart once but he reconciled & became stronger because of it. And now he can show that all across these 13 tracks.

So yeah. Haven’s likely my album of the year, and I do like it. But I do think that while it has some of the highest highs the band had ever reached, I do think they didn’t fully nail the Hero’s Journey theming & that it’s not as cohesive as some of their other work. It’s a sturdy S-, easily #2 or #3 in my overall rankings, even #1 depending on the day.

[scarletwritesshit]

👁️Jiaoqiu x Feixiao 👁️Seeing Eye

She couldn’t tell if he was asleep or not. He was lying motionless on the bed beside hers, breathing slowly and eyes shut tight, not like the last fact would be a tell-tale sign. He didn’t speak a single word to her the entire time either. Perhaps he was under the assumption that she was resting as well?

"Jiaoqiu?" Feixiao said softly.

Jiaoqiu turned head slowly in the direction of her voice.

"Hm?"

"Ah, my apologies, I didn’t know that you were asleep."

"Oh, I wasn’t. Not like you’d be able to tell either way," he said with a soft chuckle.

He’s laughing

He lost his eyesight, and he’s laughing.

Feixiao forced herself to sit up on her bed. The pain shot through her side despite the medications, but she wasn’t going to let a little soreness stop her. She looked down at Jiaoqiu, who had his ears turned towards the direction of her voice.

"I’m...sorry. If I were quick enough, I could’ve saved you," she said.

"Nah, I should be sorry. I’m your healer, and now I can’t even read the ingredients for a little bowl of hot pot."

"You’re more than just my healer, Jiaoqiu. You’re my partner, my cook, my absolutely everything. And I..." Feixiao felt herself get choked up before she could say anything.

"And partners look out for each other, love. Eyesight in place of a life is a small sacrifice."

Feixiao clenched her fist, but took a deep breath. He was adamant that he did the right thing, and he truly did in the grand scheme of things, but any arguing would only bring more stress upon their already weakened bodies. Calling him an idiot for saving her life, and all of Xianzhou for that matter, was best saved for another day.

"Never mind that for now. How’s your detox coming along?" Feixiao asked with the intent of changing the subject.

"I don’t feel like I’m rotting away from the inside out, so that’s a plus. How are you holding up?"

"Hoolay hit like me a bitch, but thankfully he’s been subdued with me remaining in one piece."

"Ah, that’s a relief. I can only imagine how bad you must look right now."

Perhaps, just this once, she was glad that Jiaoqiu couldn’t see her. Her body was covered in bruises and cuts, what couldn’t be seen at first glance was most certainly hidden under a layer of gauze and bandages. If Jiaoqiu could see her, he would be stumbling out of his bed and crawling to the kitchen to cook her a meal for at least a boost in morale, if not amendments to her wounds.

"It’s not as bad as you think," she said, partially lying.

"Oh, I know you, dear. You’re probably bleeding from every square inch of your body."

"It’s not that bad, I promise."

"I can still smell your blood without any compromise."

Right. The whole scent thing was a bit of a problem here.

"Jiaoqiu, dear, I assure you, my injuries are not as severe as you think."

"How I wish I could believe you, but my ability to do so remains my one regret."

"Regret? I thought you didn’t have any regrets?"

"I won’t be able to see you again. Ever."

Feixiao was once more starting to feel choked upon hearing Jiaoqiu’s confession. He wouldn’t be able to see the meals he prepared, the condition of his patients, the enemies on the battlefield...the waves against the shore, the light of the sun’s rays, Feixiao smiling at stars beyond... the memories may be engraved into his mind, but that would never compare to seeing the world in the present.

"But you’re alive," Jiaoqiu continued, "and that is what’s most important to me."

A tear fell from Feixiao’s eye, and she forced her mouth shut to not allude to Jiaoqiu how she was feeling. He slowly rolled onto his back, but angled his ears so that he could still hear her.

"I can hear you crying."

Feixiao quickly put her hand over her mouth. Of course he could still pick up on even the smallest details. And he could hear Feixiao slip up. The slightest sign of weakness, which truly felt an unacceptable slipup to her. A tear formed in Jiaoqiu’s eye, but he covered his face and winced in pain before it could fall.

"Jiaoqiu, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything." Feixiao said.

He wiped his eyes with his arm, and turned towards her with a smile.

"Ah, there’s nothing to be sorry about. This is all on me.”

Jiaoqiu rolled over to his other side and his tail slowly poked out from under the blanket. He weakly wiggled it, like he was trying to attract a cat with a feather toy.

"Come on, Feixiao. You know you want to."

Jiaoqiu’s tail was extremely tempting, particularly seeing as Feixiao did not have one of her own. She did not recall Jiaoqiu sustaining any critical injuries to his tail, and the distance between their beds was small enough...

She slid out of her bed and walked the few steps towards Jiaoqiu. He heard her approach him as she limped heavily, though anyone could, and slid himself over to the edge just enough so that Feixiao had enough room to lay by him. Careful as to not crush his tail, she flopped her body beside him and grabbed ahold of his plush fur.

Despite being caked in blood days prior, it was well groomed and soft, though the fur was trimmed to be a little shorter. Usually, it was rather warm and cozy, but Jiaoqiu’s tail felt cold. Feixiao knew that it was due to extreme blood loss, but she couldn’t help but still panic when he felt chillingly like a long dead body.

Feixiao felt a bit guilty about his condition and held his tail a bit closer to her body.

Jiaoqiu pushed himself up slowly to sit and said to her, "Feixiao, I have a favor to ask."

"Hm?" she said, muffled by his fur.

"If I should one day forget what the waves look like, will you act as my eyes and describe them to me down to the smallest ripple?"

"It’s the least I could do as thanks for all of your sacrifices," Feixiao said, peeling her face away from his tail.

"But I insist on being your tail in return. I have more than enough fluff for the both of us, well when it grows back in anyways! Hahah-ack!"

"Take it easy, Jiaoqiu," she said, stuffing her head back into his fur.

Jiaoqiu patted his hand around searching for her head, only getting close enough to pat the mattress beside her. She felt him searching, and grabbed his wrist gently to guide him to the top of her head. He pried his fingers around a little, until he felt the back of her ears, then he started to scratch them.

His fingers felt cold. It made sense why, but it was heartbreaking nonetheless.

Jiaoqiu turned behind him and opened his eyes. For a fleeting moment, it had slipped his mind that he was no longer able to see. He saw nothing. Not even the light that cut through the thickest of darkness in his life. As his expression dimmed, he hoped that her face was still shoved into his tail, as he couldn’t exactly feel much between the thick fur and the chill. No matter how many times he kept telling himself, he still couldn’t shake the dread of never being able to see Feixiao again.

And she couldn’t shake the regret of being unable to save his eyesight.

Better for the smaller sacrifices to be made, for if Jiaoqiu didn’t cleverly poison himself, the Wardance would’ve quickly gone from a celebration to a massacre, costing the lives of far more innocent bystanders. There would have been no second chances to rectify the consequences of their failures. Jiaoqiu, however, had a second chance at seeing again, with Feixiao’s words able to paint a picture of the world before him.

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Yuji learning that his s/o is getting crap from her dad and paternal relatives, who are perfectionists, for not wanting to go to college because she's already a well-known author?

“But…I don’t get it…” Yuji commented quietly. Part of him felt like it wasn’t his place to speak up. This was a family matter. But there was another part of him that felt that he had to speak up. Everyone seemed to be ganging up on [Y/N] at this family dinner, that he had been invited to, and, truly, he didn’t get it. “If [Y/N]-chan already has a job, why do they need to go to college?”

Their father scoffed. “Hmph. You would say that.”

“Don’t talk to Yuji that way.” [Y/N] hissed, glaring at their father.

“I’m sorry, but this is not a conversation Yuji should be apart of. He’s a nice boy, but he has no plans for higher education, and based on his grades I doubt he would be accepted.”

“Well…I thought about community college…” Or trade school. Or joining the military. ‘Higher education’ didn’t seem for him when he was in school, so their dad was right. Then his life went to shit and it was a moot point.

“The point is that just because you have a job now, and some success with your writing, does not mean that you’ll always have it, and you should have a back up.”

“When this inevitably fails, right?” [Y/N] quipped and their father sighed.

“We just want what is best for you.” Their mother jumped in. “University can open doors.”

“I can open my own doors, thanks.” [Y/N] stood from the table and looked at Yuji. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“You’re leaving?” Their mother questioned, teary eyed.

“Let them go dear. They always run away when things get hard. Just like with school.”

“I didn’t ‘run away’ from school, dad!” [Y/N] clipped at him. “It just wasn’t for me and you can’t accept that. You think that the only right path is the one you made.”

“You’re right, I cannot accept that my child will be an uneducated rube for the rest of their life, by choice.”

“Oy!” Yuji cut in sharp this time. Then stepping in front of [Y/N] as they made their way for the door. “[Y/N]-chan isn’t uneducated! They’re really smart, and write great books, and are super talented! If you can’t see that then you’re the rube here!” He didn’t know what that meant, but it sounded like a great comeback.

Yuji & [Y/N] leave. Heading back to Tokyo Tech for the night. “Sorry I ruined dinner.” He apologized. “I shouldn’t have fought with your dad.”

“He ruined dinner. Not you.” [Y/N] told him. “I appreciate you sticking up for me though. College isn’t for me, in the grand scheme, but I do feel bad about not having a degree sometimes.”

“Why don’t you take online classes?” He asked.

“When would I find the time?”

“Well…it’s not how long it takes, but that you start. My granddad taught me that.” Yuji told them. “If you want your degree then go for it. But I don’t think you’re less of a person if you don’t have one. Davinci didn’t go to college and he still made that naked man on a wheel thing.”

[Y/N] giggled and took his hands. “Thanks Yuji.”

He wasn’t sure if he said the right thing, but if [Y/N] smiled then he must have done something right. He might not be the smartest person in the world, or have a degree, but he at least knew that much.

[spoofyleaf]

Imagine being the comic relief friend who’s known for saying stupid shit all the time and zoning out what not, then out of the blue hitting everyone with something philosophical. Oh no!! Those are supposed to be inside thoughts, sorry guys that I said something a little too real haha oops! You’re not meant to know that outlandish shitty poetry and connecting everything together via basically “we’re all just animals trying to survive” is how I processes almost everything! We only have 80 summers on this spinning rock if we’re lucky and im not going to pretend I don’t like “childish things” because one day I too will be the dirt we walk on and my name will quickly mean nothing so why should I care about what people think about me if I can act stupid to get my friend to laugh like that’s all I care about in this life. My existence means nothing in the grand scheme of things and I think knowing that fact, like truly deeply understanding that fact, has helped my anxiety. Because who cares I tripped when reaching for oranges at the grocery store and couldn’t find the ranch dressing. Alls I know is I got those who I care about with me and I have more friends to meet and new foods to try and new games to play and new movies to watch and new music to listen to. Nothing matters, but everything matters so much. I would fight the universe if it meant the safety of my friends and family, I’d even give up my mortality for them- my ability to die I would give up if it meant I got to spend just another day in their light. Anyways did you guys know that it rained yesterday even tho the weatherman said it wasn’t going to? Wild!!

[whywasthissohardtomake]

note: as i got farther into this, i realized i sound quite angry. So, to be clear, i am angry at jason & his worldview at this moment. I am not angry at deverell or his worldview or whatever or that jason has these thoughts or that this is where his character is & will maybe progress further down this path. I am simply upset (but like in that way you get at books where its not true upset but like a kinda fun kinda angry cause theres no stakes?) at jason’s thoughts. SO, STILL LOVING THE BOOKS. HERE IS MY RANT.

okay, like bro. Jason. No. First of all, i know that normal rank people dont have a lot of power & thus dont have a lot of say in big picture things. But theyre not slaves to destiny & the whims of circumstance. Not completely. I feel like when he was talking about the elven victims, he was thinking of them as having no choices moving forward. And for some of them, no, they won’t. Because they’ll won’t be mentally capable of making choices. But that’s not true for all. And i feel like the whole “without overwhelming power, you’ll never have a choice in your life” is being taken to a little bit of an extreme in jason’s thinking. Because everyone has choices. It’s hard. And sometimes those choices are just am I going to die screaming or die silent. But i feel like saying that no one has choices without power is looking over what i wanna call “small kindnesses” making small choices to make other prople’s lives better. All of those people who taught jason to cook? Small kindness. Did he probably pay them back with labor? Yes. But taking the time to teach some random guy to make food is a small kindness. Jory’s clinic is a big example of a small kindness. He didn’t have to do that. It wasn’t profitable. And it was actively dangerous due to the church of the healer. But he still did it. To help people. That man in the first town in greenstone who fought off shabs without a full set of essences? Another big example of a small kindness. Most people are just doing their best with what they have. And it sucks that jason is trying to invalidate choices that they make by saying that they don’t have control over their lives & that nothing they do matters in the grand scheme of things. And that second one is true! But it matters to them and those around them.

NOW AS FOR THE “SACRIFICES”. This reeeeeeaaaaally pissed me off. Let’s start with what i would call less egregious: kaito, greg, and asya’s deaths. Also the death of anyone else that had a very personal impact on jason. People he knew and cared for.

now, for some words directly to jason who is not real: These people did not die so that you could get power jason. Jason i am grabbing you by the cheeks. Jason do you understand that while they died due to your enemies, they did not get “sacrificed” for you to use them like soul fuel. They didnt sacrifice themselves in any way! They simply died in a truly horrible murder. Please understand this.

back to the rant. THE PEOPLE OF MAKASSAR DID NOT SACRIFICE THEMSELVES TO YOU!! OR FOR YOU!! SAME FOR BROKEN HILL!! Not only is this view extremely selfish, it also invalidates those deaths and those tragedies as all about jason. You cannot make those deaths about you, jason. They were horrific, but only those who lived are at all about you. Be proud & happy about that. You can feel sad for the deaths, but you cannot feel that they died for you.

and part of that is that they probably died for each other. A mother distracting a monster whose kids survived because of her. Neighbors helping each other out of wreckage and pushing each other out of the way of things. Attempting to kill the monsters, not because they thought they’d succeed, but to buy time. Some people did sacrifice themselves. And those people can feel guilty all they want. but you do not get to. Because that is not your hurt to feel. anywho! As always, pls no spoilers!

[idontmindifuforgetme]

idk why but this year turning 21 hit me hard, like I feel like I should have felt that when I turned 20 but I felt it more now. Literally 21 this, then 22 the next, and then 23??? And it keeps going? And I have to truly get ahold of my life when i still overthink about whether my friends are really good for me or not

I get what you’re saying but as someone who JUST turned 22 im kind of just learning not to stress ab it bc it’s such a waste of time tbh. Our generation will prolly live up to like 100 bc of biomedical advancements, so having a quarter life crisis this already in and ruing the fact that we’re getting older is not the way to go about making what we could of it. 21 is not that different from 20, which is not different from 19, which is not different from 18 etc etc like these are all a few negligible years that don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. The existential dread of being alive is SO real but I do not want to look back in like 5 years and be mad at 22 yr old me for not recognizing how early in life she was still

[h0tb0x1nnac0ff1n]

𝒴ℴ𝓊'𝓇ℯ ℳ𝓎 ℋℯ𝓇ℴ 𝒟𝒾𝓍ℴ𝓃

Daryl Dixon X Mentally unstable fem! Reader

Genre: Fluff

TW: Insomnia, depression, ED, anxiety, SH, thoughts of unaliving

Summary: Reader is a female who has been struggling mentally for years, after everything has happened and they have run out of their medication they have gotten worse. But thankfully her crush, Daryl Dixon, is there to comfort her.

A/N: If you can relate to any of these warnings, please seek help. This post is for people who are struggling mentally but wish for a story that can truly help express how they feel. If you are not comfortable with the topics of this story, please scroll.

✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩☆✩

I sat on top of my sleeping bag, wrapped in a soft blanket holding a stuffed animal, earbuds in my ears, the wires ran through to the iPod I had playing my music. The time on the IPod said 2:27 am. I haven’t been able to sleep all night.

But the music that played

'𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ-𝑓𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑠 𝑠𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑦𝑛𝑐 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟ℎ𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑚 '

'𝐵𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ'

'𝐵𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡ℎ'

I know I shouldn’t listen to music that makes me feel sadness to this level but the instrumental of the song alone is beautiful.

In a world like today, feeling nothingness is how I get by, if I don’t feel happy I won’t get attachments, if I don’t feel sad then I don’t want to… you know.

'𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑢𝑟𝑠'

' 𝐺𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒'

‘ 𝑀𝑒'

'𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑖𝑟𝑑𝑠'

I tear falls from my seemingly emotionless face.

My eyes close, and I just let the feeling of everything rush over me. I check my pill bottle to see if I had anything left, knowing I’ve been out for weeks at this point, not caring to tell anybody that the medicine that saves my life is now gone.

I then decide to get up to smoke a cigarette outside my tent.

I put the cigarette butt in my mouth and cover the end with my mouth and ‘flick’ with a lighter.

As I inhale, the lightheadedness of the nicotine entering my lungs relaxes me. I feel nothing. I’m empty.

The outdoors is dark, and damp from the rain we had just a few hours before, making the earth smell cozy and natural

“Whatcha doin’ up at this time?” I jump and the sudden presence of the individual.

I sigh “I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all”

I hear the ‘flick’ and ‘fwoo’ of another lighter, I see the small flame light the face of a man whom I’ve gotten to know as Daryl.

He himself lights a cigarette and the smoke fills the air around us, the smell was disgusting. The smell of cigarettes are nauseating, the taste was worse. But I don’t smoke for the taste.

“Whatcha listening to?” He asks turning his head to me, standing to my side.

“Just some alternative from the 90’s” I show him the screen of my IPod

“Mm, ya like music from then?”

“Yea I mean it wasn’t really that long ago, it was just 2010 when everything went to shit.” I say as I look at him with a slight smile on my face

“I mean music that’s 20 years old?”

“I mean, if you look at it. The grand scheme of everything it’s recent, the existence of intelligent humans it’s recent, not that time exists anymore, non of that stuff matters anymore.” Looking down at my cigarette and taking a quick drag of it

“Why do ya think like that? Like very deeply about the way things are.” He and taking a large drag of his cigarette and doing a ghost with it

“I just try to have a realistic and optimistic mindset on things” I said looking at him with soft eyes

“Hmm?” He responds, raising his voice a bit to make it sound like a question

“I think, we should acknowledge the way the world is, let it change us, but we should also be optimistic about it, and be grateful that I’m alive right now, speaking to you smoking this cigarette. I may not be breathing tomorrow, but right now I am”

“Have your meds ran out?” He asks quietly

“Yes, yes they have” I say in a serious voice

“How long have ya been out” he looked at me with sadness in his eye, the look of genuine appreciation and affection. His eyes were soft and sweet.

I pause for a moment, feeling the tears in my eyes show up. My eyes started to burn at the sudden wetness. “Uhm, maybe about two? Three weeks? I uh, I’m not entirely sure” I say looking down at my feet taking a long drag of my cigarette and flicking the ashes.

“Why haven’t ya said anythin’?” His voice gruff, and quiet. He seemed as if he was holding back anger, trying not to scare me.

“Because there isn’t anything I can do, we can’t just go to any pharmacy and pick up prescription medication especially that kind” I said raising my voice slightly at the last few words, starting to sound a bit agitated. Taking another drag of my cigarette I start to cry.

“I just wanna be normal Daryl. I don’t want to have to rely on these fucking pills to keep me alive! To keep me wanting to stay alive. And now there all gone” I said between sniffles, taking multiple drags of my cigarette as it burns out, and I reach for another one to light, taking a drag from that one.

“I just, I wish I had healthy ways to cope with everything. I’d rather feel nothing than feel something, maybe I’m better off as a walker or some shit” I say kicking a rock below my foot

Daryl then grabs both of my shoulders and makes me face him, his cigarette ash falling on my shoulder.

“Don’t ya EVER say somethin’ like tha’ in front of me ever again ya hear me girl!? I can take ya being sad, but not talking down on ya self, like ya said ya gotta except the way the world is, the fact you’re breathin’ as we speak, you’re alive and you’re alive without you’re meds, so stop sayin’ ya need them to live. Because ya don’t, and ya ain’t!”

I stare at him, my eyes fill up once more and I hug him. I hug him tight and bawl.

“I’m so sorry Daryl, I’m just having a hard time right now, I can’t sleep I’ve been trying all night I haven’t slept in two days I just ‘sniffle’ I just don’t know anymore.” I say as my face is pressed into his chest, soaking his dirty sleeveless shirt.

“It alrigh’, let’s get ya to bed” he says quietly, almost so soft I could hardly hear it. “Do ya want me to watch ya? Make sure ya sleep” he lets me go but holds onto my shoulder, letting me know he’s still there.

“Yea, that would be nice.” I say sniffling, looking up at him quickly then back at my feet twiddling with my fingers.

We then go inside of my tent and take my jacket off, showing my scars but I quickly hide them, feeling self conscious. But Daryl grabs my hand and kisses my wrist “I want to know how many times you cried for help, and nobody listened, I want you to know your safe and that I won’t do anything to hurt you” he says still holding into my hand.

I feel myself start to cry once again, why am I so emotional today?

Daryl hold me in his arms once more and lays down on his back on top of my sleeping bag, and covers me in my blanket. I lay my head on his chest, hugging him as he holds me, rubbing his hand through my hair and back.

After what felt like a hour of crying, my eyes are heavy and sleepy. I snuggle up to him more feeling myself start to fall asleep

“If ya need anybody, I’m here, because I care. I really do.” Daryl spoke softly

“But why?” I asked quietly as my voice cracked.

“Because-“ he froze for a second, thinking of what to say “I just think you’re a great woman, and that it’s unfortunate ya feel the way ya do about yourself because your beautiful, I wish ya could see tha’ too.”

He.. he thinks I’m beautiful? I look up to meet his eyes, and sit up slightly. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve laid eyes on” his voice was rough, and sounded a bit shaky. Was he nervous?

“I think you’re the most handsome man I’ve met Dixon.” I say as I meet his eyes.

We just look into each other’s eyes for a moment before I notice Daryl sitting up more. He pulls me onto his lap and looks at me, like as if he was asking for permission for something. I lean in closer to him and place a soft gentle kiss on his lips, and he reciprocated. Looking into his eyes I could see he was happy, he looked to be calm, at ease. He then hugged me, and placed a kiss on my cheek. “Daryl, do you like me, or was that in the moment?” I ask looking at him and he shares the expression of guilt

“I’m sorry, I thought you felt the same” Daryl says as he looks away from me, letting go of my hips. “No Dixon I do, I do feel the same” I say looking into his eyes, he kisses me one more time and smiles.

We then lay down and I check the time. 3:26 am, everything just happened in a hour.

I lay my head back on Daryl’s chest and close my eyes. And finally, fall asleep in the warm comforting embrace of the man of my dreams.

Weeks have gone by and Daryl and I are in a relationship now, he is always there for me when I need him. Always there to hold me tight when I feel at my worst, always there to smoke a cigarette with, there to speak about my feelings, and i speak to him about his feelings. Daryl and I haven’t just become a couple, we developed a genuine appreciation and love for each other. We are inseparable now, and years later, after prison, Terminous, Alexandria. Were are here for each other.

Daryl Dixon, has become my hero.

𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝓇ℯ𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃ℊ♡