#this one HURTS

[ninyard]

About one of your most recent asks, how would it be if kevin didn’t succeed to off himself and how the rest would react ?

You know what? I thought Kevin dying from suicide would be the worst situation, and while it probably still is, him surviving it in some ways is so much worse.

I can see it, him in a hospital bed, bandaged or bruised or broken somehow. Tired, looking like how he did when David found him outside of his hotel room all those months ago. Is he more upset that he did it, tearfully regretting it, or more upset that it didn't work, that he was awake now, with a nurse by the foot of his bed 24/7, not allowed to go to the bathroom alone?

Andrew would be a mess about it - he wouldn't want to leave his bedside, he wouldn't want to leave him alone. But here's something else; what if they decided to section Kevin for his own wellbeing? What if they decide the best course of action is sending Kevin to a psychiatric hospital? (What if the closest one is Easthaven?)

Can you imagine how Andrew would feel being sat down by David - because Kevin can't say it himself - to be told that Kevin was going to have to go to a mental hospital for a little while? Andrew, no longer restrained by his meds, telling Abby and Wymack that he couldn't let that happen, telling Bee that he couldn't let that happen, that Kevin had to come back with him. Nobody else. He tells them that he'll take the laces out of their shoes and throw out their knives if he has to, but Kevin. Can't. Go. Not there. Not anywhere. Andrew, traumatised by the treatment he got in a psych ward, once, twice, however many times before. Kevin, not wanting to live, angry that he failed, embarrassed that it didn't work. Bee, who knows that Kevin is not in a place mentally where returning to his dorm room is a safe or good idea.

Maybe Neil tries to talk to Andrew about it. He understands, oh, Neil understands why it upsets Andrew so much to imagine Kevin in that place. But Kevin needs help. Kevin needs more help than Andrew or Abby or Bee alone can give him. Andrew disagrees, and Neil almost disagrees too, but nobody can change his mind. Nobody can convince Andrew that it's the best course of action.

Imagine Kevin asking them to keep Andrew out of the room in the hospital, because he can't bare to see him, knowing how much he's let him down, knowing how much pain he's caused. Imagine Andrew being told this, and pushing through anyway, and almost, almost yelling at Kevin out of anger and fear and frustration and worry. Why? is all he wants to scream. He wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and ask, why, why, why?

(Imagine Andrew's stomach dropping when Bee tells him that Kevin is going to Easthaven. Imagine his heart in his throat because he hasn't told her yet, he can't tell her, but she's sending Kevin into that place and he has to stop it. He wants to scream, he wants to tell her everything just to keep him safe. But maybe Bee sees that fear in his eyes, smiles a tight-lipped comforting smile, and says, "Maybe we'll look at other places, too.")

[leupagus]

James Earl Jones, Actor Whose Voice Could Menace or Melt, Dies at 93

[raayllum]

1x09 / 6x09

[grantmentis]

Amanda leveille announces her retirement

[glorious-spoon]

my wrists hurt because i spent this evening digging a grave and there's a metaphor in that, probably, but i'm too tired and sad to parse it right now

[pjsk-headcanons]

Kanade is an avid follower of Ena's illustration account and loves her style outside of N25 stuff, but is afraid to tell her or mention any of Ena's other works because then Ena may feel like even fewer people like her art than she already thought.

‎

[aces-and-angels]

i can't believe teeny got hate crimed by the wind

[beardedmrbean]

F

[chaoticdesertdweller]

[spirk-trek]

Act 5 Fanzine | Dovya Blacque, 1985 + scenes from S1E28: The City on the Edge of Forever, 1967

AFTER THE RAIN You spoke of love; I was shuttered, frozen with lack of knowledge. I have seen you: eye following a certain female, stomach pulled tight, chin thrust out; and after... I have seen... your pain. This I recognize... even understand.

Again, you sacrifice to this bloody handed god you call 'love'. Again, you allow death to swallow your heart... the beast demands too much.

Waste is... illogical. Not just her life, Jim, but the spark that died with her on that cold, long-ago street... your spark.

I saw, just before you shut your eyes, the flame within you flare and die as if suddenly trapped behind Tritanium doors. Your agony swept over me and I bit my tongue to stifle the scream which rose to my lips.

[hel7l7]

PLEASE HELP ME HOLD ONTO THIS PLEASE DON'T LET ME LET GO

[joemama-2]

Always Forever

tags: angst, heartbreak, post riko death, getou spiraling and defecting

a/n: this came to me on a whim (like they all do) and i just had to write it down. first getou post woohoo!

———————————————————

have you ever loved someone so much that it physically pains you? that it weighs heavily on your mind day and night, for every fleeting second. you can do whatever you want, try however hard you think is necessary, but no matter what, they invade your mind like a nasty intruder. it's like you're bound and tied by the shackles of love herself, forbidding you from devoting yourself, your all, to anyone else. the shackles burn, sting, and pull at your skin so hard you cry and cry, just begging to be let go. but in a sense, the pain is good and overwhelming, so much so that...you start loving the pain too.

that's what getou suguru asks himself every morning.

he doesn't know where is started. you were just a simple kohai, one that didn't stand out to him. he treated you like any senpai would. he would always greet you in the halls, offer you advice and tips about techniques and fighting. were you friends? peers? schoolmates? who knows. maybe it happened when you asked the simple question on one random sunny day. you two were under a tree, eating lunch together (more like you just found him alone one time and sat next to him, to which he was too generous to tell you to move).

"how do curses taste?"

your voice is innocent, so is the question. he shouldn't have thought too much about it. you were just curious. but is it really so bad of him when his stomach flutters with an unknown feeling, eyes widening with a newfound sense of....what was it?

"i bet they're as gross as they look, huh?" you smile politely, fork that just jabbed at your egg roll next to your lips. lips that suddenly look too pink, too wet, and too soft.

he clears his throat. what are you thinking? "i wouldn't recommend it." he says in his usual smooth voice, the corner of his lip quirked upwards. "it's not very appealing to the human tastebuds."

with a hum, you respond. "so like, a dirty rag that was used to clean throw up?"

and once again, you surprise him. he softly chuckles, eyes crinkling. "that's exactly how they taste."

and so this became a routine of your guys'. having lunch under the same tree, sometimes switching or sharing lunches. it felt nice, domestic even. sure he had satoru and shoko, and sure they were his close friends too, but you felt different. you were different. it's why he hated leaving you. he enjoyed your presence and mundane questions, sought them out like they were his favorite things in the entire world. maybe they were.

it was like everything changed overnight. you saw him leave as getou suguru, and when he came back, he was somebody else. could you voice this to him? no, you couldn't. maybe you were just that cowardly. and sometimes you think back and wonder "what would've happened if you did say something?". would things have been different? changed? would you be happier? would you not have to wake up longing for someone who was gone?

you're not sure what's worse, mourning someone who died, or mourning someone who's alive, and just doesn't want to be found.

you ran, and ran, and ran once you heard news of what he did. the atrocities he committed. you curse yourself with tears stinging your eyes as they blur your vision. you should've done something. you saw how he was hurting when he came back, how he even lost weight, and you didn't do a single thing. hope was your friend, you hoped you could continue your routines together as if nothing happened, as if that would simply pull him out of this dark hole he found himself in.

you hate yourself. and never, will you be able to forgive yourself.

but, you could forgive him.

it's why you pushed everything aside, everyone aside to see him one more time. did you think you could maybe get him to come back? see that what he did was wrong? but what would've that helped? if he came back, he would be executed. it was a lose-lose situtation.

you stood before him, tears running down your face and panting.

"why?" is all you could muster out, fists clenching by your sides.

if he's bothered by the tears, he doesn't say anything or show it. he's cold, different. "i've chosen my own destiny, i hold no regrets for my actions."

your eyes are wide, feeling every single shard of glass his words send right into your heart and stomach. "h-how could you?"

he puts his hands in his pockets, concealing the amount of restraint it's taking to not hold you in his arms. "everything has a reason, my actions are justi--"

"you're a murderer." you hiccup out.

"i am."

"what about everyone else? satoru? me?" you add emphasis to the last part, hands shaking as you pull out one of his own, holding it like it's your lifeline. and maybe it was. because with one tentative, but gentle grip, he pulls your hand away.

that was the last time you ever touched him, that he touched you.

"i've though about it all, about you, and i still pushed forward. you want to know why? because no matter what, no matter how hard I tried, I could never be happy."

and those words, those five words, have forever changed you. you could never hear those words the same again after that. you hate those words.

"if you wish to kill me, you can." with that, he turns around and walks away. walks away from the jujutsu society, from his former life, from his friends, from you.

of course, he knows you couldn't kill him, even if you wanted to. but you didn't want to. because all you wanted was your getou back, but your getou wanted nothing to do with him.

so, for the question "have you ever loved someone so much it physically pains you?"

you can, getou concedes.

so much that you start hating everything about them.

which is why he had to leave you.

and even years later, you reside in his mind, taking up every crook and nanny. never will he be able to get rid of you.

for you, getou was your number one, with him, it was always forever.

you guess they're right...love is the most twisted curse of them all.

both of you had the displeasure of tasting it, and it was completely and utterly disgusting.

he hates you, but getou suguru hates loving you even more.

[sculkrelic]

you are still my son.

tim drake.

[mariacallous]

[mumblingsage]

Anyway what I was trying to blog about is that I still have the fabric print of Death from Sandman that hung in Theriac's room. I have some pretty nice memories of staring up at that goth chick's cute smile. And when I went into the room where he died, I felt an immense comfort seeing her there.

The print is currently rolled up in my closet. For something like 2 years it waited in a corner of my office for me to decide if my fondness overrode my general disinclination to put, for want of better words, comics art on my walls (nothing wrong with it, just not my personal style).

At the moment I think I'm going to put 'burn this poster in a sort of mourning ritual' on my to-do list. I'm not going to hang it on my walls. I don't have anyone to give it to (who would want a poster of a Neil Gaiman character right now??). I have kept many other mementos of Theriac, including his poster of The Accolade and a different piece of art that my mom complimented just the other day, which I'm going to take as a sign to hang that one instead of this.

At his parents' house his mom had a poster of some long prose poem Gaiman wrote that Theriac sent her as a birthday gift many years ago. And I think she may have sent me a gift book by the guy, that's somewhere on my shelves, but I don't have the heart to search right now.

This is all to say I've been thinking about how someone I loved, loved Neil Gaiman, and getting a stabbing pain every time.

[lanae111]