#Why is everything so painful and difficult

[gay-dorito-dust]

imagine Ford removing the tattoos Bill made him get and replacing them with something you designed, even if it’s just something you doodled one day and he really liked it

Ford promised that he would never get another tattoo, the ones he already had were both embarrassing and painful reminders of the man he use to be; a man who pushed everyone into leaving him due to his obsession with making himself a recognisable name to make up for the one he missed out on due to Stanley’s accident.

The tattoo he regrets the most was the one Bill made him get, which didn’t translated to what Bill claimed it did but something else entirely. Ford hated looking at it as it only reminded him of painful memories, memories of living in a constant state of paranoia and distrust of anyone and anything even his own flesh and blood. And while Stanley forgives him for acting the way he did when he came back, Ford only felt all the more guiltier for it.

So when he was honing through his journal, he stoped on a page when he spotted a drawing that was neither his, Dippers or Mabel’s but instead yours and Ford felt himself smile. It might’ve not been the best drawing of an axolotl, but the fact that you tried spoke volumes that touched Ford deeply as he rubbed his thumb across the drawing softly as though any harder and it would smudge. Ford had known for a while that he had become fond of you, and it wasn’t difficult to see why that was because who wouldn’t become fond of you?!

You were sweet, kind, compassionate, creative and never failed to help Dipper and Mabel within a moments notice should they call your name, you even got along with his brother Stanley and Fiddleford. You were just…well everything and Ford couldn’t help but wish he could be more like you in many aspects, but while he was looking at you through rose tinted glasses, believing you could do no wrong only to look at your axolotl drawing and was reminded that you were just a human as him: and to be human is to have flaws and complexity within their very existence.

And while Ford said he didn’t want any more tattoos, he decided that one more wouldn’t hurt and made sure to let the artist know he wanted this weird looking axolotl to cover the tattoo bill made him get, replacing something negative, obsessive and painful with something sweet, beautiful and goofy. And within the appropriate time, Ford walked out of the tattoo parlour with a funky little axolotl to remind him where his heart lied as he looked down at it fondly, with you and his family. Forever and always.

Mabel loved it.

Dipper was asking if it held any meaning and while Stanley did laugh at the tattoo, he was happy to see Ford get rid of the mark that Bill had left over him.

You? You immediately recognised the axolotl as one of your own drawings and smiled brightly at Ford, who only smiled back at you knowingly for that was all you needed to recognise his feelings.

[sorrowsofsilence]

If you take asks/requests can you do something with reader refusing any type of help or assistance in anything but she's so used to everything being thrown in her face or used against her so now she is just super hyper independent. She meets Noah and for a long time he doesn't understand why she never lets anyone help her until she opens up and quietly tells him that she can't trust people to not use the help they gave her against her eventually.

Super self indulgent here 🥺😟

if im here • n.s

pairing: noah sebastian x fem!reader

words: 2k

warnings: none

note: thank you so much for this anon. this is so relatable, and writing this felt so... therapeutic? i hope you enjoy this xx

THIS IS A FANFIC ABOUT REAL PEOPLE IN FICTIONAL SCENARIOS. I AM NOT IMPLYING THIS IS HOW THESE PEOPLE ARE IRL OR THAT THIS SITUATION WOULD HAPPEN. IT IS FOR FANFIC PURPOSES ONLY!

+

At first, Noah merely noticed it as a quirk; an oddity of hers that was borderline admirable. Any time he offered to help her carry anything, she would politely, but firmly decline. Once, when she was struggling with a stubborn jar of pasta sauce, he'd tried to help, only to have her snatch the glass away with a fierce glint in her eyes.

It was clear that she didn't need or want his assistance.

Even in times that seemed dire, she refused him. The time her tire popped and she struggled to fit it back onto the rims, and the time the bowl from the top shelf fell against the floor, smashing into pieces and cutting her hand.

He always assumed it was pride or a stubborn sense of independence. But over time, he realized there was something deeper lurking beneath the surface; a sort of wariness, a guardedness that was difficult to penetrate.

One evening, after they'd grown closer, they were sitting on Noah’s living room floor amidst several takeout boxes from the local chinese place. She was battling with a particularly tricky fortune cookie wrapper when Noah instinctively reached out to help.

"No," she said quietly, pulling her hand back as if his touch burned. Something in her eyes flickered, a strange mix of defiance and vulnerability that made Noah pause.

He sat there, watching with a defeated brow as he placed the chopsticks in his box of chow mein, shoulders slumped.

“Y/N…” Noah whispered, his eyes saddened as she struggled, throwing her head back in a frustrated growl.

“Why won’t you just let me help you? Ever?”

She sighed, placing the untouched cookie on the coffee table. Her hands folded in her lap, shoulders hunched as if bracing against an invisible force.

For a long moment, she was silent, refusing to glance at Noah as he waited, knowing better than to press.

"I can't trust people," she admitted, not meeting his gaze, "I can't trust them not to use the help they gave me, against me eventually."

Noah was silent, processing her words. His heart twisted at the bare honesty of her confession, the raw pain that lurked behind her fierce independence. He realized this wasn’t about jars or boxes; this was about survival, about safeguarding herself from the world around her that had done her wrong, time and time again.

"No one should ever use kindness as a weapon," he said softly, respecting her space but wanting her to know he was there, "And I promise you, I won't. Not now, not ever."

She looked up at him then, her eyes clouded with a wariness that made him want to reach out and reassure her. But he knew better now, knew that the last thing she needed was empty reassurances or hollow promises.

Instead, he simply held her gaze, letting his words hang between them as his promise to her. He wanted to show her that he was different and that not everyone would use their kindness against her.

She held his onyx gaze for a long moment before finally looking away. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but there was still a guardedness about her. It was clear that it would take more than just words to convince her.

But Noah was patient; he knew that trust wasn’t built in a day.

It was something that had to be earned and nurtured, piece by piece. He might not have been able to erase the past or change the people who had hurt her before, but he could certainly try to be different, and show her she deserved to be cared for.

Over the next few weeks and months, Noah did his best to show her he was a man of his word.

He never imposed, never assumed. Each time a situation arose where she seemed in need of help, he waited, letting her make the first move.

Bit by bit, they began to navigate around this invisible barrier - a silent dance of respect and understanding. When she stubbed her toe and cursed under her breath, Noah remained silent, only moving when she held out her hand for assistance. When her car broke down one icy winter evening, instead of rushing over as he instinctively wanted to do, he waited for her call.

It was a slow process, one filled with silent understanding and unspoken words. But with each day that passed, Noah could see the progression. There were moments when she would hesitate just before refusing his help; moments that filled him with hope and reassurance that he was doing the right thing.

One day when an unexpected rainstorm caught them off guard on their way back from a late-night movie, he held out his coat as they stepped out of the theatre. He prepared himself for her usual refusal, the quick shake of her head and the pulled-down brim of her hat as she braved the elements herself.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, she looked at his proffered jacket for a moment before finally nodding, tugging it around her shoulders with a shy smile.

His heart leapt in response.

It was a small victory, but for Noah, it felt monumental. It was the first time she had willingly accepted his assistance without that familiar flicker of fear in her eyes. The rain sliced through the night, drenching them despite the coat, but neither cared.

One small step towards trust. One small step towards un-guilted help.

“Thank you,” She whispered, smiling up at him. Noah wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a comforting hug as they headed to their apartment.

“I would do anything for you,” He said, placing a kiss in her hair.

Her shivering body vibrated against his, her hands clinging to his dampened shirt for support.

In the silence of the rain-soaked streets, under the flickering street lamps, she believed him.

Not because she wanted to, but because he had proven it - time and again - through his patience, his understanding. He had seen her fears and her scars and had not flinched away, but stood firmly by her side, always waiting for her to reach out first.

"Noah," she murmured, as they unlocked the door of their shared apartment, her damp hair sticking to his face. "You're different."

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, an acknowledgement of what they both already knew. He smiled into her hair, warmth spreading through him despite the cold rain dripping from their clothes onto the hallway floor.

"I hope so," he murmured back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead before stepping back, giving her space once again as they moved inside.

She smiled at him then, one that reached to her eyes.

It was a rare sight and Noah cherished it because he knew how much courage it took for her.

That exchange marked a turning point in their relationship. His promise uttered in the heart of the storm, wasn't just an empty phrase spoken to comfort her.

It was a vow that he intended to keep, not just for that night but for every night thereafter.

In the following days, she became more comfortable in accepting his aid. She even let him help her carry groceries to their apartment, a task she'd always insisted on doing herself before- all ten bags looped up either arm.

But that day, he was allowed to carry five.

There was still that flicker of unease every now and then, a shadow that crossed her eyes whenever he offered his help; however, those moments were becoming less frequent with time.

Noah proved himself to be a man of his word. He stood by her side, not as a knight trying to save a damsel in distress, but as a constant companion who honored her strength and respected her space.

Their souls danced around each other in the ever-evolving rhythm of their companionship - sometimes colliding, sometimes distancing, yet always spinning in synchrony.

One cool spring afternoon, they went to a local park and found a solitary bench that overlooked a still lake. The water mirrored the sky, capturing its changing moods from cool blue to fiery orange as the sun began to set.

They sat there in a comforting quiet for a long moment, lost in their own thoughts.

Noah opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself just in time. He respected her need for space - physical and emotional both. His gaze fell on her profile - her eyes closed and tilted towards the setting sun, her lips slightly parted as she breathed in the crisp air.

"Is your mind always this quiet?" she asked after a while, turning to meet his gaze. He noted how her eyes held a certain softness now, a less guarded curiosity, “Or this patient?”

"No," he confessed with a soft chuckle. "I’ve had to learn patience over time."

"Because of me?" she asked, her voice low.

He turned to face her, taking a moment to really look at her. The setting sun reflected in her eyes, giving them an ethereal glow.

He admired her- every part of her. The good, the bad. Everything.

"Partly," he admitted, "But also because of myself. I've realised that sometimes the best way to help someone isn't by charging in like a hero. It's by waiting…giving them the space they need to heal."

His words stretched between them as she processed, her gaze never leaving his. Noah noticed a hint of something different in her eyes; not fear or apprehension, but something akin to gratitude.

“Thank you,” she said softly, echoing the words she’d whispered weeks before in the rain.

"I'm trying, Noah," she said quietly, "I'm trying to trust again."

He nodded, understanding all too well what that meant for her. It was a leap of faith - an act of trust that was foreign and strenuous to her very being.

"I know," he replied softly.

His thumb brushed over the back of her hand gently, a small comfort against the enormity of what she had just shared, “And you’re doing an amazing job.”

She smiled, looking down at their entwined fingers.

“I’m proud of you,” Noah breathed.

Her heart raced with armour as they sat there, their hands linked while the sun slowly disappeared beneath the horizon. The world around them was bathed in a tranquil glow, almost as if it was recognizing the sacredness of their moment.

Noah squeezed her hand gently, his chest full of emotions he couldn't quite put into words.

He took a deep breath, his gaze still locked onto the surreal sunset before them. This woman sitting next to him, she was strong. She had been through so much, but instead of hardening her heart, she still allowed herself to be vulnerable, for him. Of all people, him.

Her voice brought him out of his thoughts, "I think I'm ready."

Noah turned to look at her, surprised by her sudden declaration. She looked back at him, determination shining bright in her eyes.

"To rely on someone," she clarified, trailing a finger along the flower on the back of his hand, "To trust again... with you."

There was no hesitation in her voice, just a raw honesty that pierced through the quiet evening.

Noah felt his heart surge with a myriad of emotions: hope, joy, relief; but above all, there was a sense of honor.

"Are you sure?" he asked gently, not wanting to rush her.

He knew the gravity of what she was saying, the importance of this moment.

But she simply nodded, meeting his gaze with an unwavering certainty.

"Yes," she whispered. "I think I am."

Her simple affirmation held so much weight. It was her declaration of surrender, but also a confirmation of faith in him.

And that meant more to Noah than any grand gestures or professions could ever do.

He leaned over, closing the distance between them and pressed his forehead against hers. Their breaths mingled in the cool dusk air, creating an intimate bubble around them while the rest of the world faded into insignificance.

"I'll be here for you, whenever you need.”

tags:

@xxkittenkissesxx @deathblacksmoke @nyxisnotok @anameunmusical @sitkowski

@sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @thefallennightmare

@whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13

@somewhere-diamond @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak

@darkmxgician @sprokat @thatchickwiththecamera @reyadawn @xserenax-13

@philomenie @into-the-grey @amelia-acero @blend-in-with-the-madness @rumoured-whispers

@anything-more-than-human @blacksoul-2 @sweetwombatpizza

[deesseshesca]

PAC : Why are u the best ? (10 reasons)

Y'all are my favs...

Good evening pretty souls, let me dive into your energy and bring the best of it out.

SALE 

Until October 31 all readings on my ko-fi is 30$, only

Choose the image that’s speak to you and allow yourself to soak ONLY what’s reasoning with YOUR SITUATION.

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else. 

PILE 1. 

Even when life feels repetitive or unexciting, you have a unique ability to see potential in every moment. Instead of feeling bored, you use this time to reflect, recharge, and come up with new ideas.

Conflict just isn’t your style. You thrive on harmony and always manage to bring people together, diffusing tension and making sure everyone feels heard and respected.

 Where others may feel dissatisfied, you find hidden opportunities. You see beyond the obvious, turning situations that might seem stagnant into valuable moments of growth and reflection.

 You effortlessly navigate through competitive or chaotic situations, preferring to focus on collaboration rather than competition. You inspire others to work together, not against each other.

 Even in moments where others might feel unfulfilled, your optimistic outlook helps you find joy in simplicity. This ability to appreciate what you have sets you apart as someone who truly understands life’s deeper values.

You steer clear of unnecessary conflict. Instead of engaging in arguments, you stay calm, centered, and focused on what truly matters, avoiding drama and negativity.

Even when life doesn’t give you everything you want, you are still grateful for what you have. This mindset allows you to maintain a positive outlook and inspire others to appreciate the beauty in every situation.

 You solve problems in ways that bring people together. Your natural optimism helps you see solutions that others miss, and you always strive for peace, finding compromises that make everyone happy.

Your energy lifts those around you. When people feel stuck or negative, your optimistic nature reminds them that better days are always ahead. You have a talent for helping others see the bright side.

 No matter how chaotic things may get, you stay centered and calm. You don’t get pulled into unnecessary conflicts, and your peaceful energy helps keep everyone else grounded as well.

💌: Do you wanna to discover 10 other reasons why you are sooo good in bed + moodboard, also you are the only pile where your current/future partner came through, so there's also 10 other reason as for why they love u sexually all on my ko-fi.

PILE 2.

* You’ve faced deep emotional wounds and heartbreak, yet you rise stronger each time. Your ability to turn suffering into growth shows just how powerful and resilient you are.

* After healing yourself, you instinctively help others. Your journey through emotional turmoil has equipped you to guide others through their own struggles, making you a beacon of light for those in need.

*  You embrace your vulnerability, knowing it makes you stronger. This openness creates deep, meaningful connections with those around you, elevating everyone you come into contact with.

*You don’t shy away from difficult conversations. Your emotional intelligence allows you to speak your truth with grace, offering clarity and comfort to others in a way that few can.

* Even when you struggle to fully trust your intuition, you’re constantly learning about yourself. You know your flaws and strengths deeply, which makes you one of the most self-aware people.

* Despite the pain life throws at you, you keep fighting. Your heart may have been pierced, but your spirit remains unbroken. This inner strength radiates in everything you do.

* Even when things seem unclear or you’re second-guessing yourself, your emotional intelligence helps you see through confusion. You know how to sift through the noise and find the truth within.

* You’ve mastered the art of balancing your emotions. You know when to hold on, when to let go, and how to approach situations with both empathy and rationality, making you a stabilizing force for others.

* Even when your intuition feels blocked, you still find a way to navigate through challenges. Your ability to persevere through uncertainty is a testament to your inner wisdom and strength.

* You are unapologetically yourself, even in moments of doubt or confusion. 

💌: Do you want to discover 10 reasons why you are so good in bed ? + Moodboard.

PILE 3. 

You have a vast array of dreams and aspirations, and unlike others who might hesitate, you boldly go after them. Your imagination is boundless, and you’re never afraid to chase what you truly want.

While others might be stuck waiting for the right moment, you seize the day. You don’t let life pass you by, and instead of overthinking, you take immediate action toward your goals.

 Where others see limitations, you see opportunities. You live with an open mind, always aware that the world is full of limitless choices, and this makes you incredibly resourceful and creative.

 You refuse to be stuck or trapped in situations that don’t serve you. Your ability to recognize when it’s time to move on makes you a forward-thinking, dynamic individual.

You possess the ability to dream big, seeing things that others wouldn’t even imagine. This visionary energy sets you apart as someone destined to create and manifest things far beyond the ordinary.

While others may get stuck in indecision, you are decisive. Even in the face of many options, you know how to make swift choices, refusing to let overthinking slow you down.

While many people get lost in their dreams, you know how to bring them into reality. Your combination of creativity and action makes you a master of manifesting what you desire.

Even when challenges arise, you find a way to move forward. Your ability to quickly adapt and make changes ensures that no obstacle holds you back for long.

Your imagination knows no bounds. This not only fuels your dreams but also makes you incredibly innovative, constantly coming up with fresh ideas and perspectives that others find inspiring.

 While others may wait for the perfect moment, you create it. Your proactive approach to life ensures that you’re always ahead of the curve, moving forward when others remain stuck.

💌: Do you want to discover 10 reasons why you are so good in bed ? + Moodboard.

[austinswife]

ALWAYS YOUR SECOND CHOICE - ‘Buck’ Cleven

PART 01 || 02

SYNOPSIS — After walking away from Gale “Buck” Cleven, leaving behind the love you thought you had, Buck is sent on another mission during the war. Though you thought your relationship was over, a letter from Buck arrives before his departure, forcing you to confront the unresolved emotions and the difficult choices you’ve made.

WARNING(S) — Themes of heartbreak, regret, and unresolved tension, emotional turmoil, reflection, potential reconciliation or heartbreak.

𝜗𝜚 ALL FEEDBACKS, IDEAS SUGGESTION — TO AUSTINSWIFE

The days had dragged by since you walked away from Buck, the man you thought you would spend your life with. You had never imagined your relationship would come to this—a painful, confusing ending that left you questioning whether it had ever been real at all. The ache in your chest was constant, a dull pain that never fully went away, no matter how hard you tried to push it down.

It had taken every ounce of strength you had to leave him, to walk out the door and force yourself to believe that you deserved better, even if your heart hadn’t fully accepted it. You had convinced yourself that you were doing the right thing, that staying would only mean more heartbreak. But now that he was gone—off to war, with no guarantee that he would return—the uncertainty felt suffocating.

Every day, you found yourself wondering where he was, what he was doing. If he was safe. If he was thinking about you the way you were thinking about him. But you tried to push those thoughts aside. You had made your choice, and you had to stick to it. There was no point in holding on to false hope, not when the pain still ran so deep.

One morning, as you were finishing up chores on the farm, the mail truck arrived. You didn’t think much of it until you saw the letter, your name scrawled across the front in Buck’s familiar handwriting.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared down at the envelope, your hands shaking as you carefully tore it open. For a moment, you weren’t sure if you could bring yourself to read it. What could he possibly have to say after everything that had happened? But curiosity—and the unresolved feelings you still harbored—won out.

You unfolded the letter, the familiar weight of his words pressing down on you as you began to read.

Y/N,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone on another mission. I don’t know how much time I have left to write, but there are things I need to say—things I didn’t say when you stood in front of me, tears in your eyes, asking me to choose you.

I know I hurt you. I know I’ve let you down in ways I can’t even begin to explain, and I don’t blame you for leaving. You’re right—I haven’t made you feel like my first choice, and for that, I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry.

When I was with you, everything was easy. You never asked for anything more than what I could give. But that’s what makes it worse, doesn’t it? You deserved so much more, and I failed to give it to you.

I don’t know how to fix what I broke, and the truth is, maybe I can’t. You told me that you wouldn’t be waiting for me when I came back, and I understand. You deserve more than the man I’ve been. But I need you to know something, Y/N. I need you to know the truth.

I love you.

Maybe I didn’t show it right, maybe I didn’t say it enough, but I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. More than her. And I know what you’re thinking—why didn’t I prove it? Why did I always run to her?

I don’t have the answers that will make this right. The only thing I can say is that I’ve been a fool. I was trying to hold onto the past because it felt like something I needed to protect. But the more I held onto her, the more I realized I was losing the one thing I couldn’t live without—you.

I’ve been selfish, and I didn’t see it until it was too late. I know I may not get the chance to make this right. I don’t know what’s waiting for me out there, but I didn’t want to leave without telling you this.

If I don’t come back, I need you to know that I never stopped thinking about you. About us. About what we could’ve been if I hadn’t been such a coward.

I wish I could be there with you right now, telling you all of this face-to-face, begging for your forgiveness, but I can’t. I just hope that when this war is over, and if I’m lucky enough to come home, there’s still a chance. Even if it’s small. Even if it’s broken.

If I come back, I want to try to be the man you deserve.

But if this is the last letter you ever get from me, then I want you to know that you were the love of my life, Y/N. Always. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.

Be safe. Live your life fully, even if I’m not there to see it. You deserve that and so much more.

Yours always, Buck

You stared at the letter in your hands, Buck’s words blurring as tears welled in your eyes. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected him to say the things you had been so desperate to hear when you were still together. The apology, the confession of love—it was all there, written on the page like a final plea for your forgiveness.

But what hurt the most was knowing that he had only come to these realizations after you had left, after it was too late. After you had walked out that door, heartbroken and certain that you could never come back from the betrayal.

Your thoughts drifted back to that day, the moment when you had finally confronted him. You had stood there, spilling your heart out, telling him how much it hurt to feel like a second choice. You had reminded him about the time you were in the hospital—how sick you had been, how scared. You had asked him to come, needed him by your side more than ever, but he couldn’t.

You understood that he couldn’t leave the base. You had accepted that… until Marge called. She had needed him, and without a second thought, he dropped everything and ran to her. That had been the breaking point—the moment when you realized you couldn’t keep being the one left behind.

"It hurt so much, Buck. Too much for me to handle. I don’t even know if I’ll ever heal from this, because the more I love you, the more it hurts."

You had said those words through tears, your heart breaking even as you spoke them. And now, here you were again, crying over the same man, the same wounds.

But his letter… it was different. It wasn’t enough to erase the hurt, but it was something. It was the truth, finally. He had admitted to everything you’d been afraid of, and while that should have made it easier, it only made it more complicated.

Because despite everything, you still loved him. No matter how much he had hurt you, no matter how much you told yourself that you were done, you couldn’t stop loving him. You couldn’t turn off that part of your heart, no matter how hard you tried.

Buck had said he didn’t know if he’d come back. The thought of him not returning from the war sent a wave of panic through you, an emptiness settling in your chest. What if this was the last letter you ever got from him? What if he never came home?

You couldn’t shake the feeling of dread, the uncertainty of war hanging over both of your heads. But there was something else there too—a small, fragile flicker of hope. He had said that if he came back, he wanted to try. He wanted to be the man you deserved.

But could you give him that chance? Could you let yourself hope for a future where things would be different, where you wouldn’t always feel like second best? Or would the wounds run too deep to ever fully heal?

You didn’t have the answers. Not yet. All you had was the letter, and the words he had written—I love you. More than her.—echoing in your mind.

For now, all you could do was hope he came back safe. Hope that maybe, one day, you could have the conversation you had both been too afraid to have. And maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to rebuild what had been broken.

But for now, you would wait. Not for him, but for clarity. For a future where you could make the choice that was right for you.

It had been weeks since Buck’s last letter—weeks that felt like an eternity, stretched taut with fear and uncertainty. Every day that passed without word from him made your heart ache, the silence becoming more unbearable than anything you could’ve imagined.

The last letter from him had left you reeling. It had been filled with apologies, admissions of his failures, and confessions of love, all wrapped up in the kind of raw vulnerability you hadn’t seen from Buck in the months leading up to your breakup. And now, there was nothing but empty space where his words should’ve been.

You had told yourself you were done with him. That after everything—the constant running to her, the feeling of being second best, the hurt that had built up like a wall between you—there was no going back. You had told yourself that walking away was the right decision. But your heart… your heart didn’t seem to care.

It had been weeks of trying to distract yourself, of throwing yourself into the farm work, keeping busy, and pretending that you weren’t waiting for him. But every time you saw the mail truck drive by, your heart would skip a beat. Every time you saw the sky, clear and blue, you’d think of him up there, flying, and you’d wonder—where was he? Was he safe? Was he thinking of you?

And then, one cold afternoon, just as the sky was turning gray with winter clouds, the letter came.

You hadn’t expected it—weren’t even sure you could handle it—but when you saw the envelope with his name scrawled across it in that familiar handwriting, something inside you twisted. This wasn’t like the other letters. The paper was worn, dirt-smudged at the corners. The handwriting was different—uneven, hurried.

Your hands trembled as you tore it open, your stomach churning with both fear and hope. The moment you read the first line, your breath caught in your throat, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Y/N,

I don’t know how this letter will reach you, but I hope to God it does. I’m writing from a German POW camp. My plane was shot down on our last mission, and I’ve been captured. There’s no easy way to say this, and I hate to think of you reading this, worrying about me even more than you probably already do.

I’m not hurt, not really, just tired. Tired in a way I can’t explain. But I’m alive, and that’s something, right?

I think about you every single day. Even more so now that I’m here, in a place where everything seems so far away and unreal. But you—you’re always with me. I still have your picture, the one you gave me before everything went wrong. I keep it tucked in my left jacket pocket, right over my heart. I put it there the day you left, and it hasn’t moved since.

There are nights when I pull it out and just stare at it, thinking of you, wondering if I’ll ever get the chance to see you again. I remember how it felt to hold you, how you laughed, how you’d roll your eyes at my stupid jokes. It’s what keeps me going, even here, even now.

I know you might still be angry. Hell, I’m still angry at myself. I keep thinking about what I did, about how I didn’t deserve the love you gave me. But it’s all I have now—your love. Even if you don’t forgive me, even if I never get to fix what I broke, I want you to know that carrying your love with me is the only thing getting me through this.

I’m not asking for forgiveness in this letter. I’m not asking for anything, really. I just wanted you to know that if I make it out of here alive, it’s because of you. I’m still fighting to come home to you.

I love you, Y/N. I love you more than I’ll ever be able to say.

Yours always, Buck

The letter fell from your hands as you pressed your palm to your mouth, tears filling your eyes as you let the words sink in. He was alive. He was still out there, somewhere, thinking of you, carrying your picture in his jacket—next to his heart.

He had been shot down. Captured.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear coursing through your veins as you tried to imagine what he must be going through. A Prisoner Of War camp. The thought alone sent chills through you. You didn’t know what conditions he was in, how dangerous it was, how much time he had left. But he was alive. And that was something.

But more than that… he still loved you.

I love you more than I’ll ever be able to say.

You stared down at the letter, reading and rereading those words, your chest tight with emotion. All this time, you had tried to convince yourself that you were done, that you had moved on, that walking away from him was the right choice. But deep down, you knew the truth.

You hadn’t stopped loving him.

Buck’s words brought back memories—memories of the man you fell in love with before everything became so complicated. The man who made you laugh, who held you when the world felt too heavy. The man who could make you feel like you were the only person that mattered, even when everything else was falling apart.

But those memories were tangled up with the hurt, the betrayal, the constant running to her. You had wanted to be his first choice, but it had always felt like you were second. Even now, those wounds hadn’t healed. You didn’t know if they ever would.

But in this moment, none of that seemed to matter. All that mattered was that Buck was still out there, still fighting to come home. And if he was still fighting… maybe you could too.

You had never written him back after leaving, but now, for the first time since you’d walked away, you felt ready to speak. You pulled out a piece of paper and sat at the small wooden table, the pen feeling heavy in your hand as you began to write the first letter since you had said goodbye.

Buck,

I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sitting here, rereading your letter, and all I can think is, thank God you’re alive. Thank God you’re okay. I’ve been so afraid, Buck. I’ve been terrified that I’d never hear from you again, that I’d never get the chance to say what’s been in my heart since I left.

It’s hard for me to put into words how I’ve felt these past few months. You hurt me in ways I didn’t think were possible, and I won’t pretend that those scars have healed. But reading your letter, knowing that you still carry my picture with you, knowing that you’re fighting to come home to me… it’s brought everything into perspective.

I still love you, Buck. I never stopped, not even after I walked away. It hurt so much because I loved you so much. And that love hasn’t gone away. I can’t deny it anymore.

When you told me you were running to her because she needed you, it felt like a betrayal. Like I would always come second in your life. I needed you too, Buck, but you weren’t there. And that broke me. I won’t lie to you—it still breaks me.

But despite all of that, I’m sitting here writing to you because my heart refuses to let go of you. You’re still a part of me, even now. And I want you to know that if—when—you come back, I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting for you.

I’m not ready to say I forgive you, not yet. There’s still a lot to work through, a lot that needs to be said between us. But what I can say is this: I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I’ll keep loving you, no matter what happens.

So come back to me, Buck. Please, come back safe. We’ll figure the rest out when you’re home.

Yours, Y/N

As you finished the letter, you folded it carefully, your hands trembling with a mixture of hope and fear. The fear of losing him again was overwhelming, but the hope—the hope that maybe, just maybe, you could have a future together—was enough to keep you going.

You sealed the envelope and handed it to the postman the next day, your heart heavy with all the things left unsaid, yet lightened by the chance to say what truly mattered.

The days after sending the letter passed slowly, the uncertainty gnawing at you as you waited, hoping for some kind of word—some kind of sign that Buck was still holding on. You pictured him pulling out your photo, keeping it close as he faced each day, and it gave you the strength to keep going.

You didn’t know if he would get your letter, didn’t know if he would make it back to you. But the one thing you did know was that love—your love for Buck—was still there. And no matter how broken things had been, no matter how much hurt had passed between you, that love was still worth fighting for.

Now, all you could do was wait. Again…

[fandomworld9728]

U got time for some Radioapple Angst? Do ya think you could whip up an angst scenario about where Alastor confesses Lucifer that he likes him but Luci (scared of being left alone again after his divorce with Lilith and everything fell apart) gently rejects him, in fear of being in love again while also wanted what’s best for Al 🥲 and maybe cue to Lucifer leaving the hotel and heads back to the palace to be alone (while also notifying Charlie that he’ll be gone for awhile) 😭

(Radioapple angst coming right up! I actually had a similar idea where it's Lucifer who confessed and got rejected. So, he left the hotel so that way he didn't make Alastor uncomfortable)

Lucifer:

What? Did he hear that right? Alastor, the fearsome and powerful radio demon just confessed to him?

He couldn't believe it, but here Alastor was. Standing in front of him, nervous smile and a bouquet of dead flowers.

This... this couldn't be happening. Right? What in the Seven Rings had he even done to make Alastor fall for him? Last he knew the Sinner had hated him but was slowly warming up to him. For Charlie's sake.

Lucifer would be lying if the declaration hadn't affected him. Because this Sinner, this Overlord, this human soul, had seen him. The real him and not only stayed but also loved him. The last time that had happened was with Lilith. However, she had left him all alone. Had taken their daughter with her because she had grown tired, bored, and annoyed with him. Didn't see him fit to be a good parent for Charlie.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, he tried to focus on the man in front of him. Alastor wanted Lucifer the broken Fallen Angel who was trying to do right by his daughter and the souls in his care. Not the all-powerful King of Hell. So, why were these horrible thoughts swirling around his head?

Would Alastor leave when he got bored like Lilith did? What if they did get together and ended up having a child of their own? Would he take them away like she had? The more Lucifer listened to the voices in his head, the more his panic rose. Why wouldn't they shut up and let him be happy for once?

There were so many factors. So many fears he had. As much as he desperately wanted to smile and say yes, take a chance on these budding feelings he had for the Overlord, Lucifer knew what the smart choice was. Leading with his head instead of his heart this time, he took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Alastor. This is sweet and romantic. You have no idea how happy this makes me. But... I can't accept your confession."

"...What...?"

Oh Satan. Not the break in his vocal filter. This was so painful. He knew he was about to hurt Alastor. About to ruin whatever had developed between them. Would Alastor hate him after this?

"What the fuck do you mean you can't accept my confession?"

"I know that you put a lot into this and that this was probably difficult for you... I'm sorry."

~

Here he was back at square one. All alone in his palace once again. He had to get out the hotel, away from Alastor, as quick as he could. If he hadn't, he would have broken down in front of the Sinner and told him everything.

Forever being broken and pathetic. A coward. Having Alastor hate him was much then him realizing what everyone does eventually when they get close to him. He couldn't go through that again.

Besides, it was too dangerous for anyone to be in a relationship with him. Heaven used his ex-wife and daughter against him once, he knows they'd pull that same shit with anyone Lucifer cared about and loved. Charlie was old enough and powerful enough to protect herself well enough if it came down to it and who knows where Lilith ran off too, so she was fine.

Alastor, while being one of the most powerful human souls Lucifer's seen in a long while, wouldn't stand a chance against the higher-ranking angels and the Elders. At least this way he was safe. Not just from Heaven. Safe from Lucifer as well. Sometimes he was a hard time controlling the darker parts of his powers. Especially when he was emotional.

He could feel it creeping up on him even now-

"No! Don't think about it. Focus on something else. Like... Like ways to help Charlie that don't involve being at the hotel or around Alastor. And don't think about the crushed look in her eyes when you told her that you would be moving back into the palace for the time being..."

Once he had explained why, she told him that she understood. But he hated to make her hurt in any sort of way. He had reassured her he would remember to keep in touch this time and that she could contact him for anything. He'd be back at the hotel once things cooled down between him and Alastor.

But what if things never cool down? Did he ruin his one chance to make things right with his daughter because he was afraid to love again? What was wrong with him?!

Alastor:

He had done it. Alastor had taken Rosie's advice on what to do with these... feelings....

He had spent a good part of the day getting things ready. Their usual meeting place, the hotel's roof, had been decorated with candles and something Angel Dust had referred to as fairy lights.

Music was playing from somewhere. Odd. Alastor didn't remember bringing anything up there to play music. He could solve that mystery later. His grip on the bouquet of Hell's native flowers tightened as his anxiety grew.

The poor things had died as soon as he had touched them. Oh well. If anyone could appreciate the beauty in one's death, it would be his king.

His king.

Ha. Alastor never thought he would be calling the man he once detested by such a title. However, Lucifer had proven himself worthy of such a title. Now, if the man would stop staring at him and give him an answer!

While he did enjoy leaving Lucifer flustered and speechless, he was becoming antsy. Vulnerability was not easy for him and made him uncomfortable. The Fallen Angel knew this, yet he was still standing there gawking at him.

He was about to snap when finally, finally, Lucifer spoke up. But now, Alastor wished that he had just stayed silent. 

"Alastor. This is sweet and romantic. You have no idea how happy this makes me. But.... I can't accept your confession."

What? If this makes him happy then why did he...? Was Rosie wrong about Lucifer feeling the same as Alastor? No... Rosie was never wrong about these things. So, why?

"...What...? What the fuck do you mean you can't accept my confession?"

"I know that you put a lot into this and that this was probably difficult for you... I'm sorry."

Before he could stop him, Lucifer had disappeared in a swirl of red and glitter. Leaving Alastor all alone in deafening silence. What had just happened? Did he just get rejected? Had that pitiful man, that coward, just rejected him and ran away without explaining why? 

What was this feeling? It.... hurt. Felt like whatever had been remaining of his heart was shattering. Digging his claws into the spot, Alastor felt his knees hit the roof tiles of the roof. However, he barely registered the feeling. He felt so numb.

'I'm sorry.'

Sorry? He was sorry?! Alastor would make sure he knew what that meant the next time he saw that poor excuse for a king! He'd rip the devil limb from limb and broadcast his screams throughout the Pride Ring. He'd do it until he was satisfied, knowing that Lucifer can't die. That he'd just regenerate quicker than any Sinner could ever dream of. Even if angelic steel was involved.

~

Alastor had locked himself away for the rest of the night once he found out that Lucifer would not be staying at the hotel for some time. He had planned to wreak havoc on that fool's room to teach him a lesson, but when he got in there, all he did was lay that stupidly oversized yet extremely comfortable bed like he had done so many times before. When he would stay up late to talk with Lucifer when he couldn't sleep.

Alastor had locked himself away for the rest of the night once he found out that Lucifer would not be staying at the hotel for some time. He had planned to wreak havoc on that fool's room to teach him a lesson, but when he got in there, all he did was lay that stupidly oversized yet extremely comfortable bed like he had done so many times before. When he would stay up late to talk with Lucifer when he couldn't sleep.

If Lucifer thought that he could just leave, he had another thing coming. Alastor wasn't going to let him get away that easy. He'd drag that idiot king back to the hotel himself he need be, but he wasn't going to let the man that lit his heart on fire get away. Ever.

No matter what. Lucifer better enjoy what little solitude he was getting right now. It would be the last of it he'd be getting. Alastor couldn't let him out of his sight now. Not after he just ran away like that.

"Prepare yourself, Lucifer Morningstar. You will regret awakening these feelings and desires within me."

(Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you'd like a part 2!)

[croquis-el]

The flower that represents Ryuichi Naruhodo (Phoenix Wright)

Hello

I came to you with a tiny post

(I'm not lost and I'm not going anywhere.)

Because we missed an important detail again!

My favorite case is 3-1. In which there is just a huge pile of information.

When Chihiro interrogates a witness about the reason for her interest in Naruhodo, she gives an answer in the form of a haiku (although it is difficult to assess its correctness).

････はかなげな、日かげに咲いた タンポポのような、たたずまい････

hakana ge-na, bikageni saita tanpopo no yōna, tatazumai

... An ephemeral dandelion blooming in the shade...

リュウちゃんの、そんなところに ヨロめいてしまったのですわ。

ryuu-chan no, son'na tokoro ni yoro meite shimatta nodesu wa.

That's what Ryu-chan is like, and that's what made me fall for him.

儚い (はかない)

hakanai

• fleeting; transient; short-lived; momentary; ephemeral; fickle; vain

儚い or 儚げな can be used positively to describe some type of beauty found within weak/unstable/delicate things or people. It may be similar to so-called wabi-sabi. 

げな (ge-na) - express the guess (it seems)

Madame literally calls Naruhodo "an ephemeral dandelion"

And gives a lot of food for thought, as it can be interpreted in many ways. After all, it is not just a randomly chosen flower.

The first thing that comes to mind is hanakotoba

In Hanakotoba (花言葉) Dandelions mean:

神託 (Oracle)

別離 (Separation)

幸福 (Happiness)

真心の愛 (Sincere Love)

愛の神託 (Oracle of Love)

Dandelions are known to be a fortune-telling flower which is why words like “神託 (Oracle)” are associated with it.

No less important meaning: dandelion is a symbol of courage, strength. Because this plant is able to grow in any conditions, and breaking through the asphalt, reaching for the sun.

Dandelion flowers also carry a meaning of wishing an ill person well, or happiness in times of darkness.

Suits our boy, doesn't it?

He represents each meaning: he was separated from his friend, he loved sincerely, he had a cold during the court hearing, and he found the strength to move on, making his own way when he was in unbearable pain.

We've dealt with the dandelion, now let's return to the "ephemeral".

On the one hand, everything is simple - dandelions look unreliable, weak, especially during the period of seed ripening. They are easily blown away by a weak breeze. Beauty and attractiveness that not everyone will appreciate. Why not ephemeral.

However, there may be much more meaning here. After all, another meaning is: short-lived

And then the phrase as a whole takes on a frightening meaning. She's literally says: he (the dandelion) will not be in this courtroom (in the darkness) for long. She literally predicts a "guilty" verdict for him, especially given her subsequent words. This is what she feels, what she wishes for him - to disappear into the darkness.

But her plans are not destined to come true, because the dandelion grows even through the asphalt.

___________________________________________

Well, and for comparison.

Mushrooms are often associated with spiritual growth, enlightenment, and rebirth. The mushroom's life cycle, with its ability to emerge from darkness and decay, represents the cyclical nature of life, death, and transformation.

This is probably a reference to Phoenix's name. Probably. That's all.

What do you think?

[sadstrever]

i’m still 114lbs. i feel sick. yesterday was an awful day, i came home and had an out of body chew and spit session. i wish there was more research on this part of ed’s, or just more people who talked about it because i can’t be alone in this. i refuse to believe i’m the only sick person who does disgusting shit like this. anyways the reason why i call it an out of body experience is because it’s almost like binging-just without all the swallowing of food. i came home and immediately started doing it and filled up 1 and 1/2 2 liter bottles with food. i spent 5 hours doing this without even realizing and pretty much emptied out my whole families fridge. the guilt i felt afterwards was worse than a binge in my opinion. not only did i totally waste SO MUCH food, make a huge mess, ended up with disgusting bottles of mush in my room, i also have to face the consequences of my family coming home to an empty fridge. but when they got home they were happy that i “ate.” god i’m such a fucking piece of shit.

anyways after all that i took 4 laxatives to try and get the guilt of wasting the food out of me. i woke up in the morning today in terrible pain but still had to go to class, cuz what am i supposed to tell my parents? “yeah i haven’t eaten in almost a month and basically just threw all the food we have out in the trash and i also took 4 laxatives, can i please stay home tehe?” so i went to 1 class and ended up leaving because the pain was so excruciating. straight from class i went to the gym and somehow burnt 900 calories because i guess that’s what guilt does to me. i had to take the bus 2 hours home afterwards(bus delays and i went to a new further gym location this time), high out of my mind. i’m home now and my stomach hurts but the laxatives finally did their job. i don’t want to keep doing this. 4 years ago i said i’d recover and then i didn’t. since then i’ve forgotten about recovery (with the exception of a few random moments here and there that i block out immediately), i am so used to living in this fucking misery that i didn’t realize how abnormal my reality is. i don’t want to be a bad person anymore. but i can’t stop lol.

this is what bothers me about the girls who romanticize this disorder SO MUCH, when much of the time they haven’t realized how difficult it can become. i know i’ve done this, even now sometimes as a coping mechanism. but man, i’m sick of it.

i have a friend who writes poetry and she wrote a poem about eating disorders that make me so fucking angry. the thing is, i’ve known her for years and she’s always had the best relationship with food out of most of the people i know. she’s naturally pretty thin(not too thin but normal) and she’s very open about her struggles. i know every single one of her stories, i know she’s diagnosed with adhd. that’s HER disorder, that i don’t understand so i DONT write fucking POETRY about it. a few months ago she kind of forced me into opening up about my eating disorder. after i did, suddenly she started writing these stories about her eating disorder-very very very suspiciously similar to mine. i obviously didn’t tell her everything but i told her about how long this has been going on and just my emotions about it. seeing her start to adapt my fucking disorder into her poetry disgusted me. she glamorized the fuck out of it and made me feel so stupid for ever opening up about it. she’s naturally skinny so she got a bunch of support from our friend group from it and i’m just upset man. i’m sick of living in misery while other people can use the idea of living in pain for attention.

i promised my best friend that in 3 weeks i’ll go back to therapy and try my best to recover. it’s not true. man it’s never fucking true. it’s never fucking over. unlike ms.deep-poetry-girl i can’t just fucking write this and log off and then eat a good warm meal and talk to my parents without them mentioning my body. i can’t wake up tomorrow morning and hug them without worrying that they’re gonna feel my bones. i can’t wear shorts anymore without people noticing the bruises. i can’t go to school and keep my focus because i have nothing to feed my brain. i can’t let anyone get close because soon enough they’ll be just like YOU. OR they’ll hate me for not wanting to get better. i can’t love myself like you do because of the disgusting things i do each day. i can’t wake up thinner and suddenly stop hating myself. FUCK YOUUUUUUUU GOD IM SO SICK OF IT GOD. whatever im done. just sick and tired.

[feroshgirlsims]

Chapter 4.3 - Dating for Weirdos

Alice feels like her brain has been scrambled. How did she end up on a date with some dude who didn’t think she was worth any effort? Her self-esteem was…well, her self-esteem was in the toilet, but still! She had her pride!

Although, probably not enough of it. 

Reasonably, she shouldn’t be afraid. Vlad was not going to lose his shit just because her tone was too sharp, and if he did, she could just leave this date.

Unreasonably, she avoids his gaze and swallows down her rant.

Fucking muscle memory. 

“I’m trying valiantly," Vlad says gently. 

“What?” 

"I want to be the least shit version of myself on this date,” he continues, looking pained, “But even that version leaves a lot to be desired. I’m a difficult sim to be around, and so far, despite skipping my Civil Procedure class today to read a self-help book on using imagination to increase my charisma, I fear I’ve failed.”

Trying and failing is something Alice is pretty familiar with. And Vlad doesn’t lack charisma, per se. It was just kind of hidden behind his aura of “find out even if you don’t fuck around.” 

“What was the advice?” she asks, giving him what she hopes is a friendly smile. 

“Imagine a better version of myself,” he smirks, “And introduce you to it.”

“Kind of shit advice,” Alice murmurs. 

Vlad laughs, and she relaxes, “Ok, so was this the introduction to the newly developed, less shitty version of your personality, or do you have something else planned for later?"

“Usually, I’m better prepared, but no, this mediocre showing is the best I could come up with.”

“I give it a 4 out of 10,” Alice scrunches up her face, “Which makes me sort of concerned about your future as an attorney who needs to sway a jury.”

As soon as the words fly out of her mouth, anxiety pools in her stomach. But Vlad simply throws back his head and guffaws. 

“Very fair,” he concludes, wiping the tears from his eyes, “I don’t ever plan to practice law, but even if I did, I’m not worried about manipulating a jury of my peers.”

“Why not?”

“Universally, sims are stupid when they get into groups, and I have no problem lying. The hard part is that I want you to know the truth of me and like it.”

“Oh, I…” Alice jolts at his expression. Even guys she’s really liked have never looked at her with that sort of intensity.

“Ask me a question. Trust me, you'll know immediately if you have any interest in seeing me again.”

Alice hesitates. She could ask something basic to confirm that Vlad is a normal sim, but it’s pretty clear that the answer to that question is no. And the last time she fell for normal, it gave her a black eye.

“If you had any supernatural power, what would it be?”

“Paralyzing sims with fear and the ability to become a sentient mist so I could leave any conversation.” He taps a finger to his lip, “And enough strength to crush someone’s bones.”

“Messy,” Alice giggles. “What are you gonna do with all that bone dust?”

“I’m envisioning crushing their bones inside their body so it’d be more like a hearty stew as opposed to a pile of dust.”

“You would eat them?”

He shrugs. “Waste not, want not.”

It is an absolutely wild answer. Alice flashes him a grin. “The power to turn sims into mushy take-out meals. Got it.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m not turning sims into bone soup.”

The corner of his mouth tilts up. “You can't. As we’ve discussed, that power has already been taken. Might I suggest flight or rotting someone’s flesh with the snap of a finger?”

Alice laughs, and just like that, her appetite returns with a vengeance. “I like the true you,” she says as the waitress sets down Vlad’s order.

He smiles and begins dividing everything in half, shoveling it onto an empty plate that Alice didn’t even notice was on the table. He slides it over to her. “I’m relieved. Now, the pancakes are to die for and I promise no sims have been harmed in the making of this food.”

PREV | NEXT

(Part 3 of 4)

[fucknugg3t]

sometimes you fuck up and people stay

[natjennie]

sorry i havent been very active lately I've been having a real shit couple days idk why

[michelleelizabethtanner]

Oh nothing, @justalilobsessd, just me watching 19 seconds on a loop at 4am. 😂 I even took something before bed, but my insomnia still knows no end. May as well obsess over Brio moments, right?

So here’s the scene with “the look.” (And excuse my shadow in the background. I had a backlight on and I’m not savvy enough to use technology to make clean video.)

To me, this was a look at someone who’s intruding on a private moment. And I mean, that’s what Mick’s doing. What he’s probably been paid to do. He’s standing guard over Rio who may not feel capable of containing his own emotions with this woman in this moment – whatever this means to him and however he’s worried those emotions will come out. This look happens right after his “you, me, we…” line.

Is it just business, Rio? Do you believe that? You don’t look like you believe that. Couldn’t even look at her when he said it. He lifted his eyes after to make sure it landed, but he looks pained for having said it at all.

And Beth doesn’t believe it, either. The flashbacks she’s having here. Look at the shock and hurt.

The music here. The atmosphere. This isn’t a standoff. This is an intimate, vulnerable, emotional conversation fraught with the hurt they each feel. They aren’t arguing about printing or the risks behind printing. They’re airing the pain they’ve caused each other. So I think this look to Mick coming right as Rio says something so emotional is Beth’s acknowledgment that this moment isn’t business at all.

Look at her. She watches Rio as he slumps back down, sees the feelings on him, then looks up at Mick. It’s almost protective. Like she’s protecting the privacy of what’s shared between just her and Rio. She’s acknowledging that she can’t push him much further because Mick is watching and they’ve already said too much. Knows Rio won’t give her more. But that’s what she needed him here for – to have this emotional discussion and unload the pain of Lucy’s death onto him. Share it with him. And she got what she needed. You can see her look over Rio one more time, understand that he’s hurting too. And now, having affirmed to herself that she and Rio are still in this emotional limbo together and he hasn’t forgotten their history, she sighs a relieved sigh and agrees to print.

Do you think she was worried that killing Lucy would have changed Rio’s feelings for her? Pushed him further away? Made him want to be done with her? It almost seems like she was. Like she needed to see this emotional outburst from him to confirm she still has him. That the game goes on.

[katriniac]

I just noticed: Ever since my health tanked in January, I've only posted/reblogged twice a month. It used to be several times a week, or daily even.

🫤

[reachexceedinggrasp]

So when I've been complaining about even fanfiction not being romantic enough, part of what I mean by that is that people take huge, gothic characters in pairings with gigantic, dramatic stakes full of titanic emotions and then make them feel small and mundane. Stripping the very romanicism from the bones of the romance.

There are many things that are deeply appealing to me about B&tB pairings or 'unlikely' pairings or Gothic romance in general, but something that is less structural while still being absolutely key is that it's not an easy relationship to get the characters into. It's not something that would happen under ordinary circumstances for either person. It's not a bond that can be forged without some form of pressure preventing these people from continuing in their regular patterns.

If you're writing an E/C fic where you start from scratch, the moment they so much as touch for the first time should be absolutely show-stoppingly prodigious. It can never be casual, not between these two, the idea of a touch being allowed should be an Event. The reader's heart should be thundering in their chest, the suspense should be palpable, the consummation divine. A single touch is a consummation for them, there should be that much tension. If they hold hands and I'm not holding my breath, you have done it wrong. The first kiss should feel like an atom bomb going off, the world should shift on its axis, a line is being crossed which has left both characters forever altered.

And people will instead write them like a standard romance novel couple who make standard pervy comments in the narration, get a bit flirty, casually hook up and then weigh pros and cons about whether dating fits into their life plans or not. All of this being totally without weight, without feeling like any kind of Rubicon has been crossed or that it's significant for the characters to have entered into something which must foundationally alter their worldview.

Reylo brushing fingers across the galaxy and it being the turning point of the entire narrative, given the same majesty and mystical significance as Luke's vision in the cave or Yoda lifting the X-Wing is the exact correct amount of emphasis for them reaching towards each other in tenderness. You have a character defined by abandonment and loneliness and a character who is surrounded by people but never touched, both unseen by anyone else, both aching for connection, both never having felt anything like this before, both aware of the galaxy-spanning consequences of what they're feeling. Them touching is le big deal.

The kiss for the B&tB pairing, the EtL pairing, any Gothic pairing has to feel out of reach, a chasm that cannot be crossed- until it happens, impossible yet inevitable. Something the characters could never have conceived of taking place at the beginning of the story, an infinite abyss of which they have somehow found themselves on the other side. You have to do the work to get them there, you have to build that bridge stone by stone, and it should be a sublime agony of seeing the path take shape while it still feels like the gap is just unbridgable, that no matter how close you come, it will never be complete, they can never get all the way across. Until they do.

If you write characters who have (or should have) that kind of vast gulf separating them as just kind of falling into an intimacy which isn't earned and thus means nothing, I just have no idea why we're here. Why buy a giant gothic castle of romanticism and then bulldoze it to build a minimalist condo? Everything about the pairing that makes it that pairing is stripped away. If these were people who could just meet at a party and end up in bed, they would be completely different people.

[cobaltfluff]

maybe if i dont go to sleep i wont have to wake up and go back to work

[gingerbreadmonsters]

gahhhh. im sure it doesn't sound like it most of the time, but wow my degree is so cool and fun 🥰🥰

[dirt-str1der]

I dont care about majima x sagawa btw but i care a lot about their relationship regardless because i want them to have the most toxic dealings and skewed power dynamics with each other as possible and i them both to have increasingly warped perceptions of each other (worlds most incorrect uncle-nephew relationship)