#mentioned in past tense

[dustin-but-gayer]

Crying in the club bc I just found a band I listened to in high school and realized exactly how close I was to doing something irreparable. Like- I'm not the happiest I can be but I'm content, I cry over what ifs now and not should haves and I don't get into as many arguments and I don't sh and I don't feel the guilt I felt for existing like???

Younger me was so strong even if he didn't feel like it and who gives a shit if he actually WAS unwanted bc I want him bc I love him bc he struggled so much but he made it he made it he made it

[randomaj]

[left-side-up]

Mars

One hour, thirty-seven minutes, and sixteen seconds left.

Martyn wipes the blood from his face, still panting heavily. He won. As the red haze fades from his mind, so does the ecstasy of victory.

He's the last one standing. It's over. So why is his clock still ticking?

For the first time since becoming red, he's... numb. His eyes land on Scott's body.

"Come on," he whispers, as if breaking the silence would wake his teammate, as if anything could wake Scott now. "Time to go home."

One hour, six minutes, and ten seconds left.

It takes Martyn a while to carry Scott's body back to the Coral Isles and begin digging. He furrows his brow as he pushes the shovel into the earth, hoping the minimal enchantments will save him some time. He has to get this done. Has to make up for what he did, even if it's just a small gesture like this.

(Has to keep his mind off of the memories that have been slipping into his head since he killed Impulse. Soulmates, spyglasses, snow. Things that were stolen from him long ago.)

He groans as the shovel hits stone, then pulls out his pickaxe. This is going to take longer than he'd hoped.

Thirty-eight minutes and thirty-two seconds left.

Martyn almost sheds a tear of relief when the grave is finally deep enough. Instead, he spends those precious seconds setting down the shovel and going to pick up Scott.

He's badly burned from the lava, and the stab wound has left his shirt covered in blood. He'd hate that Martyn is leaving him in such a filthy set of clothes, but he'd also hate the idea of Martyn swapping his shirt out for him. It probably doesn't matter all that much- he's going to be covered in dirt either way.

"Alright, Smajor," Martyn tells him. "Time to rest."

He lowers his teammate into the grave.

(A fellow soldier of Dogwarts. A canary. And now, his Mean Gill. Though he didn't know it when he began digging, he's done this before.)

Once Scott is settled, Martyn picks the shovel back up. His work isn't finished yet.

Eleven minutes and fifty-one seconds left.

At last, Scott is put to rest, and Martyn is free to lie down and breathe.

The ocean breeze pushes his hair out of his face. He's acutely aware of the dried blood and sweat on his skin, but he can't be bothered with it. He's not spending his last ten minutes alive taking a bath.

Besides, he knows the feeling won't go away no matter how hard he scrubs at the grime.

With nothing to keep him busy, the swarm of memories attacks him with renewed fervor. A lonely bastion. A group of towers. A castle, drained of its warmth. A resentful soulbound, a traitorous group of four, a unified army. Everything bleeds together and pulls him in every direction he's ever been in. Each path leads to one thing.

Guilt.

Guilt for leaving the one person who was supposed to be by his side until the end. For letting each and every one of his friends die before him. For failing to protect his king.

And now, for killing his only friend in the world.

He lets himself drown in it.

One minute and forty-seven seconds left.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

The grave doesn't respond. Graves don't tend to respond to apologies.

"I think I'm only capable of being truly loyal to one person. And he's found his way out of this hell, so... yeah."

The waves crash against the beach. The sand in the hourglass trickles down.

One minute and nineteen seconds left.

"I didn't know that I was going to betray you. If this happens again- if this cursed game keeps going, I need you to find better allies, yeah? Don't trust me. I don't want to backstab you again."

He opens his eyes to find the sky clear and blue for the first time in a while. It's been filled with smoke and ash for the past few days, but it seems to have finally cleared up.

Thirty-six seconds left.

Martyn grabs the banner from his belt. He didn't know what it meant when he made it. He just knew that it felt right.

Now, he stares at the red flag of Dogwarts again, and he misses someone.

"I hope you found your way out this game for good. Not because I don't miss you. I just... want you to be happy."

Twenty seconds left.

"I wish I'd had time to apologize to you too. I wish we'd met somewhere nicer."

Thirteen seconds left.

"But there's no point in wishing here, is there?"

Eight seconds left.

Martyn holds the banner to his chest. Looks at the grave beside him. Closes his eyes again.

Four seconds left.

"Goodbye, Scott. Bye, Ren."

Three.

Two.

One.

[fishareglorious]

i do a light chuckle once i remember hofmann and semmelweis are friends but then i remember semmelweis and marcus' suitcase interaction where they talk about her and i am once again inconsolable about this old woman's death

[metal-mouse]

Let Me Make it Up to You

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x F!MC (m/f) themes: creepy liminal lake. smut. sort of established relationship. warnings: 18+ this contains spice and filth. oral sex. p in v unprotected sex. dominant-ish Sebastian. m/f pairing. characters aged up. not safe for work y'all. mc almost drowns. summary: just over 3k words. After a poorly executed treasure hunt, Sebastian Sallow must make it up to you somehow. note: something about shower sex with Sebastian just really appeals to me idk. This is mostly self-indulgent but I liked it enough to post it. It's way longer than I thought it would be lmao. 99% unedited because I'm lazy. i've never like properly tried to write smut in a way that makes sense for other people bc of course I can picture what I'm writing in my head, so it's a little detail lacking currently. it'll be interesting to see my writing style progress.

You stood beside Sebastian Sallow at the edge of a dark lake found deep within a cave he’d read about. Sebastian had heard a rumor of a ‘great’ treasure within the cave, and had begged you to come along with him to retrieve it once he had located it. You had agreed, but now you were a little less enthusiastic. From your spot on the shoreline, you could see a painted chest sitting on a small mass of land closer to the middle of the lake. The only way to the chest was to swim. You’d both spent a rather long time trying to summon the chest, and it wouldn’t budge.

“Draw sticks?” Sebastian asked, tilting his head as you looked up at him.

“You always cheat.” You frowned. You already knew it was going to be you to swim across the gap. Sebastian’s ability to ask something of you and for you to agree was… unfortunate at times.

“You’re just so much better than I am at everything.” Sebastian pouted. His hand stroked down the back of your arm, the warmth piercing through the thin fabric of your shirtsleeve. You stepped out of his touch and kicked off your shoes with a sigh.

“This treasure better be worth it, Sallow.” You looked back at him, unbuttoning your trousers and stepping out of them. You pulled your shirt off, discarding it next to your trousers. There was no use in getting all of your clothes wet. Aside from your undergarments, you kept the small pouch that Ominis had helped you enchant to hold far more than should be possible for the size of the pouch. You walked to the edge of the lake, looking down into the murky water. A pulse of fear passed over you, making your heart flutter. It was unnerving not being able to see anything in the lake - you didn’t like not knowing what was coming. Taking a deep breath, you stepped off the edge. You panicked momentarily as you plunged entirely under the frigid water. There was no gradual slope to deep water, it was just a drop-off. You pushed upwards, gasping for air as you surfaced.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked, his concern would be touching if he hadn’t just guilt tripped you into doing this.

“‘S cold.” You managed to say, the cold water made it a little difficult to breathe. You kicked your feet and used your arms to propel you forward towards the island, spurred on by the thought that you had no idea what was beneath you. The sooner you were out of the murky water the better. It didn’t take you long to get to the island and haul yourself up onto the stone surface. Being in the air was even worse than the water now, the cool air of the cave chilling you thoroughly to the bone. You hurried across towards the chest, silently hoping it would be easy enough for you to open.

“What’s in it?” Sebastian called out, his voice echoing around the chamber.

“Alohamora!” You cast. The lock clicked open and you eagerly lifted the lid. The chest held an assortment of jewelry, and a bag of gold coins. They weren’t galleons, they were some sort of ancient muggle currency. They’d certainly fetch a fair price either way. Your anger towards Sebastian was fading quickly, especially as you picked up a particularly ornate necklace. You made quick work of stuffing everything into the leather pouch, eager to be out of the chilly cave. It was easier this time jumping back into the water, you knew what to expect this time. You swam back towards Sebastian who called out words of encouragement. As you neared the middle of the stretch, something felt wrong. An overwhelming sense of danger filled you, and that’s when a cold hand wrapped around your ankle. You barely had time to gasp for breath as that hand was joined by several more and you were pulled under the surface.

Sebastian yelled out your name as you disappeared under the surface. He ran to the edge, but could only see a stream of bubbles coming up from the black water. Panic clouded his mind at the thought of you being hurt, and it would all be his fault. This wasn’t exactly an enemy he could see and fight. He had no idea what to do, how could he save you if he couldn’t see you? He reasoned that you were very capable and strong, you’d gotten out of sticky situations like this before. Far too much time had passed for his comfort, and he knew he had to do something. He dumped his cloak on the ground, preparing to dive in for you when he saw a flash of red light from the deep. As soon as he could see you, he dropped down and snatched your hand hauling you out of the water. Your skin was freezing cold, and you began to cough violently as you flopped down. About a dozen grindylows floated to the surface dead until their surviving companions yanked their bodies downwards, no doubt to feast on them.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian gasped out, putting his hand on your shoulder. You snatched his wrist, looking up at him with bloodshot, furious eyes. They almost seemed to glow with your rage. Sebastian knew then he was in a lot of trouble.

“Don’t.” Your voice was a strangled wheeze, and Sebastian withdrew his hand like he’d been burned. He had half a mind to run away from you, his eyes flicked to your wand still clutched in your other hand. He knew what you could do with it and he suddenly wasn’t keen on dueling with you. Sebastian obeyed, stepping back from you as you got to your feet. He apparated as soon as you pointed your wand at him. The last time he’d pissed you off he had ended up with no eyebrows and two inch long front teeth that had taken three hours for Nurse Blainey to fix.

Sebastian ran the rest of the way back to Hogwarts, he knew he didn’t have much time to hide from you or get you calmed down. He had to find Ominis. If anyone could get you to calm down, it was Ominis. Sebastian knew he had a habit of fanning the flames of your anger, while Ominis did a wonderful job of quelling them.

Students watched him and more than one person called out to him as he ran past. He was panting heavily by the time he found Ominis who sat with Poppy Sweeting. Poppy looked up at him with wide eyes as he thundered to a halt in front of them.

“What did you do?” Ominis asked calmly.

“You have to hide me!” Sebastian was desperate.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing! I didn’t do anything - how was I supposed to know there were Grindylows?”

“Grindylows? Where did you find Grindylows?”

“A cave. It’s a long story. Please hide me. She’s going to kill me.” Sebastian pleaded.

“Is she alright?” Ominis asked. Sebastian knew his time was running out. He had to find somewhere safe until you cooled down enough for him to safely approach. He’d make it up to you somehow. He’d find a way to make you forgive him.

“She’s fine. Please, Ominis! You have to talk to her. I’ve never run so fast in my life.”

“You ran from her? What is wrong with you?” Poppy burst out, smacking Sebastian on the arm. He gave her a stunned look, unused to such outbursts from her. Ominis sighed sharply through his nose, shaking his head slowly.

“My friend, I’m afraid there is nothing I can do for you. She only gets angrier when they run.” Ominis’ lips pressed together in a firm line. Sebastian knew the bastard was trying not to smile. When they run. Sebastian knew he was right, he’d been on enough quests to rescue beasts with you that he knew how furious you got when you had to chase what you sought.

“I’ll buy all your butterbeers for the rest of the year!” Sebastian burst out. Ominis tilted his head, considering the offer. Sebastian bounced on his feet, anxious to get to safety.

“Go. I’ll try to talk to her.” Ominis said, smirking.

“SALLOW!” Your voice boomed through the hallways, and Sebastian turned and ran.

“My goodness! What happened to you?” Poppy Sweeting asked.

“Where is he?” You snapped, and Sebastian took a pinch of floo powder and went as far away as he could.

You knew Sebastian had put Ominis and Poppy up to pacifying you, and while your friends hadn’t eliminated all of your anger they had made you promise not to kill Sebastian. He should consider himself lucky that you respected Ominis and Poppy far too much to go against their wishes. You were cold, damp, and uncomfortable, so you had decided to give up your hunt and make your way to the showers. You stood in the warm water, letting it rinse off the remnants of nasty lake water from your hair and body. You were absorbed in fantasies of revenge as you ran your hands through your hair to loosen some of the knots that had formed during your pursuit of Sebastian. The warm water was a blessing compared to the frigid and dingy lake.

You let out a little hiss when a cold breeze pushed around the steam you had accumulated in the shower room leaving goosebumps all over your body. You shrank further into the shower, annoyed thoroughly with whoever was intruding on your murder plotting time. When the steam closed around you again, you sighed with contentment and closed your eyes. Broad hands gripped your hips. You knew those hands. Sebastian planted kisses on your shoulder as his chest pressed against your back. You ignored him, just as you ignored how easily his touch affected you.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, nudging your cheek with his nose before kissing your jaw. “Let me make it up to you.” He said, pulling you back closer to him. You could feel his hardness pressed against your backside, and it took a lot of effort to not react. You fought to keep a straight face as his hands moved from your hips. One hand moved up towards your chest, the other down to your lower belly. Sebastian kept you pressed against him as his knuckles lightly traced the underside of your breast. He leaned in and kissed your neck as his fingers brushed against your nipple. You were determined. Adamant. He wasn’t going to get a single thing from you. You could feel him watching you very carefully, and when he bit down on that spot where your neck met your shoulder you couldn’t stop your reaction. All it took was a slight tilt of your head, and he knew he had you.

“There’s my girl.” He murmured, his hand on your lower belly traveling downwards. His girl. Eternally possessive. When his fingers slid between your wet folds, he let out a dark laugh.

“I knew you wanted it. Look how wet you are already.” He said, nipping your ear with his teeth. He began to rub his fingers in small circles over your clit and you relaxed into his arms.

“I hate you so much.” You breathed out, one hand reaching back and gripping Sebastian’s thick hair.

“Mmmm I can tell.” The depth of his voice in your ear sent chills through your entire body as he kept up a steady, lazy pace between your legs. His other hand rolled your nipple between his fingers. You subtly ground your backside against Sebastian’s erection. You smirked at his abrupt groan. His fingers on your nipple pressed harder giving you a sharp pinch. You twisted enough to look up at him, marveling in his appearance. The flush of his cheeks, the fire in his eyes, the arrogant bastard smile playing at his lips. He let go of your nipple, his hand coming up to wrap around your throat. He turned you around and pushed you against the wall of the shower cubicle, not once stopping those lazy little circles that were quickly unraveling you. Your hands fell to your sides.

Sebastian kissed you then, deep and intense like he always did. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, and you opened up for him. His taste was intoxicating and mixed with the feeling of his teasing touch on your sensitive clit you were approaching an euphoric sensation. You moaned into his mouth as he slid two fingers inside of you.

“Fuck, I love it when you moan like that.” Sebastian’s voice was husky as he mumbled against your lips. He kissed along your jaw and down on your neck finding that spot that made you so weak. His hand moved from your throat up to your hair which he gripped tightly as his fingers curled delightfully inside of you making sighs and small moans tumble from your lips. How he could do so little to make you feel so good was incredible.

“It’s so hard to be patient for you and that sweet cunt,” his breath tickled your neck, “can you be a quiet girl for me?” He asked, fucking you with his fingers. Right. You were in the shared showers during a Saturday afternoon where all of your classmates had all the free time in the world. You nodded, and instantly regretted it from the grin on his face as his fingers slid out of you and he knelt on the ground in front of you. One hand prompted your left leg to lift, you obeyed and he put it over his shoulder. Sebastian’s hands floated up and down your thighs as he moved in closer. He bit down on the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, and your hand flew to your mouth to stifle your cry. He looked up at you with those eyes of fire, his tongue experimentally swiping along your entrance.

“Sweet. My sweet girl.” He gave a low groan, and started his assault. His tongue swiped shapes over your clit, and you had to bite down on your hand to stop yourself from making too much noise. He flattened his tongue lapping you up, you were already sensitive from his earlier work and it wasn’t taking long for an orgasm to start building up. He seemed to know it too. His tongue swirled over your clit, and he slotted two of his fingers back inside of you.

“F-fuck, Sebastian.” You stammered against your hand at the overwhelming sensation. The pressure of his tongue against your clit and his fingers curling against your sweet spot… it was too much. Your head fell back as you began to fall apart, your fingers lacing in Sebastian’s hair for fear that he would stop. You bit down harder on your hand to choke on the scream as your legs began to tremble. Sebastian moaned against you as you came for him. He let you ride out your orgasm on his face, not stopping until your fingers loosened slightly from his hair. You looked down to see him rock hard, flushed, and his eyes seemingly begging for you.

You took him under his chin, your leg falling to the side as you prompted to stand. He stood, his fingers once again leaving you empty. His hands curled around your ass, and he lifted you and pinned you between him and the cubicle wall. Your legs squeezed him, holding yourself up as he positioned himself at your entrance. His lips crashed against yours when he thrust inwards, both of you making a desperate attempt to remain quiet. His hips rolled as he fucked you hard and steady. When he was feeling particularly cruel, he would edge you until you were in tears, however today he was in just as much need as you were. You loved the way he filled you up. His steady pace had his head lightly pressing your cervix, hitting all the right spots. You hadn’t realized how good someone could make you feel until you’d slept with him for the first time. With the way he was fucking you, you could feel your pleasure rapidly approaching for the second time in a matter of minutes.

Sebastian was in your ear, whispering about how much he loved you, how he’d always protect you, and how he was oh so sorry for letting you jump into that lake for the Grindylows to attack. You were in ecstasy, unable to respond as he ground his pelvis against your sensitive bud. His rhythm faltered slightly, and you knew he was close.

“I love you.” You breathed out, knowing it was exactly what he needed to hear. His response was a low, guttural groan. His thrusts got sloppier, before he abruptly pulled out. You dropped your hand quickly, wrapping around his shaft and finishing him off as he came all over your stomach. Your legs dropped to the ground, and Sebastian’s head dropped to your shoulder as you both fought to catch your breath. After a few heartbeats, his head lifted and he kissed you again. His kisses after sex were always so sweet, so emotional.

“Are you okay?” He asked you, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze as he stood up straight. You nodded, admiring the loving glow in his eyes.

“I really am sorry.” He promised.

“I know, Sebastian. It’s alright.” You caressed his cheek, and he pulled you in for a long embrace. You stood like that for a long time, before cleaning off properly and getting out of the shower before someone could catch you in there together. You felt relaxed now, your anger completely forgotten as Sebastian put a fluffy bathrobe around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your cheek. He may be sweet now, but you knew it was only a matter of time before he filled you with so much rage you thought you could kill him. At least you could look forward to how he would make up for it.

“So, are we still splitting the treasure 50-50?” Sebastian asked, grinning at you. You smiled back at him shaking your head at his audacity, perhaps he would be making it up to you sooner than you thought.

[wri0thesley]

sad and negative below the cut

struggling a lot recently. i just got changed from a medication i’ve been on for about eight years to a new one (antidepressant i last tried about eight years ago). despite my suicide attempt in september and being told then that i’d been referred for help it looks like i actually haven’t been referred and the system has utterly forgotten about me so i have to chase it up. i told haz i was terrified they’d forgotten me and they reassured me that they hadn’t, but . . . they did. they have.

and i’ve been feeling like i’m wasting money and time thinking i could go back to school and get my degree. i’m not good enough for drama school, i don’t look right, i’m ugly and untalented and have shitty teeth. i got a recall for my dream school but they want me to audition for acting and not mt which probably means my song was awful and i can’t sing. i can’t do anything. it’s so expensive and i’m wasting our money that haz should have and i’m not going to amount to anything anyway.

i know that it’s a normal effect to dip before you feel any improvement; that new meds can make you feel worse first. but oh god am i feeling Worse.

[waxdream]

Trigger warning - adoption, suicide, trauma, objectification.

I need to talk about adoption in Flatland. I'm adopted, so the details of this part of the story are a bit hazy due to dissociation. But like, Abbott has so many little points in his book that it impresses me. I can't tell if he did it on purpose, but if he did, damn am I impressed.

I went to the foundling museum in London a few years ago. I cried a lot, seeing the stolen items, and the exhibition of 'adoptees/orphans/fosterlings in comic books' that was downstairs. That was my favourite museum exhibition ever. My item I had from my birth mother is a candle that sits on my shelf. It's blue, and I didn't know what it was for a long long time, until one day I was about to throw it away. Luckily, I asked my adoptive mother if she wanted it, and she told me what it was. I almost threw part of my history away.

Which leads me into flatland, and the equilateral triangles. A class of adoptees. The only adoptions mentioned in the book are forced apon triangle families by the state for 'angular purity', and in order to give higher class people with an inability to have children the chance to adopt. In a modern context, I would take this as a scathing read of the adoption system. Only lower class, male children with desireable qualities are eligible for this kind of class crossing adoption, and the birth family celebrate it. The lower class is indoctrinated into thinking that 'this is for the best'.

In the UK at the time of my adoption, I've been told the desirable child was a white baby girl with no obvious disabilities, blonde hair and blue eyes. My foster carers were ineligible to adopt me, and the cynic in me believes this was because I was considered an object with 'desireable' qualities. The shadow court in my mind says 'it could have made some rich middle class family very happy' when I'm feeling grumpy and objectified. Luckily, a charity helped fund my foster (now adoptive) family's court battle, and a law change in the second year of it allowed them to win. I got lucky.

I see a lot of parallels between my own adoption and the adoptions in Flatland. People saying 'it's for the best', who don't realise that many adoptions take place because poor, mentally ill and young people can't take care of children because of lack of support and money. The scalene triangles in Flatland could have raised the equilateral merchant class, given enough resources and better schooling. Just like how A square is able to Tutor his grandson Hex - a lawyer teaching someone of a higher class skills he himself does not necessarily need to know.

I can't help but think about how those trinkets didn't stay with the foundlings who lived in that house. How I almost threw my candle away. The triangles have the physical reminder of their shape, and yet still, they are told they are different. They are regular, not like those other triangles, "you're one of us, you always have been", a square father might say to his new son. "We deserve to have you". And then, when the triangle grows up, and his wife (who's own father was a square) gives birth to an irregular triangle, the filth of that triangle's DNA is shown once again, despite the outward appearence of regularity. That's what my own adoption feels like. I always waited to be revealed for the imposter that I was. But I wonder if in a way that feels cathartic for them - like the immense relief I felt when my adoptive mother saved my candle from the trash. It's proof that your adoption exists, that you exist as a complex, multifaceted shape.

I wonder if the pressure of being regular was removed from that man's shoulders when his son was not born a square, but a triangle. Maybe his wife divorced him and he remarries within his original class - a safer, more understand place. Is that a happy ending? Is there a happy ending for adoptees? I never used to think there was. I used to think my life would end soon. Not today but tomorrow, or other similar things I'd tell myself. "I'd be content if I died today" would be said often by the regular triangle.

I wanted to be a hexagon when I thought about what shape I'd be. But no, the humble equilateral triangle is for me. He was not born a girl like I was. But perhaps they're also non binary like me.

Noone is born thinking they are tainted. You're taught that by other people. The regular triangle is told to their face they are normal, and nothing is wrong, that their adoption never affected them. When the regular triangle realised they're trans and autistic, and had that validated, that's when they felt like a real shape. Not a doll. Not an object. I still feel tainted sometimes. It's hard not to when society teaches you your DNA is wrong. And sadly, I think that's a feeling so so many of us feel - adoptees and non adoptees alike.

Your DNA is not wrong. That's a lie. It's a dangerous lie that permeates modern society, not out in the open but under covers. Every time someone says 'it's not the same' in regards to adoption, it's a perpetuation of that lie.

If your feelings are that adoption as lesser, you need to seriously examine your mindset. Because it's a mindset that holds DNA as sacred, as important. And having that mindset is something that easily divides us as a people - it's giving an inch. What's important is who we are, our life experiences, the things that make us different from each other and the points in our lives that shape us. Society shapes us. Racism and patriarchy and homophobia and ableism - these negatives do shape us. DNA has a place in who we are too, but my point is that there's so much more to it than that. The friends we discover, the things we learn, growing as people, the beauty in the world.

And I had to learn that the hard way, because the only thing that society teaches adoptees is that they're replacements. Second best. Whatever other words you have for 'btech birth kid'. Just know, any fellow adoptees, that none of that is true.

I'm happy to answer questions, because I doubt my point is coming across as well as I wanted. The triangles have got me feeling sad, and I haven't even researched phrenology yet. To clarify all my points, adoption feels sucky, racism is awful, you are more than just what society tells you you are, I am the triangle (apart from all the marriage stuff - replace that part with learning I'm trans and autistic, it serves the same purpose in my narrative).

[spring-lxcked]

@florietiae asked: ❝ 'i really did love you, if you can believe me.' / from jules. haha, ow :) ❞ ( more angst prompts )

"I don't." Leave it to William to make things difficult. He had, once, never questioned her love for him. Now, well on the other side of a divorce? He couldn't accept see any other explanation for her leaving him. ( Certainly not his absence or his moody temperaments or the responding gaslighting when she challenged him on any of the aforementioned subjects. ) They had been perfect on the exterior—what mattered, in the end—and then she had made a fool of him. And perhaps broken his heart, if one ignored how much of that was his fault.

She was supposed to just drop off the kids and leave. Or, well, that was William's opinion while he stood nursing his coffee from a hefty mug he was fairly certain she had gifted him. Christmas? Birthday? He should toss it. ( He wouldn't. ) He half-sat against the edge of the counter, mug between hands. Steadying. The heat was burning his palms. Christ, he hated this. "I loved you, but that didn't bloody well matter, did it? We had something beautiful, and you walked away from it." While he had fought her in the hopes of avoiding divorced, sometimes yelling, sometimes pleading. Pathetic and embarrassing to look back on. His words were sharp, bitterness he wondered if he'd ever move past festering between the words: "I mean, for fuck's sake, do I need to hear about your past feelings—you've moved on, after all. Haven't you?"

[gryfon-spanish-werewolf]

Hey, I just wanna say that if you started this new year in one of the worst stages of your life so far and are thinking about ending it - don’t.

You will never know how life will change if you leave. You will never experience another spring, summer, fall, winter. You will never get to know that it got better. That the solution appeared. That life surprised you, kindly this time.

Thank you for making it past New Year. I want to see you again.

[cornertheculprit]

so wholly obsessed with the idea that mia is the one who taught phoenix how to play poker in the first place

[sunshine-zenith]

So one thing I’ve learned about having a dead parent is that there is no way to casually talk about having a dead parent unless the other party also has a dead parent

Specifically, the first time you mention having a dead parent, the people around you will just mentally filter it out. The second time you mention it, they will collectively lose their shit. Case and point — I was telling one coworker about my dead mom’s birthday coming up and how I wanted to visit my sister during it if I could, and another coworker I had an entire (admittedly drunken) conversation about wanting to bring up the Dead Mom Thing to a third coworker who is currently dealing with a Dying Mom Thing (note: Dead Parents and Dying Parents are entirely different things and talking about it is basically what it’s like for someone who only speaks French to try and have a conversation with someone who only speaks Spanish).

Today, I mentioned that it’s fucking weird interacting with people who have the same name as my mother, and not just because she’s dead, but also because growing up I never interacted with anyone with her name, so it’s a series of syllables I know so well yet almost alien to say out loud. Mid-complaint (and trust me, I was just complaining for the sake of complaining), one coworker bursts out into hysterical laughter (the kind only achieved when faced with Lovecraftian horrors. This is a common reaction) and the other just dropped everything she was doing to stare slackjawed, like I had randomly decided to describe my mother’s death in excruciating detail. These are the same coworkers I talked to earlier, but both insisted they had no idea I had a dead mom and were so completely stunned I couldn’t help but laugh at them

Meanwhile with friends who also have dead parents, one of us will be like “yeah before my dad died he had a couch he got from his college buddies but it sucked. We burned it after the funeral,” the other person will go “oh shit Dead Parent Club, high five, anyway do you think if I take this alleyway couch home I’d get fleas?”

[miserye]

i forgot that alc makes me pee like crazy i went to piss like 6 times in the span of like 3 hours

[pipsqueakparker]

i recognize that the probability of stolas being in the next epiosde is low but that doesn't mean i won't be disappointed if i dont see my favorite horny owl

[ectonurites]

hm. i am once again annoyed by the 'tell instead of show' trend within modern comics

[einstetic]

i'm not tired, i'm exhausted