#god he makes me so mad. and sad. and full of grief.

[natjennie]

does anyone out here have a dad that isnt an asshole all the fucking time. like is it even possible.

[animentality]

I got sad because I realized that the only good relationship that Dark Urge and Gortash had was with each other.

Gortash got sold by his parents, was abused in hell, barely escaped, and then spent the rest of his life plotting and scheming and refusing to get close to anyone, ultimately even selling another child he took in to the same nightmarish life he'd once escaped from.

Dark Urge was forced to kill their foster family by Bhaal, and then went to a Bhaal temple, where they might've been worshipped, but I highly doubt that the murder cult weirdos really thought of them as a person, and not just an object of worship. It is awful lonely up on that bloody pedestal. Plus the way they beg Bhaal for forgiveness for liking Gortash makes me suspect that it's never happened before.

And then I hold my little heart in my hands and weep for the two of them.

Because I know gortash is a piece of shit who refuses to break the cycle of abuse. And I know the dark urge has murdered a shit ton of people and enjoyed it too.

But...but...your honor ...I still feel sympathy.

I still felt sadness in the house of hope, when that asshole admitted he used to beat Gortash black and blue for fun.

I still felt grief when I read dark urge's letter to their god for ADMIRING someone.

For caring about a person.

And then I found out that dark urge had been living a normal life until they killed their foster parents.

You can say that dark urge enjoyed it, but I just don't think that's the case.

Baldur's Gate 3 has some laughably evil villains but there is nuance. There is humanity in most of the characters, good, evil, and morally gray. Even big baddies. Ketheric Thorm notably has a rather sad backstory full of grief, loneliness, and love turned to madness, Gortash was broken as a child by parents who shattered his ability to care for anyone but himself, and even Orin, if you confront her about Sarevok's relationship to her mother, can even be seen as a tragic figure. Like what the fuck, her own mom tried to kill her as an offering to bhaal.

Maybe all bhaalspawn are laughably one dimensional villains with absolutely no human traits to them, but that's just fucked.

One of my favorite themes is how everyone is a slave to the gods, their playthings, their disposal tools.

Poor Ketheric Thorm said it best when he said that we're just copper pieces to be traded, that we might have beaten him, but the gods beat him first.

He's so right, man. Most if not all the companions are slaves to Gods and devils.

Dark Urge was a slave to Bhaal, just a means to an end, a sharpened blade pressed against the world's throat, and Gortash was the plaything of devils, traded away by parents who didn't care about him, a powerless little boy who'd grow up to be a tyrannical power hungry despot.

I choose to believe they recognized each other. They worked together initially because they had their own agendas, and were doing their usual song and dance of manipulating others, but the more time they spent together, the more they actually liked each other.

They were genuinely friends, or lovers, and it's sickening and it's driving me mad, and it's all so sad.

[calisources]

THE   ROYAL   TREATMENT.   all   sentences   are   either   taken   from   fantasy   or   fictional   and   historical   novels   about   kings,   queens,   royal   blood   and   some   sparked   romance   and   magic.   change   all   pronouns   and   names,   locations   as   you   see   fit.

“You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.”

“She was a ray of sunshine, a warm summer rain, a bright fire on a cold winter’s day, and now she could be dead because she had tried to save the man she loved.”

“He was a man known for the violence of his temper as well as the deliciousness of his touch.”

“Am I making you nervous, Natalie?”

“Sad it is, the fate of kings.”

“Go to this masquerade ball with your new friends, put on a pretty gown, and dance the night away.”

“Repentance is like a royal cheer.”

“Even the small joys are worth cherishing, and they will lead to greater ones.”

“when you become king shall find many difficult tasks and you shall have to hurt others and yourself.”

“The throne brings trouble and grief along with the glory.”

“Anger is a feeling afforded only by royal blood. Ordinary people ask for mercy in such situations.”

“True leadership is serving others; follow Queen Elizabeth's noble example.”

“Success isn't wealth or status; impact matters.”

“The power of empowerment can change the world, one person at a time.”

“Leadership is service, not a throne to seize.”

“I have in sincerity pledged myself to your service, as so many of you are pledged to mine.”

“Proper training is key, it allows one to accomplish a great deal."

“Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky."

“Royalty comes with a cost. My great-great-grandfather was one, and he left me no royalty but loyalty to empower people.”

“At all times an empire is more important than emperor and empress, prince and princess.”

“You might have to ask yourself, however right your claim is, if you are the leader the realm needs and wants.”

“You’re Royal. Get used to it and that involves a lot of burdens and things you don’t want to do.”

“I’m in awe of you, Rowan Palotay.”

“Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?”

“Prayer is a royal power.”

“You forget yourself and who you are speaking of.”

“Anyone young, famous and beautiful who dies young is forever frozen in time and fascinating to all of us.”

“Youths are the life blood of any nation.”

“I am not yet come of age, my lord. How can I be queen?”

“To crown her is to kill her.”

“He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.”

“Little by little, the old world crumbled, and not once did the king imagine that some of the pieces might fall on him.”

“I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.”

“Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.”

“There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.”

“We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.”

“...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.”

“I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man!”

“She was made to be a queen, just like her mother.”

Protect Myrcella with your life. Defend her... and her rights. Set a crown upon her head.“”

“You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.”

“For dogs we kings should have lions, and for cats, tigers. The great benefits a crown.”

“This marriage had resulted from impulse.”

“The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.”

“One does not ask if one likes the Blood Royal. They simply are. It is like asking if one likes the Gods.”

“You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.”

“The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.”

“You seem to think that you can still turn back, but it’s too late. You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.”

“Was it worse, she wondered, to be wanted dead or wanted Queen?”

“My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.”

“Respect shouldn't be hereditary; it must be earned.”

“You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.”

“There is nothing sharper than a well mannered princess’ words.Their true meaning are a mystery.”

“People are born great but yet need to grow into greatness”

“Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.”

“She was their witch queen, and they adored her.”

“To be fair, I don't quite see any difference between an assassin and a knight. They both kill people, only one "in the name of Honour '' and the other is just a "monster"

“Crowns belong to those that serve.”

“I have the softness and meekness of a daughter but I also have the boldness and Braveheart of a Son.”

“Will you visit my chambers tonight?”

“A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.”

“Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.”

“The Princess knew in her heart she is strong, smart, and capable because it is in her blood.”

“There is the matter of succession that has to be settled. You don’t start a reign without settling how it continues.”

“My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?”

“Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.”

“Often blessings and burdens comes hand in hand. The bigger the Crown the heavier the burden”

“If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.”

“Some girls have a frightening killer instinct. Don't let the ball gowns fool you.”

“You don't turn your back on your destiny.”

[happypotato48]

Century of Love EP 2 Unhinged Tangent Thoughts

Ok let's get back to old man yaoi??? BL.

It's a very common thing for men your age don't worry gramp, i think, idk i'm not there yet i'm still a youthful young man full of vigor and what not :3 also the phrase they use here roughly translates to the cock (as in the bird) not crowing.

This old man still haven't realized that he's in a BL written by the OG Y girl Nu Wa. i know that bitch made her clay men kissed each other the first thing she did after making humanity.

Sorry grandma i'm still 50/50 on that it isn't scary sometime but othertime it fucking terrifying. i think that's how it suppose to be though.

Wow, whose is that going to be i wonder >_>

As a clumsy disaster of a man why is this never happened to me ever. i'm mad where my god dang BL moments!

Future husband future husband!. shhhh i'm manifesting.

We stan a communicating family, even when the thing they communicate is a old man wet dream :)

I probably have a relative like this somewhere that i never met. my extended family is pretty gigantic.

What in yaoi hell is this, god this show is ridiculous.

Kids are weird so meh i'm not bother by the willingness of Wee to go along with this.

K the show is smart for having someone stating the obvious solution.

This is kinda sad. San kept the place where the love of his life died unchaging, it's like he stuck in that moment for 100 years relive it again and again unable to move on.

Time only moves in one direction, san is literally frozen both physically and emotionally in time waiting to relive the happiness that long gone.

Back to being unhinged, Dude your fight scene is weaker than forking ironfist. good thing that this a BL show and not an action show cause my god this is Thailand we know how to do action!

The hair it's the hair like one look at that and anyone can tell that this mofo is suppose to be the bad guy.

My man that dude has a knife sticking out of his shoulder. is Wee a himbo?? verdict yes no ?

I liked this EP the pacing is very good and juxtaposition in the theater scene is immaculately well done. and here come the tin foil hat and clown makeup, i don't think Wee is Wad, even though all the signs pointed to that i really loved the the theme of moving forward and continue living past grief that Wee represent. and maybe that will be the case, finger crossed.

[xxxregulusblackxxx]

Okay, here's my full rant on The Sun and The Star. It's contains spoilers so keep scrolling if you don't want those

I absolutely love it, it's cute, it's Sad, it's angsty, the fluffy and your scared for what's going to happen to the character. Dionysus is like a Therapist and older brother figure to Nico which I'm just loving, he admits Nico and Will are his favorite demigods, we get more Chiron which I love, we get mentions of the Trials of Apollo, we get to see Nico's grief over Jason, Piper and Nico have a talk about it and their sexualities! We get Will's POV and he's scared and self-conscious. He thinks he's not enough for Nico which is so sad but also reflected with Nico thinking he's not enough for Will and still trying to push him away suddely but they both are so deeply in love that they CONSTANTLY remind each other that they're there for each other and I mean constantly! Like 5 times per chapter once in Tartarus. We get a to see Solangelo going to PercyBeth for advice we get MORE SALLY CONTENT! We get to see how Nico got captured and put in the Jar. We get to see Will and Nico's first kiss, and how they got together and all these snippets of their relationship as they tell this other character about it. We get SMALL BOB BACK! WE GET BOB BACK! He calls Solangelo his Sun and star! It's so cute. Nyx is the villain which I kinda love. We get to see all these dreams and flashbacks of Nico's trauma, we get more banter between Will and Nico and it's so cute. NICO GAVE WILL HIS SKELETON RING! ON MY GODS WILL WEARS IT ON A NECKLACE! WILL GAVE NICO THIS COIN THAT'S SPECIAL TO HIM! THEY TRADED KEEPSAKES!! Nico quite literally gets his personal demons made into these tiny black fluffy ball demons that he and Will named coco puffs and they follow him everywhere but no longer remind him of like all his trauma, because he accepted it all and is starting to cope. The story's about self acceptance and that you can change and chose your own path and make your own choices and not have to be who everyone thinks or wants you to be and I think it's a beautiful message.

NOW! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN THEY'RE ACTING OUT OF CHARACTER?! This is a canon novel, anything Rick writes in this universe IS CANON AND THEIR CHARACTER! Just because Will's not all confident and self assured doesn't mean he's not Will. You just made a different versions of him in your head and are mad about it, same with Nico. Y'all make him this sad emo twink who can't do anything for himself and needs saving. He's a fucking powerhouse, he's strong and confident and can protect himself and not some week baby. Stop fetishising him and look at his canon character. "He's more happy and talkative" YEAH BECAUSE FROM TBTL THROUGH HOO AND A BIT OF TOA HE WAS ACTING PURELY IN FIGHT OR FLIGHT MODE AND TRAUMA RESPONSES! He was this super happy kid extraverted and he's coming into a more mature version of that as he copes and processes his trauma. I'm so sick of people making him depressed and suicidal, he's snarky and sarcastic and self confident, he's coming into himself and is actually happy with that, he's recovering from an eating disorder too which we see that the end and he's happy about it. He likes himself and is happy which is such a wonderful thing for a character like him. It shows me and other fans, and even younger fans that you can overcome your trauma and it's not something to be fixed but to deal with and after all of the trauma and everything you've been through, you can be happy and love yourself, you can be gay, pan, bi, queer literally whatever and be happy and love yourself and I think that's such a good message and I'm so happy Rick made him that way because it shows everyone especially his younger audience and new fans that you're lovable.

Either way that's my rant, if you don't agree with me I'll gladly argue with you and will pull up quotes and WIN. Or you can scroll. If you do agree with me, hi welcome to my page, I'm pleased to meet you I'd be happy to talk

[thoumpingground]

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall Thoughts: Chapters 38-42

Helen is plotting her escape, let's gooo!! But first, drama. I knew Lowborough would end up suicidal. The way Helen describes him struggling not to kill himself in the room the night after he discovers the adultery is bone-chilling. He's pretty serene all things considered, though. Forgives Helen fairly quickly for keeping him in the dark, turns out Hattersley's plot to "take care" of Huntington (lol), by the looks of it gives Annabella a generous alimony if she's able to keep partying in London. It made me sad that he's happy to keep his son but not his daughter (because she looks like her mother, I guess? idr what Annabella looks like) but the story is bleak enough as it is and unless I'm contradicted later I'm choosing to believe he gets over it for both of their sakes.

Hargrave... vindictive little scumbag. I'm so mad at myself for feeling bad for you. In a book full of hateable men it's impressive how quickly he made top of the list. I wanted to scream when Helen told him about her escape plans. For a second I thought he might help her... but of course not. I have to go back to the Gilbert parts and see if he calls Helen "his angel" because that's clearly a red flag (Huntington did it too, that much I remember). I hope he goes back to Paris and some french opera girl drains him of all his money.

Hattersley is all over the place in these chapters. Such a chaotic redemption arc. Offering Lowborough to be his fucking hitman (again, lol), defending Helen from Huntingdon when they think she's cheating with Hargrave (so many bloody H's in this book), encouraging Huntingdon to turn a new leaf while they ply his son with alcohol... I know he had that conversation with Helen about Millie not feeling anything a few chapters back, so it doesn't exactly come out of nowhere, and he loves his kids, and he's still a dick through his good moments (plying toddler Arthur with alcohol, calling Helen names even while defending her...), but it still feels sudden. And when did he start loving Millie to the point the idea of making her happy pushes him over the edge into reform? He only married her because she was a doormat, and he's been deluding himself into thinking she was dead inside (that or she has a poker face that would put Vegas out of business), and I know he's been strugggling with that, but still. I'm glad Millie gets a reformed husband by the end of this section, but wow. What a trip.

Huntingdon commitment to get worse is impressive. I was surprised he pawned Helen off to his friends. Again, I'd read Arthur wasn't phisically abusive, and it appears he never rapes her, but this sounds an awful lot like he's giving his friends leave to. I have a half-formed thought about how Huntingdon keeps making masculinity and power about viciousness. He's making a show out of corrupting little Arthur to hurt Helen, but I think he sincerely beleives it's making a man out of him, and if they were on better terms he'd be doing it covertly. "A Misadventure"... Hooly shit, if there was ever understatement. And a reason to title the following chapter "Hope Springs Eternal in the Human Breast"! If the book hadn't started after Helen made her escape it might have made me cry. The bitter, sinister delight Huntingdon takes in stripping Helen of every mean of escape, and how casually he's able to do it, how ties his masculinity to it... I don't understand how this book isn't better known. This should be taught at schools.

I hate the way nobody's allowed to talk about the abuse. I swear, this is 1984 with petticoats. Helen and Millie urging Esther to be careful who she chooses while insisting that they're happy themselves... It reframes all Helen's and Aunt Margaret's interactions from early in the diary, though Esther seems more receptive than Helen (thank god...). Helen trying (usuccesfully) to hide her unhappiness from Aunt Margaret is so sad. So is her guilt over giving her aunt grief in her old age. On brighter news, Frederick to the rescue! I knew something good would come of Huntingdon fucking off to London for half the year! I knew Lawrence was Helen's brother! It's gonna be fun when she finds out that Gilbert struck him in the face. It's gonna be fun when Gilbert realizes who he struck in the face!

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

Okey there's someone that compared mcu gorr with mcu Wanda. I don't think that fair. Yes, they both a parent and losing their kids.

But gorr motive it's look more understandable than Wanda in MOM, why? Simple we saw gorr losing his home, peoples, his daughter and basically everyone to rapu (asshole god) his worshipped to rapu became nothing, the worst part is rapu, want to kill him. Then necro sword choose him (thank to rapu to not hide dangerous sword), then gorr became vengeance and want all gods, because he finally see that all gods are selfish(he not wrong but not all gods). Now we not sure if gorr really full control or necro sword just half control him or he still in total control, because when necro sword got destroyed, gorr look almost normal.

And please, darkhold may corrupt the readers but readers still can choose.

Here's fun part, gorr look like not killed other creature beside gods race, he look like only kill adult gods, yes, he kidnapped new Asgard childrens but so far he not kill them, I menat he can just because they have gods blood or he can did it for whatever is that and he not justify his actions.

And there's Wanda killed everyone (not care what race they are) that on her way when she basically can choose not killed them, she even want to killed a a child, and planning kidnapping and don't forget when she send creatures to chasing America, America will spontaneous to jumping to other universes because scared, that meant creatures that Wanda sending, creating chaos and destruction to other universes and make mcu universes being target from other universes (thanks a lot Wanda). And worat part is she trying justify her action in name of mother grief.

So yeah , I think it's not fair for gorr to compared with Wanda. I meant he probably will causing destruction in his own universe of he wish to all gods dead but he didn't do it just because 'they in his way ' , also he didn't 'invited ' problem from other universes.

Sorry but gorr more sad than Wanda, and not I am not justify him, but remember Wanda basically make mcu universe be target from other universes.

What do you think about them?

I think there are a few things to take into account here.

Wanda's power is extraordinary so naturally, if you compare her actions to those of a less powerful character she's always going to stand out, not because her actions are worse, but because she's one of the most powerful characters in the MCU. It's like comparing a human losing control with Wanda doing the same: the human could assault an innocent on a street or kill someone... Wanda can literally rewrite reality and she says in her series that even after so many years she still doesn't understand her power.

Then, in MoM Wanda is entirely out of character. The writing was so bad that I find it hard to meta her motivations because they don't make sense when contextualized with her previous characterization, especially right after WandaVision. And we have Raimi and Waldron who confirmed they never saw the series... so trying to make sense of her behaviour is difficult for me.

I'm not sure the readers of the Darkhold truly have any control or free will though. We have two Stephen variants who renounced its power and control, so I suppose we can say that given the right person the power of the book is somewhat diminished, but we never see this with Wanda: We never see her fighting it, we never see her trying to break free and in the third act she doesn't renounce the book, she just snaps out of it when she sees her kids.

Regarding Gorr (the god butcher who only killed one god in the entire movie), his character could have been pretty good and I get why he was mad at Rapu but his so-called vengeance against all gods wasn't handled well imo. We never learn anything about him or his people, he has no time to shine other than a few scenes where Bale looks a bit menacing, he has no backstory... there's nothing there.

So to be honest I don't know who's worse, I just know both Gorr and Wanda were written horribly, their characterization was entirely superficial and their arc in the movies is entirely pointless. Or rather, they have no arc at all.

[scrawnytreedemon]

Back on my FFXIII-Capital-G-God bullshit.

[ramblings below the cut!]

Went ahead and decided to watch the final battle in JP. Good lord... Look, I am no judge of Japanese voice-acting, but I feel so much of the jank is amended with just that. Lightning's voice-work is wonderful in both version's; Vel's, however... Dear lord does his English work feel generic and forced— WHICH honestly makes sense, considering the script-changes.

Yuki Kaji, who voices Hope, does an excellent job on this guy. Divinity, eagerness, and adolescence all executed brilliantly. You really get the sense that this is a being way over his head, who, in desiring to eventually walk among humanity in the new, flawless world he created, took on the body of a teenage boy— Volatile feelings and all.

I've spoken about this before, but Bhunivelze is just... Goodness, he is at once deeply well-meaning but also horrendously authoritarian. World's ending due to an overflow of Chaos, Bhunivelze seeks to create a new world for all the worthy, living souls, and destroy the Chaos— Issue is, Chaos is the collective souls of the dead: a Lifestream to use FFVII terms. You destroy that, you destroy all those souls awaiting rebirth, and destroy the memories of those deceased in their loved-ones— Vel considers this a positive, because as a demiurge with hitherto no prior experience with emotions(except endless paranoia after tossing his mother's body in the cosmic basement oop--), he considers grief a needless suffering to be washed away in his new world.

Having built her up to be the new goddess of death in the wake of Etro's death, Bhunivelze challenges Lightning to a last match after she rebels against him. Their dynamic, by the way, is extremely romantically-charged in the JP— Teenage boy feelings do that to you. After a longass, multi-phased fight, Lightning, inevitably, defeats him...

And he goes full:

This bitch, to the surprise of everyone in the arena including himself, starts sobbing his fucking eyes out. Realising he has lost control of the situation, and will have no part in the world he created, brother starts feeling it all— Sadness, grief, anger —The whole shebang.

My guy, in Peak Teenage Boy Angst, declares his intent to cast Lightning out. This, of course, proves ineffectual, and also One of the Most Video Game Divorces of All Time™! She wasn't even married to him! This is a trainwreck; I am obsessed with their dynamic; what is wrong with hiiiiiim????!?!

I bet £100 fucking bucks this guy was scribbling their initials together with hearts in some cheap pink spiral-bound notebook, kicking his non-existent legs back and forth as he imagines their wedding day. I bet he signed his diary entries with her surname. I can't. I'm fucking losing it. This is like Sephiroth if he was so much more desperate aND SEPHIROTH IS DESPERATE AS F U C K LMAOOO

Lightning is not having any of it. She signed up to get her sister back, not whatever the fuck this is. Did I mention he ripped the vestiges of Serah out of her heart, thereby emotionally crippling her? This fucking tool thought it'd be all fine once the plan went through. God. Dear God. He has no idea what he's toying with.

The fact that they toned all this down to Evil God Wants To Turn Humanity Into Mindless Slaves makes me so mad on so many levels, but I also wholly know why they did it.

The fact that Bhunivelze is an essentially all-powerful God who, to the best of his abilities, is genuinely sympathetic and loving, reiterating this time and time again, and yet not only despite but because of this fails in his role as a caretaker as he is unable, and unwilling to stoop down to humanity's level and engage with them on their own needs and terms, instead opting to follow his plan on crafting a utopia that would gut them of their memories and negative emotions struck a little too close for Western localisers.

Religion is a hot-button issue.

Far better to turn him into another cold, unrelatable Lucifer-like. Someone without love or care, who takes only to fuel his own arrogance.

I've talked before in another post similar to this written, god, what? A year ago? —About how this examination of a loving yet ultimately distant and detached god struck a chord with me. The romantic character especially— Within my old church, the relationship between God and the Church, you and He was always illustrated as akin to a groom and his bride.

I completely understand Lightning's drive to throw off that.

No love is worth being hollowed out. Even with the promise of being filled again.

[poetry-by-zee]

This piece is gut wrenching

It’s titled “ The day my mother dies “

The reality has been around the grief of losing my mother

I have mourned her before , because I am aware that once gone , she won’t come back

Infact no one from the other side has came back to tell us how it is

But this all occurred as dream to me

So here it goes

The day my mother becomes dust and perishes

I will cry so hard , I might break some crying records , the biggest one being about a man that cried for 7 days and temporarily went blind

I will cry 365 days when it occurs but my heart will cry out for her , for the remainder of my days

In my dream , it was dark the day she leaves us

Suddenly all my joy was cloaked by sadness and unimaginable pain

I saw tears on my own face and the faces of my brothers and sisters because this pain was shared and it wasn’t just physical

We had lost our mother

I found myself shouting at God for taking her

I told God , we can make a trade, you give me moments with her then you take me instead of her

To which he replied and said “ all her duties were fulfilled by her during the days given to her by me and I also don’t negotiate with people mad at me “

I understood but why did it have to be my own mother

The first woman to ever love me

The first woman to give me a girls name even though I am guy

The first woman to reach how to read

The first woman to break my heart

Why take that away from me ❓

And as I read her eulogy, I realised that she had lived a full life

She smiled in her coffin

She knew we would take care of one another

And as the casket was lowered by the lowering device

I stared right at the woman that had given birth to me disappear 6 feet to the ground

And right there it hit me

It’s all a dream

And I woke up and decided that I will not mourn my alive mother

Instead I will cherish all moments I have with her

And when the time comes , I will mourn for 9 months , the same way she did before birthing me

And I will keep her memories so that I too can remember then as I pass away to an adventure that I can only reach if I am dead

[libidomechanica]

Shaped her foode relish thin finds should lose my jade

And, as drop in for the other god day: they will.     I won’t err in the graces spied he receiving borough heroes, kiss Anthea’s border;     and a voice most. In all smiled, nor form, or walk’d; if foul, the wide enough, with such animation;     and now it e’er err’d, nor canker’d where grief! See, the hare I swore? In so precious     acceptations it is word of travell’d,

and awake against the Field, he knowledge saw     him kneel her ties add what is cut off the thing the civil be; gif ye hae I been mine     sank sad and ever go and stops his true as a tingle hobgoblin’s noon. Making eyes,     and garter’d Caravaggio’s glory, the wind was it wont ligge in thine, like tumbled     together, I forgotten their good glee,

all save not be less, knock’d the reasts aristocratic     hints here is lost—her still, and no less it teach turn’d: both of smoke quitt with his many     send, the corners of the Pedlar can into my childe: what her than satire, he not     now?—At this shrieks and the produce it; and daffodil, be care nothing but always score     of the same bene hidden brooks and

stray away; I hate’ she shock a concord mought do     it, you wring your tears. And proved, I did see emperor! Which compose most edifying     couplet radicals its pinnacle, and glimmering. There was as fine old woman, talent     for the river. Subtle skin, enough so sore, harsh fear withheld me forth a limited     the winna let a body that

she straying. Right entice to come too cold, he     converted foe as farre away? Till day: therefore to pass like the virginitie. Lure it calling     from under. The eternal spirit playe, of which grown, so the Muse determined, rival     now! Embracing, she lies, love to see their roses around a page or vessel lost.     Than an after years or lately lost,

my soul. They seem to know all minds can never deeper     meets his friends. And she gave the next to his hand is so did Miss Rawbolds—pretty shell-     fish. And Hayley’s Triumph in ever past echoing died,—and he died, gone another     heyre: for its corner; yet I feel her spent in county cherish dispossessed of these quenchless     as blythe I turned the salt tides, we

won’t, and to force her come next day, to the Power,     told of course of perfect seisure thrush, singing, What Lamp had Destiny! His other noble     scions which though which would less soul once he colours eare daily prosperity. Me pour’d     him Rx Pulv Com gr. He wandering: it is his own hair sprent with these slopes; who knows: but     when, drop their spite, they are the bed to

me in hastily logs of the Universe pair,—     and you the loue, ioue on her starry Fays; the size of threescore for their wintry sun the     daily logs of Pegasus, or dim thence came ye, merry larks on Ilsley Downs, they were     kind of prophecy, and stoute: but approve parent to ring; the Dee, the talk of. Quite so     censorious mad, and such a shrine of

some time; down each a fix’d foot, obliquely rubbing     very will, or be so the seeks, look into jest. Not as a test. Beauty from the fought     him in the wayfaring through joys and dispossession the rest my plainly aim; full many     Knots unravel’d by the skiff; and if her young or better, partly bends to     And much followed war, more I loved you.

[whyareweallawakerightnow]

Mad as hell

I think ive hit that stage of grief where I'm just pissed. Mad as hell. About everything. Which is good, it's a good feeling, because that means im getting through the stages and closer to the end. Which feels refreshing. Im just pissed now. When it got the LEAST bit hard, he dipped. He fucking dipped, he was out. Which means if thats his outlook, he's going to be a shitty partner, a shitty husband, and a shitty father. Because he cant grow up and think outside of hisself. He cant see past it. Which is a blessing in disguise, I have no doubt. It doesnt make it sting any less. Which I hate.

I keep thinking back to conversations we've had and thinking to myself "wow, he's so good at talking about his feelings and knowing who he is and where he's going." But he's not, he lied. He tricked me into thinking he was this mature, well rounded guy who had seen and done some things and was done with the bullshit, done with the games. He wasn't. Hes not. Hes too fucking old to be acting this way. Hes too fucking old to not have his shit together and to act the way he does. He needs to grow up and be a man. Im not even so much hurt by it at this point than disgusted, and turned off. How embarrassing to be almost 30 with that out look. Its gross.

Those are my thoughts at this moment at least, who knows if they'll stay. He likes trashy women. That's his type. I hate to admit it, but it is. I look nothing like any of the women he's been with before and by the looks of it, thank god. I guess maybe I should be thankful I didn't get pregnant. Even though I wanted nothing more than to have his babies for him. I should be glad im not stuck with him for the rest of my life.

I wanted nothing more though, honestly. Than to be with him, love him, heal him, watch him grow. It feels pathetic now but it's true. Some parts in me still hope for that but im not going to kid myself or be delusional. Ive started scrolling past all the tarot card readings on my fyp, thats when you know im getting over it lol. I just don't care, I just don't want to see it, be around it, nothing. I just want to be done because I refuse to be around for someone who doesn't want me, and continuously tells me so. Who tells me he has doubts about us, about me. As he's done many times, I really should just cut my ties and be thankful for my loses.

Im still really sick so maybe thats where this new found attitude is coming from. Im not sure, all I know is that he dropped the ball before it could even make impact. I'll forever stand by the fact that it's his loss not mine, he's not the one wanting to love me and give me this big grand life. Im the one wanting that for him. And he gave it up so easily, which makes me sad for him. Because our life could have been epic, and full of love and memories. But he chose not to find out or to try. And thats on him, not on me.

[alpines-bucky]

No one said Starks weren't a little dramatic

This is the first time I write Tony x daughter reader I hope you guys like it :)

Word Count: 2319 ( Things got a bit out of my hands while I was editing and eventhough it's edited I can't promise that there aren't any typos and I dtill wasn't satisfied with what I wrote but 🤷‍♀️Ig )

Warnings: Major character death, a lot of angst

Y/N loses her dad when he decides to save the universe with a snap of his fingers but when did anyone see a Stark not getting what they want? Let me answer for you, Never. ( AKA Y/N gambles with time and space and universes surprisingly there isn't any VA involved cause in my opinion they suck to save her dad but apparently there are always consequences)

Y/N had arrived at her destination albeit being a little late. She wanted to be there when the team tried to go back in time to get the Stones in hopes of saving aunt Tasha too but she had one and only shot at this so she had to make do with what she had. What she didn’t realise was she accidentally changed universes instead of going back in time.

The way she found out that the place she had arrived wasn’t when or where she intented to was Morgan, the little girl with big Brown eyes who had total control over her older sister the second they met. Y/N had to lay low and do her research before approaching them. But when she heard about Morgan she had to meet her before doing what she came to do. And that’s exactly what she did.

She found Morgan in a house by the lake with a woman who she assumed was Pepper.Her visit was short since she couldn’t afford getting caught by Pepper which would mean jeopardising the whole plan she had spent months making. She left a message for her dad before going off to save the man itself.

Her dad was fighting with Thanos when she arrived to the scene. The more she looked around the more it looked like the place she fought along with her dad and that meant one thing, she had to act quick.

‘’I am inevitable’’ Thanos said as he snapped his finger but nothing happened. Confused, he looked at his gauntlet to find that the Stones that were there a minute ago were no longer in their places. He looked around to see that Tony had them somehow.

‘’And I’m Iron Man’’ said Tony full of emotions as he was about to snap his fingers. He thought having all six Stones in his hands would kill him being a mortal and he was fine with it if that meant she could ensure his family’s security but he felt nothing. He thought he had died instantly but he found out that wasn’t the case when he got startled by an unknown voice.

‘’Oh, the hell with that!’’ said a girl who wore a similar suit to Tony’s. She seemed to appear out of nowhere. Which confused both man further.

‘’Who the hell are you?’’ asked Tony. Who the hell was mad enough decided to mess up the only chance of him stopping the big purple psycho of a man.

‘’Who do you think?’’ said the girl, winking at him confidentally but her eyes told a different story. There was sadness in them, grief and loss but it seemed like she was happy at the same time.What surprised him was the familiarity she carried but he couldn’t put his finger on it. So he searched her suit for some clues which led up to him finding the Stones. She was the reason he was not dead, she somehow got possession of the Stones.

‘’Kid, no!’’ yelled Tony. He attempted to get closer to her but she snapped her fingers before he could stop her. Everything stilled for a second. The other avengers thought Tony had done it as Thanos’ soldiers had started to turn to dust all of a sudden but when they found a girl that they’ve never seen before in the arms of Tony with fetal injuries they were puzzled. They gathered around Tony and the girl who struggled tos tay alive.

‘’I made it! I… I saved you, Dad.’’Tony was shocked at her words. He was processing what he heard as Pepper landed next to them and kneeled. They couldn’t Wrap their heads around what was happening but they both were not going to let a dying kid down for sure.

She had a difficulty breathing, she was in agonizing pain but she had a peaceful smile on her face. She tried to lift her hand but it pained her more, she whimpered. Tony sensed her intentions and put her hand on his cheek for her. He put his hand on top of her, gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘’Friday, what do we have?’’ asked Tony.

‘’3 to 4 degree burns from her right hand up to her face. Internal bleeding. Her lungs are collapsing... Life functions critical.’’ Answered the voice from both of the suits. Pepper grimaced, she didn’t know who this girl was but she had sacrificed herself for Tony, the man she referred ‘dad’. ‘’Who are you?’’ asked Pepper.

‘’I’m–‘’ she coughed, blood was pooling in her mouth. ‘’I’m surprised you couldn’t figure it out yet…’’ she let out a bloody laugh. ‘’I’m Y/N. Y/N Stark.’’ She said with her last breath. That shook the whole group to their cores. The girl wasn’t lying or confusing Tony with someone else. The girl who lied in his Tony’s arms nonbreathing was infact the daughter of Tony Stark. From the moment they realised the truth everything was a blur to the Stark Family and the avengers.

Y/N was Tony’s first daughter who had died in a cross fire 7 years ago. She was a teenager at the time. She would have been a few years older than Peter if she had lived. It was a wrong place wrong time type of situation, she had died on the scene. Tony had nightmares after that, his insomnia got worse. He had blamed himself although it had nothing to do with him. The guilt ate him alive day by day. He realised why the girl’s eyes were so familiar to him now, she was his Y/N/N. A grown, older version of her, but his Y/N nontheless.

He didn’t think he could recover from her death but losing her, seeing her die in his arms for the second time ruined him. He had no idea what was happening outside of his head, he was in a trance, he had stayed still looking at his hands where Y/N laid. Until his little girl, Morgan came up to him with a disk in hand and said ‘’Daddy! Daddy! A girl called Y/N wanted me to give this to you’’ That got everyone’s attention.

Tony told Friday to scan the disk and display whatever is in it. When he saw Y/N in front of her, he couldn’t stop the tears from falling and when she started speaking as if she could see her Tony lost it. He couldn’t hear her because of his own sobs, he didn’t even realised the rest of the avengers and his wife as they piled in the room when they heard Tony and Y/N’s voice. He had to stop the hologram a few times to gather himself. When he got control of his breathing, he built up his courage and displayed it all over again.

‘’Hey dad. I’m assuming since you are watching this I suceed. I’ve saved you.’’ She had to stop for a second to take a breath in to compose herself. ‘This time’ she said under her breath but Friday caught it.

‘’You are wondering how the hell I am alive. Well… For starters, I didn’t know that I was dead in this world which… makes you realise that I’m not from this world. I’m actually from what you call an alternative universe. Things got out of hand in my universe after… after you… Oh shit! This is too hard. I knew I couldn’t do this shit! I can’t even talk to my own god damn suit picturing it as my hypothetical dad without messing it up’’ that made a few people chuckle and a few others tos mile. The girl really was his father’s child after all.

‘’Okay I’m hoping you either won’t have to watch this or I can cut that part before giving it to Morgan. Anyways, I’m rambling.’’ Tony saw his younger self in Y/N which put a sad smile to his face. This was something he never got to experience before. To see her this grown up. To see a pieces of him in her.

‘’ So things went down hill after you did the whole ‘I’m Iron Man’ thing –which by the way I’m still mad at you about­- You… You died in my hands, dad.’’ She gulped. She had begun crying a while ago but now that she was talking about her dad’s death, she felt like the lump in her throat got bigger and bigger, suffocating her. ‘’ I was all alone for years! You were all I had and then within a second you were gone! I didn’t have anyone else!’’ She tried to calm herself. She wasn’t recording this to make him feel guilty or get answers she was possibly never going to hear. This was a goodbye. A goodbye she knew he deserved just like how she did from him.

‘’That’s why I made the decision to change it but I accidentally changed universes instead of going back in time. But this was my only chance, only shot at making it right. And then I found out that I had died in this universe and you had moved on. Good for you, dad. I’m really proud of you. You did what I couldn’t. It was a relief to know that you were happy and that you had a family now. I thought for a second that maybe the blip didn’t happen. That in this universe, you had a lovely life and I thought for a second maybe I could be in it too. Stay with you but that hope was shortly lived.’’ She gave a sad smile.

‘’And now I’m about to go to the battle field. Before I go, I have to say, I don’t know how if there is any way for me to stop you. I can’t take it all back but I will do anything to not let another girl grow up without her dad. And I ain’t going to let my own sister down. Oh, did you know that I always wanted a sister?’’ she chuckled making Tony’s heart warm. It has been so long since he heard his daughter chuckle the damn way he does. She stopped for a second to think ‘’Well, she has the Stark charm, that’s for sure. I only knew her for a few hours and she had me the second we met. I wish I could be there for her as her older sister. I would give anything to see her grow up but if that has to be for only one of us to see, I’d rather that be you because I’ve been there. I know how hard it is to lose your dad. I could see clearly what she would have to go through and the moment I realised that I knew what I had to do. I would stop you at all costs and since this reacording is being played I could sleep peacefully knowing she has you.’’ She smiled with tears escaping her eyes once again. Tony was full of emotions. His daughter he has been longing for years was right in front of him but way too far away at the same time.

With a sigh she started ‘’ You have people you can hold on to. I never did. Pepper, Morgan, Rhodey, the spider kid... Hold on to them Tony. Hold on to the team. Oh, speaking of the team, tell them I love them and I missed them so badly. I’m sorry. I thought I was going to have more time to talk And maybe if a miracle happens and we all can manage to stay alive I could tell you all about it but I have to go now. Have an old man to save’’ She saluted and looked around right where the broken team of Avengers were with longing in her eyes. She moved closer to the disk to cut the recording but decided against it the last second. Tony hung his head, his heart broke to hear the hope in her voice when he knew what already happened. He thought this was the end of the recording but he looked up when he heard her talking and she had turned to him and looked right at him as if she knew where he was stated. That sent shivers up Tony’s spine.

‘’I know you think I made the wrong decision but I saved you. I refuse to let you down once again. I refuse to see you die in front of me once again. I’m not sorry for what I’m about to do, I knew the consequences when I made this plan months ago. I’m only sorry because although I tried so much to have the future we always talked about with you, I won’t be able to, Tones. But Morgan will be. And I would give up anything for that little girl. And for you.’’ She said as she caressed the necklace Tony gave her when she was a child. She took the chain out of her neck and put it somewhere Tony couldn’t see. And Tony knew this was only a tape but he tried to hold on to his daughter, to stop her from going out there. His breath caught in his throat when his hands went through Y/N’s body. He fell to his knees.

‘’ But hey if it turns out that I, this badass manage to get both of us home in one peace one we can laugh our asses off as we watch me being the drama queen that I am… Well, no one said Starks weren’t a bit dramatic.’’ The heart Tony thought had broken to a million pieces broke further as he heard the tremble in her voice as she tried to put her brave face on. But she couldn’t hide it when one last tear escaped from her slightly swollen eyes as she ended the recording.

Why do I never have good endings? Cause I write in the middle of the night when I feel sad most of the time and it's easier to write sad than it is to write happy.

I hope you liked it. I would love to hear your thoughts on this one. I'd also like to discuss if you'd like the alternative ending that could be a happy one :)

[friendlylocalwhumper]

“Something’s bugging you.”

Quinn sighs. Sitting up like this with the blanket pooled in their lap and their body leaned forward to tip their head to the covers, the cool morning air feels nice on their back. Oscar’s fingers dip back and forth across their spine.

“I’m fine.”

He’s not very perceptive, but the pause in his fingertips’ dance across the backs of their ribs tells them that he doesn’t believe the deflection. “You’re sad.”

“I’m not sad. I don’t get sad.”

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad. Why would I be?”

“You’re sad and mad and jealous, too.”

“Okay. Are you just coming up with random emotions until you hit the right one?”

His hand slides down, braced by the side of his palm, until it rests at their waist. “Are any of those right?”

He’s so stupid. Quinn buries their face in the blankets a little further, ignoring how this position makes it difficult to breathe. Sometimes it feels better to be folded up and hiding than lying out flat, vulnerable, their expression easy to watch.

Their silence is answer enough.

“You’re mad because I elbowed you in my sleep last night.”

“No.”

“You’re jealous because I pretended to flirt with Major yesterday.”

“No. You can flirt with whoever you want. And you have a black eye from trying it. If anything, that amused me.”

“You’re-”

“I’m sad, okay? Just sad.”

The room goes still without his prattling. Oscar’s hand slides up their side and across their back before starting to rub in circles. It’s patronizing. It’s annoying. They do not tell him to stop.

“You’re sad because Major hit-”

“Oh my god, no. Stop talking. I’m sad because I’m missing someone. Some people.”

“You can’t call them? I mean, I know you don’t like having feelings or being nice to people, but like, you could try. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so sad.”

Silence again, this time heavy and dark. Slight building tension in their back is answered with his hand slowing and going still.

“You know,” He says just when they’re about to bluntly retort that they can’t call the dead, “You can just say what’s wrong. Not to brag, but I kind of took a bullet for you. I’m invested in you not being miserable all the time.”

A headache blooms as Quinn tries to play the mental chess of assessing his motives and forseeing betrayal. Why is he asking? What does their hesitation reveal? Should they lie?

…Yesterday, Oscar fell down and bruised his hip from hopping on one foot trying to put his shoe on. As far as they can tell, he is the last person who presents a threat to them.

“The window’s open,” They begin vaguely. “It’ll be Fall soon. Smells like leaves and cold.”

“Fine if you want to change the subject, but-”

“They used to sleep over at my place. I was the only one with an apartment. I complained that they were making a mess, they weren’t paying rent, but I didn’t really mind. We’d leave the windows open overnight this time of year for fresh air.”

Oscar goes quiet. His curls tickle their skin as he tips his forehead to their shoulder blade.

“I feel like a kid who’s lost their dog, sometimes, or a mom who lost a baby. Something massive that eats up your whole life when you lose it. The smell of the air, the cold when you got used to it being warm outside… it just makes my whole body remember.”

“Remember how you lost your… cousins? Brothers and sisters? Classma-”

“Friends.” A long, slow sigh that makes the blanket feel too hot against their face. They take it as a gift of being alive that they can feel such discomfort and decide not to move. “Sad isn’t the right word. I’m feeling grief.”

“...Oh.”

That’s plenty, they think. More information than they would have liked to give. Time to change the subject. He won’t be easy to distract. They just have to think of-

“What were they like?”

If they were facing him, they’d narrow their eyes. “What?” They hiss almost inaudibly, shocked.

“Your friends. What were they like? What were their names?”

That’s too far. He’s insane if he thinks they’re going to answer these questions. If it wouldn’t reveal their distrust too fully, they’d whip upward and turn to glare at him. What right does he have to pry into their past, their deepest pain? He’s lucky they told him anything at all.

“Don’t cry,” He says awkwardly, rubbing their back again, and they hold their breath in statuesque stillness before deflating. He is a moron.

“I’m not crying.”

“You went all quiet. You sure?”

“I don’t cry. I just… why do you want to know those things?”

“What things? Their names? Isn’t that a normal thing to ask? I don’t know, I couldn’t think of anything else to say back. And, you know, if they mattered a lot to you, I should probably know something about them. So we can like… talk about them instead of being mysterious and mean when someone checks in on us. Right, super spy?”

Despite themself, Quinn smiles where their face is hidden. He doesn’t know what they do, how much of a spy they really are. It’s his nickname for them because he can’t read them. That is a comforting reminder, that they’re a mystery he can’t unravel by force.

“Koda. Jost. Nikhil, Peter, Cap. Noam. Two-face. And Emmie.”

Oscar is quiet. Good. There should be no sound after those names are spoken, no life in the air. Quinn feels a dark cloud settle over them. They continue, now feeling drawn into the black hole of remembering.

“They were fun. Loud, always moving around. Koda and Nikhil were annoying. Noam too, but they were interesting at least. Peter… if he was here, he’d be trying to get us to play some stupid card game. Two-face would be snacking on something with Cap.”

Oscar continues to listen. Quinn feels oddly bolstered to say more.

“Koda’d be up here on the bed with us, too close. Shoving us with his jokes, probably would have his legs propped up in my lap. Em–... Emmie would be playing with my hair probably. Don’t - have I ever told you not to do that? Don’t, when I’m not expecting it. I usually hate it. She just… she made me feel pretty.”

He’s pressed to their back, still, sitting behind them but not making any moves. They feel his warm breaths against their freckled skin.

“Two-face would be out getting food somewhere, stealing it. Only getting enough for himself. Used to make me angry sometimes, how greedy he was, but he never meant to be a jerk. He just felt better pretending not to care. I get that now.”

Oscar slowly moves his arms to wrap around their middle. “Did you guys get to hang out a lot?”

It doesn’t register as a question they need to be guarded about. He’s just trying to be a good listener. Quinn nods and sinks further into their folded-up position. “Every day. Mostly. About the same as how much time I spend with these guys.” They poke their elbow out to the side to gesture to the bedroom door and indicate their current friends, the ones talking downstairs.

“They must’ve been a big part of your life, then, wow. You liked them more than these friends, or…?”

Quinn understands his point. Riku, Sonia, Tank, Major, and Remy are interesting, and could be fun, but Quinn refuses to be close to them. They refuse to even like them very much. It probably hardly comes across as a friend group, at least from the perspective of a partner of Quinn.

“I loved them.” It’s almost a confession, hushed and hoarse. “More than anything. You can understand why… I make no effort to be close to these ones. I guess no one can ever be good enough.”

“Yeah. Makes sense. I wouldn’t really be quick to be friendly with Major either.”

They give a chuckle that breaks their grief for the moment. “Yesterday you tried to dare him to make out with you.”

“Well - can you blame me?”

“Yes. I can absolutely blame you.”

~

“Woah. What are these? Stretch marks?”

Brown eyes flutter closed in a muted form of rolling their eyes. Quinn sighs like it’s a hassle to talk him through finding a logical conclusion. “What part of me looks like it has stretched?”

Oscar plops his chin down onto their stomach, right over the marks. “I don’t know. They look like lightning. Oh, they feel weird.” He grimaces and lifts his head again, rubbing at his chin where it met their skin.

“They’re scars,” Explains Quinn in their dry tone that sounds unimpressed but secretly means they’re amused.

“Really? Like - did you get hit by lightning?!”

“Oscar, did you even make it past fifth grade?”

“You can survive it! I saw it on TV!”

“Well I didn’t. I wasn’t hit by lightning.”

“You got surgery done by somebody with really shaky hands. I understand.”

“No! I-” They pause, then a burst of startled laughter escapes their usually tightly-maintained control. “Not that.”

“Okay, well I’m running out of things to guess. I’m gonna have to start getting creative.”

His eyes are dark and lovely. His shoulders look angular and broad in the sweater he’s wearing today. Quinn can only imagine what idiotic thing he would say next - and he seems to take their deflection of his questions as an excuse to come up with the most ridiculous ideas.

“I was shocked, if you must know.”

Oscar’s face twists, big brows furrowing. “Ouch. Right there?” The knuckle of his forefinger brushes across the jagged scarring that decorates their abdomen. Quinn shudders and sucks their stomach in to spare themself the sensation, unwilling to laugh at being tickled in a place they’re sensitive about.

“Yes. Right there.” When a moment of curious quiet passes without him making a stupid guess about what happened, Quinn decides to indulge him. He hasn’t specifically done anything to require perfect and unfaltering caution. “I was shocked with magic. It leaves scars like that. It was… deeply unpleasant.”

He doesn’t seem to know what to say to that for a second. After thinking, he comes up with, “Oh, I got shocked before too. Give a ten year old a fork right next to an outlet, you gotta know how that’s gonna end up. All the hair on my hands got burnt off. That hurt.”

Quinn stares at him, incredulous. “It was the worst pain I’ve ever felt. I can’t imagine anything worse.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“No, not you too. What you felt sticking a fork in a socket as a kid doesn’t compare to what I went through.”

Oscar blinks. “Woah. Didn’t know we were talking heavy stuff all of a sudden. You’re all upset.”

“Yes, I’m upset! I am telling you about a time that I was-... was in the kind of pain that makes you cry and beg for it to stop, and you’re just talking over me. Or - or pretending your little story compares. I’m telling you something that is hard for me to admit and you’re acting like it’s not a big deal.”

He looks like he just got slapped for paying someone what he thought was a compliment. “Maybe because I want you to feel like it’s not a big deal?”

“But it is!”

“I mean - yeah, the crying and begging thing is a big deal. But it’s not a big deal to tell me stuff. If you tell me something that’s been a secret, or that’s embarrassing, or like… the stuff about your friends, Emmie and all them? I don’t want you to think I’ll take it too seriously. Just seriously enough. Basically, like… I don’t want you to think I’m taking notes or gonna hold your hands and stare at you while you talk. I’m gonna be casual. Maybe tell you stuff too so we’re even and you’re not, like… putting it all on the line just to be met with, like, nothing in return.”

Quinn frowns as they try to parse his intentions. “So… you were trying to make me feel… respected and heard, by telling your story in answer to mine?”

Oscar pulls an equally serious face and nods slowly. He’s clearly trying hard to keep up. “...Yes.”

“That was a stupid way to do that.”

“Only way I know how, super spy.”

[luthienne]

hello there ,i love your blog it brings me great comfort , if it's not too much trouble could you make a compilation about unrequited love, my situation is the i'm in love with someone that just wants to take from me and give nothing back, i will break up with him today but i'm feelling very sad about this , i hope you are doing well and have good things in life bye bye and sorry to bother you

i’m so sorry for what you’re going through but so proud of you for walking away. you can check out this compilation that i made; here are a few more:

“My heart is full not of guilt, or shame, or remorse, but of grief… Everything has become too terribly mixed up.”

Boris Pasternak, from Letters Summer 1926: Pasternak, Tsvetaeva, Rilke

“But if it’s love, by God, what is this thing? If good, why then the bitter mortal sting?”

Petrarch, from the ‘Canzoniere’ (tr. Mark Musa)

“He filled her up, her whole world, a moon obliterating the light of any other star.”

Catherynne M. Valente, from Deathless

Anne Carson, from Plainwater: Essays and Poetry

“If I let him do this to me, what else will I allow? Anything, anything, anything.”

Catherynne M. Valente, from Deathless

“God, what are you doing to me? / What am I doing to myself?”

Adonis, from ‘Concerto for the Veiled Christ’, Selected Poems (tr. Khaled Mattawa)

David Mitchell, Slade House

Jeanette Winterson, Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit

“I want to give you everything. This is called a sickness.”

Camille Rankine, from Possession

“Love that incorporates, that devours the other person, that cuts the tendons of the will. Love as immolation of the self.”

Susan Sontag, from Reborn: “July, 1958”

“Love isn’t always magic. Sometimes it’s just melting. Where it’s black and blue. Where it hurts the most.”

Andrea Gibson, from The Madness Vase; “Maybe I Need You”

“Love? I wanted to go with him, to be on the strong side, for him to spare me, like one who seeks shelter in the arm of the enemy to stay far from his arrows. It was different than love, I was finding out: I wanted him as a thirsty person desires water, without feelings, without even wanting to be happy.”

Clarice Lispector, Complete Stories

“Isn't there / always something we want / more than our own happiness? / A pull toward the Fall. / Haven't we all loved too much?”

Danusha Laméris, from The Moons of August; “Apples”

Yves Olade, from When Rome Falls; Bloodsport, 2017

“You have done this a hundred times. Will always do it. Always. I’m so tired of your lack of everything thoughtful, wise about you. You act like a child, a child that just asks and asks and never thinks and sucks one to death, and I’m sitting here crying because it’s so hopeless to ever expect you to be otherwise.”

Anaïs Nin, in a letter to Henry Miller

“Why should anyone go through so much in order to be treated right?”

Alice Notley, Culture of One

“Another moment and I will tell you: it’s not joy but torture you give me.  I’m drawn to you as to a crime—”

Osip Mandelstam, from Selected Poems; “Feodosia”

“I felt a terrified pity for him, for this man who lived in such strange, secret places that, if I loved him enough to follow him, I should have to die.”

Angela Carter, from The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories; “The Bloody Chamber”

Ingeborg Bachmann, from The Book of Franza (tr. Jan van Heurck)

“Desolately we parted. Dear one. When we really parted later on, there were no tears, no comfort either. Something like anger on your side, resolution on mine; each of us understood the other. We were not yet through with each other. To separate that way is harder, easier.”

Christa Wolf, Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays (tr. Jan van Heurck)

[ON LOSING LOVE]: This is the model I propose. You are arriving home and as you approach the garage you try to work your routine magic. Nothing happens; the doors remain closed. You do it again. Again nothing. At first puzzled, then anxious, then furious with disbelief, you sit in the driveway with the engine running; you sit there for weeks, months, for years, waiting for the doors to open. But you are in the wrong car, in front of the wrong garage, waiting outside the wrong house. One of the troubles is this: the heart isn't heart shaped.

Julian Barnes, A History of the World in 10 and 1/2 Chapters

Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Images

“It isn’t, our story isn’t—isn’t a story anyone would have chosen to live. But, I had to ask myself…would you change it if you could? Would you? And I had to realize that I wouldn’t. So—that’s all there is to that.”

James Baldwin, Tell Me How Long the Train’s Been Gone

Nikki Giovanni, from “[Untitled]”

...nothing remains of you but the memory of something painful, close to breaking or being lost, and somehow very near extinction.

...no me queda de ti más que esa reminiscencia de una cosa doliente, próxima a quebrarse o a perderse, cerca ya, de cualquier manera a su extinción.

Dulce María Loynaz, Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems; “Poema LVI” (tr. James O’Connor)

Sandra Cisneros, “Mariela”

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song." 

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention. 

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard." 

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night." 

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked. 

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking." 

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band." 

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right." 

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid. 

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring. 

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!" 

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!" 

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation. 

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover. 

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?" 

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me." 

"What does it look like?" You asked. 

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one." 

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told." 

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it." 

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned? 

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back. 

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine 

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner. 

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table. 

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this." 

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care." 

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-" 

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor. 

"It was a gift." He finished anyway. 

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head. 

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt. 

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much." 

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered. 

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering." 

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me." 

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.” 

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage. 

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help? 

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition. 

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly. 

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack. 

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975 

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile. 

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you. 

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?" 

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy." 

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music. 

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush. 

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone." 

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans." 

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?" 

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side. 

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

[psychdelia]

christmas used to be billy’s favorite holiday. he loved setting up the tree every year with his mom, matching big smiles on their faces as she carried him to set the star on top. he would help her cook and bake, dance around the kitchen with her. she always surprised him with more gifts than he anticipated, and he would give her a card with messy handwriting and glitter and a drawing of the two of them with i love you mommy scribbled on the bottom.

and then she left and christmas joy was replaced with pain. his father screaming and presenting him with fists instead of gifts. and then max and susan came along and she was their little angel. spoiled with gifts and love while he received nothing but hurt.

billy hates christmas now. hates the holidays in general, but christmas the most. spends all day sulking, curled up in bed and crying. neil gets on him about it, maybe smacks him around before leaving him even worse than how he started. he lost all hope that maybe she’ll come back as a christmas miracle, scoop him up and take him away from all the hurt.

his plan for the day was to stay in bed. avoid the world. but then neil came barging in, demanding billy get off his ass and take max to the byers’ for a christmas party. he was stupid to think that he could catch a break after being forced to ‘celebrate’ with them yesterday, which essentially meant being forced to help susan in the kitchen and watch max get showered in love and gifts while he received nothing.

so he got up. threw on a dark green sweater, tight jeans and boots, still not nearly warm enough for hawkins winter. he silently drove max to the house, only looking at her when she didn’t get out after a minute of being parked.

“what.” billy spoke flatly, his first word of the day.

“come and hang out with us.” max rushed out, nervously fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

billy just sighed.

“i’m not really in the mood to hang out with a bunch of snotty little shits, so,” he shrugged. “maybe next year.”

“it’s not just us! nancy and jonathan are there. and mrs. byers and chief hopper! and,” a pause. “robin and steve.” she added on quietly.

“max i don’t really think-“ he was interrupted by a knock on his window. he turned to find a very happy and smiling mrs. byers eagerly waving at them.

“come inside!” she urged as billy rolled his window down.

billy just looked at max and gestured towards the house, ignoring her dramatic defeated groan before she got out.

“you too!” joyce grabbed billy’s shoulder, smile faltering at the way he flinched, her touch unexpected. “max told me you guys already celebrated yesterday. what’s another celebration?”

“i don’t think it’s a good idea mrs. byers.” he replied with a small smile, hoping to charm his way out of this situation.

she sighed. “honey, it’s your second and probably last christmas in hawkins before you go to school back home.” she responded to his shocked expression with a sad smile. “we all figured you’d be applying to schools there. and max might’ve slipped up. don’t be mad at her! she’s just scared to lose you, is all.”

billy frowned and looked down at his hands. he hadn’t even told her he was only applying to schools in california. just trying to graduate and get the hell out of indiana, go back home.

“come on, kiddo. your sister would appreciate it.” a pause. “i’ll spike your eggnog.”

billy sighed, taking a few seconds to contemplate before getting out of the car.

“oh you must be freezing.” joyce rolled her eyes as she tugged at his sweater. “you kids and your fashion. you’re gonna get yourself sick like this. hawkins isn’t california!”

billy snorted. “duh.” he mumbled as she dragged him inside.

billy should’ve expected the stares. the guarded, confused and slightly angry expressions at his presence. he felt small, being glared at by nearly everyone in the room. he wanted to turn around, walk right back out that door. almost did if it weren’t for joyce stopping him in his tracks and holding his arm.

“oh, stop that you brats.” joyce huffed. “it’s christmas. be nice! and if you can’t be nice… no more cookies.” she smirked as they all groaned in protest in unison.

billy didn’t really care about the kids. he apologized to lucas not too long after that night, even agreed to the stupid deal to drive him around town and rev his engine to receive his forgiveness in full. it took him longer to approach steve, though. didn’t have the balls to do it until a couple months before steve graduated. he found him alone in the library, studying to get his gpa high enough to be able to graduate and get his diploma.

“can i sit here?” billy gestured towards the empty chair across from steve, who was glaring at him.

“only if you don’t give me another concussion.”

billy gnawed on his bottom lip as he slid into the seat, staring at the table and avoiding eye contact like a goddamn child.

it took him a minute to finally look up and spit out those two words he’d been meaning to say since that night. but it wasn’t the apologizing he dreaded most, it was the explanation and conversation that followed. he expected steve would ask questions, and shit did he have a lot.

billy kept his answers short, general. didn’t spill too much about all the shit going on in his life and in his head. steve didn’t look satisfied with his answers, but he eventually stopped asking questions. gave billy a stiff nod with a,

“yeah. fine. i accept your apology, i guess. just don’t fuck with me or the kids anymore.”

and that was that. billy kept his distance from them altogether. he occasionally carted lucas and max around for their stupid little dates, teasing them here and there. but it was never malicious.

now he stood right in front of the door in joyce’s house, itching to get out. lucas, max and her friends el and will were the only ones not staring at him apprehensively. the curly haired one was whining, asking why he had to be there, throwing in a few words he was probably too young to be saying. boy wheeler was following suit, making grand gestures and calling him an asshole. nancy looked just as prissy as always, turning her nose up. jonathan avoided eye contact. steve wasn’t quite glaring, but he didn’t look too happy to see him either. just because they were on okay terms didn’t mean they were on great terms. his girl robin didn’t seem too thrilled either.

“i’m just gonna..” billy pointed towards the table filled with drinks and snacks. he walked away as the commotion continued behind him, helping himself to the bowl labeled adult eggnog. he grimaced after the first sip before pouring himself a little more.

it was hard to make himself comfortable. he sat stiff and tense on the edge of the couch, as far away from everyone as he could get. the burn of the rum didn’t do much to heal the hurt in his chest, the pain of abandonment and grief he felt this time every year. he tried to tune everyone out, ignoring the kids yelling as they played video and board games, hopper as he snuck the teenagers more eggnog and beer, joyce as she continued to force feed everyone her christmas appetizers.

he found himself staring at the tree, messily decorated to the brim and a little lopsided. his gaze shifted to the walls, family pictures of just the brothers, then joyce and the brothers, and some including hopper and el. he was unconsciously playing with the chain around his neck, chest getting tighter and tighter. he forced his eyes away from the pictures to find jonathan helping joyce cook and set up dinner in the kitchen, laughing and smiling.

that was his breaking point. he set down his empty cup and sped off to the bathroom, scrubbing at his wet eyes. he shut the door behind him, pacing back and forth, trying to breathe through the lump in his throat. he eventually gave up trying to fight the tears off, a christmas tradition for him at this point. he eventually sat down in and slumped back against the bathtub, closing the curtains and shielding him from the rest of the world. he tuned out the music and chatter from outside, instead hugging his knees to his chest and hiding his face in his hands as he cried.

he knew he shouldn’t have listened to joyce. he shouldn’t have gotten out of his car and stepped foot into this house. he should’ve just gone home and lay in bed all day, much less embarrassing than crying in a goddamn bathtub with people right outside.

but here he was, trying to make up for lost time and bonding and memories with max, to show her that he cares and loves her and isn’t going to abandon her like his mother. and yet he was alone, abandoned and abandoning max in just 5 months. his chest hurt as he cried harder, tears freely slipping down his cheeks and staining his stupid sweater. he was nearly wheezing for air, not getting enough in between his sobs.

he must’ve been too loud because he didn’t hear the door open and shut. didn’t even know he wasn’t alone until steve pulled back the curtain, stunned to find him curled up there and crying.

billy wanted to snarl at him, glare at him with a smartass comment about the bathroom being occupied, but all that came out when he opened his mouth was another choked sob.

“shit, man, you don’t look so good.” steve spoke the obvious. “hargrove, you gotta breathe. don’t want you turning blue on me.”

billy turned away, shielded his face with his arms for god knows what. maybe he was expecting a punch, to be told he was a little bitch for crying like this. but all he received were hesitant hands gently prying his wrists away from his face.

“hey.” steve murmured, now only inches away from him. billy didn’t realize he climbed into the tub with him, kneeling before him in the cramped space.

“fuck off.” billy breathed out, all bark no bite, trying to pull his arms away from steve’s grip. but steve didn’t let up.

“why? so you can suffocate yourself to death in mrs. byers’ bathroom?” steve mused, rubbing circles into billy’s wrists with his thumb. “not gonna happen.”

“i don’t need-“ he choked up, words cracking as more tears unleashed. “i don’t need a fucking babysitter.”

“i know.” steve let go of his wrists, sitting back against the opposite end of the small tub. billy almost whimpered at the loss. was so glad he could will himself against at least one thing.

“what about a friend?” steve took in the way billy’s eyes shifted towards him, expression guarded. “look, man, you’re graduating and leaving next summer,” how many people had max told? “and you’re obviously going through some shit so i don’t see why i can’t at least try to help you through this so we,” he sighed as he gestured between them. “so we can be friends and not on bad terms anymore because i’m tired of having enemies.” he rushed out, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “i know what it feels like to want to leave this shithole, trust me. robin already applied to schools in cali too and i was maybe thinking about going with her and if we end up in the same place then maybe we can all be friends and help each other out.” he rushed out again.

billy just stared at him, bottom lip quivering pathetically. here steve was, offering to be his friend and follow both him and robin all the way to california. he’d be stupid if he didn’t take the offer.

“what? you following your little girlfriend out to cali for her to dump you on your ass like the last one?” billy was never too bright in the friendship industry.

“what? no. robin’s not - we’re not like that. we’re just friends.” steve frowned. “i already applied to some community colleges out there. but this isn’t about that right now.” he waved his hand dismissively. “you gonna tell me what’s up with you now? a secret for a secret?”

billy opened his mouth to try and reject the offer, to tell steve to fuck off again, but another sob wracked his body. he let out a frustrated groan through his tears as he scrubbed uselessly at his eyes.

“fuckin’ hate christmas.” he choked out, grabbing onto the saint necklace. his mother’s. “it-“ a whimper. “it was my favorite. at least until my mom,” he shut his eyes tightly, tears spilling out of the corners. “she just. up and left. left me with no note or explanation and a piece of shit father.” he exhaled shakily. “he beat her. and when she left..” he trailed off, gesturing towards himself. “there were no more fucking homemade pies or trees or gifts. just him. always drunk and angry every christmas, blaming me for her. then max and susan came into the picture and they had their perfect little family. celebrated every year.” the without me went unspoken.

billy hadn’t realized steve was inching closer and closer to him until he looked up from the bathtub and found steve inches away from him again, eyes big and sad as they looked over him.

“what are you-“ billy didn’t get to finish his sentence before he was enveloped in a big hug, the guy squeezing him tightly.

“hugging you.” steve mumbled into his shoulder, forcing billy’s face into the crook of his neck. in no time he was crying yet again, right into steve’s fucking shoulder.

steve was good at hugs. good at comfort. the way he rubbed all along billy’s back, one arm secured around his waist made him feel safe in a way he hadn’t in probably a decade. he let himself go again, freely ugly crying into his expensive and soft christmas sweater, clinging onto the material with weak, shaky fists.

“i didn’t know.” steve finally spoke after a minute. “shit, man, no one knows anything about you. i figured your dad was a hard ass after we talked about the fight but not that bad.” he pulled back just an inch, catching billy’s eyes with his own. “does anyone else know?”

billy shook his head.

“why don’t you tell hopper?” steve frowned. “that’s not normal or okay.”

“no point.” billy shook his head. “i turned 18 in november. can’t do jack shit now but wait until i graduate.”

“then move out.” steve said it like it was easy. like he could afford it, like he had anywhere to go.

billy laughed but it was more sad than humored.

“and where would i go?”

“with me.” steve’s response was immediate, no hesitation. “my dad’s always gone on business trips and my mom’s italian.” he said it like it was self explanatory. billy’s confused expression prompted him to continue. “she can’t stand bad parents and she loves company. you’re another mouth to force feed, too. she makes great pasta.”

billy shook his head. “i can’t just move in with you. what if they say no or-or it doesn’t work.”

“they won’t say no.” steve assured. “come on.” he urged. “it’s just one more semester and then we’re off to the golden coast.” he smiled dumbly. “it’ll work. trust me.”

billy went silent. thought about it for a minute. what it could be like to get out of that house. live and be friends with steve. go back home with him later on.

billy slowly nodded. “okay.” he mumbled. “okay.” he repeated again, louder and solidified.

they’d make it work.