and you cry because you still care

The Signs As Things I Hate About Life

Aries: When you feel like you’ve achieved nothing in your life.
Taurus: When you become so stressed out that you feel like you want to scream and cry at the same time.
Gemini: When you lose a really close friend and you have no idea how so you just rack your brain trying to figure put where you screwed up; even if it wasn’t your fault.
Cancer: When you blame yourself for everything and feel as if you’re a terrible person.
Leo: When you feel like no one listens to you or cares about you.
Virgo: When your heart gets broken over and over again.
Libra: When someone takes advantage of you, yet you still stay their friend because you don’t want to be alone. 
Scorpio: When you worry about being forgotten by everyone you know/knew.
Sagittarius: When you’re happy for a long period of time, but then you just become sad for no apparent reason.
Capricorn: When you feel like life is no longer a blessing, but now a curse.
Aquarius: When you lock yourself away and begin to normalize it.
Pisces: Feeling alone, even when you’re not alone.

Body Positivity; Yuta

Request: Hello ^_^. So I wanted to request Yuta for the body positivity thing. I actually loved the one from winwin and eventually started crying. I’m not very positive about my body and these make me feel better so yeah.. thank you :3💕

  • ahh im glad this series is still getting requests
  • and mostly im glad that they’re able to make yall feel better about yourselves
  • reminder that i love you all and you all are wonderful the way you are
  • check out my masterlist for the other body positivity posts for winwin, jaehyun, ten, johnny, hansol & mark!
  • time for this mountain man
  • let’s go

  • feeling insecure??

  • not under yuta’s care
  • because this man would love EVERY single part of your body and features
  • and he’s not hesitant at all to show it to you through his actions
  • and words
  • he wants to make sure you see how beautiful you are in his eyes,
  • and it hurts him to know that you think otherwise
  • his hands!!
  • are always on you,
  • like literally, a l w a y s
  • one moment his running his hands down your waist and hips
  • then wrapping his arms around you
  • combing your hair
  • caressing your cheeks & back
  • he loves to show you that he’s in love with you!!
  • but when days get a little tougher and you feel even more worst
  • fret not, he’ll give you the sweetest compliments ever
  • this guy is good at his words
  • and they never fail to make you blush and feel better
  • “too bad you cant see how beautiful you are, every single day i see you but i still get stunned by your beauty, how is that possible?”
  • “i never say this but, you’re way too gorgeous for me to handle, even someone as goodlooking as myself cant handle it, dont you see how beautiful you are?”
  • “i’ll do anything to make you happy and im here to assure you that there’s nothing wrong, trust me”
  • then he flashes you that big smile of his
  • and pecks you on the lips
  • then cheeks
  • then down to your neck
  • he kisses you everywhere
  • because once again, he wants you to know he’s sincere in saying all that and that he means it
  • he loves you so much he brags about you A LOT
  • isn’t afraid to show you off to the public
  • probably has his hands wrapped tightly around you and would have a big grin on his face
  • “my baby’s looking good like always”
  • “isn’t my girlfriend pretty?”
  • “ahhh how cute random kiss
  • and to the members,
  • he blushes every time they mention about you
  • and he gets all excited because he loves you that much
  • can you believe, he gets even more excited than when he sees winwin
  • would post pictures of you online
  • with captions;:
  • “my heart cant take this amount of gorgeousness”
  • “what did i do to deserve such a queen”
  • and he also loves posting pictures of both of you, mainly him holding you in his arms
  • “if only i could give her everything in this world, she deserves it”
  • “every single time i look into her eyes i still get lost”
  • wakes you up every morning with his his sweet words
  • loves calling you his queen, baby, princess & babe
  • he’s just so in love with you anyone could see that
  • he wants you to be happy, not just with him but with yourself and how you look
  • so he’s always consistently putting in effort to prove that to you
  • he doesnt care about what others think of you or the both of you
  • what matters most is that you’re contented with yourself and your body
  • and he’d be the happiest man alive!!
  • the sweetest man loves you

Originally posted by ebaru

can we take a moment to just think about how incredibly scary magical healing is in-context?

You get your insides ripped open but your friend waves his hands and your flesh just pulls back together, agony and evisceration pulling back to a ‘kinda hurts’ level of pain and you’re physically whole, with the 100% expectation that you’ll get back up and keep fighting whatever it was that struck you down the first time.

You break your arm after falling somewhere and after you’re healed instead of looking for ‘another way around’ everybody just looks at you and goes “okay try again”.

You’ve been fighting for hours, you’re hungry, thirsty, bleeding, crying from exhaustion, and a hand-wave happens and only two of those things go away. you’re still hungry, you’re still weak from thirst, but the handwave means you have ‘no excuse’ to stop.

You act out aggressively maybe punch a wall or gnash your teeth or hit your head on something and it’s hand-waved because it’s ‘such a small injury you probably can’t even feel it anymore’ but the point was that you felt it at all?

Your pain literally means nothing because as long as you’re not bleeding you’re not injured, right? Here drink this potion and who cares about the emotional exhaustion of that butchered village, why are you so reserved in camp don’t you think it’s fun retelling that time you fell through a burning building and with a hand-wave you got back up again and ran out with those two kids and their dog? 

Older warriors who get a shiver around magic-users not because of the whole ‘fireball’ thing but the ‘I don’t know what a normal pain tolerance is anymore’ effect of too much healing. Permanent paralysis and loss of sensation in limbs is pretty much a given in the later years of any fighter’s life. Did I have a stroke or did the mage just heal too hard and now this side of my face doesn’t work? No i’m not dead from the dragon’s claws but I can’t even bend my torso anymore because of how the scar tissue grew out of me like a vine.

Magical healing is great and keeps casualties down.

But man.

That stuff is scary.

your father was an inventor. you knew better than to trust him in the center of town. he came home with scrap metal and built ships to glide on the grass. when you were young, you loved him for making. for a brief five years, you hated him, embarrassed of the town loon, embarrassed of what raised you.

but time shifts things. the man in town wants to marry you. a beautiful man by every account, and you hear many accounts. your nose in books doesn’t stop the stories of him: Gaston, bright, young, proud. Gaston, who could hunt and carve and flex his muscles. who forgot even himself what was true and what was fiction. it is a small village in paris, at the base of a kingdom. he is the bachelor you should have your heart set on. 

you try to teach yourself to love him. he grins at you over beer mugs. never reads the books you suggest to him, drops one in the mud. and one night you hear him, drunk and singing, laughing with the others about your father, the crazy.

that night your father brings you a single white rose from a garden. you kiss your father and think of Gaston’s log cabin, where you could live in comfort.

they come for your father in the night. he is the property of the prince, on account of theft. his hands should be cut off and sewn to the walls of his house, to remind him of his failures. an inventor without hands is a death sentence. they come with fire and hatred. rip you out of bed. your knees hit the mud. you’re too small to fight them. they tear your father away from you, and your heart out of your chest.

you run to gaston. tall, fast, manly. you beg him. it’s a mistake, you cry, you must help - you gulp - and then we will marry. 

gaston laughs and slams oak door against nose. you stumble back, feeling like a knife is in your throat. you take the wagon horse and ride improper, legs spread and bent forward, none of the lady your mother would have wanted. you ride for the life of your father.

at the door of the castle you stop. it is raining. you shout and rave and beg anything. take me, you scream, if you’re listening i’ll do anything. what do you promise on that doorstep, crying yourself empty? what do you promise to keep him alive, to keep him whole, to keep him healthy?

the door opens late. no one is there. you remember, suddenly, the tale of the beast who lives here, who ate the prince, who is terrifying. you think you hear your father and suddenly you are running, following his voice down dark hallways with no ending. 

he is in a cell. his head is bleeding. you feel your breath hitch. 

“will you?” a voice says, “will you trade yourself for your father, take responsibility for his sin?”

“he’s innocent,” you snarl, “you animals.”

“the rose, belle,” he whispers, and you stare at him. a white rose that is wilting beside your bedside would have been the death of him.

“take me,” you say, somehow empty and full at the same time, “if that’s what you need.”

the first night is ugly. you spend it crying. 

over time, the castle learns you, and you learn it. you think you are imagining the talking furniture for most of it. invisible hands whisk food in and out, bring you ball gowns and petticoats and delicate flowers. 

and always, the beast. at first, you were terrified of it. always in the shadows. moving like a ghost, prowling. tall, slim. menacing. never showing any skin, any proof it might be human.

but time and comfort destroy fears. you don’t run when it is in the room, you no longer shield your face in fear. it wears a mask, and this is how you know it really must be beastly. 

it is the second winter when you, playing snowball fights with the statues - you manage to hit the beast in the face. you freeze, and the panic from the day they took your father returns in a firework.

but then the beast is throwing back. and you are laughing. the next morning it is at breakfast with you, and lunch. it comes and goes, and never speaks. laughs, sometimes, you think. talks with its hands. the furniture translates. you learn, because you are good at learning. the hands that mean can i come in? the hands that mean are you hungry? the hands that mean is it okay if i read next to you, here this book is good, i found this for you.

each morning you wake up with white roses by your bedside. you learn to talk a little louder than you’re used to, to move your own hands in a way that acknowledges the beast. it is strange that you were a quiet girl and now you are comfortable shouting. the two of you have your own language, together. it teaches you swordfighting, you teach it dancing. it teaches you archery and you teach it cooking. you walk through the gardens together. there are moments where your hands touch and for some reason you blush like it was kissing. you’ve never had someone who understands you so completely. sometimes you tell it about far-away stories. sometimes you tell it about your village. and sometimes, when you are raw, you tell it about gaston and the marriage you didn’t want and your father and his insanity

one of these nights the beast brings you the mirror. you cry when you see your father. and the beast is pulling you, running, picking out a horse from the stables, gesturing. go, go. you cry when you leave.

you save your father. tell him you’ll bring him back to the beast. do you talk too loud? is gaston only mad you never belonged to him? when the raid starts, you are still taking care of your father. outside, voices, ringing. kill the beast. you think of hands, dancing in the air to speak, and you think you have never heard something so ugly. you’re ashamed to be this species.

you ride in their wake, your father safe. you ride that same panicked race as three years ago to the day. 

you fight, because the beast taught you how. the castle fights, because it is protecting its life. and the beast - you watch the flash of a blade, careful not to kill - the ability you once mistook for savagery. 

it isn’t enough. gaston, and a gun. the three of you stand on the balcony, you in between. again you are begging this man, who means nothing. “leave the beast,” you say, “take me.”

“i’ll have both,” he says, and shoots. you feel the bullet streak by you. the beast is all movement, has pushed you out of the way. they grapple, and you scream when the beast falls, skittering. gaston marches over and you move without thinking. he falls into the night silently. 

you can’t get there quick enough. you gather the beast into your lap, begging be okay. at the mask, you whisper something, and then say it again with your hands. i love you, you say. you were the best thing to happen to me.

the mask slips. a voice says, “belle,” and you are hit with the full force of something that feels like music. you can’t breathe. 

the girl beneath the mask is beautiful. her blonde hair spills across your legs. she touches your face and her hands say i’m okay, and you’re laughing. you kiss her and roses open up in you. 

“i thought you were a beast,” you say with hands and lips a hair above hers, “and here you are, the beauty.”

she smiles sheepishly. it is hard when you are like me. 

your are sobbing. you kiss her again, because you can, because she’s here and perfect and the answer to questions you didn’t know you had been asking. 

her hands, curious, worried, search for your wet cheeks. i’m okay, really, belle. you saved me.

funny, your hands dance, i was about to say the same thing.

Last Love:

Four long years, but here I am writing yet again another confession about you. It’s still you anyway. Whenever I hear a song or gone to places that we just used to tell each other, it brings back all the memories of you. Everything feels like yesterday.

I almost died when you left. The pain still lingers on and everyday I would wake up praying to God to help me recover. And it helps because there are times when I don’t think of you anymore. But you know it’s never a one-night process, up to this day I’m still picking up the pieces of myself that was shattered when you walked away.

The saddest part of it all, no one ever knew how I feel. They thought I moved on easily when in reality I still cry myself at night. It’s hard whenever they joke around me about what happened to us and I just shrugged it off like I don’ care, but the truth is, it still breaks my heart.

I have proven it myself that time doesn’t really heal all wounds, it would always be a choice. No matter how long the process will be, I surrender it everything to God.

I know you have someone else right now and even if it hurts (without any bitterness) I’m at peace knowing you’ve found a reason to be happy because you deserve it.

epiphany | jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook + Reader 

Genre: Fluff + college au 

Word Count: 3.6k 

Part: | 1 | 2 |  

Summary: You hated his guts, especially after he ruined your chance at getting a good grade in one of your toughest classes. But why did your heart beat a little faster every time you saw him? And why did he feel the same way?

Reader’s POV

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to give you a failing grade, Y/N…” Mr.Ransford frowned,“ You should’ve saved your work somewhere separately you know?”

You gaped at him in complete shock, as everything came crashing down on you.

“B-but you don’t understand! It wasn’t my fault-” you stammered, your hands flailing around in a frenzy as you attempted to explain your dire situation to your psychology professor.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I’m afraid we can’t discuss this right now, I have a class in 2 minutes. We’ll talk later, hm?” he said as you sighed, your shoulders slumping in utter defeat.

He patted your shoulders in sympathy as you walked out of the door, tears welling up in your eyes as you thought of all your hard work that was now flushed down the drain. All because of one boy.

That damn Jeon Jungkook.

—-

“YAH!” you yelled, raging, as you approached the boys, a deadly glare in your eyes as you grabbed Jungkook by the collar of his tshirt. Pulling him up from the bleachers where him and the rest of his friends were sitting, all of them gasped, mouths going agape as they witnessed their golden maknae get manhandled by you.

“Y/N~What a pleasure,” Jungkook said, giving you a lazy smirk.

Your blood boiled at the audacity the boy had, to address you in such a way, after he had destroyed your chance at a good grade- heck a good year of college. Without thinking first, you lifted your hand and slapped him across the face, the contact shooting vibrations of pain down your arm as the noise echoed in the air. Immediate silence followed, everyone looking at the two of you with rounded eyes as Jungkook himself, was in shock.

You stood there, your chest rising up and down, breathing heavy as you glowered at him. His hands flew to his cheek as he let out a stream of curse words, his gaze landing on yours, fire kindling in his eyes as he reddened in embarrassment.

Keep reading

Comfort Sentence Starters, Part II

“Hey, it’s all right. Everybody argues sometimes.”
“Just because you didn’t agree doesn’t mean it’s over.”
“The fact that you fought means s/he cares enough to want to change your opinion.”
“Come on, you know that doesn’t really matter to her/him.”
“No, don’t say that. You’re going to be okay.”
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you.”
“It isn’t anyone’s fault. Sometimes love just changes.”
“You gave it your best shot, that’s all anyone could ask of you.”
“I’m here and I love you.”
“ I don’t care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you.”
“Love is never a waste and you know that.”
“We don’t have to talk about it right now, but I’m here if/when you want to.”
“Just because it happened once doesn’t mean it’ll happen again.”
“You are beautiful and capable and strong. You’ll overcome this.”
“I’m sorry you’re hurting so much.”
“You’re not alone in this. I’m here for you.”
“You are important and you matter.”
“When all this is over, I’ll still be here and so will you.”
“I can’t really understand what you are feeling, but I can offer my compassion.”
“You won’t drive me away. I’m not going to leave you or abandon you.”

Show Me.

Show me where the casting call said they were looking for a Latina actress to play Maggie Sawyer. OH, you can’t? I figured. But what DO we know about the casting call/process for Maggie? Oh… only that the minute Chyler saw her she knew she was Maggie Sawyer. THAT IS LITERALLY ALL WE KNOW. We do not know if they were looking for a Latina…and nothing else… zilch…nada. (also how is it white washing when comic Maggie Sawyer is literally a damn white woman with blonde hair?)

ALL we have to go on is Kreisberg’s ass saying Maggie would be Latina. But that was ONE time, after Maggie was already casted. And they quickly changed it when they probably figured out she is not latina. Chances are high that He just assumed Flo was Latina. (just LIKE EVERYONE ELSE). But that does NOT mean she specifically went out to get cast knowing they were looking for a Latina. The same goes for her previous rolls that people are saying she “stole”. We have absolutely NO PROOF that she knows shows look for Latina actors and that she goes out to fake being latina and take the rolls. Stop vilifying someone when you don’t know the full story. 

This fandom is so, so, so VERY ugly. I cannot stand it. Saying things like, “Floriana should choke and die” is not right at all and you should be ashamed for saying something like that. If you still don’t care how Flo feels, how would Chyler like you saying something like that? Because I know you all worship the ground she walks on. You all do not deserve Chyler or Flo. And one day, they are not going to be active in this fandom (Jeremy is already taking a break) because all you people do is bitch, cry, talk shit and complain about literally everything when you don’t even have all of the facts, just jump straight to conclusions. 

Be adults. Take a step back. Relax. Enjoy Sanvers. Enjoy how well the actresses treat us and how involved they are. You may not agree with someones personal life, but that’s just it. It isTHEIR personal life. People are always going to do things you disagree with. Family, friends, what have you. Learn to accept it and move on

Top 10 moments when ACOMAF shattered my heart in the best way possible

Okay, now that I’ve spent my whole week just living and breathing about ACOMAF… re-reading ACOMAF… and just thinking about it obsessively and telling ALL my friends about it… I feel like now it is a good time to post this. I’m going to post my top 10 moments in ACOMAF where MY HEART BROKE. And I hope you guys can agree–because this fandom is one soul, and we ride and die together.  

10. When Feyre comforts Rhysand after waking him up from his nightmare.

Like first of all, OW. It just breaks my heart over and over to think about what Amarantha did to Rhys, and what scars it left behind. 

But… what broke my heart more was this:

“But–but how many nights had I wanted someone to do the same for me?” 

AND I’M JUST LIKE FEYRE SUFFERED ALONE IN THE SPRING COURT 

Because some stupid High Lord of the Spring Court just pretended to be asleep whenever she vomited her guts out, and pretended everything was all fine and dandy. You claim to love her, and yet, you let this happen. tamlin u shit bag

9. Lucien and Feyre reunion after Feyre goes to the Night Court. 

You gave up on me.” 

Look, guys, I know Lucien is not a bad person. Deep down, he is a good, troubled person who has a lot of his own scars, and I know that he does consider Feyre to be his friend and he does care about her. But he also chooses to yield to Tamlin at the end of everything. He does fight for her, but he doesn’t fight enough against Tamlin. Now, this could be because Tamlin does instill a lot of fear in Lucien–which, if it’s true, it is not a healthy friendship, even if Tam is Lucien’s High Lord. But it makes me wonder, you know. Where is our fiery Lucien, who once spat at Tamlin’s feet? I really do hope that Elain will help him change for the better. Or that he comes to this realization from himself. Man, I love Lucien, but he’s going to have to do a lot more to redeem himself. 

Because, see, even Rhys thinks that Lucien would’ve stepped in.

And this breaks Feyre’s heart, that her friend wouldn’t do this for her. And she would’ve fought for Lucien until the end, no doubt about. 

“I thought so, too” HA HA HA LET ME LIE IN MY OWN PUDDLE OF TEARS

8. The scars that remain with Rhys because of Amarantha. 

The next scene that broke my heart happens during the sexytimes between Feyre and Rhys.

Okay, just re-reading this scene is making me really emotional. So I don’t know if I’m going to be coherent enough to say this. But like, guys. I think this scene is important–and heartbreaking at the same time–because it’s a moment where Rhysand’s scars are acknowledged. Again, it is so rare in YA fiction to see a male character who has been sexually abused, and Sarah explores the scars that remain within Rhysand. And it’s also important because he’s also able to overcome these scars, and find happiness even after the darkest of times.

7. How Rhysand is treated in Velaris vs. Under the Mountain

Okay, so I like how 8 and 7 relate to each other. 

What struck me about this scene was: “no one whispered about him or spat on him or stroked him as they had Under the Mountain”

What really breaks my heart here is that it’s not just Amarantha that violated Rhys. Others did it too, because Amarantha did it, because Rhys was Amarantha’s whore, and therefore, her property. 

And this makes me really sick to my stomach. And it breaks my heart. fuck

6. Feyre realizing how sad she is at the Spring Court before her wedding. 

THIS PHYSICALLY HURTS

my poor baby Feyre 

I spent a good portion of time during the beginning of the novel wanting to wrap her in a warm blanket, hug her, and tell her it’s okay. 

And Tamlin, CAPTAIN OBLIVIOUS, is able to laugh freely. I’m gonna fight him

Even Rhys in Chapter 11 goes: “Months and months, and you’re still a ghost. Does no one there ask what the hell is happening? Does your High Lord simply not care?” (Shall we count this as like an honourable mention moment for when my heart broke into a million pieces… again) 

ha ha ha ha let me DIE my heart can’t take this 

5. Rhysand asks Feyre about her birthday. 

This isn’t a sad scene, but it still moved me and broke my heart because you can obviously tell how much Rhys loves Feyre.

FEYRE’S BIRTHDAY IS THE WINTER SOLSTICE

THE LONGEST NIGHT OF THE YEAR 

“YOU WERE TRULY BORN ON THE WINTER SOLSTICE?” 

YES RHYS MY SMOL SON YOUR MATE WAS BORN ON THE LONGEST NIGHT OF THE YEAR YES YOU TRULY BELONG TOGETHER

But also, like. Rhys seems genuinely sad that Feyre did not celebrate her birthday. Do I foresee belated birthday gift/party in ACOTAR 3? Because yes I will sell my soul for this 

4. Feyre walking away from Rhysand after learning about the mating bond

Okay, no, I totally understand why Feyre is angry enough that she wants some time alone away from Rhysand once she learns from the Suriel that they’re mates. I’ve seen people hating on her for it… but c’mon. Really? You don’t think you’d be angry? Angry enough to walk away? I mean I’d want my own space to think too

But yeah it still broke my heart because Rhysand just calls after her… injured and weakened… ahaha…..ha…. why…

Now we’re rolling into the final 3… and honestly, these broke my heart the most and made me cry. I still want to weep when I think about them. 

3. Rhysand noticing Feyre’s weight loss 

He cares so much about her. *UGLY WAILING* *falls to the floor*

And he makes sure she eats properly. And wants to have breakfast with her. 

RHYSAND YOU PRECIOUS SOUL

cue ugly sobbing, with the snot and everything 

rhysand calling tam out on his shitty behaviour

2. Cassian and Feyre training 

This is still one of my favourite scenes, and I … just. The whole scene leading up to it is an emotional roller coaster–Cassian saying that he’s there for Feyre if she wants to talk about leaving the Spring Court, the whole “I’m fine” thing, and how Feyre just realizes she did everything for Tamlin… and he just…. left her to suffer alone.

He’s ready to take the blow. 

CASSIAN WOULD TAKE THE BLOW. 

BECAUSE HE CARES ABOUT FEYRE AND WANTS TO HELP HER COPE. 

BECAUSE HE UNDERSTANDS.

Rhys is precious, Cassian is precious….. the whole Night Court squad is precious. I just love them so muchhhhhhh. 

And now. .  . okay. 

The final scene had me in full blown tears. 

1. Amren x Feyre 

SHE ASKS RHYS THIS LIKE 3 TIMES

SHE DEMANDS TO KNOW WHERE FEYRE IS 

AND AND AND AMREN ISN’T ALWAYS VOCAL ABOUT HER FEELINGS AND SHE’S SCARY AND SHE’S VICIOUS

BUT SHE LOVES FEYRE

I JUST

IT’S THE MOMENT YOU REALIZE HOW MUCH AMREN–AND THE REST OF THE COURT–ALSO LOVE FEYRE, A FELLOW DREAMER 

I’M DEAD 

D E A D 

LOWER ME TO THE GROUND 

This post also made me very emotional again. Thanks for reading. And if you know want to discuss ACOMAF with me, and the scenes that broke your heart (because there are like 10 million more)… feel free to shoot me a message. 

I’m gonna go read ACOMAF some more and cry by e 

Preference: Holding their Firstborn

Partially requested by @the-bookish-soul…. Rhys’ is a little longer because thats the one they requested.

Rowan:

He can barely contain himself. Rowan is crying softly, unable to tear his focus away from the little bundle in his arms to even wipe his tears away. He gently holds the baby, forcing himself to be ultra careful so as to not hurt it in any way. He finally looks up at you, still laying in the bed, fresh tears brimming in his eyes and you almost laugh at the sight. Rowan Whitethorn: reduced to tears at the sight of his child, because he has wanted this for centuries, and he finally has it, and he will protect it with everything in him. ‘Thank you’ he mouths, so as not to wake your daughter.

Rhysand: 

Twice Rhys makes sure that you have had enough time holding the baby before he agrees to take it from your arms. She’s small, fragile, and drowsy, Rhys observes, noticing the fluttering of her eyelids and how tiny she is compared to him. Suddenly, her hand comes out and grabs onto his shirt, making Rhys gasp and look up at you in question. You wave your hand, telling him it’s fine, and he relaxes, shifting her weight to one arm so he can grab her little hand in his own, fully engulfing it. He sways, making various quiet noises to help her sleep. ‘Oh Cauldron, I love her so much’ he says to no one in particular. You slowly get up, aching just a bit, and Rhys tries to stop you, but you wave him off and stand in front of him, your daughter in between the two of you. You grasp her other hand, kiss her forehead, and then look up at your husband. ‘My whole world in four square feet of space’ he murmurs, not looking away from his daughter, a small smile on his lips. 

Dorian:

He’s not sure he could be any happier than he is at this moment. His heir, his child, his daughter, swaddled in his arms is the best feeling in the world. Her little wisps of dark hair tickle his arm as he runs a thumb gently over her soft, chubby cheek. Her sapphire eyes open slightly and Dorian smiles grandly and kisses her forehead. ‘She’s so perfect’ he whispers, and you can’t help but agree. 

Keep reading

I Miss You
Aaliyah
I Miss You

Aaliyah - I Miss You

“I Have trouble accepting the fact that you’re gone, so I won’t. 
It’ll be like we went for a while without seeing each other.
But I can understand why God would have wanted you close to him,
because you truly were an angel on earth.

I love you. I miss you.“
-DMX

Is your heart still mine?
I wanna cry sometimes…

my parents are in the other room with my younger sister. 4 years younger than me yet i go to sleep before her. watching Saturday Night Live together, like a normal family.

they’re laughing.

but the demons inside of my head won’t shut up and i’ve been lying here listening to the voices that keep me up at night. i’m crying, alone and in the dark, thinking of people i used to talk to and dreams we once had.

and i lay here, crying, alone and in the dark.

all the while i get into a fight with my supposed best friend, you know the one who tells me were like blood only to be the one to stab the knife.

and she’s mad at me because i have no sympathy, same thing i’ve been told by countless individuals. “i lack a heart” is something mostly everyone’s once said.

but i lay here, crying, alone and in the dark. thinking amount memories and should’ve beens, i’m wondering what we would be now if we were still an us.

and as you scream at me for being too cold, my heart breaks a little more each time, but i knew this was coming, i instigated the fight. i knew you were mad at me, i didn’t like you ignoring me, i wanted to apologize but look at where i got us instead.

i’m pathetic, at my weakest, and, ironically, you tell me you’re leaving because i don’t care about anything. but you’re not here to see me breaking and you never have been.

and i lay here, crying, alone and in the dark.

and i lay here, crying, alone and in the dark.

it becomes the responsibility of my other friends to glue me back together. some of them being shown pieces of me they’ll forget when they decide to throw me away, telling me again that i don’t have a heart.

and i lay here, crying, alone and in the dark.

you turn away (like i’m not here at all)

this came out way faster than i expected and way longer than i planned but anyway, this is based on this video by @vp-dot-png so credit to them for the basis and thanks for letting me use it (also if you listen to the song from the video - ‘phone down’ by lost kings ft. emily warren) - it’s like 10x better). i really needed a distraction from my current main project so this was really fun to do

[read it on ao3]


Lance finds Keith sitting in the dark in the computer room, the harsh blue light of his tablet casting shadows across his face. He stands in the entryway for a minute, watching Keith tap insistently at the screen, his legs folded underneath him and his hair unruly. He’s still wearing his paladin armor. Lance sighs and tugs his jacket tighter around himself.

“Keith,” he says. There’s no response. “Keith.”

Keith doesn’t jump, just twists around to glance at him, his gaze sort of vacant. There are dark bags under his eyes, the boy having barely slept in weeks (a fact Lance can personally confirm), his cheeks are sunken, and his face is paler than usual. “Oh, hey,” he says absently, turning back to the tablet screen.

Folding his arms across his chest, Lance steps into the room and leans against the wall. The boy in front of him looks so very different from the one Lance knew. Thought he knew. There’s something off about this the boy here, something vague and distant, like his whole existence is blurring around the edges. Something’s missing, like that one puzzle piece you realize you lost only after you’ve completed the rest of the puzzle.

He knows what’s happened to Keith, what’s happened to all of them, and he gets it, he does. Loss does horrible things to people. But he wasn’t prepared for this, for how hard this would be. For how much things would change. For how much Keith would change.

(He thinks he’s probably changed quite a lot, too, having been thrust, yet again, into the role of protector. He’s used to taking care of people, but this is different.)

He’d expected it to be better, now that they at least have a lead on Shiro’s whereabouts. It’s not much, barely more than a rumor, but it’s still a lead. And yet, Keith is still obsessing, like he’s been doing for weeks.

Lance sighs again. “What are you even doing in here?”

“Working,” Keith replies shortly.”You should try it sometime.”

“You don’t have to be an ass, Keith,” Lance says levelly, forcing himself to keep his voice casual. Forcing himself to stay calm. “We’re just worried about you.”

Keith’s fingers still on the tablet, but he refuses to look at Lance. “Who’s ‘we’? You’re the only one bothering me right now.” He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear and his fingers go back to tap-tap-tapping.

Stop it, he thinks, wishing he had the courage to say it out loud. Stop treating me like I don’t mean anything to you.

“The others are worried about you, too,” he says instead, stepping towards Keith. “They just don’t have the energy to deal with your bullshit.”

“And I assume you do?” There’s a certain level of malice in Keith’s voice, a certain bite that used to be quite rare for Lance to hear, especially directed at him.

Whereas Lance is usually all bark and no bite, Keith has plenty of both and no qualms against using them.

“You know, Keith, I’m not sure I do,” Lance shoots back, and almost feels bad for it. But damn, maybe he isn’t up for this right now. Their last mission ended only hours ago, he hasn’t slept in forty-eight hours, and he hasn’t even bothered to eat yet. He’s tired, so very tired of living like this. He spends practically every minute of every day waiting for the other shoe to drop and it’s exhausting. “I just -”

Keith cuts him off, finally jerking around to glare at him. “You just what, Lance? Did you need something or are you just here to -”

“Would you stop?” Lance shouts, frustrated tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. “You’re acting like a goddamn brat, Keith, and it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Oh, fuck off, Lance,” Keith snaps back, running an angry hand through his hair.

“I’m worried about you!”

“So what, you think you’ll just give poor little Keith the ‘we care about you’ speech and earn your Good Samaritan points for the week? News flash, Lance, I don’t need your worry.”

Keith turns away from him again, and Lance can’t do anything but stare at him. Lance opens his mouth, closes it again. Clenches his hands into fists and buries his fingernails in his palms. Breathes in. Breathes out.

Says, “Look, Keith, I know you don’t want to hear anything I’ve got to say right now.” He ignores Keith’s not-so-subtle scoff. “But I can’t just sit here and watch you self-destruct.”

Keith doesn’t even respond.

Lance barrels on, gesturing wildly. “God, Keith, I wish I could leave you alone. I wish I could just walk away and let you fall apart, but I can’t! Because you’re falling apart and I’m trying to hold this goddamn team together! You’re not sleeping, you’re not eating, and I get it, Keith. Shiro’s gone and we’re all hurting.

“I know he’s important to you and I know you’ve lost him before and I know you’re in pain, but this is important, Keith. You’re gonna kill yourself if you keep up like this.” Lance is crying by now, hot, angry tears streaming down his face. And he aches, he fucking aches, because this has been going on for weeks. He’s always been good at taking care of other people, but he can’t take care of someone who’s not willing to let him.

“We need you, Keith,” Lance says, pleading, begging for Keith to give him something here. “I need you.”

And that’s it - that’s all he’s got. He’s poured his heart out, he’s given everything he has to this boy who won’t even look at him, and there are no more tricks up his sleeve.

But Keith still doesn’t even acknowledge him.

And Lance knows he’s being selfish, he does. He doesn’t mean to be - his biggest concern here is that Keith is okay, that the whole team is okay, but buried underneath that is his desire for Keith to just talk to him. It doesn’t have to be about Shiro or his feelings or anything like that; he just wishes they could go back to talking and laughing and making dumb inside jokes and just being together.

He wishes Keith would at least look him in the eyes.

“Are you even listening?”

Keith waves his hand dismissively and mutters, “Whatever,” and Lance can’t take any more of this.

Throwing caution to the wind, Lance marches forward, grabs Keith’s wrist, yanks him around, and smashes their lips together in a bruising kiss.

The last thing he sees before his eyes shut is Keith’s eyes widening in shock. The kiss tastes of salty tears and the bloodstains of their latest battle. Their noses bump together and their teeth clash, but Lance doesn’t care. He buries one hand in Keith’s hair, uses the other to tug Keith closer by the collar of his armor. Keith’s free hand hovers at Lance’s shoulder, and then the tablet clatters to the floor and his other hand comes to rest on Lance’s hip.

Lance feels something loosen in his chest, like he can finally breathe again.

Keith pulls away after a moment and Lance has to force himself not to follow.

They’re inches apart, both breathing heavily and staring at each other’s lips. And Lance says, “Can’t you just…take a break? Come to bed. We can talk, or - or not talk! Whatever you want, Keith.”

He’s finally getting somewhere, he thinks. Keith is looking at him, really looking at him, without a hint of the iciness Lance has grown used to. There’s no distance between them, right now. For the moment, they breathe the same air, exist in each other’s space.

Lance is only just thinking, I missed this, when Keith steps back.

Keith’s expression hardens and his eyes grow distant once again; he turns away, pulling his hair into a ponytail as he does, saying, “Lance, I don’t - look, can we talk about this later?”

Lance makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. He’s been free-falling ever since this whole thing started, and Keith is supposed to be there to catch him.

Thing is, Keith is there. He just hasn’t noticed that Lance is falling.

With a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh, Lance rakes his fingers through his hair, practically yanking strands out of his head. He should just let him go. Surely it would hurt less than this.

But his feet are moving before he can stop himself and he’s yelling before he even knows what he wants to say.

“What could be so goddamn important, Keith, that it can’t wait until the morning?” Keith turns to him in surprise, takes an almost automatic step backwards, effectively trapping himself between Lance and the table behind him. “We have a lead already, you can stop obsessing for five minutes! You’re scared and upset, I get that, but you can’t take it out on everyone else! On me.”

“I didn’t -”

“It doesn’t matter if you meant it, Keith!” Lance throws his hands up in frustration. Keith is looking at him like he’s the one who’s unrecognizable, even though it’s the other way around. “Shiro’s gone, but we’re still here. I’m right here and it’s like you’re looking through me.”

“Please, Keith,” Lance says softly, lacing his fingers through Keith’s and holding their hands up between the two of them. Keith’s eyes follow the movement, skirt over Lance’s face, and finally settle on a spot just above Lance’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and doesn’t sound very sorry at all. He sounds far away, even now. “You should go to bed.”

“Like you care about my wellbeing.”

“I do.” He says it so fiercely that Lance almost believes him. Keith bends to pick up his tablet, pulling his hand out of Lance’s, and when he stands back up, his shoulders are hunched. “I hear you, I do, I just - I can’t do this right now.”

“You’re hearing me -” Lance shakes his head in disbelief  “- but you’re still not listening.”

Keith scoffs and says tiredly, “I really don’t have time for this right now, Lance.”

Lance rubs at his eyes with his sleeve, sniffling, and thinks back to before. Before Shiro disappeared, before Keith started shutting him out, before all of this. He can see Keith’s bright smile, saved just for him, and he can hear Keith’s laugh, the unrestrained one that he only lets Lance hear, bubbling up in the confines of one of their bedrooms.

He stares at the collar of Keith’s armor  for a long moment. Closes his eyes. And gives up.

“Fine,” Lance says, lets his arms drop back to his sides. He blinks back a new wave of tears, sets his jaw, lifts his chin, and tries not to let his voice waver. “Let me know when you decide to stop treating me like something stuck on the bottom of your shoe.”

Despite himself, he can’t bring himself to move without giving Keith a chance to reply. When he doesn’t, Lance turns jerkily, unsteadily on his heel. He makes it halfway to the door before pausing.

He’s a little hysterical and more than a little pissed off when he calls, voice sing-songy and silky sweet, “Or, y’know, don’t! Whatever floats your boat, Keithy-boy!” He looks over his shoulder to find Keith leaning on the desk, tablet lying a few feet away from him, forgotten.

“I’m done,” he says to the back of Keith’s head and walks out of the room.

He doesn’t see Keith turn at the sound of the door opening, and he doesn’t hear Keith say his name as the door shuts.

Lance isn’t sure he would’ve looked back anyway.

Only Thing That Matters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 5.324 (I just don’t know how to stop, lol)

Request: “ I was wondering if you could do one where Bucky and the reader been dating, but Nat refuses to believe he loves her and makes a move on Bucky, the reader sees, but runs away before she sees Bucky pushing Nat off, the reader then leaves the tower with a note for Bucky telling him, but Bucky using his skills tracks her down, with lots of fluff at the end where he explains and tell reader how much he loves her.”

Warnings: The Avengers are a bunch of mean girls, just saying. Also I think I should mention it here, Nat is not nice in this one. Angst, fluff. 

A/N: This request was by the darling @melconnor2007 I hope I did you request justice. I freaking loved writing this one and it could’ve been muuch longer. Haha. Hope you love it, darling! 


Being part of the Avengers wasn’t always as glorious as people made it out to be. They were an established group, new members often chosen by themselves and outsiders weren’t as welcome as one might think they would be.

Nick Fury had chosen you for the Avengers. Being a former M16 agent, Fury had thought you to be a great addition to the Avengers and you had been ecstatic when he had come to you with the offer. You hadn’t even hesitated with saying yes and within a week you had moved into the Avengers facility and joined the team on missions.

Your dream of being an Avenger was quickly tarnished as you learned that you didn’t fit the team at all. It wasn’t that you couldn’t do your job properly, that you did, better than most of the team members, but there was just something that didn’t work out.

You weren’t always invited when the team went out, you weren’t always informed of all missions and more often than not, you found yourself feeling like a third wheel to the entire group.

It wasn’t that the team wasn’t nice, they were, you could speak to a lot of them, but they seemed more like acquaintances than friends and it made you feel left out. You knew they had been through a lot as a group, but it could often also seem like you were back in high school and you couldn’t sit with the popular kids no matter how hard you tried to impress them. So truth was, you had stopped trying.

Keep reading

Punk (Chap. 7)

Originally posted by miamirasmus

Summary: You’re head over heels for your best friend Bucky and hate the nickname he gave you as it doesn’t exactly scream romance.

Word count: 2510

Warnings: Same as always

A/N: Thank you for all of the feedback again I’m completely blown away.  Sorry that tags have been finicky, not sure what tumblr’s deal is lately.  I hope you like this chapter, thanks for sticking around!



The crisp, cold air outside the club was a welcoming relief but did little to halt the burning tears cascading down your cheeks or the hot waves of mortification and shame radiating out from deep within your very being.  The cold air bit at your nose and throat as you allowed yourself to suck in great gulps in attempts to keep the impending panic attack at bay.

This can’t be happening, this wasn’t supposed to happen.  Ethan stood at the curb, attempting to hail a cab while you toiled over your interaction with Bucky.  This wasn’t like how it was in the movies.  Wasn’t Bucky supposed to be completely awestruck with your transformation? Shouldn’t he have been at a loss for words? Instead he was completely taken aback for all the wrong reasons. He’d looked at you with utter confusion, probably wondering what the hell you were doing in a dress, wearing makeup, sporting heels, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing…and he didn’t like it at all.

Keep reading

You and I (1)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 3308

Warnings: Smol Angst..Smut..Cursing..Metal Arm!!

Summary: You broke up with your boyfriend and you try to distract yourself by listening to loud music and cleaning your room. Bucky lives on the same floor as you and hears the music. Curiosity gets the best of him.

A/N: I’m still shit at summaries. I honestly think this obsession with Bucky’s arm and hair is just going too far but what the hell!! Use protection people. Better safe than surprised! Still new to smut writing…so ya! Leave comments pwetty pwease. Send me a message if you want to be tagged in anything.

Permanent Tag List:  @meganlane84 @mizzzpink @bringmetheemobands @kimistry27 @fireandicewillsuffice @vacam79 @amrita31199

Next Part

Originally posted by fandomnationwhore

Keep reading

He walked away from me and all I could do was stand there.

I wanted to scream and cry and beg him to stay, to tell me he loved me, to tell me that he still cared but I couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come out and I know he wouldn’t have been able to say any of those things and mean it, I’d lost him.

Because that’s how life is, one day everything is perfect and you’re happy and the next it all comes falling down around you and all you can do is watch.

No one is worth begging for, you can’t beg someone to feel something that they don’t because it’s not going to change anything, it’s demeaning and you’re worth so much more than that.

One day, I promise you, someone is going to come into your life and they will love you so much you’ll wonder why you ever thought that you had to beg for love.

—  just wait for it.
unforgettable

Originally posted by sugutie

◇ You’ve just waged war on renowned fuckboy Jeon Jungkook.

◇ Jungkook x reader

◇ fuckboi!au + college!au

◇ based off unforgettable by french montana just because i could lol

◇ ahsjksks I’m not dead my dudes don’t worry im just studying which is the same thing but!!! Anyway i made this because of procrastination so don’t expect another one right away lol ❤️❤️❤️💟💖💖

•••

You were proud to say that college wasn’t kicking your ass as much as it probably could. You finished three of your four essays due, completed a project that was 35% of your final grade, and managed to study for at least 10 minutes in the passed week.

And now, here you lay, your laptop perched on the bed in front of you with Netflix pulled up in the screen and a large bag of Doritos beside you. Your well-earned reward — and you’re enjoying it, too. Well, until—

“Hey!” The bubbly brunette you fondly called your roommate plummets onto your bed before you register her presence, and the presence of her red headed girlfriend who trails in after. “Guess what?”

“You and Rose decided to take a spontaneous trip to Hawaii and leave me to watch Luke Cage?” You try with a wishful smile, knowing damn well what she was about to propose as soon as she pulled up her Twitter. “A party? Really?”

“Yes!” Jennie grins brightly, shoving the screen in your face. A tweet from the man himself, Jackson Wang, is on the screen, and you barely catch the words party and insane before she yanks it back. “Jackson is throwing another party this Friday and since there’s nothing too important coming up, I demand that you attend—”

“I don’t think so,” you laugh in disbelief, turning back to your relaxing setup. “No more parties for me—”

“Oh, come on,” Jennie’s face drops as she groans, slumping her body over your back dramatically — it was times like this that her fine arts major really came out. “The last party you went to was weeks ago! The last guy that you slept with was ages ago and it was terrible and it’s making you cranky—”

“I am not cranky!” You interrupt in indignation, eyes wide. At the pointed look that’s shot at you from both girls, you deflate. “That guy wasn’t that bad. What’s your point?”

“Our point,” Rose speaks with a furrow of her eyebrows, “is that since you slept with You-Know-Who—” Her eyes narrow warningly when your mouth opens to make a Voldemort joke— “You’ve been in a slump. And it’s making you angry at everything.”

“So you think I should go to a party to get wasted and fuck someone?” You retort, rolling your eyes, “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t have to get wasted,” Jennie whines, tugging at your arm. “Look, me and Rose are going too. We’ll stay with you until you get some nice piece of meat to play with—”

Ew—

“And then you can be happy and we’ll be happy because you’re happy!” She concludes with a cheeky grin.

You ponder her offer, swimming between whether or not you should listen to your ultracrepidarian best friend. Your hesitance shows obviously on your face, and Jennie pouts. “Please? I haven’t been to a party with my best friend in weeks—”

You sigh, pulling your arms from your grip and wriggling your body to roll Jennie off of your back. “Whatever, whatever. Can I watch this in peace now?”

Squeals and whatnot ensue, but you can only roll your eyes and push your earphones in further, grabbing another handful of Doritos.

•••

Nothing had ever irritated Jeon Jungkook as much as this particular thing was.

Keep reading

May 29th

He woke up and it hurt. 


But that was okay. Normal. It always hurt, nowadays. He didn’t even register it any more.

It was fine.

The sun was peaking through the curtains; warm and lovely and deceptively pleasant. The type of weather that made people smile and suggest stupid things like barbecues or swimming or whatever. Dumb stuff. Stuff that required friends, family- things other than just machines.

Not really Tony’s area, after all.




“Did you care?” And Tony was screaming now, eyes on fire, fists clenched so tight he was sure his knuckles would burst out through the skin. “Did you even care, at all?”

“Tony, you know I did, you know I still do, come on, please.” There was the pleading voice, the one that rarely came out unless Steve was truly scared, truly desperate. His face was absolutely ashen, hands visibly shaking by his sides.

The computer was still sat at the table- all those pixels, that grainy footage of The Winter Solder choking his mother to death serving as rock solid evidence to a truth Steve could no longer hide. 

Tony screamed, because it was better than crying, and Steve was faltering, whispering words that Tony couldn’t hear over the ripped sounds his own throat was making. He looked like he was about to try and step forward, reach out to Tony with a hand that had cupped his face and traced his scars and counted the freckles on his back- the hand that had clutched the truth behind a closed fist and refused to let Tony look, not even for a second.

“You’re a liar and a bastard and I cannot believe I fell for it. I fucking trusted you, more than anyone.” 

He just laughed. What else was there to do? It was kinda funny, really- that he’d actually gone into this thinking that it might work in the the first place.He should have known better.

 “I’m an idiot. I’m a motherfucking idiot-” the world was just spinning, his head was exploding; every single piece of a future he had built up had just fallen on top of him, all at once, and he couldn’t breathe under the weight of it. 

“Tony, I’m begging you, don’t do this. I love you, I can’t- it wasn’t Bucky’s fault, you need to understand-”

“Did you know? Truly, did you know?” Tony whispered, hoping for a change in what was truth and what was lies. Hoping for the universe to shift a little and let him keep this, just once.


Steve looked at him, and Tony had never seen him this distraught before; tears streaking down his face, pale and sick and haunted in a way that made Tony know the answer before Steve had even said it.

The universe wasn’t kind. Not to Tony. Which was why he only got a broken “yes” in reply.


The world stopped. Everything. Each atom and dimension, pausing to let him mull the word over.


Yes.


Steve had known. Steve had held his hand and watched him pour his money into therapy, stroked his hair and kissed him through all the days when his mental illnesses had made him unable to function.

 Steve had known.


The world was still paused as Tony quietly, calmly, slowly removed the gauntlet from his left hand and pulled off the ring that was sat there. Still paused as he sucked in a a breath through his teeth and launched it across the room at Steve’s chest. Still paused as Steve caught it, eyes wide as he pleaded for Tony to stop, to think, to not do this, please, I’m begging you-


It only started moving again once Tony had kicked up the repulsors and flown, leaving Steve’s gentle sobs and Barnes’ all-consuming guilt and the footage of his parents’ brutal murders behind him, numb and completely, utterly broken inside.





The compound was silent. FRIDAY said good morning. Tony didn’t answer. She didn’t try anything else.

JARVIS would have. But JARVIS was… offline.

(Dead. JARVIS was dead and he wasn’t coming back and that was Tony’s fault too-)

Whatever. It was fine. Tony hated mornings anyway, he didn’t like talking to anyone or anything before his morning coffee.

Well. Except maybe Steve, when he’d been just as grumpy and just as tired as Tony (because despite the whole ‘peak of physical human perfection’ thing, they guy sure did hate early mornings), with his adorable bedhead and sleepy face and involuntary smile as he’d leaned down to kiss Tony’s temple in greeting-


Fuck. That’s enough


He took a breath, steadied himself. Reached for the coffee pot and then grabbed the bottle of whiskey that he always kept next to it, because if he couldn’t treat himself today, when the hell could he?

(It wasn’t a treat, a treat was something you enjoyed, but this was something Tony needed, the burn in his throat to remind him that he could still feel, that he needed to stop, that he just wanted everything to shut up for a god damn fucking second-)

St–Rogers– was irrelevant. So was the rest of the team. He’d survived plenty of these days before they’d come along, and he’d damn well do the same now. 

It didn’t matter that this time last year, Tony had been sat around with a group of people he would have moved heaven and earth for, as they sat and bickered and hugged him, smiling and rolling their eyes when Tony said he didn’t care, it was just a stupid day, pipe the fuck down it’s too early for this crap-

They’d hit him over the head with a stuffed toy and called him a loser. Steve had wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and kissed the back of his neck until Tony got distracted enough for Bruce to slam himself into Tony’s front and declare a group hug. Everyone had laughed, and it had been the happiest Tony had been in a long time.

Stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it

Tony gasped, because air wouldn’t come, air never fucking came properly any more, and his heart just hurt, like a constant pain where Steve and Clint and Natasha and-


The coffee was 90% whiskey, but that was how Tony liked it.


It was fine. 


(It wasn’t fine. Tony knew it wasn’t fine. But, like falling asleep on a lilo at sea, it was only when you finally opened your eyes that you realised there was no way back, no fucking way to take it back, and he was stuck. He was alone. He was always fucking alone.)


“Happy birthday,” he said in a tone that might have been considered cheerful, to no one at all, and pretended that he couldn’t feel the cool absence of a ring banded around his finger as he poured the liquid down his throat.

Don’t date an overthinker.
She’ll spend days analyzing your facial expressions when you speak, and nights deciphering what the period placement in your text message meant. She’ll agonize for hours over why you didn’t say hello to her at breakfast, and start to create unrealistic scenarios in her head that you decided you no longer liked her. Don’t date her, because otherwise she’ll suffocate you with her care. She’ll always ask you if you’re okay, and constantly say that she loves you just to hear you say it back to her. And she’ll cry, oh lord will she cry. She’ll cry over the way you looked at that girl, or the way your eyes stopped lighting up at her name. She’ll cry when you start kissing her like it’s your job, and touching her like it’s a habit. She’ll even overthink the fact that maybe she’s just overthinking. That you do still love her, that all these worries might actually just be in her head. And so when you do leave, she’ll still wake up nights six months from now replaying the memories over in her head like a jukebox thinking “Where did I go wrong?” or “What did I do this time?”.
Do not date an overthinker unless you plan on marrying her.
—  Excerpt of a book I’ll never write #59