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gay-dorito-dust · 9 hours

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You may request A batboys reacting to the death of the reader

First time writing for Tim, so he’s probs ooc in this one.

Dick feels as though he’s failed you.

He tries to act like he was fine but he was far from it and everyone knew it as they stepped on eggshells with him during this time.

Dick would often find himself sat on the very rooftops where he’d take you on countless dates or just to star gaze and talk as though you were still with him.

It was his own way of comforting himself with your loss but that was never enough to stop the tears that fell from his eyes when he spotted a bright star he’s never seen before until now, and laughs humourlessly.

‘I see you’ve finally made your way amongst the stars huh sweetheart?’ He’d say as your star would twinkle in response, making him chuckle. ‘You’re so beautiful, the brightest of your kind.’ He adds sombrely as he wipes his eyes with the back of his hand as he felt his heart sing out for you, only to receive nothing in return.

Reality was often disappointing but with you it was a fairy tale.

Waking up to you was a dream within itself and getting to do mundane things with you before heading off to work was something that could only exist in a daydream.

He knew Hayley misses you as badly as he does with how he’d hear the poor dog whine and whimper at the door, as if waiting for you to walk through it and tackle her with kisses and love like you always did, only to get nothing for hours.

‘I know, I miss them too.’ He says against Hayley’s fur as she whimpers and whines at the door. ‘I miss them so fucking much it hurts.’ He adds as he allows himself to mourn for you alongside his dog long into the night.

Jason blames himself for not being fast enough or strong enough to keep you protected and safe.

The apartment you once shared with him that only recently had started to feel like home to him now felt cold and haunted with the ghost of you, so much so to the point he avoids it at all cost.

Nothing felt right without you, everything felt wrong and unjustified that he became more ruthless then before on patrols just to let off some steam and would come back from them more beaten and bruised then normal.

He didn’t care, he couldn’t feel anything anymore with how numb he became after loosing you.

Dick and Roy would stop by to see how he was doing but each visit was the same with Jason refusing his older brother and best friend entry as he held one of your plushies tightly against his chest. He knows they mean well but he just couldn’t find it within himself to hear the same thing he’s heard from everyone else; It just felt disingenuous after a while and didn’t feel as though people truly understood the impact that you had on him throughout your time together.

Jason would become more destructive with himself and going headfirst into danger without a second thought and damns his teammates for dragging him out by the scruff of his neck as he fights and kicks out of their hold. He doesn’t want to be saved! He just wanted to be with you again, why couldn’t they see that?!

After loosing you Jason becomes more prone to angry outbursts and often lets them out on the wrong person but he couldn’t care less at this point, his favourite person was gone and he was left back where he was before you.

Lost and deeply afraid.

Tim would retreat from everyone and everything by cooping himself into his room, rarely to come out.

He’d rather rot in his bed and on his phone, looking through all the photos you’ve taken together and seeing just how happy you both were, all the while a pit in his stomach grew at the thought of all the plans you’ve made but would never get to do.

He hated how easily he gave you his heart and hated it even more at just how easy it was to loose you that he wishes that he could stop himself from meeting you for the first time, just so he could selfishly save himself from the best moments of his life and the inevitable heartbreak he’d soon suffer.

Tim would do anything in his power to get you back but knew that it just wasn’t possible.

He knew Jason was given life by the Lazarus pit but he wasn’t willing to subject you to that even if he was held at gunpoint. He’d rather you rest in peace than force you to live with the knowledge that you should technically be dead.

Tim would remain in his room, wondering about the what ifs and the what could’ve beens if you hadn’t died. Would someone have taken your place? Was your death an unchangeable fixed point in time that was meant to happen?

He would only be reunited with you in his dreams where he has saved you and you had gotten to live out the rest of your life happily, rather then left for dead in an alleyway not too far from the place where you were originally going to meet up for date night.

Damian dedicated his life to getting revenge.

He had lost the light in his life, so why should he think his adversaries should live when you weren’t even given the option?

There will be more bodies pilling up on the streets of Gotham at a faster rate than normal whenever Damian is on patrol, much to Bruce’s dismay.

His anger and grief was all consuming and that left little to no room for logic to make him stop and see what he was doing was no better than the thing that took you away.

Life was black and white for a long time for Damian and you were the colour.

You were the air he breathed and without you he was gasping.

He knew about the Lazarus pit in his grandfather’s possession and its mythical properties and how it gave Jason a second chance at life. However he was at a cross roads on using it for his own selfish gain, on one hand he could have you back and everything would be fine again, but on the other hand you wouldn’t be the version of you he fell in love with…

Damian didn’t know what to do. The grief, the anger, the sadness…it was all too much for him. He felt as though he apart of him was missing and he would never get it back, it just wasn’t possible.

Bruce feels as though nothing has changed since his parents death.

He may be older, faster, stronger and wiser but that didn’t mean nothing in the face of death, and your death only proved that to be true as he held you in his arms, holding you close to his chest as he quietly sobs into your cold neck.

Much like Tim, Bruce doesn’t take care of himself anymore and it was up to Alfred to make sure that he doesn’t keep over and die unexpectedly.

‘They wouldn’t want this for you sir.’ Alfred would say as Bruce slams his hands down on the surface of his desk. ‘And what would you know that they want for me Alfred, y/n’s dead and it’s my fault.’ He would bark and bare his teeth at the only father figure he had in his life, a father figure whom has seen this expression bore on the young master’s face more times then he could count, but it still hurt him to see Bruce in pain and heartbreak.

‘They would want you to take care of yourself, sleep proper hours, eat full meals, shower, reach out to anyone,’ Alfred began to walk towards Bruce and place a hand on his shoulder, where he could practically feel the unbridled anger and pain radiation through him that he kept under control. ‘They wouldn’t want you to wallow in pain alone, Gotham needs you.’

‘And I needed them.’ Bruce replied sharply, aggressively wiping his eyes with his hand as he looks over at a framed picture of you that he always kept nearby. ‘All I wanted was them.’ He adds softly this time as he looks at Alfred, lost and confused at what to do now that his anchor was gone. ‘I miss them so much Alfred.’

Alfred brings Bruce into his arms, much like he did when he lost his parents, when he lost Jason and now you, allowing him to burrow his face into the Butler’s shoulder and softly sob into the fabric. Alfred felt his heart break even more as he rubbed Bruce’s back in an attempt of bringing him comfort. ‘I know master Bruce, I know, but you’d be doing their memory a great disservice by destroying yourself.’ The older man started as he looked over at the framed picture of you and smiled soberly, you were a beacon to Bruce and Alfred wasn’t afraid to say that he viewed you as his in law with how happy you made Bruce and that was all Alfred could ever want for him.

Now that you were gone, Alfred couldn’t help but feel that the manor got just that little bit lonelier without you.

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reneezsq · 1 day

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haven

❛ !¡ pairing; neuvillette x gender neutral!reader.

❛ !¡ summary; through the hazy reminiscence of all that has been lost, the delicate affection consoled by the croon of the deceased one reappears, and it comes back like the billows swaying with the marine creatures.

❛ !¡ warnings; sagau, idk the genre tbh it’s sad but also cute at the end ?, not impostor!sagau but reader is not worldwide known as the creator.

❛ !¡ a/n; he smells like vanilla mixed with sea water, trust i’m hoyoverse.

He saw the coming and departing of many people. Immortal ones, who’s legacy has been lost with the time and that shall never come back. Mortal ones, who’s name has been passed down by their descendants, but the meaning has been lost through the myriad of different tales uttered in hopes of honoring them. Amongst them, he lost some people dear to his heart.

Many he does not even remember the color of their eyes, a laughter that he will never hear again, and that will be lost when the time will come to let them go of his mind. Some others have left a more prominent mark on his heart. His sorrows embraced by the waters themselves, and anyone that would dwell too deep would see just how much his only wish is to have one last word. For one, he never got to say goodbye, as she never really knew herself she would have done what has been done. She simply wished to appease the hearts. And for him, a companion that had stood by his and her side, a companion whose last question echo in his mind. He never really got an answer himself.

And with those, he can still feel the soft brushing of his hair. A hand soft and rough at the same time, laced with scars from the countless cuts that have been done to the world they had created, embedding it with love only to be destroyed little by little. He should have seen it coming — their departure, that is what he is talking about, — he should have prevented it. But how ?

How ? How could he have done such a thing when at the mere mention of their children dying at each other’s weapons, they shed tears. Painting those cheeks that tasted like summer with the pain of a parent. They were never really mad at anyone and anything, they had just lost the understanding and knowledge of what could be done by those they had created. They were a bit too candid on that field, believing that the golden age would remain as long as the grass was green, as long as the rivers were blue. It was all a lie, because even the gods of this world painted this beautiful dream with the red of their own veins.

And he was there. He cannot remember it all, if anything, the fact he is aware of the existence of such a moment is like having found a needle in a haystack. Because it is his past life that drowned in such warmth, not him. But he can still feel those moments, when the world hasn’t hurt them yet, when they were still his.

He found his own hair a nuisance at times, and every complaint on his end was shushed with a fugitive kiss that felt like the blooming of a flower in the heat of the spring. They would beckon him closer, and he would indulge this small trivial matter. A Sovereign and his Creator, basking in the golden hues of the dawn with the scent of rosemary and the fleeting protection of an everlasting love, like a flame that would never be extinguished. Even if a storm would have come, he knew back then that they would hold his hand and drown his worries in the deepest abyss he couldn’t even imagine.

And then, he would always feel it. Nails scratching his scalp with the tenderness of the moon kissing the sun. Those moments were as rare as an eclipse, they had duties and he did too, and when they found the time to love each other like they should, the next day would start, and with the fluttering of an eyelash, they would be gone with only a flower left for him to kiss. And they would come back when it wilted to love him a bit more, only to disappear another time, leaving him to love them a bit more as he waited. But, it was never the time to think of when they would leave, he preferred humming alongside them with the delusion that they would never abandon him.

He would always grumble when they teasingly stopped, letting him to plead for a bit more. And their arms would wrap around his neck, and he would grab their waist as he let his lips against this skin as soft and delicate as the clouds to convince them to show him again how much he meant in their eyes. And then, he would vibrate with sheer excitement and happiness at the pristine sound of their laughter. Like a siren trying to lure the captain in. Gladly, let him perish if he gets to hear that one more time.

During the days when they were a bit more weak, trembling hands attempting to braid his hair. They never admitted any weakness, but he could feel it all around him, and he could see it all around him. The birds were as quiet as a fish, as if daring to make them flared with a song too morose to make the atmosphere romancing enough. And when they would stop, to hug him and grab his hand tight, he knew that this crack on their skin was not an illusion. He had seen it in other immortal ones before they passed away, and he knew that it was hurting them. Even the almighty lacks the strength to duel the erosion. There was no point in fighting a lost fight.

Their last time, he knew it. He had guessed it was the last. Their eyes could not match the sun anymore, and it felt like the misery of the world was falling over him in an instant. Perhaps, he was the losing one from the start as he carried them all around Fontaine with the hopeless delusion that they would hold him a bit tighter, just this time. Strangle him to death, if they wish, he would indulge in any kind of destruction of himself if it meant they would remain in this world. Because Teyvat isn’t without the one that made it be. He isn’t without the one that loved him.

When they tightened their embrace, he felt no joy swirling in his heart. And his steps stopped dead as if he had become a tree whose roots were clinging to the ground deep below. It started raining. He never really felt the drops all over his skin and clothes, but he knows it by the last words they ever said to him.

“Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry.”

That day, a part of him died too. They were freezing when he carried them to the streams, wishing that at least they could depart somewhere only the two of them knew. In his own fantasies, they were sleeping just a bit more deeply than usual, and he abandoned his jacket by their side to warm them up a bit. The last flowers they had given him were fully dead now, and it was his turn to have them some flowers. That way, they will know he loved them with all he had.

“Monsieur, is it all alright with you ?” His eyes met those of a small Melusine, standing proudly in front of him in her little uniform. He nodded and she knew he was lying, he only walked away after caressing her head, and she was left staring at the soaked scenery outside of the windows of his office. If only she knew how to console him, she had tried it all and he never gave any good answer. All that calmed him was playing with his hair in a certain way. Her and her sisters had to play with his hair, scratching his scalp, then stop to have him teasingly tickle them to continue. It was specific, perhaps he had gotten this habit from somebody else ?

His steps brought him to the shore, watching in the distance a scenery impregnated in his mind for a bit too long. He watched the waves come and go here for about the entirety of his existence, and the little marine creatures living there were no strangers to his company. They knew how well he enjoyed watching them give him some small shells that he would give back like a small funny game.

But this is when he heard it, the faint sound of shoes hitting against the sand a bit far away from everyone and everything. His instincts made him follow the noise like it was pulling him in, and he saw in the distance a figure basking in all the glory of the rain coming from above. They did not seem to mind it and were collecting some things on the beach like a child being given the authorization to do so by their parents a bit too used to this love of the water and all that came with it.

And he stopped a few feet away from this stranger, their eyes met his, and he could recognize the sorrows and happiness and pain and love he knew all those years ago. And he could have sworn that he was not in a dream. He wished that he was not in a dream, that this was a reality that was his and that he had found the one that he had lost, the one that had been his, the one that was his and that would remain as such for some more years. And with no sound, they smiled up at him, and the sun basked them in all the glory that was theirs.

Is this the meaning of coming back home after the storm ?

TAGGING:: @amxto; @dxmoness

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allwaswell16 · 1 day

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A fic rec of One Direction fics in which a character had experienced abuse of some form in the past as requested in this ask. Please don't forget to leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here.

- Louis/Harry -

🧱 Run Like the Devil by benzos

(E, 143k, Supernatural au) Louis hunts demons; Harry's the strangest demon he's ever met, and he keeps fucking meeting him.

🧱 Saving Symphony Hall by @helloamhere

(E, 124k, omegaverse) “That’s the attitude,” said Louis, “I’ll tell you tomorrow. Tonight, I need to do some research. Zayn, give me your number. I’m gonna save our symphony.”

🧱 Hang there like fruit, my soul/Till the tree die by louloubaby92 / @louloubabys1992

(M, 111k, omegaverse) Louis knows he's a defective omega. He knows its also not his fault but it is what it is. He takes the world head on even when the world is unkind to him.

🧱 Give Me Truths by iwillpaintasongforlou / @canonlarry

(E, 110k, punk Louis) the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

🧱 The Naked Truth by @larrysmomfics

(E, 80k, Naked Attraction au) The producers of Naked Attraction decide to do a 'Second Chances' edition of the show where past contestants who didn't find love on the show the first time can re-apply in hopes that the second time's a charm.

🧱 Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds

(NR, 88k, historical) 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

🧱 Shout It From The Rooftops by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(M, 70k, PTSD) Plagued by memories of the worst day of his life, Louis Tomlinson feels like he’s constantly living in darkness. Harry Styles might just be the person to bring him back to the light.

🧱 These High Walls by LarryAlways28

(E, 68k, omegaverse) Born to one of Seattle's wealthiest families, Harry was raised exactly as a Styles heir should be: sharp as a tack, witty, charming, and powerful. He was the ideal son - until he presented as an Omega.

🧱 you're ripped at every edge, but you're a masterpiece by Valentia

(E, 50k, uni) The one where Harry is soft and pretty but doesn't see it and Louis just wants to love him the way he deserves.

🧱 elephant juice by @stylinsoncity

(M, 32k, uni) harry doesn't understand boundaries. louis doesn't mind at all.

🧱 With These Arms Folded by @taggiecb

(NR, 21k, famous/not famous) Harry Styles is living a peaceful existence in California as a very successful songwriter. That is until he receives a curious email one sunny summer morning, and his life almost immediately gets turned upside down buy a force that's bigger than any storm he's seen outside his window.

🧱 why take your life when you give it so willingly by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(M, 19k, pirates) When Louis Tomlinson, Captain of The Rogue, ends up adrift at sea after Captain Cowell attacks his ship, he is surprised to find his enemy, Captain Styles, coming to his rescue.

🧱 vatican cameos by nightwideopen / @themarshalstale

(T, 14k, asexuality) sometimes louis gets sad and sometimes harry lets louis write on him

🧱 Just a touch of your love by @thegirlontheblackhoodie

(E, 12k, omegaverse) Harry is a touch starved omega trying to get through it on his own. Louis happens to be the only alpha around to realize it and offers to help.

🧱 You've Got A New Life (Am I Bothering you?) by LilyBlue28

(NR, 5k, omegaverse) the one where Louis is an omega who suffers from PTSD and is triggered one day. He doesn't know how to ask for help from his doting alpha, doesn't think he deserves it, and tries to handle it on his own.

🧱 I Don't Wanna Hurt Anymore by offwiththeirheads / @hazzabooween

(M, 5k, kidfic) Harry walks a thin line between breaking his best friend’s heart and fighting a losing battle.

- Rare Pairs -

🧱 Sugar, We're Going Down by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(E, 131k, Louis/Nick Grimshaw) At 37, Nick has everything he could possibly want in life: huge success in business, a Bachelor of the Year award hanging in his toilet, piles of money, and a rather odd little habit of visiting a cafe with terrible service on his way into the office every morning.

🧱 It's You by happily_missy

(E, 56k, Zayn/Liam) Liam is a PA for a famous fashion designer and Zayn is their gorgeous new model.

#ficrec #1dficvillage #pastabuse #trackinghappily #trackinghome #tracksintheam #hlcreators #hljournal #1dsource #larry fanfiction #ziam fanfiction #tomlinshaw fanfction #weeklyficrec

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nerdieforpedro · 19 hours

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Angel in Disguise

Javier Peña x plus size female reader

This fic and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: a little over 1k

Summary: It's raining and it reminds you of your recent interactions with your best friend Javier Peña.

Warnings: unrequited love, angst, one person you work for should not drive, slight self-esteem issues?, possessiveness

Notes: I haven't posted anything for Javier Peña for a long time. I'm glad I was able to write something. This is one of two for @undercoverpena 's April Showers Challenge.

Main Masterlist/ Javier Peña Masterlist/ Writing Challenges Masterlist

Leaning against your desk, you’re looking out at another rainy day. Thankful that you keep a pair of rain boots in your office and at home. You’re thinking of last month and last week, how you’ve lied to Javier and yourself. It’s for the best though.

Large drops remain on the window as the sound of the water falling intensifies. Last month you had finally worked up the, well with a shot or two of liquid courage to tell him. Tell Javier Peña that “yeah, we’re friends Javi but I want more from you. Have wanted more from you. I could make you happy, because I know you. We know each other. I can give you something simple, a life together.” One of your favorite dresses, your deep violet one that had the open shoulders you liked. Pretty and not too sexy you felt, just right.

Nothing was right that night. He walked in with a woman you were pretty sure was at least ten years younger than him or maybe she had excellent skincare and always used sunscreen. His hand looked perfect on her waist and so did hers on his. He introduced her to you as his girlfriend of the last six months. You’d heard him mention someone but didn’t think it was the same person. Was she the one that had large mood swings? Javier would never admit it but you know he craves a bit of drama. Something you rarely have any of. Dinner was nice at the bar. She seemed nice. Neither of them stopped smiling nearly the entire night.

The only silver lining is that you live on a lower floor than Javier so you don’t hear that. You’d go insane if you heard them doing that. You’ve heard the rumors and have gotten the sense (though given your feelings you could be biased. Highly doubtful,) that most of them are true.

That night you went home by yourself, threw off your dress and flopped across the bed. You weren’t sure if the rain came down first or your tears but you do know that you cried yourself to sleep and woke up cold.

That was last month. Now they’ve been together for seven months.

This week at work you were legitimately busy given that the ambassador you work for has decided to drive drunk and hit a lamppost, damn idiot. Of course he wants to use his diplomatic immunity and the policia would like to make an example out of him. Negotiations are led by you as you represent the embassy. Javier was able to catch you one day, say hello, how are you and ask what you thought of Camilla. Her name is even pretty, like her. She was polite and complimented your dress that night. Nothing bad to say about the woman except she exists or is doing so next to Javi.

You lied right to your friend’s face and told him that you like her, she seemed very sweet, that you three should go out for drinks and that she’s beautiful. The last one wasn’t a lie, she was stunning. The rest of it you’re still unsure how you made it all drop from your mouth so easily. His eyes light up and Javier says something that is as honeyed as it is a stab, “I’m glad you like her. I was worried you might not and then I’d have to wonder if she’s really right for me. You’re the best ángel.” You think you smiled and gave him a hug before going back to dealing with the ambassador issue. It’s a blur. Getting back to your office and stopping yourself from yelling took priority over before getting back on the phone about this drunkard’s problem which is yours.

Finally into the next week, you’ve settled the dispute between the policia and the ambassador. He’s required to pay for the damage and a substantial amount of money to the city of Bogata with a suitable donation to the policía as well. You should have left a few hours ago, but then you might have run into Javier on your way out. You need to steady yourself before seeing him. ‘Just act like I did two months ago. It will be fine.’ That’s what you tell yourself but you know your body will betray you when you see him. You feel the melancholy and longing again.

The gray skies match your mood. Subdued. Drippy. Unsettled. Foreboding. Closing your eyes, you feel them fall against your cheek again, the tears rolling down. Twisting your body to reach for the tissue box you now keep on your desk, you pat your eyes to see Javier Peña in the middle of your office.

“Hey amiga, qué paso? (friend, what’s up?) You’re crying.” It’s kind that he asks, Javier is always kind. Before you can tell him you’re fine, he’s got an arm around you and kisses your forehead. “What’s wrong?” You won’t tell him why, he’s happy and you know he deserves it. Given the small pieces of how he came to be at the embassy. Broad strokes and rumors are what you know. Javier doesn’t talk about his time in Columbia or pursuing the Cali cartel. When it’s mentioned his face hardens, letting people know to change the subject.

“Just a tough day today, that's all Javi. Thanks.” Your head leans against his chest, breathing in his scent. Keeping your hands around the tissue you’d been dabbing your eyes with. A thought you immediately regret enters your mind:

Could she be an angel in disguise and leave him broken on a rainy day such as this? Maybe Javier would be standing out in the rain? Could you take him against your chest like he’s doing with you now?

No. It wouldn’t be the same. Javier is being a sincere friend to you right now. You would have an ulterior motive.

A few more tears fall across your cheeks as a gust of wind blows the rain loudly against your window. Even the sky is scolding you:

Leave that man be, you’re the angel in disguise.

Peeps who want a hug from Javier 😭:

@guelyury @yorksgirl @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @javierpena-inatacvest

@theywhowriteandknowthings @goodwithcheese @maggiemayhemnj @readingiskeepingmegoing @bitchwitch1981

@harriedandharassed @bishtrouille @schnarfer @katw474 @megamindsecretlair

@tinytinymenace @magpiepills @pedroshotwifey

#pedro pascal characters #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena x plus size reader #undercoveraprilshowerschallenge

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moonlarked · 9 months

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when hamlet said “the world is so beautiful and amazing and mankind is incredible when you think about it and everything around me is a work of art and I see it and I understand it within my mind but I can’t feel it on a fundamental level because of everything I’m going through and it means nothing to me and it frustrates me so much” that was a mood

#hamlet #how rare and beautiful it is to even exist

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aesterea · 2 years

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I've been meaning to ask for a while, how did you come up with your tagging system? You seem to have a lot of fitting quotes for a lot of categories and I'm just curious how you came up with that

i've always tagged extensively (and maybe a little obsessively), but using quotes as categories was not really an original idea. i saw other people doing it first, and it seemed like a fun and very pretty way to tag for themes.

it had also pained me for years that a lot of beautiful, poignant ideas would get lost in my "words" or "favorite words" tag (there are literally hundreds of pages of "words" on my old blog, and already over a hundred on this one). i wanted to be able to find the things that really struck me and stuck with me, and i wanted to be able to group ideas together so i could return to them, read through them, and chew on them sometimes. so i started tagging for "love and death" and "love like religion" and "monstrous women," but even those weren't precise enough. so i started using quotes that got at specific things. lines of poetry, pieces of prose, song lyrics that struck any chord that just kept singing inside me (a couple of them are actually my own writing).

also, i have this tendency of reading things and going, "oh, this is reminds me of this other thing!!" so i enjoy drawing those connections and quietly sharing them for anyone who enjoys reading them.

an added bonus is i can use a quote to refer to Something Important To Me that i don't want to mention publicly. also!! i can use them for my friends, and every time i tag something that reminds me of someone, i get to tell them i love them!! (see: "a heart that beats. a voice that speaks the truth" and "i know i have found a friend forevermore" and "love you to the moon and to saturn")

i've lost track of all the ones i use at this point (i have several dozen listed on a doc, but not everything is on there), but i'll list a few of my favorites in the tags of this post! unfortunately, there won't be a whole lot here, since i remade my blog just a little over a year ago. there are a ton on the old account. maybe i'll do something similar for the old one, if anyone is interested in that. it'd be pretty convenient for me, anyway.

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swordheld · 5 months

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hi! your blog is one of my favourites and i absolutely adore reading your thoughts. my grandfather recently passed away and it feels like i lost myself with him. how do i continue living after this? there is this constant weight on my chest and it feels like an emptiness has made a home inside of me. how do i go on when it feels like the world crashed on my shoulders?

hello, love! this is so very sweet and kind of you, and i hope you're treating yourself gently and kindly right now - there aren't words for a loss like this. that heaviness is difficult, and hard, and painful. it's okay if things don't feel okay, right now, or even soon - i think that's something that a lot of the people i know that have gone through similar grief feel: like they should be able to get back to a relative 'normal' in a [insert far too short period of time].

but it's okay if it hurts. that's where i'd like to start. you're allowed to feel that emptiness, that world-crashed feeling that goes beyond words, beyond time. don't feel like you have to rush this to feel some sort of better. things get easier with time, i promise you this, but sometimes painful feelings are important to feel, too. cry, scream, feel your emotions. they're a part of you. grieve.

it's perhaps a little silly, but when i think about death i always think about a couple of space songs: mainly drops of jupiter by train and saturn by sleeping at last. there are perhaps others that speak to the emotions better, but these two have always hit something a little deeper for me, and are popular for a wide-reaching reason.

and while personally i don't know much about grief like this, i do know a lot about love; and i think they're a lot of the same thing.

the people we love are a part of us, and this is why it takes from us so deeply when we lose them, because it does feel like we've lost a part of ourselves in the wake of it. but it's because they were so central to our experiences of living - our lives, that the separation introduces a hollowness - a place where they used to be. a home that now goes unlived in.

an emptiness, like you said.

but just because they're not here physically, doesn't mean he's not still there, in your heart, in your life, your memory. you can hold him close in smaller ways, as well: steal a sweater, or cologne/scent for something a little more physical and long lasting for remembering. hold onto the memories you cherish, the things that made you laugh, the ease of slow mornings and gentle nights. write them all down, slide a few photographs in there, go through it and add more when you miss him. keep them all close, keep them in your heart.

you're not alone, in this. he's still there, with you, it's just - in the little things.

he's with you in the way you see and go about your daily life, in doing what he liked to do, in the ways he interacted with the world that you shared with him. the memories you recall fondly when the night is late or the moment is right and something calls it into you like a melody, an old bell, laughter you'd recognize anywhere.

but i think, perhaps most importantly above all others - talk about him. with your family, your friends, his friends, strangers; stories are how we keep the people we love alive. the connections they've made, the legacies and experiences they've left behind, and so, so many stories.

how lucky, we are - to love so much it takes a piece of us when they go. grief is the other side of the coin, but it does not mean our love goes away. it lives in you. it lives in everyone who knew him, in the smallest pieces of our lives.

the people we love never really leave us, like this: they're in how we cook and the way we fold our newspapers, our laundry, in the radio stations we tune in to and the way we decorate our walls, our photo albums. they're in the way we store our mail, organize our closets, the scribbled notes in the indexes of our books. the meals we love and the drinks we mix, the way we spend time with one another. they've been passed down for generations, for longer than history - and we are all the luckier for it.

think about what you shared with him, and do it intentionally. bring him into your life, like this, again. whether it's crosswords or poetry or sports or anything else. if one doesn't help, try another. something might click.

i hope things feel a little easier for you, as they tend to do only with time. i hope you find joy in your grief, even if it is small and hard to grasp at first. know that your hurt stems from so much love that there isn't a place to put it properly, and that it is something so meaningful and hurting poets and storytellers have been struggling to put it into words and sounds that feel like the fit right for eons, and that it is also just simply yours. sometimes things don't have to make sense. sometimes they just are - unable to be put into words or neat little sentiments, as unfair and tragic as they come.

but i promise it will not feel like this forever. your love is real. and perhaps, on where to begin on from here - i think it's less on finding where to begin and just beginning. and you've already started. you've taken the most important and crucial step: the first one. wherever you go, after that, from here? you'll figure it out. you always have, and you always do. it'll come, as things always do. love leads us, as does light - and you're never alone in your hurt. in your grief, your missing something dear to you. i think if you talk about it with others, you'll find they have ways of helping you cope as well - and they have so much love of their own to spare, too.

as an aside, here is the song (northern star by dom fera) i was listening to when i wrote this, for no other reason more than it makes me think of connections, and love, and how we hold onto the people we love and how they change us, wonderfully and intrinsically. it's a little more joyous than the others i've mentioned, and plays like a story, and it made me think of what is at the core of this, love and stories and i am here with you, and maybe it'll bring you some joy, if you'd like it. wishing you all my love and ease 💛

#q&a.#birdsong.#wishing u gentle ease; the death of a loved one is near inexplicable to put into words and i hope you take care of yourself gently <3 #i hope this will make u laugh: when i was a tiny child in middle school there were times i would go outside in my tiny suburban cul de sac-#in the rain and sing along to my lil ipod nano and i only remember doing this to drops of jupiter. can you imagine going out to get the mai #after a long day of work and you just hear this kid singing train in the streets. in the RAIN.... it makes me laugh like i really.#i really thought i was so cool and deep and emotional ghjkd but i find it v funny that i only remember it w/ that one train track.#and saturn just. it's my fav s.a.l. song for a reason. that slow violin opening? the piano coming in gentle and easy?#it feels like light. like hope. like something new - a dawn after the long dark. that beautiful things can begin again even where #it hurts. and there is nothing more human than a sentiment like that.#how rare and beautiful it is to truly exist. what it is to be alive and get to be here and live with other people. with those we love.#i think your grandfather was so lucky to be able to know you. to have you in his life for the time you had together.#i'm no spiritual person; but i like to believe when you're thinking about him? he's thinking about you too.#the second law of thermodynamics (physics nerd mode) is that no energy has ever been created/destroyed since the beginning of the universe.#so it has to go somewhere - it's that carl sagan quote of 'we're all made of stardust'. because we are. we used to be stars; planets; etc.#i think it's why i think of these space songs - because they're a part of everything; once more; when they go. us and everything else.

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luxlightly · 25 days

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I'd been thinking, a few days ago, somewhat fittingly, about the concept of things "mattering", especially within the context of the game Ultrakill but also in the broader sense. Specifically the question of "does something matter if it is doomed to end? How can something be significant if it is inherently finite and, at the scale of the universe, incredibly fleeting?"

I was thinking about the layers at which we can consider things "mattering". At the cosmic, consequential, and personal/emotional.

Does it matter that Gabriel realizes what he feels is passion and for the first time finds a tiny bit of true happiness if he's about to die for it? Does it matter that humanity ended the war and restored the planet if it was all going to be destroyed anyway? Does it matter that the people of Lust turned the layer into a paradise if Gabriel destroyed it so violently after such little time?

On a cosmic scale, the answer is always "no". Nothing can "matter" at the scale of infinity. At a practical level, it's also "no". Gabriel will still die, humanity was still destroyed and the Earth burned, Lust was cast back into perdition. None of what they did or felt would change those outcomes.

But on a personal and emotional level, did it matter?

Of course it did.

It mattered because, however briefly, there existed a joy,a love, and a hope that otherwise would not have. For those moments, however fleeting, the universe was better for it.

People and things come in and out of our lives. Things end. Things die. And when we lose them it's hard to see past that pain. Past the unfairness of how love so strong can just be taken away, and often so quickly.

But, for the time it was there, there was love.

Beautifully, impossibly, in the face of an unimaginably immense and expanding universe of almost entirely empty space, every incalculably improbable and rare occurance came together in a single point to allow a brief moment where there was love.

And of course that mattered.

#ultrakill #how rare and beautiful it truly is to even exist #how impossibly unlikely that we should have existed together #and that our paths should have intertwined #despite everything #there was love

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meetmeafftcrdark · 5 months

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☽. TRAMA

Era imposible no sentir temor en una situación como aquella. Pandora no era usualmente temerosa y, sin embargo, sentía el corazón palpitar en sus oídos, escondida detrás una estantería sin hacer sonido alguno. Pero a pesar de eso, no podía sentir un poco de... ¿curiosidad? ¿Cómo lo habían logrado, frente a las narices de todo el mundo? Evitando hacer ruido, la bruja que aún se encontraba atareada en su disfraz de demiguise ( irónico, un criatura que tiene el poder de hacerse invisible aunque ella no tenía cómo ), asomó la cabeza por un espacio, buscando ver algo, alguien.

#☽. 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 – how rare and beautiful it is to even exist / starter.#startergolden #asíes volví con otro starter al mismo tiempo porque yolo

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undefeatablesin · 10 months

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born too late to explore the world, born too soon to explore the space... born just in time to read the gay bloodborne fic from that one lady who does amazing art on tumblr

And here I am, somehow born at just the right time to make the acquaintance of such lovely and likeminded people, who all enjoy gay content of the beloved modern classic that is Bloodborne (2015) for the PS4 💖

But omg thank you so much for this lil message though 🥺 it really does make me so happy to see people enjoy what I make here. I say it all the time I know but its TRUE and I am GRATEFUL!!! I feel very lucky to have all of you here with me on my gay adventures lmao so I hope you enjoy that fic just as much when it arrives soon! Bless you... ✨️

#sinbox #(it aint much but its honest work!!!)#(i see you a lot in my notifs youre one of my most regular visitors and i am rly glad to have u!!! thank u for always engaging omg)#(in the words of sleeping at last. how rare and beautiful it is to even exist.)#(and we somehow all exist at the same time to enjoy bloodborne lesbians together LOL)#(NO BETTER TIME IF U ASK ME YALL)

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archoniic · 10 months

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@yuelun // you have nobody but yourself to blame for this actually. the rite of parting. final goodbyes, letting go & forgiveness. inspired by : this version of lovers oath.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄; while many in Liyue were saying goodbye to their Archon and wondering what the future would hold for them without Rex Lapis. Zhongli was saying goodbye to his past. While sad for many of the residents, perhaps some were even a little fearful. For him, it was bittersweet. A chapter in his story finally coming to a close. Perhaps it had been long overdue, for how long had he held on to his past, clutched tightly within the palms of his hand. So tightly, he barely lived in the present. The people had long since proven to him that they were fine on their own; they no longer needed him to hold their hand or guide them. But what of him? Holding on the way he had done; living within a memory -- he missed so many things in the here and now. It was time to truly let go. While the thought had his heart ache in ways he could not even begin to put into words, it felt right. As though now was the time he'd been waiting for all those thousands of years.

Perhaps this was where it was all supposed to end. There was a smile upon his face, Goodbyes are never truly forever, after all. It simply marks the end of one journey; making way for the beginning of another. Had she not once said that to him? Many years ago? Her voice still as fresh in his memory now, as it was back then. Her laughter echoing in his ears as he allowed himself to recall memories he usually pushed further back in his mind. Remembering a time he knew little of mortal emotions; a laugh escaped him. Causing one of the residents of Liyue to glance to him almost scornfully. "Apologies." Eyes drawn to the glaze lilies, amazed they lingered; though now scattered across the land and far more sparse than they had been.

Memories of banquets held, laughter shared; debates had. A time where things had been both much simpler, and yet entirely more complicated. Morax had to learn to navigate the ways of the mortals to truly understand them, to become the Archon they needed and the one they deserved. With her help and guidance, he had done just that. Leading their people into a prosperous future, never once forgetting any of the things that she had taught him. And neither will they. Though our names may fade from their memories in the future; this land has become what it is, in part; thanks to you, Guizhong. I hope that you would be happy with all they have achieved.

A final look to where the lilies lay, the smell of the incense in the air; not known to many, but so hauntingly familiar to him. He was at peace with his decision, more than. Zhongli had no regrets in laying his past to rest, no regrets on finally ending the chapter that had prevailed for much too long. She could rest now, as could he.

Movement caught his eye from atop a cliff; her figure there, looking down over Liyue, over them, over him. Another smile would tug at his lips, how perfectly I recall you, even now. He thought, simply a memory; one he'd had many times over the years. How befitting that she should appear to him like that on this day of all days. Thank you, Guizhong. He would remain looking at that cliff edge for a while, not daring to look away in case she would disappear. But in the goodbye, in forgiving himself, he knew he had to.

One day our paths will cross once more... until then...

And he turned away, walking slowly through the crowd and making his way out of the harbour. He would not look back, after all; that was not the point of a goodbye. No, instead; he would simply look ahead. For he had all the time in the world now to see new things, new places; experience things he had yet to experience.

And when that time came that they would be reunited; oh, how many new stories would he have to share?

I will live this life for us both.

#yuelun #↱ guili ↲ with shortness of breath i’ll try to explain the infinite - how rare and beautiful it is to even exist . / 𝐃𝐘𝐍 : yuelun #↱ IC ↲ Rather than taking a rest – you instead come to me? Is it that you want to hear one of my stories? / 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄 #you asked for this yourself #you put the idea in my head #you gave me the song to listen to and it insPIREd feelings in my very soul #you: but how did /he/ feel at the rite of parting?#me: ... why? why would you do this?#SO HERE #have this #and dont come for my neck... this is on YoU #>.>

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adventures-written · 11 months

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Something just seemed to take him over and the blonde had lost control of his body. Vash boldly wraps her close in his jacket, holding her there makes him flush but his eyes say many different things. He leans in and places a soft kiss between her ear and jaw.

She felt warmth rush to her face, her cheeks tinting a soft pink as Vash wrapped her up in his jacket. It was an unexpected reaction, but she wasn't against it at all. She opened her mouth, about to tell him that she was ok. She wasn't cold or anything, but what came out was a soft gasp as the Independent placed a soft kiss just below her ear.

It sent a shiver rushing through her, and she felt her face warm further. She leaned back against him further, not finding anymore complaints to be had. This was ok.

#muse;; and how rare and beautiful it is to even exist (meryl stryfe)#v;; journalistic integrity (main; meryl stryfe)#geraniumshurricane #vashmeryl #ask;; and you shall receive #They're so fricken cute

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francesderwent · 1 year

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...let us turn again to the mother, and to the meal she prepares for her family. Notice that we always refer spontaneously and warmly to a 'home-cooked' meal, or again, to a dish prepared the way Grandma used to prepare it. Even restaurants characteristically advertise their food in this way: never do they recommend themselves on the grounds that the food they serve is store-packaged and mechanically prepared. What is the difference that is implicitly recognized here?

An obvious answer is that the mother prepares her family's food with love. But, however true, such an answer remains both vague and question-begging. For it could mean that love adds an intention and otherwise leaves the dinner unchanged in its intrinsic nature or order. But that is just the view I am challenging. My proposal, in other words, is that the love of the mother affects the dinner precisely in its reality as food. A mother builds into the food a distinctive sense of time, space, matter, and motion. She takes time, and she knows that taking time, however burdensome, is necessary for care and attention to detail. She measures with a sense of proportion, but not mechanically and not without some sense of 'extravagance.' She keeps in mind all along the way the health needs and peculiar tastes of these particular familial others--especially the infirm and most helpless--for whom she is making the meal. She prepares and presents the food with a sense of its aesthetics. And so on.

The mother's love, in brief, is not merely a matter of an intention remaining external to the food. On the contrary, her love takes form in the food, such that the food itself now takes on the form of love--somewhat in the way that John Paul II says that the human body is and must becomes 'nuptial': that the body as body, the body in its very structure and physicality, expresses and is meant to express love for another.

To take another example, consider the difference between Mother Teresa and a nurse performing her duties primarily for the sake of making money. Both provide health care, but we spontaneously recognize the difference in the way in which the care is ordered. Some of this difference is quantitative in nature: Mother Teresa would certainly do more things for the patient. But the point to which I am drawing attention bears intrinsically on the manner or order of the discrete acts of care themselves. Mother Teresa's very manner of touching the patient, of looking at the patient, of dressing the patient, of arranging the bedding of the patient are all different. The difference is similar to the difference in the case of the mother's home-cooked meal: all of these acts by Mother Teresa are changed in their very form as health- and care-giving acts. Anyone who has spent time in a contemporary hospital knows intuitively the difference to which I am referring here, however much he or she might not be able to articulate with precision the nature of that difference.

Before attempting myself to characterize that difference, let us consider a third case. Adam Smith has famously asserted that we really do not need to appeal to the beneficence or generosity of the baker if we want good bread. On the contrary, we need merely to appeal to the baker's own self-interest: to point out to him that making good bread is the best way to ensure that he makes a profit. In light of the previous two examples, however, we are able to see that a generous way of making and selling bread will be different in its nature and order from a primarily profit-motivated way of making and selling....The baker, on the reading recommended by Smith, wants his bread-making to embody the qualities of good bread and bread-making not for their own sake, but only insofar as embodying these qualities is necessary for and promotes his profit-making....The baker who works for the sake of love--however much he may or may not conceive of what he is doing explicitly in theoretical terms--approaches the making of bread, the bread made, the other for whom the bread is made, and indeed himself as invested in the process and the thing, as gift. He makes the bread--which is to say, he gratefully gives himself over to the making of the bread--simultaneously for its own sake and for the sake of another.

....The simple but crucial point I wish to make here, then, is that an economy of love deepens the reality, which is to say, enhances the worth, of everything and everyone involved in the production and exchange of goods: self, thing, and other....the self and things now become deeper and 'better' in their very reality as self and things. Things: because and insofar as the baker bakes the bread for its own sake and not simply as instrument. And the self for the same reason: in acting for the enhancement of the bread as such and of the other as such, he thereby transforms his own self into the gift that he himself was created to be."

--David L. Schindler, from "'Homelessness' and Market Liberalism: Toward an Economic Culture of Gift and Gratitude"

#with shortness of breath you explain the infinite how rare and beautiful it is to even exist

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