#when they're sad I cry

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Don't mind me. I'll just be over here crying over a suitcase for a week. No big deal. This is fine. I'm fine.

[lavenderprose]

'He would not fucking say that' only it's 'That child would not speak in full fucking sentences.'

[ddrawful]

I challenged myself to do all three templates and proceeded to destroy my shoulder, but here's my Touchstarved MC Vesper! They definitely won't cry if you call them a nerd (yes they will).

Illustrations by themselves below the cut!

[paracosm-draw]

He's so pretty so pretty so fucking pretty i'm gonna die look at him with his perfect face

[mirellapryce]

I am thinking about how Edwin asked Charles if he'd been crying, when they were in the Devlin house. Something about it seemed to me like this wasn't something Edwin was unfamiliar with.

So please picture, it's the early 90s, and for two ghost boys things are going pretty swell. They have their freedom, this blossoming friendship, and a detective agency they're starting up. But also remember that Charles is a 16 year old boy. No one can see him or hear him. He can never go home. He'll never hug his mom again. His friends killed him. He can't sleep. Or sometimes it's the little things, like not being able to taste his favourite foods and drinks. He is 16 forever now, and in those early years sometimes it hits him that he's dead, and the grief just knocks him down.

Edwin may never be comfortable with the emotional outbursts but he is understanding. Edwin didn't have time to grieve his own death, and he has no one on Earth to miss, but Charles had a life, and he had people, and things that brought him comfort that are beyond him now. So when Charles cries and grieves his own death, and says it's not fair, Edwin doesn't argue. He just tries to be there for his new friend as best as he can.

[cecoeur]

it's hell on earth to be heavenly them's the breaks, they don't come gently

[ambigrueity]

Incredibly long post about Trey and Riddle's Relationship that I vaguely said I'd do in the tags of my posts somewhere

Disclaimer: this is not intended to be shipping in any way I very much view them as family, even more so after these updates. To start with I'm going to separate their relationship into 3 distinct stages and focus on their perceptions of each other at each stage. I think their relationship is wonderfully written As usual, I ramble so sorry in advance, but I really want to analyze how complex they are.

Stage one: Childhood: ||Riddle|| A friend: Trey and Chenya were Riddle's first friends. Riddle had spent his whole life knowing the four walls of his home and his mother and both Trey and Chenya were his gateway to experiencing the world outside his windows. As such, they're immensely valuable to him. Under his mother he had no other way to grow socially, so when provided with a logical reason for going out and playing (Chenya stated his grandpa believed play is a form of study) he jumped at it because he wanted that connection. Trey specifically was his ideal. I think he looked up to him a lot. Normal home life. His mother didn't confine or trap him in any way. And he could eat whatever he liked. That's why when Trey said that one or two slices of tart wouldn't hurt, it was good enough to sway Riddle. All his life he'd grown up hearing about sweets being poison. But Trey seems happy and fulfilled so surely it's not as bad. However, breaking his mother's rule made him lose everything. The momentary friendship he'd built and any chance of freedom. It impressed upon him the importance of following the rules because breaking them lead to loss. And on top of that, it left him with guilt. I talk a lot about Trey's guilt in this situation (and I will talk more) but Riddle has his own guilt too that just manifested in a different way. More on that later.

||Trey|| A brother: While Riddle might have viewed Trey as a friend (no doubt because he was an isolated only child with a different perception and a lot of baggage tied to the world family), Trey saw him as a brother. He expressly states in his dream that Riddle was smart enough to identify plants and flowers and had enough magic control to get their soccer ball out of the trees, and he felt proud to have a smart little brother. And this sort of label is easier for him because he comes from a rather healthy family with siblings and has a blood brother around Riddle's age. Instinctively, Riddle became someone he wanted to care for, spoil, and cherish. That's why after knowing Riddle wanted to try a tart he wanted to let him. Later on, he tries to dismiss or come to terms with his actions in various ways, stating that it was not his place and of course anyone would get upset if their house rules and dietary restrictions weren't being respected. He tries to make it out into a joke, saying it's become a family incident of sorts that they just laugh about. "Who gets that mad at children playing." But underneath all those attempts to bury his own trauma, lies guilt. Because he feels, deep down, that as a brother he should have protected Riddle better. And instead, after just 2 months, he had to see everything that made Riddle happy stripped away again. More on this later. Stage 2: Riddle's First Year

||Riddle|| A stranger. Riddle's changed. He's developed some of his mother's anger. He's been confined for years. And because of that one incident with the tart, he firmly believes that growth and by extension fulfillment can only happen under the rules. Moreover, since Trey represents that period of his life where he learned that lesson rather harshly, he ices Trey out, pretending he barely knows him. After all, they might as well be strangers after all these years. Especially since Trey is banned from his house. This is a result of the guilt I mentioned earlier. He failed to follow his mother's rules and the punishment put Trey and his peaceful family that he looked up to in the crossfire. I think a part of him doesn't know how to face Trey after all that, worried that he might hate him. However, he cannot fully erase his own memories. So it is Trey he consults when he asks how to challenge a dorm leader for the seat. Even if he's distancing himself by calling him "Clover-senpai" Trey still remains someone he trusts to a degree. After Riddle takes the throne he makes a decision I find interesting. He doesn't select a vice, instead he leaves it to the popular vote. This could be read two ways IMO. Either, he didn't feel the need to have a vice because he was so confident in his own skills, but was aware that it was customary to have one so it didn't matter to him who it was. Or, deep down, he was afraid that no one would be willing to work with him. After seeing his dream, I do think it might be the latter. All of the darkness versions of his card soldiers showed some form of disloyalty. Willing to go along with the idea that they might jump ship, or that Riddle could be overpowered. It's this insecurity born from his own fear of his mother. He knows he's become a reflection of her, and he's worried how other people might react to it. In the end, he's still chasing those relationships from childhood, but is stuck believing that rules are the only way to keep what little happiness he has which alienates him from Trey to a degree. ||Trey|| A brother still: Despite the years, Trey's feelings about Riddle hadn't changed much other than being swamped with underlying guilt. Upon realizing that Riddle was going to attend NRC, his first instinct was to create a space for him. Trey generally, is introverted but excited to see his childhood friend again, he ends up talking to the people around him saying that Riddle was a quiet but studious boy and he hopes that people will welcome him. That was at least, before he saw what Riddle had become (he ended up fighting Floyd at the entrance ceremony) leaving Trey with the realization that this was not the boy he knew anymore. And worse, he was pretending not to know him. I'm sure it hurt, but even so, when RIddle asked about dueling the housewarden, he did try to accommodate him (after getting over his initial shock). The thing that gets me the most, however, is that Trey still saw the good in him. Trey in the rose maze part of Riddle's dream tells Ortho that the first thing Riddle did when he became housewarden was tend to the roses. To him that was a sign that Riddle was still somewhere in there and he was willing to support that. He would have been resigned to accepting that he was a stranger to Riddle if he hadn't been elected vice, but regardless of how Riddle felt, Trey still felt responsible for him. Both out of guilt and because he was still family.

[kinaesthetiqueer]

"Spread across the comforter are their film strips from the photo corner at the dance... A full size picture of the four of them signing their team letter to the camera with huge smiles on their faces."

On the Run from Tomorrow, ch. 17

Last chap's up. I am getting so horribly emotional trying to write a note here, so just...

JNPR 💛🧡❤️💚 Forever

[holyshit]

.

[canon-notcanon-warriorcats]

AND WHAT IF I CRIED

[cloudbends]

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH WONDERFUL PRECURE

[yagurlhere]

WARNING:SPOILERS!

"NOOOO! LIGHTBULB!!!!! 😭"

"LIGHTBULB ANGST!!!!! 😭"

"LIGHTBRUSH ANGST!!!!!! 😭"

"THIS HURTS SO MUCH!!!! 😭"

"I'M CRYING!!!!!! 😭"

"PAINTBRUSH CRYING!!!!! 😭"

"MY HEART!!!!! 😭"

Me: FINALLY.

[romance-rambles]

modern clarence | true love's kiss

The one where you kiss the merman awake, and in return, he wipes away your tears. Meanwhile, William is both oblivious and confused.

2.3k, alternate scene in clarence's azure island route, angst + humor, reader is mc, series: none

WAITING IS A TERRIFYING GAME.

You take Clarence's hand in yours, desperately trying to think of anything but the half-coherent fears buzzing around in your ear. They whisper the same thing over and over again, deliberately circumventing the semi-comforting words of the young medic who had teased you earlier.

He is fine now, but what if.

What if, what if, what if—

Amidst the constant chanting, you make a note to throttle your boyfriend. Honest and deliberate communication can come afterwards, once he's realized how much he worried you. It's a good thing you've developed a habit of listening to your instincts—what if you hadn't been waiting for him on the beach? What if something far worse had happened to him?

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you curse his usual tendencies—so very Clarence that they remind you that this is the man you fell in love with.

"Wake up, or I'll go date William instead," you threaten, in a hushed whisper.

Your voice cracks early on, though it's not as though its trembling quality could lend itself to a threat anyways. Leaning over, you brush his wet bangs out of his face lovingly. Then, your hand slides down with a gentle carress and cups his cheek, wiping away the water dripping from his hair.

With color slowly returning to his lips, you can allow yourself to appreciate his handsome face in an effort to pass the time. Now, you can almost imagine he's asleep, much like the princess in Sleeping Beauty—quietly awaiting the true love's kiss that'll wake him up.

CPR, that is, you correct yourself.

Due to your mistake, your cheeks take to burning, as though the shame flooding through your system will temper your own tendencies. You dare not accept the reminder of the medic's words that your brain helpfully offers you. Instead, you barrel onwards, as if it never existed.

"Ten seconds," you murmur. It sounds like a promise. "I'll kiss the merman—ahem, perform CPR in ten seconds."

A bit too faithfully, unfortunately.

With a grimace, you squeeze Clarence's hand gently. The humor behind your blunder had briefly calmed you down, but as your countdown begins, you find yourself back at square one. You really will throttle him.

In lieu of reaching for his neck, you pull at his cheek gently, just enough that it soothes your worry. Not once does he stir—and perhaps that's what emboldens you. Slowly, the distance between the two of you shrinks, and you are so preoccupied by the almost hypnotic hold your repetition has on you that you don't notice.

But when you do—

I can count his lashes, you realize, blinking away the familiar burning sensation in your eyes.

By now, you've lost track of where you were—both in terms of the countdown and your surroundings. There are people on the beach, but, perhaps, having sensed your volatile emotions, they do not dare cross over to the little spot on the beach you have to yourselves. You start counting again, expertly dodging the temptation of kissing your beloved.

10, 9, 8...

When you reach the final number—zero, not one—you reluctantly let go of his hand. And, mirroring your other hand, the newly-freed one comes to rest on his cheek. The mole underneath his eye disappears under your trembling thumb.

When you hit zero, you finally allow yourself to kiss the merman.

SOMEONE IS KISSING HIM.

This, Clarence surmises even without opening his eyes. They're touching his face too, as if even the rarest of treasures are incomparable to him, even as they tremble against him. He knows, instantly, that it is you.

Who else would touch him so lovingly? And who else has touched him so lovingly?

When he opens his eyes, Clarence is rewarded for his guess by the sight of you leaning over him.

Your eyes are closed; unshed tears cling to your delicate lashes, quietly asking him to do something about them. There's little time to be flustered. Yet, paradoxically, it is the best time to be flustered. Your lips are soft and they taste of your favorite chapstick—the one you obsessively put on when you're stressed.

Somehow, though he doubts the formula changes every other day, it tastes sweeter each time he rediscovers it.

For a moment, he closes his eyes, lifting his hand up in the air, just above your arm. His cheeks are still warm, and his ears even warmer, when he rethinks his move and finally fulfills the request.

You open his eyes, startled by his gesture.

"Clarence?" you sputter out weakly, once you've established some distance between them both.

He has half a mind to point out the irony of the moment, before you go ahead and wipe your tears away. His gaze fixes itself upon your hands, clad in the same protective gear as his own. The warmth he felt from your touch would've had him believing otherwise, if he did not have his sight to fall back upon.

Hoping to find something to occupy himself with, he reaches for his glasses. They are, of course, not there—he'd replaced them for contacts before he went diving.

Thankfully, you seem oblivious to his blunder as you wring your hands, desperately looking for an excuse.

"That's, um—"

The black diving suit you're wearing contrasts sharply against the gold and orange of the evening sky. It was early in the afternoon when he dove into the waters, and then—the gears begin to turn in his head, reminding him of how he'd collapsed into your arms. Some leniency, he thinks, is deserved.

"CPR," Clarence says slowly, feeling a sharp twinge of pain in his head as he sits up. "Is that not what you were doing?"

You look at him, clearly bewildered. Soon, as scarlet blooms across your cheeks, you're diving into the crook of his neck with a groan. There's some kind of inside joke he's missing, but he can't find it in himself to worry about it too much.

"Don't," you say fiercely, "ever do that again."

As you adjust yourself against him, your body now pressed up against his, your grip on his diving suit tightens. Coherency leaves him that same moment—all he knows to do is wrap his arms around your trembling form and softly call out your name.

At some point, he'll tell you all that he's learned. About your mother. About the strange python he'd encountered, the one that seemingly shared his voice. But for now, it is just you and him, bathed in the rosy hue cast out by the sun, and—

"Thank you for waking up."

WHEN YOUR SNIFFLING SUBSIDES, CLARENCE begins to delve into the series of events that led him to stumble into your arms. You listen intently, only ever interrupting him to offer your own conclusions.

That is, until he admits he'd like to face anything and everything in his path with you.

Your sentiments are well-practiced; your only argument, compelling. It's true—you are his lover, and you do occupy an entirely different tier within his heart. There is no one else he'd trust more to watch his back. You cannot do that if you're not by his side.

You offer him your pinky and he links his own with it.

"Okay," he says softly. "I promise, my lover."

Your eyes narrow fondly at him. Slipping your pinky out of his grip, you throw your hands around him. It seems you're still shaken up by the experience, and Clarence—having already put himself in your shoes and concluded that he'd act no differently—can understand why.

"Okay," you repeat. You've both changed out of your diving suits, having exchanged them for your usual summerwear somewhere in between the two events. "I'm going to hold you to it."

"Alright."

His assumption that his agreement marks the end of their conversation soon turns out to be false. You hug him tighter, leaving your soft hair with more opportunities to tickle his cheek. After a momemt, you sheepishly admit:

"It, um, wasn't CPR."

Clarence can feel his cheeks warm up again. You're faring no better, though it'd be easy to miss with the way you're hiding your face. It's hardly the first time you've kissed each other—though the heightened emotions make for what is perhaps one of the most unforgettable ones yet.

"I know," he admits.

"Okay," you say, clearing your throat. The words come out rushed and awkward. He thinks back to when you rendered him speechless in the Student Council's clubroom and wonders how he could pull off the same thing. "Glad we had this talk."

When he can't think of anything witty to add to the conversation, Clarence simply admits the truth.

"I liked it," he says. You inhale sharply, and he thinks he might've pulled his objective off through sheer, disarming honesty. "Though, next time, I'd like to do it when we're both happy. I...know it's my fault, but—I dislike seeing you cry."

You call out his name, and next time comes faster than he was expecting.

PERHAPS IT'S DUE TO THE recent revelation you bestowed upon him that William can't help but take note of the distance between the two of you. Your hands are still intertwined, though, proving the truth behind what you'd said to him earlier.

He has—

He has a lot of questions. Like, actually, a lot. As in, actually, he'd spent the entire time preparing a quiz worthy of the Student Council President.

Because if it's true, then he's calling dibs on being the best man at the wedding. And William sure hopes it is because he's already made plans to become Uncle William to any of your future children, whether they're of the human or cat variety. The ship has sailed for yours and Clarence's current, combined brood of cats, but he'll try hard regardless.

His progress with Beanie was looking quite promising when he'd visited you before the trip, after all. He's tentatively excited about the play date he's scheduled for himself after the trip.

The only problem is, he can't really wrap his head around it. How? And why? Is Clarence even capable of seduction?

As he plops down onto the sand, now much cooler than it had been in the morning, William makes a show of scolding Clarence. The scary dark mage of the Student Council doesn't need to know that he almost burned a misshapened circle through the rug in his room. Besides, how often does he get the upperhand?

Never.

He nods decisively. Right, never.

Thanks to the setting sun, your faces have taken on a reddish hue. And while the fear of potentially losing Clarence—one he can relate to—has rendered you unable to speak without introducing a shrilly note to your voice, the guilt of leading you to that point has left Clarence unable to go a sentence without coughing politely into his clenched hand.

It must've been bad.

You must've been downplaying it when you texted him. It'd been a short message, straight to the point. For a moment, William almost convinced himself it was Clarence before he remembered that the president does not text without proper punctuation.

(And for a small, small fee, William thinks he could be persuaded to remember that scene a bit more clearly—so long as news of it does not reach Clarence's ears.)

"Alright," he says, temporarily putting his plans for a pop quiz on hold, "I think it's time we went back to the hotel. I'm exhausted, Clarence. Do you know hard it was to stare at my phone for so long?"

To William's surprise, his fellow Student Council member smiles faintly. It's a bit strange looking at him without glasses on, as if something is just undeniably wrong with the very fabric of time and space itself.

"Thank you, William," Clarence says, and the pink-haired boy is left to blink confusedly. Something really is wrong. "I'm sorry to have worried you."

"Worried?" he sputters out, his own cheeks growing warm. "I—okay, maybe I was a little worried."

"A little," you echo. Your intentions are hardly as sincere as your boyfriend's—and gah, that's still weird. "Just enough to want to go looking out for him in my stead, right?"

As the couple begins to smile, now looking eerily similar to each other, William hurriedly stands up. The colors of the setting sun don't cling to their faces nearly as much as they once did. Whatever awkwardness was between them seems to have vanished, almost instantaneously.

He can't help but think that his upper hand is no longer his.

"Anyway, I'm starving!" he says, pointing in the direction of a nearby restaurant. The two of you have already changed out of your diving suits, so he figures it won't take too long to get served. "Since this is all Clarence's fault, I think he should pay!"

The man in question chuckles and easily agrees to William's request. Then, as another reminder of his new relationship status, Clarence looks over at you, and William swears he can see hearts in his eyes.

Squinting, he wonders, Should I have been worried about you instead?

Clearly, something spooky had happened when his fellow student council member went to look at the totems. That means—and the pink-haired student shudders at the thought—there's clearly some truth to the legends. And if magic is real, then—

Maybe the dark mage of the Student Council is not Clarence, but you.

"Are you coming?" you call out, cutting through his thoughts. You and your boyfriend are both standing, with an expectant look in your gazes. "I thought you were starving."

He squints at you for a moment. At your kind smile and much gentler countenance, compared to the guy you've decided to date. So what if you tease him sometimes? It just means you feel close to him.

Yup, that sounds right. Having made his decision, he nods to himself and says:

"There's no way!"

When he finally joins his waiting friends and they ask him what he was mumbling about, he only assures them they have nothing to worry about.

[amidnightqueery]

I don't hate my job or anything, but man, being a float educator is so fucking thankless

[cloudbends]

I was planning on writing my thoughts in the tags about the episode after watching it subbed.... But honestly..... There's just. So much. I love pokemon horizons so much

[jubburb]

SatoSuguᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

Looking at the stars ✮

(Lives/afterlives)

From time to time, although not that often, Satoru and Suguru would go stargazing. They're too busy living out the best of their ( ), just being in each other's presence.

It's been far too long since they had this much peace, considering they were on opposing sides. But now, they finally have what they wanted, what they needed the most.

"It was lonely. You know that, right Suguru?"

"You gave me too much free will Satoru, of course I know. But I won't say I regretted my actions, knowing fully well it's too late."

He stated, looking at the stars.

"Don't blame yourself Satoru."

The time they spent talking, Gojo was looking at Geto, his eyes full of pain, regret, and guilt.

He turned to the sky, the comets and stars shimmering. The moon was especially pretty today.

"The moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

Gojo smiles, knowing Suguru knew what he meant.

"It truly is beautiful.."

...

"Me too."

He finally looked at him in the eye.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.── .✦

✮⋆˙You can fill in the blanks with lives/afterlives. This is leaning towards more where they are already dead, living in the afterlife. But if you want to read it as if they are still alive, then go for it.

-Jღ

The ways in which you talk to me, "sugudu" have me wishing I were gone, "SAT OR OOO" - C's shenanigans..