#married men should never ever listen to single bitter men. they want you to suffer as much they do

[idiosyncraticrednebula]

There are very few things more pathetic than an unmarried man coming for a married man's wife. How much of a sad, miserable creature do you have to be to do that?

[hughiecampbelle]

War Boy (John Shelby Oneshot)

Character/s: John

Word Count: 1,682

Inspired By: Holiday by Dana Williams

Warning/s: abuse mention

Tag List: @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @myriadimagines @lilyswritings @encounterthepast @death-of-a-mermaid @lotsoffandomimagines @woahitslucyylu @obsessedunicorn24 @thedarkqueenofavalon @fangirlsarah16 @theshelbyclan

A/N: I think this is the longest fic I've ever written, which is pretty cool :) I never thought I'd be able to write something greater than 500 words. It's not my usual style, which is a little frustrating, but in the end I like how it turned out. I had no idea where it was going until the very end, and if that doesn't explain the writing process, I'm not sure what does! I'm super close to 200 fics/a third part of the fic masterlist and that's really exciting! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💖💜

FIC MASTERLIST PART ONE. / PART TWO.

WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAG LIST?

Infidelity. Lust. Greed. Envy. He always wanted what wasn't his. A sin, if he believed in those kinds of things. If all the things he'd done in his lifetime weren't so much worse, he would have been afraid. But he wasn't. He should have been ashamed, guilty, pleading on his hands and knees to a bitter God for forgiveness, for understanding he wasn't deserving of, but he couldn't, he wouldn't, because he didn't feel bad. A man of crime, of impulse, sharing a bed with someone who slipped their ring off for him was the least of his worries. To anyone looking in, it would have seemed wrong, sick. It was. It should have seemed that way to him. But he watched from the inside, he knew what really was going on, the full story behind the locked windows and drawn curtains. There were things the rest of the world thought they knew, that they put their faith into, but only you and John knew what was really going on.

It wasn't about the sneaking, the secrets, it wasn't about revenge, getting back at him for all the things he ever did, all the things he put you through. It was about finally being wanted. It was about bloody fists. A heavy silence blanketed over the dinner table. A shove, a grin, a power dynamic. You loved him most when he wasn't around. Felt the most safe, the most adored when the space between you grew, the soil between you deepening, rotting. A man of war, who'd kissed her cheeks and cried when she fell instead of him. It should have been him in those trenches, in her arms. He'd told you that only once, his eyes restless, crazed, begging for one night of rest, too ashamed to admit in daylight. It should have been him, not the brave men beside him, not the innocent boys thrown into this without a second thought. It should have been his funeral, his shallow grave, his things distributed among friends, desperate for anything they could get their hands on. They'd be sad, of course, mourning another loss, but sad didn't matter when the world was ending.

It should have been him. And sometimes, you wished it was.

Someone you worshiped, someone you would have done anything for. That's what love made you believe. He was the light of your life, the reason of your very existence. A boy, then. Kids, you both were, blinded by something bigger than yourselves, something you thought could escape death herself, last a hundred lifetimes. Young, sweet, with summer in your veins. You were so naive. He was different before the war. Softer, tender, he was affectionate, drunk on the ideas of a future together. Married before he left, a ring around his finger when he stepped on that train. He'd lost it, somewhere along the line, and that should have been the first warning when he came back. They all changed, but not like him. The bombs, the guns, the shock of it settled in his gut, poisoning his blood. The fire of the explosives lived inside him. It slept when he did, but it was always looking for something to set it off.

The smallest spark would be enough.

Then it wasn't just anger, but rage. Wrath. A sea of red. Everything in his path needed to be destroyed regardless of the skin it wore. Shattered glass. Broken furniture. Holes in walls. Fabric ripped, or torn, or punctured. Even when he dreamed he clenched his fists, as if he were ready for a fight, a battle, that would never come. You were his favorite, though. Once a cherished item in his collection, sat on the top shelf for safe keeping, now you were nothing but a rag doll. Thrown around for his own entertainment. Bruised, bleeding, left to clean yourself up, mend your own wounds. Sometimes it was barely noticeable. Sometimes it wasn't. And that's when John came into your life.

An old friend, one he'd witnessed war with.

A visit. Simple, quick, a check up on someone he regretted losing contact with. Heard stories of someone special back home, someone who kept him going. From the second you saw him, though, you knew he was different. Careful eyes, all smiles and a wicked humor. He'd held on to that. With bloody nails, he wouldn't let her take that from him. He took notice of everything, whether or not you realized. The purple fingerprints in your skin. The badges under your sleeves. Your limp. The flinching, the bracing when a glass was set down too fast, too hard. John made a point to find his way in this part of Birmingham more often, knowing not only had the men changed, but their lives and families as well. It wasn't just the soldiers who suffered.

He became a source of comfort. Walking your husband home when he drank too much to remember where he lived, helping him up the stairs when his dead weight was too much to carry. It was his way of coping, his way of control. If he was too far gone to remember his own name, he couldn’t hurt anyone. Drown the demons in booze, forgetting how violent he could be when he was hungover. Passed out, leaving the two of you alone. You found yourself confiding in him, telling him things you never would have told anyone. Admitting to your own exhaustion, your own defeat, raising your white flag. You didn't have to explain the flinching, the hesitation to trust, all the little things he picked up on, all the things he'd seen too often. He was a man of destruction. Smashing his bottles, begging for a fight, starting them when no one else would. A form of self mutilation. Too many nights John spent taking care of the gashes in his face, of his open knuckles.

He was trying to beat the war out of himself. Scare it away. Make it rupture.

Sometimes he was unexpected. Knocking out of nowhere when your husband was at work. You should have known he wasn't looking for him. You should have known, but you didn't. And neither did he, inviting him for dinner, for drinks, any occasion. Before you knew it, you were spending every night together. Over the table, your laughs hushed, your words effortless. Learned more about him than you ever thought. A wife he loved, passed away. A brood of kids he fears he's not good enough for. A complicated family and a business with a license to kill. The thought of him, funny John with his quips and fast wit, with his endless supply of dirty jokes and filthy words, a father. You had a hard time picturing him reading bedtime stories or folding baby clothes. It was something you used to dream of, having kids. Not anymore, not with a man like that. You'd never forgive yourself, ruining an innocent life, raised in a field of landmines. It wouldn't be fair to them. You couldn't do that.

He brought them a few times. Pudgy fingers, toothless giggles, tales about school, about all the things they were learning, all the people they'd become one day. It did something to your home. Turned a lifetime of pain and fear into excitement, into joy. They didn't know what life had in store for them, the possibilities endless. Infinite. All of them wanting a piece of you, sitting on your lap, whispering all the secrets their father told them not to tell. He spoke of you often, or at least, that's what they said. John in his natural state, a child on his hip, another pulling him by the cuff. He was needed. That was more than you could say for yourself. A pain, an ache in your chest, watching your husband. Awkward, anxious, angry. Angry at little fingerprints across every surface. Angry at the noise, at the constant energy, the neediness. You knew he thought that was weak, to need someone. He couldn't stand to be near them.

He couldn't stand anything anymore.

John would have killed the man. If he were anyone else, he would have sliced him in half, make a godless man see heaven for himself. But he wasn't just anyone, they'd seen hell together. Walked through fire, spit in the face of the devil himself and lived to see another day. That was rare. It made a bond unlike any other. But that didn't mean he had to like him, that he had to approve of everything he did. Drunk together, one night, the last two at the bar. He never meant for it to get out. It was the whiskey talking. A single sentence, a threat in passing. If you ever hurt them again, I'll fucking kill ya. His words were slurred, and heavy between his teeth, but there was truth to them. He could have said something a lot worse. He could have told him he was undeserving of you, that he was fucked up to hurt you, to take you for granted. He could have said that he changed, that he wasn't the friend he was anymore, that he couldn't stand the sight of him. John could have admitted that he loved you, from the second he saw you, he loved you and he wanted to protect you, that he thought of you every single day.

But he didn't.

Instead he made a promise, an oath to you, to him. One he never wanted to go to through with. One he'd have to, he knew it. Now he was waiting across the street, ducking in the shadows, watching for him to leave, to go to the bar after another meltdown. The screaming could be heard through the neighborhood. It didn't matter who he used to be, this was him now. This was his fate. He should have listened to John that night, but he didn't, he didn't listen to anyone anymore, and now he'd face the end.

John just hoped you'd forgive him after all this.

[ibijau]

30 day otp - day eighteen: Rain

18. R - Rain. Are the otp+ caught up in the bad weather, cozy inside, or are they somewhere like on a space ship or in the middle of the desert yearning for a good storm?

warning for mild alcohol abuse and jealousy 

set after lxc and nhs became a couple, but before nhs discovers his brother’s death wasn’t an accident

It’s stupid to be walking in the rain like that, and it’s needlessly dramatic, and Nie Huaisang doesn’t care because he is, maybe, quite possibly, a little bit drunk. There was too much wine available at this stupid Conference. There’s always too much wine, especially when they’re held in Carp Tower, but it’s the first time Nie Mingjue isn’t there to stop him from overindulging when he’s bored.

And heavens help him, but he has been bored all day. It’s the first time he has to actually pay close attention to what’s been discussed, and his mind spent the entire revolting against the inane conversations around him. Disputes about territories and taxes and petty personal disputes treated as if they’re great scandals. Nie Huaisang doesn’t know how he survived this until the banquet where finally wine was served. He’s tempted to sneak in some wine tomorrow, so he can get drunk in the morning and not have to hear all this drivel. The only thing that can stop him from doing that is if Lan Xichen asks him not to, but… Lan Xichen has better things to do than to pay attention to Nie Huaisang.

The gnawing feeling in Nie Huaisang’s chest is nothing new, but it has been growing stronger since Lan Xichen kissed him for the first time.

He has always envied the close relationship between Lan Xichen, Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao, the affection and respect these three shared (tainted by distrust and resentment, yes, but still Nie Huaisang believes his brother would never have been so furious if he hadn’t still liked Jin Guangyao). He still envies it, but there’s only two of them now, and sometimes Nie Huaisang sees Lan Xichen smile at Jin Guangyao or touch him with easy casualness, and he wonders…

Shivering because of the rain (or perhaps not just the rain, but he won’t admit to anything else) Nie Huaisang gives in and finds shelter under a tree. It’s cold, and it’s lonely, and he regrets not having some more wine with him to make him forget the way Lan Xichen’s hand was on Jin Guangyao’s shoulder when he ran away, the soft smile his lover (his lover) directed at his sworn brother as they chatted.

Lan Xichen who has barely spared a single glance for him since the conference started.

(Nie Huaisang knows, logically, that Lan Xichen cannot show him too much preference, not in such a public space, not when they are supposed to be friends and nothing else.)

(He’s drunk though, and this feels like rejection, especially when Lan Xichen has no problem showing a lot of preference for Jin Guangyao)

Around Nie Huaisang, the night gets darker. The rain gets worse. It occurs to him that he can’t see shit, doesn’t know where he is in those too big gardens, and probably won’t be able to find his way back.

It wouldn’t be his first time spending the night outside, cold, wet and drunk. It happened twice when he was studying in Cloud Recesses, and Wei Wuxian’s antics got him and Jiang Cheng stuck outside past curfew. Back then, it had been a fun experience. Nie Huaisang doesn’t expect this to be, but it’s his own fault for being stupid, so he’ll deal with it.

He’s just starting to look for a less wet patch of grass to sit down and fall asleep on when he stops something approaching through the rain. A pale silhouette, carrying what appears to be a large umbrella. Nie Huaisang hesitates, but eventually shouts to get that person’s attention. Embarrassment is better than sleeping in the mud.

A statement he starts to reconsider once the person gets closer and he recognises the white robes of Gusu Lan. Of course that’d be just his luck to be found by his lover when he is in such a pitiful state.

Lan Xichen lowers the umbrella as soon as he’s under the shelter of the tree, and pulls Nie Huaisang into a tight, warm hug.

“I was so worried! A-Sang, why did you disappear like that?”

Nie Huaisang, clinging to his lover’s robe like a child to his mother, knows that he should be happy that Lan Xichen came looking for him. If he were a little less drunk, if the last few months had been a little less harrowing, he would be happy.

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” he grumbles instead. “You and A-Yao were having such fun.”

He can feel the slight jolt in Lan Xichen’s frame at his bitter tone. He can also feel a hand carding through his wet hair, as if to comfort him.

“Of course I noticed you were gone,” Lan Xichen gently tells him. “You’ve looked like you were in such a bad mood all day… why didn’t you join us to chat?”

“Why would I bother? When the two of you are together, I might as well not be there.”

The hand in his hair stills. Nie Huaisang feels Lan Xichen move and guesses the other man must be trying to catch his eyes, but he resolutely looks down.

“I’m sorry if we’ve given you that impression,” Lan Xichen says, slow and careful, as if Nie Huaisang were some sect leader he’s trying to pacify. Which he is, really, and he hates that. “A-Sang, we really do enjoy talking with you. I value your opinion, I hope you know that.”

Nie Huaisang huffs. “What’s there to value? Listen, it’s fine. Talk to Jin Guangyao, I don’t care. I’d rather talk to him than to me, too, if I had the choice.”

For a moment, the only sound is the rain around them, still heavy and loud, isolating them from the world. Nie Huaisang feels warm fingers leave his hair to push against his chin and force him to look up. While he tries to resist, Lan Xichen leaves him no choice. Still he keeps his eyes down, refusing to see whatever anger or pity is sure to be on his lover’s face.

“A-Sang, look at me.”

Nie Huaisang shakes his head.

“A-Sang. Please. Look at me.”

He shakes his head again, but there’s something in Lan Xichen’s voice that he can’t resist and he does look up after all.

It’s pity, not anger, that he sees on the other man’s face.

He’s not sure that’s the option he prefers.

“A-Sang, I really do enjoy your conversation, your company,” Lan Xichen insists. “I love you.”

“Only because he won’t let you love him,” Nie Huaisang retorts, quickly looking down again.

The fingers on his chin tighten for a second before letting go, and suddenly Lan Xichen isn’t touching him at all. Nie Huaisang shivers, but he can’t blame the rain alone for how cold he suddenly feels. No matter what happens after this, he’s never drinking again. Or at least, not around other people. If Lan Xichen ends whatever exists between them out of anger at being discovered, there is no force in the world that can stop Nie Huaisang from locking up in his office once he’s back in Qinghe and drinking every single drop of alcohol that can be found in the Unclean Realm.

“That is not true,” Lan Xichen whispers at last, the words almost drowned out by the rain around them. He sounds hurt, but Nie Huaisang still refuses to look up. “I have never once in my life had such thoughts for A-Yao. He is like a brother to me, he has always been. You might as well accuse me of having untoward thoughts for Wangji.”

“You don’t touch Wangji like you touch A-Yao,” Nie Huaisang hisses furiously.

“Of course not. Wangji hates being touched by anyone, while A-Yao welcomes it,” Lan Xichen points out, the slightest hint of irritation piercing through.

“I’d welcome it too, yet you’ve never done it. Even before… before this started, you’ve never…”

Lan Xichen quickly wraps his arms around Nie Huaisang’s body and pulls him close against his chest, holding him tight.

“I think I’ve touched you plenty in recent times,” Lan Xichen claims in a strangled voice. “Not in public but… with you, I’m never sure how much I could get away with, who will guess what we have if I am too familiar. I don’t have to worry about that with A-Yao because I’m not hiding anything when I’m talking with him. With you… I don’t want people to guess. I don’t want people to know and tell us we need to stop.”

If Nie Huaisang’s face is wet, it’s no longer just because of the rain (but he can still blame the wine for making him emotional, and he will if questioned).

Damn Lan Xichen for being so good, for never getting angry, for being kind even when Nie Huaisang is doing everything to make him realise that he has settled for someone who will never be good enough for him.

“I love you,” Lan Xichen says again. “Please don’t doubt that.”

“I love you too,” Nie Huaisang replies, half convinced that he’ll always doubt the other man really cares as much as he does, no matter how many years they get together.

A little less distressed now, Nie Huaisang rises on his toes to claim a quick kiss, just a peck at his lover’s lips to remind himself that no matter who Lan Xichen really wants, for now he’s the one who gets to do that, him and no one else.

When he pulls back, Lan Xichen wrinkles his nose.

“How much did you drink?” he asks, not quickly scolding but ready to get there if necessary.

“A little too much,” Nie Huaisang admits. “I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Not because he doesn’t think it’s true. Given the choice between him and Jin Guangyao, it’s obvious who anyone would prefer… but he’s lucky that Jin Guangyao is married, that he’s never shown any interest in men, that his life history would make him unlikely to cheat anyway. Nie Huaisang can only ever come second best, but a lifetime in his brother’s shadow has taught him to live with that.

Still, it was a cruel thing to say to Lan Xichen, who must suffer from this one-sided business. And the last thing Nie Huaisang wants, ever, is to be cruel to the man he loves.

“All is forgiven,” Lan Xichen replies, too kind as always. “Let’s go back now, and get you something dry to put on. You are so unreasonable, running into the rain like that without even an umbrella.”

Nie Huaisang nods, and presses himself against his lover’s side so they can share Lan Xichen’s umbrella. It doesn’t fully protect them, not when the rain is still so intense, but Nie Huaisang isn’t going to miss a chance to be touching his lover.

[valkyrieelysia18]

Guy Talk

"I need advice."

That sudden statement to Oscar Pine and Jaune Arc after they had just gotten back to their Inn after daily training (with Nora and Ruby conspicuously absent) left them staring down Ren for a few seconds before the blonde responded. "Okay, who are you and what have you done to my teammate?"

"I'm being serious Jaune, I need advice on what to do with Nora!"

"Seriously, if you've hurt Ren, you won't get a chance to think before she kills you!"

Oscar sighed, feeling a sense of calmed assuredness that might have come from his predecessors' experiences. "Jaune, stop yanking his chain. Ren, maybe you could clarify what you mean. From my point of view, you and Nora don't  seem to be having any obvious problems."

Ren sighed before he went on to explain. "Well, we're technically not....it's this whole situation that's kind of the issue."

Jaune spoke as he put away his and Oscar's gear for the day. "What do you mean by that?"

"I've been hanging with Nora around the city a lot more recently considering how Qrow is giving you guys and Ruby private lessons. I'm not complaining about that, I completely understand why given Ruby was his original student and you two seriously need the instruction. You're lucky to have it."

Oscar smiled. "Good to know how you feel."

Jaune's expression was utter deadpan. "I'd say you're the lucky one. I swear that guy gets off on making me suffer."

The wizard in the farm boy's head chimed in, unknowingly to the other two. Oh please, compared to my mentor, you two are getting off easy.

Before Oscar could get into another conversation completely in his head, Ren continued the discussion. "Anyway, ever since Kuroyuri, hanging out with Nora...it feels like things have changed between us."

Jaune asked. "Is it a bad change?"

The usually calm young man shook his head. "No, not at all! It's really nice. But it's like she's kind of expecting me to do more since I grabbed her hand on the airship. Before Beacon had fallen, I knew what I wanted. Become a Huntsman, get a house in Vale, settle down with Nora..."

Oscar was rather surprised at the forethought. "You were thinking that far ahead?"

"I was planning on proposing when we graduated. But with the way things are now....so much has changed and I don't know what I should do. After all, there's a very real possibility that we're all not going to make it out of this. So, I don't know where that leaves things."

Oscar winced before he went on. "Yeah....I can understand that. But at least there's nothing really keeping you from acting on your feelings."

Now it was Ren's turn to be a little surprised. "Really? From my point of view, you and Ruby seem to have good chemistry with each other."

"Well, it's kind of complicated to explain, but just because I feel that way about her, doesn't necessarily mean I can act on those feelings. And no, it has nothing to do with Qrow or anybody else in her family."

Yes, that was a cold bitter fact Oscar had to swallow. Just because he liked Ruby, doesn't mean he could truly act on those feelings. Aside from the obvious world ending war coming up (not explicitly stated but implied), having Ozpin be privy to his innermost feelings and private moments with Ruby was more than uncomfortable, it was mortifying. Not to mention, the memories of the loved ones of his previous lives could pop up at any minute. That's not even getting into Ruby's issues. Sooner or later, she would want answers and telling her the full truth would shatter what trust they had. They could be friends, they could flirt, but a real relationship was something that wasn't possible for them with the way things were.

The farm boy then came back to the conversation. "Anyway, it seems to me you and Nora are doing fine. I think maybe you're worrying a little too much."

Ren nodded, his expression contemplative. "I suppose that might true. So, should I just take it as it comes?"

Jaune then spoke up. "I'm not so sure that would be best."

Both black haired young men turned to the blonde, Oscar being the one to ask the question. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Ren you obviously care about Nora in the romantic way from what you've been saying, not just as a friend or family."

His teammate leveled a raised eyebrow at him. "I thought that would be obvious by this point."

"What I'm trying to get at it is if you were planning on proposing to Nora, when were you planning on dating her, or more specifically, when were you going to tell her how you feel?"

Ren opened his mouth before slowly closing it as he considered the question.

Jaune explained as he went on. "I mean, you two have definitely been together long enough that maybe you don't need to date to see if you're compatible like other people have to, but you still need to tell Nora that your feelings have changed."

"I....thought it was obvious to her that I cared about her."

The blonde stared down Ren incredulously. "Yeah, as a friend, but not romantically. Or was the together not together thing not obvious? Face it, Nora's idea of subtlety is breaking someone's legs."

The Mistralian born teen nodded slowly. "I suppose that was a presumptuous thought on my part."

Oscar then added his own thoughts to matter. "Yeah, I mean what if Nora had started dating someone else at Beacon? Or what if you had found someone else and your feelings had changed? These things do happen. And if by some chance the two of you had remained single, getting a proposal out of the blue after four years of no expressed romantic interest would come across less romantic and instead kind of cold. At least, that's my opinion, I get the feeling Nora would like some romance."

Ren took in those thoughts, before groaning as he hung his head. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Jaune shook his head with a sigh before his eyes took a somber tone to them. "You focused so much on the logical side of your relationship and completely forgot the emotional aspect. Listen Ren, if there is anything I have learned from my relationship with Pyrrha is that the key to a strong relationship is open honest communication. You both need to know what the other wants from each other. You know what you want, but what does Nora want? Until you guys get to an understanding, I don't see you guys really progressing."

Ren slowly nodded. "You make some good points. You're right, I really do need to have a talk with Nora."

"Well what you know, a couple of teenage boys are more mature about relationships than some adults I know."

Said young men turned to find Qrow Branwen in the corner, looking particularly amused at them all.

Jaune threw an irate glare at the older huntsman. "You're not exactly the pinnacle of maturity yourself."

The man's tone sharpened before returning to normal. "I haven't been in a relationship for quite some time and believe it or not, I was completely serious when I was. But that's not what I came to talk to you guys about. I was hoping you guys could come down and help and break up the mini food fight the girls caused down in the lobby."

Oscar's voice was full disbelief. "We've just been talking about them and they were in the middle of 'fighting' each other?"

Ren, on the other hand, was back to being even tempered as usual. "I feel like this is the opposite of how it's expected when boys and girls are separated."

"I could mention a few stories when Tai and I were left on our own on the girls' nights out, but now's not the time! I can't control that Valkyrie girl and Ruby isn't exactly happy with me at the moment after she found out about some stuff I was making you two do for training."

Jaune seemed to smirk at that, muttering worth it, getting a premium quality glare from the huntsman.

Ren and Oscar looked at each other before sighing in unison and walking towards the door. "I take Ruby, you take Nora?"

"I just hope whatever stains she's no doubt already gotten on her clothes are easy to get out."

"You know Ren, you already sound like you and Nora are married."

"You're not the first person to say that to me."

The two went down the hall, leaving the blonde huntsman in training alone with the actual huntsman of the group. It was silent for a few moments before Qrow broke ice. "So, I take you haven't decided to abandon the path of a huntsman and turn to counseling? Because that was on par with some of the best relationship advice I've heard period."

Jaune snorted before speaking. "Don't worry, you won't be losing your punching bag for stress relief any time soon."

Qrow's smirk was positively devilish. "I'm only hard on you so that you'll be able to get to the level you need to be at. Though, I won't deny I get some amusement from watching you squirm."

"You have issues."

"So does everyone who's in this line of work, some of them are just a lot more obvious about it. Anyway, let me pass on a piece of advice to you. I know you and that Pyrrha girl were close and the idea of getting romantically involved again isn't something you can see doing right now, if ever."

"Get to point."

"What I'm trying to say is that just because you'll never love someone else the same way you loved her, doesn't mean you'll never love again. And that's not just limited to romance, you're allowed to find another partner as well."

Jaune crossed his arms, his blue eyes as hard as gemstones. "Just because I understand what you're trying to say, doesn't mean I want hear it."

"Just the fact you're listening is fine for now. Anyway, while those four are sorting that problem out, how about a rematch?"

"You're a really sore loser, you know that old man."

Qrow's red eyes sharpened as he went to go get the game. "One, don't ever call me old. Two, that was luck. Third, this is just to satisfy my curiosity."

Whew, done. Seriously, this ideas of mine take a while to put up. I just thought this up after considering the ever present trope in some movies and tv shows for guys to just fight with each other while girls just talk about the boys they like. Believe me, it's very annoying how that's a thing.

Though, what could Qrow be curious about? What caused Oscar to change his actions toward Ruby? I'll probably get to writing to those instances later.

Hope you enjoy!

[bagog]

And I think there was also one about an Arthurian-period-type couple meeting in the afterlife after dying in battle. (It will be mortifying if you didn't write that one but I THINK it was you? Maybe?) One is taking the other's armor of and the latter asks "Who did this for you?" or "Who was waiting for you?" or something like that and the first basically says "You, of course." And I think that's beautiful.

It sure as hell was me!

Those are my fantasy boys Benat and Kemen. Basically, the encouragement of @biasfuzzball​ and @stonelions has single handedly kept me writing about those two, so I’m glad to hear someone else likes them! Maybe eventually I will tell their whole story in little jumpy bits...

++

It was the last camp, and Benat knew it.

“Tomorrow,” he heard the men shout around the fire, “Werevel in the halls of the Revenant himself, or we toast a valiant death in theOther World!”

Tankards rapt together, and the fire burned higher as themen threw on more fuel. For his part, Benat could not see it that way. Only hisarmy—the last army that would ever be raised for a generation, in the land ofhis forefathers—stood between the Revenant and the March West. If they all werekilled tomorrow, and the Revenant was not, whatever ‘Other World’ there waswould be glutted with the bodies of innocents and children.

No peace of an afterlife could ever rest his soul from theknowledge that the Dread King of Nine Souls had wreaked the sort of sufferingupon the world as he had on Benat’s own people. He wished more than anythingthat there would be no afterlife when he closed his eyes in death tomorrow.

So he hid his scornful face in the flickering shadowsoutside the firelight, far from where his station should be as Prince andGeneral. He did not sing when the bawdy old battle hymns began. He barelylooked up when he felt Kemen’s warm hand on his shoulder.

“You have the look of a man who just made a very darkprayer, Beloved,” the tall man said into Benat’s ear to be heard over theriotous singing.

Sword, shield, bow,and lance?Shatter, break, quiver, glance!If only fists and fire and boneEndure, and only I aloneTo face the Rev’nant on his throne,For my king and for my kinI’ll beat him black and blue and thenI’ll trample on his corpse and dance!

“I don’t pray,” Benat tried to smile. It felt like a windblew between him and his husband, but Kemen sat and closed the gap with hisbody. “Still don’t, not even tonight.”

“Oh no,” Kemen chuckled, but it was tired, the sound thatmade Benat want to lay him in bed and tend to him and say ‘damn the war!’ “Especially not tonight.”

He leaned against his husband’s shoulder—even though heshould not have. And Kemen ran his fingers through Benat’s hair, untangling theknots carefully—even though he should not have. They were married, they hadevery right to be together within the ranks, even with their station leadingthe men, but they should not have tonight. They should appear strong. But theywere saying ‘damn the war’ after all, in a way.

When every possible variation on the old songs had been sunginto the night, and any possibility of new and glorious versions had beenchased away by dying embers and too much drink, when the men began to settleand prepare their bedrolls, just as Benat was about to drift to sleep in Kemen’sarms, his husband began to sing in a hushed voice.

Oh, I long to hear theshores where I was born,I want the sound of sea and surf, the surging airThe spray that rims a green and glorious landKiss round my feet, the waves to lap my hands.Tonight it is my only prayerThat should I never see the mornI’ll see a golden sunrise, andMeet my lover on that shore.

An old song, one of the oldest. A cradle-song sung bymothers who stood vigil over the beds of their sick child. In more ancientdays, it had been sung by soldiers the night before they never returned, so thestorybooks said. The men in the camp stopped talking, one by one, sat on thetrampled grass, and listened to the song their Lieutenant meant only for hishusband, but was not too greedy not to share.

When I met you, I wasyoung and you were too.I know a world where ev’ry wave that meets the beachWill laugh the way you laughed, and love me justThe way you loved me when there was only us.Tonight, keep me close to you,And do not stray beyond my reach.Should all the world rend us apartI will me you on that shore.

It was with a nervous voice the men began to sing, as well. As muchenacting a storybook as anything: the Battle of the Gretal Plateau, where themen sang the lullaby as they prepared their bedrolls and fell asleep. They werenever seen again.

So Benat’s army sang, too, in broken voices, and passed intolegend before they even passed into sleep that night. Kemen’s song wove a spellaround them, tying them to each other and to destiny before the bravado ofdrink and bawdy songs could chill away in sleepless hours. Seems it was not ‘strength’that the army needed tonight.

But as the words drifted all around them in a sleepy choir,Kemen whispered in Benat’s ear.

“I love you. I will be with you, tomorrow, in this world orthe Other World.”

“I don’t believe in the Other World, Lover,” Benat whisperedback, his tears tasting bitter on his lips when he murmured the words againstKemen’s lips.

“I know,” Kemen tilted his head up, a cloud that had been obscuringthe moon slid aside, and the light shone down. “Make a wish.”

“I wish neither of us had to think about an afterlife,tonight,” Benat said, softly.

“Good wish,” Kemen held him tighter. “I wish that myhusband, the non-believer, will have it all—a limitless conviction to drive himon, and a green and shining Other World to be limitless when he is tired.”

Benat smiled, felt the fire of Kemen’s smile when hishusband kissed his neck.

“I don’t believe in wishing on a cloudless moon either,” helaughed.

“Good. More’s the chance to kiss that shockedlittle smile off your face when my wishcomes true.” Kemen laid Benat’s head in his lap. “Sleep now.”

[dirthelgar]

Evens for the munday meme! :D

Oh my, sending right back the challenge, right~?

2) Birthday: That would be the 2nd of July!

4) Prefered prononouns (yes I know but I found the typo so funny I left it as it was): they/them and she/her.

6) Favorite drink: cola, but also tea (green, mint flavored, i’m humming just thinking about it)

8) Any siblings: my older (half) brother, he’s 10 years older (but I like to say we’re like twins).

10) Pop or soda: Soda

12) Eye color: brown!

14) Taken or single: Single~

16) Braces: nope

18) Favorite movie: I think a tie between Avengers and Guardian of the Galaxy (but I’ve loved quite a few movies, I don’t even consider these absolute favorites, just those that I currently love these most).

20) Optimist or Pessimist: Optimist, I believe. I mean, I can think of a lot of possibilities, but I tend to speak about the good things, and keep a positive view.

22) Opinion on same-sex marriage: Can’t wait for the day we won’t need anymore to specify the “type” of marriage because marriage is for everyone who wish to marry. Same-sex couples should be able to marry if they want to, and it’s so petty to not want to allow them this for any reason. Let same-sex people marry, and let them be married by someone who will be happy for them. Marriage is supposed to be about happiness for couples, without restrictions.

24) Opinion on feminism: I believe in the feminism that works to have women equal to men, but without trying to demonize men. Some of the problems with men come from stuff like how they “aren’t supposed to act like women”, and so men suffer too. But, I do think the hardest work is fighting all the negative opinions that work against women (and then it would snowball to everyone).

26) Believe in ghosts/paranormal entities: Yeah, whatever explanation you want to put, there has always been sightings, and really, almost everyone will more or less have one experience, whether they will see it like this or not.

28) Watch anime: Oh, yes~!

30) Favorite Creepypasta character: I dont read that much creepypasta, but at one point I looked at Pokemon ones, and I kind of (for no reason I can think of) loves the Lost Silver one.

32) Kik: Nah, dont have one.

34) Twitter: chrisemrysian~ I forget it all the time, but sometimes, I think of little stuff (read: typos or smartass comment).

36) Instagram: Dont have this either.

38) Favorite genre of music: Er, I really dont know how to call the ones I listen to the most. I love japanese ones, I do love rock, and in gerenal what I call “good beats”.

40) Favorite animal: Forever a tie between wolves and foxes, I do love horses too though. If we can extend to mythical ones, then dragons.

42) Do you RP: That question is fucking hilarious on a mun meme, considering most mun memes are for rper XD But, yes, I happen to rp on Tumblr, and in very rare case I will do it on skype; but I’m in love with tumblr rp.

44) Ever been to a convention (Anime or otherwise): Yeah, we have every year in our town the Japan Expo Sud, with many stalls of all kind of japanese goods (I’m still bitter I couldnt get Onigri or missed the cooking a bento one), and cosplay contest, although there’s also gaming stuff (but a big part of it comes from japan too). That’s the most awaited weekend with my brother XD

46) Iphone or Android: Android, I mean I’ve never gotten Iphone, and my tablet is Android.

48) Favorite book: I love to read too much to have favorites, really. At some point I would think “maybe Eragon or Dragon Champion” but it feels unfair to all the books I’ve read here and there, and more importantly, all the good fanfics.

50) Opinion on Weeaboos: I had to look up the term, so I’m still not certain what one see as weeaboo and just, I never had any interest or love for these kind of terms? Like, yeah, there are limits to when someone takes interest in another culture (avoiding fetishization, which is something “weeaboo” do if we go with what I can find as definition), but it’s just as harmful making a term for people, because you can bet it’ll be used to described someone as soon as there’s even the tiniest think that “fits”.

[whatchareadingbri]

Books I Just Finished: The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

Subtitle: Men are Demons and you should never get married, like, ever

Did Anne Bronte have to physically restrain herself from strangling her brother in his fucking sleep? Like holy shit, gurl, you dragged Branwell down the stairs by the scalp.

I have to admit, while of course I have endless sympathy for poor Helen, I didn’t actually...like her much? I can’t really put my finger on why. It could be because she’s a very grave and moralizing kind of person, but hell, I would be too if I were trapped in her situation. The promise of a happy eternal life eventually would sure help me deal with the daily grind of the marriage from hell, especially if I had no other avenue of escape. (Also, the same could be said of Jane Eyre, and I fucking love Jane. But then, I think Jane’s narration is a little more playful than Helen’s; Helen is, by her own admission, a pretty serious person.) Maybe it was intentional on Anne’s part, to highlight the inevitable bitterness and general inability to feel joy after years of dealing with the woooorst husband in the wooooorld.

 And like, I’m sure she was trying to make Helen come across as the most virtuous of virtuous Victorian women so no one would have anything to reproach her with aside from choosing to ditch her marriage. That was already a pretty big hurdle for people to have to jump when this book came out, so I can see why Anne had to make her seem pretty great to justify giving her a happy marriage in the end.

And speaking of that marriage, I can’t really buy that the end of this book is a happy one. Years and years of suffering under a piece of shit husband, and a brief respite living in a tiny broke down wing of her brother’s house constantly in fear...and her reward for her pains is, she gets to marry Gilbert. (Also she inherits like, a fuck-ton of money, admittedly that is pretty awesome!) Splendid. I don’t consider Gilbert that much of a prize. (To the point where I can’t help but wonder if that’s supposed to be intentional, or if it’s just values dissonance.) Gilbert’s own voice just makes him seem like a less shitty version of Huntingdon to me. He’s arrogant, pretty self-absorbed, prone to violence (although of course Helen never gets to hear about that time he almost killed her brother, haha, awkward Christmas dinner conversations). And he’s not actually very good at listening to what Helen is telling him that she wants. Don’t get me wrong, I have no problem believing he’s not going to cheat on her, beat her, or abuse her. He’s definitely going to be a better than Arthur. It’s just, that’s a real low bar to clear.

Is she actually going to be happy with him in the end though, is what I’m left wondering. Because while he does do a little growing over the course of the book, I think, in the end his sympathy for other people does tend to end at the point where they impede him from getting what he wants. Even the happy ending is dependent on him ignoring Helen’s stated wish to not see or hear from him again. Granted, she said that while her husband was still living, but he manages to keep his promise for what, a year? before he rushes off and shows up at her door because he heard she’s marrying someone else. Not that much different than the guy she rejected before, who repeatedly tries to chat her up and convince her to cheat on her husband with him. This book doesn’t have a single unambiguously good man in it.

Well, her brother, maybe. Although he did have to waffle over whether to help Helen or not in the beginning. Gosh, I dunno sis, are you sure you need to leave your husband? He doesn’t even beat you on alternate Tuesdays or anything! How terrible can he be?

And we never hear from Helen herself that she’s happy now, because the last section of the book is back to Gilbert writing to his brother-in-law. Just that Gilbert thinks they’re pretty happy together, which is...good. I genuinely enjoyed the book, I just wish she either stayed an unmarried widow in the end, enjoying her newfound riches, or that she at least had a love interest who didn’t come off like such a tool.

[erraticfairy]

7 Common But Terrible Pieces of Relationship Advice

Take relationship advice with a grain of salt.

Many people today believe that they are relationship “experts”.

But many times, they offer up bad relationship advice that, if followed, could lead to unhealthy relationships, divorce, and heartbreak.

And some, despite not being in a relationship, still believe they can coach you into the “perfect” relationship with your “soulmate” all for the low price of a few minutes (or hours) of your time.

Contrary to conventional thinking, only your partner is the relationship expert who can teach you how to meet their needs.

Stop These Thoughts If You Want a Happy Relationship

Although your friends and family, or even that “know-it-all” child of yours, may have your best interest at heart, they are most likely selling you some hand-me-down, passed around version of relationship advice that starts with something like, “they say you should…” while they can never tell you who “they” is.

It may take a village to raise a child, but it should not take a village to shape your relationship.

Most friends and family mean well with their opinions, but sometimes they can do more harm than good.

There are times it might be better to listen to their advice while not actually using it.

Besides, your relationship should never be dependent upon your “crazy” and single uncle whose dating advice includes rounds of tequila shots and playing 21 questions.

Here are 7 pieces of bad relationship advice you need to ignore for your own good, especially if you want and value a long-lasting, healthy relationship.

1. Just Wait for Your Prince Charming to Sweep You Off Your Feet.

Prince Charming sweeping you off your feet is a great notion, but what does this mean?

Can you forego college and your career now because you know he’s coming?

And what are the attributes of this guy?

Is he an adventurous guy with a perfectly chiseled body who has nice teeth, a 7-figure income, and every word out of his mouth is about how great you are?

Instead of waiting for perfection, search for compatibility.

Know who you are, whose you are, and your purpose in life before you allow anyone to sweep you off your feet.

2. Don’t Tell Your Partner Everything.

Do you have a secret bank account? Are you friends with an ex? Does your mother have access to your personal finances?

Imagine your partner discovering any of this on their own. Remember half of the truth is a whole lie. Period!

A successful relationship should have no secrets (birthday, anniversary, Christmas, and gift surprises are not what I’m talking about).

In fact, transparency should hopefully be a core value of the relationship.

Don’t withhold any information that violates the trust they may have in you.

The more you share, the stronger the relationship becomes.

3. Be Prepared to Do a lot Yourself.

Low expectations plague plenty of relationships.

Do you know that person in a relationship who cooks, cleans, bathes the kids, and pays the bills all to make sure it’s done “perfectly”?

That person suffers from low expectations and will burn out while experiencing bitterness and resentment.

Furthermore, they will also complain that their spouse isn’t doing anything.

Don’t be that partner. Be prepared to work a lot to make the relationship work, but that is different from expecting to do all the domestic work without help.

Healthy relationships share the responsibilities. Be assertive and communicate how you’d like to divide up domestic responsibilities.

This is the conversation to have before you decide to live together.

4. “A woman Is Supposed to…” or “Real Men…”

You can thank society for this. And this is the problem with basing your relationship off the larger society.

Defining the functional roles of both of you based on what others say is a recipe for disaster.

Just because your mom cooked all of the meals or your dad was the only one to pay the bills doesn’t mean you and your partner have to replicate this.

Roles are necessary but should never be assumed.

Discuss the roles and expectations, and embrace a flexible perspective for the benefit of your relationship.

5. You Shouldn’t Have to Tell Them What You Need; If They Love You, They’ll Know.

Imagine if your partner could read your every thought like Professor Xavier from the X-Men.

They knew every thought you had about them, their parents, their hot best friend, or that hot co-worker you have.

It’s true you wouldn’t have to tell them how to love you, but would they even want to based on all they know?

Thank God they can’t. Don’t expect them to read your mind.

It is unrealistic to think they will be able to love you the way you need to be loved without giving them minimal coaching.

Your needs will evolve over time forever and your spouse will not know without some guidance.

This includes how to specifically meet your love language, to date night activities, to sex life.

Find True Love Despite These 3 Relationship Myths

6. Since Your Father Wasn’t Around, You Will Have Issues With Men.

This isn’t necessarily true. In fact, not all fathers in the home provide the best example, either, for various reasons to include, mental health issues, underdeveloped parenting strategies, overworking, etc.

This statement assumes a few incorrect things:

Your man will be flawless while you’re the only one with flaws.

Your dad is the only person that can teach you to love (not your faith or mom or your man).

You are doomed to being single until you have a better relationship with your father.

Bad relationships are formed because of poor values and unequally yoked spirits.

Though a father figure can model what you want to find in a spouse, life experiences and self-actualization are the true teachers.

7. You Shouldn’t Talk About Serious Topics too Early; Wait Until You’re Engaged or Married.

If you don’t talk about serious conversations when you are dating, how can you expect to really know who your spouse will be?

You must discuss finances, kids, disciplining children, vacation ideas, will in-laws ever come live with you, etc.

I’m not saying discuss these topics during your first date but if you are considering marriage, you should have a good idea about their views before saying “I do.”

In a nutshell, your friends and family love you. They want you to succeed in your relationship.

They believe you deserve happiness with a steady partner alongside you.

Maintain your relationship with them. Love them and value their input.

But keep in mind, that although the advice may sound great and convincing, it did not originate with you all in mind.

In other words, instead of receiving advice tailored to you and your partner, you’re receiving advice that was designed with someone else in mind.

And what worked for them doesn’t mean it will work for you.

Allow communication with your partner to design the relationship by you two for you two.

And may you both enjoy the longevity of a healthy relationship.

This guest article originally appeared on YourTango.com: 7 Terrible (But Common) Pieces Of Relationship Advice You Should Definitely Ignore.

from World of Psychology http://bit.ly/2V85adJ via theshiningmind.com

[megannrus-blog]

Wuthering Heights (freshman yr)

Revenge is the backbone to Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Without it, the novel wouldn’t be the suspenseful, dark story that most people, at least in our decade, still seem to thoroughly enjoy reading. Heathcliff, a man turned bitter by heartbreak and obvious childhood neglect, seeks vengeance on all those who have ever done him wrong. In Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte, Heathcliff is poisoned by his desire for retribution and blinded by his love for Catherine, which leads him to his ultimate downfall, proving there to be no justification in revenge.

Heathcliff is a victim in his early childhood years. First of all, he is taken off the street as a boy with no parents and no home, and suddenly forced to live in a house full of rich, slightly snobby people he had never met before. The children, Catherine and Hindley, take an immediate disliking to the boy. He speaks complete gibberish and because he is a gypsy, he also looks different. With darker skin and darker hair, they feel threatened. Not only that, but Mr. Earnshaw, their father, favors him. He likes Heathcliff’s cool, composed nature, and trusts him. Nelly tells Lockwood that when Heathcliff was around seven, “he seemed a sullen, patient child; hardened perhaps, to ill-treatment. He would stand Hindley’s blows without winking or shedding a tear” (36). She indicates that he is already affected by this treatment, even at such a young age. He wears a cold exterior, refusing to show that Hindley, Edgar or anybody could ever cause him any pain. But Heathcliff is also patient. As he suffers through his childhood, he comforts himself by imagining the greatness of his retaliation, and how powerful he will feel afterwards. He tells Nelly, after a particularly bad night, “I’m trying to settle how I shall pay Hindley back. I don’t care how long I wait, if I can only do it at last. I hope he will not die before I do!” (61). Already, Heathcliff has dedicated his life to getting revenge on the man he abhors, not aware that it will ruin him. The cruel treatment and abuse Heathcliff received as a young boy is the mainstay of his hate towards those he seeks reprisal on.

After Heathcliff loses Catherine, he has nothing left to live for but revenge. After staying locked up with the Linton parents for five weeks, Catherine is a new person. No longer does she roam the moors with Heathcliff or recklessly cause trouble; she is a lady. Catherine’s sudden change upsets Heathcliff, who loves her for who she really is. Ever since he was little, he wanted to fit in with society. When he was around seven, he told Nelly “I wish I had light hair and fair skin, and was dressed and behaved as well, and had a chance of being as rich as [Edgar] will be!” (57). Nelly consoled him by telling him that Edgar was weaker and he was stronger. However, the same insecurity comes back when Catherine agrees to marry Edgar, completely pivoting the novel and bringing the two houses, Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange, together. Heartbroken and furious, Heathcliff leaves and doesn’t come back for three years, a few months after Catherine and Edgar are married. When he does, he is a changed man. Heathcliff had acquired wealth when he was away, even though it never actually says how. He is also more powerful, byronic, and mature in both physical and mental aspects. One day, when Heathcliff refuses to leave even after Edgar says to, Catherine locks the two men in a room together. Edgar is overcome with terror and quickly departs, knowing that without backup, he’d never be able to defeat Heathcliff. Later, he declares that Catherine has to choose; Heathcliff or him. Catherine, torn in half by the two men she loves in two completely different ways, locks herself in her room and refuses to eat. In the meantime, Heathcliff starts his hidden plan of gambling for the deed to Wuthering Heights, eloping with Edgar’s sister, Isabella, and doing to Hareton what Hindley had done to him; starving him of his education. Finally, in one heartwrenching scene, Heathcliff and Catherine declare their unfulfillable love for one another. Heathcliff tells Catherine “Misery and degradation and death and nothing that God or Satan could inflict would have parted us, you, of your own will, did it. I have not broken your heart- you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine” (167). It is true; Catherine had chosen to marry Edgar. If she had chosen what she truly desired, both her heart and Heathcliff’s would still be intact. Later that night, Catherine dies during childbirth. It’s tragic, really. As they finally admit their love for each other, one of them dies. The only person that has ever truly loved Heathcliff, is now entirely irretrievable. Still, there’s no way he could ever let her go. As he stands in the garden, mourning over his incredible loss, he tells her this: “Catherine Earshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living! You said I killed you- haunt me, then!... Be with me always- take any form- drive me mad! only do not lead me in this abyss where I cannot find you!” (173). Heathcliff doesn’t care if he goes insane, as long as some form of Catherine is near him. Without her, he is left in an abyss where the only visible light he can see is through an illusion of sweet revenge, and he holds on to that.

Heathcliff’s unrelenting desire for revenge leads him to his demise. He is hardened during his childhood from neglect and abuse, heartbroken when his one love chooses a man he hates over him, and left alone with nobody to love him when she dies. He led a miserable life with only one real goal, and that was to fulfill his greatly desired vengeance on everyone that has ever caused him pain, excluding Catherine. Even that didn’t happen. But honestly, even though Heathcliff has always had an extremely sinister side to him, you can’t really blame him for wanting revenge. But some of them deserve it, namely Hindley. The others, not so much. But Heathcliff doesn’t care about whether someone actually deserves it or not; he is so engrossed in the dream, he cannot see clearly.

“I have neither a fear, nor a presentiment, nor a hope of death… And yet I cannot continue in this condition! I have to remind myself to breath- almost to remind my heart to beat!... I have a single wish, and my whole being and faculties are yearning to attain it. They have yearned towards it so long, and so unwaveringly, that I'm convinced it will be reached - and soon - because it has devoured my existence: I am swallowed up in the anticipation of its fulfillment” (335).

Heathcliff tells her that revenge has taken over his entire being and that it’s the only thing really keeping him alive. And although it has “devoured his existence”, it’s not what he wants most. Heathcliff’s true wish, is to spend eternity with Catherine. His plans of revenge, after some time, result in his ownership of both Thrushcross Grange and Wuthering Heights, where he forces both Cathy and Hareton to stay. Initially, they don’t get along, but that changes in due course. One day, Heathcliff walks in on Hareton and Cathy sitting next to each other, enjoying each others company. When they both turn to look at him with dark brown eyes identical to Catherine’s, he is immediately disarmed. No longer does he feel the need to finish off his revenge. In fact, he feels very little. “I have lost the faculty of enjoying their destruction, and I am too idle to destroy for nothing” (334). Heathcliff finally realizes that revenge was never really worth his time. Even though it is the perfect moment to strike, where nothing could hinder him or get in his way, his will completely vanishes. Instead, he realizes all he ever wanted was to be with Catherine. When he sees her ghost, he is reminded of this insatiable love that he has withheld for so many years. Not only that, but it’s the first time in forever he seems remotely happy, and not for morbid reasons. Nelly describes him afterwards as having “a strange joyful glitter in his eyes that altered the aspect of his whole face” (338). Before he goes to bed that next night, Nelly witnesses Heathcliff talking about Catherine as if she was in the room with them, but not visible to them. He then shuts himself in his room with only murmurs and groans being heard throughout the whole night- perhaps being him talking to Catherine. The next morning, Nelly finds Heathcliff’s dead body. There’s no known illness in which he died. He just simply willed it on. “It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive” (61). Nelly told young Heathcliff who had declared his dreams of payback for the first time, that is isn’t his job. This is ironic because Heathcliff, after spending his entire life working for something, doesn’t quite figure this out until the end of the book. If only he had listened to Nelly and believed her, the destruction of his life and of many others would have been avoided. Revenge hadn’t been as fulfilling as the love Heathcliff had for Catherine.

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte proves that there is no justification in revenge through the downfall of Heathcliff, who had persuaded himself into thinking that vengeance was his only option after the death of his one true love, Catherine. Heathcliff’s brutal childhood and loss of his soulmate leads to his obsession with revenge. Just as he has the perfect opportunity to complete it, after many long years of waiting, he just doesn’t care anymore. Heathcliff has nobody and is living such a wretched life that he can’t even bring himself to eat or sleep. All he does is just exist, until eventually, he doesn’t- at least in human form. After dying, Heathcliff gets to spend eternity with the one person who loves him just as much as he loves her. Revenge does not lead you to happiness, despite what many may imagine, but rather to a life of misery filled with false pretenses and goals. Not being able to forgive or even just forget sets you up for a life of being alone.