You can spend minutes, hours, days, weeks, or even months over-analyzing a situation; trying to put the pieces together, justifying what could’ve, would’ve happened… or you can just leave the pieces on the floor and move the fuck on.
My tablet (which has been barely working for the past year or so) is
officially dead, so nothing new from me until the new one arrives (which
will hopefully be before the week is over, but I really have no idea)! Sorry for even more delays, and have a nice week, friends!
tl;dr: Tablet’s dead. New one soon. I’m dead, too.
I will never ever be over the engagement break up. It was beautiful.
It was raw and uncensored and really hard to endure. Neither of the boys held back. They said the nasty things they thought and felt. They let it all out and felt it break.
Aaron let his insecurities really show. He laid them out and cried the most beautiful tears I’ve ever seen. And Robert let out his frustrations, he keeps himself just as pent up as Aaron, his pain only shown in the movement of his jaw and throat.
Aaron just wanting to be loved and be the only one loved
Robert feeling helpless and wondering what else he could possibly do
It was a break up borne out of “what else can we possibly do?” Rather than not being in love anymore.
On the contrary, they were more in love than ever…they were just at the point where they didn’t know what else to do…Robert didn’t think he could make Aaron happy…and Aaron didn’t like who he was when he was insecure about Robert.
It was so messy and just…pure “I’m so in love with you but this might be it” love.
It was a “how can we fix this when I’m so tired?”
It was a “you don’t trust or believe me so what else can I possibly do?”
It was a “all I’m asking for is you. Your love. For me.”
Fic prompt because I LOVE your work!!! Fitz with Ophelia "I'll never stop fighting you!" I
You’re so sweet, thank you! I should have spent longer on this (I’m gonna reread it and cringe later), but I wanted to get it in under the wire before canon blows it to shreds haha! [tw: obv ophelia features in this, dealing with feelings because of non-con, but they don’t have a ‘relationship’]
He doesn’t fight. When she lands them in a desert and lets go, he barely has the strength to lean over before throwing up.
“Oh, Leopold,” she says, concern etched into her features. “I’m so sorry. You’ll get used to the teleportation.”
As if an unexpected dematerializing is even on the radar of things to churn his stomach. He has been split wide open, the core of him exposed for everyone to see. He has flaws, so many of them, and before he might have listed them dispassionately: temper, loyalty to the point of blindness, jealousy, arrogance, a false bravado when he secretly feels like a coward. Years ago, he remembers thinking: Jemma knows my flaws and she loves me anyway. I’m not a bad person.
But now the protective film has been stripped away and he’s seeing clearly for the first time; this darkness has always been there. He is a bad person. He’s an evil person, and he has hurt people. His brain spins with images of his friends and his victims. In another reality, he had yelled at Mace for sending Jemma away without warning, but the punishment for that was not supposed to be death.
“You mean nothing to me,” he had told the woman he’d wanted to marry, and he would have killed her. His hand shakes, as if still straining with the weight of the gun. Fitz falls to the ground, rocks biting into his knees. He can’t remember how to breathe.
“It gets easier with time,” Ophelia says, attempting to run a comforting hand along his arm. He turns his face from her and retches again.
He doesn’t fight because he doesn’t have the strength and deep down he knows he deserves this punishment anyway. Perhaps he is doomed to wander through the desert with her for forty years; he hopes they both die before reaching her promised land.
“I understand what you’re going through,” she tells him. “And I’m going to help you, because you were the only one to treat me with compassion when I was a slave.”
“Don’t you regret anything you’ve done?” he asks. It’s the only thing he’s said in hours. For a moment, he’s not sure he’s even spoken aloud.
Ophelia gazes at him searchingly and then frowns, as if working through her own emotions. “No,” she finally replies. “I have learned so much, Leopold. I fixed a single regret for each of you, to make you happy. And everyone simply created new regrets.”
He wants to tell her that she rewrote his entire life. He wants to tell her that she took away all of his choices, that he loves his mother and would never have traded her for a lifetime with an abusive father. I wanted a father who loved me and supported me and stayed, he thinks, surely you knew this isn’t what I meant.
But he doesn’t argue with her because this, like everything, is his fault. You don’t put wishes out into the universe without carefully considering the consequences—he of all people should have known that.
“Humans don’t understand what’s best for them,” she says. “This is what I’ve learned. All this capacity for feeling, for free will, and they waste it. We’re going to create something better. We’re going to help people, and we’re going to be so happy.”
He marvels at how genuinely delighted she appears. Maybe she stole his soul to become a real person because he can’t even remember what happiness feels like. He thinks of Jemma, but all of his good memories are tainted by the acrid smell of gunpowder and the words he’ll never be able to take back.
“It’s time to go,” Ophelia says, grabbing his arm to disappear him again. He shudders at her touch, but he doesn’t fight. He doesn’t know how.
He sits in an abandoned house, head in his hands, and breathes through another panic attack. Ophelia, it seems, is growing impatient with his weakness.
“I need your help,” she says. “For our plan. And if you’d just let me, I can make all this pain go away.”
But he needs the pain, because it’s there to remind him that this world is real. He cries when he thinks of Jemma, but he needs to replay her words over and over so that he never forgets what he’s done and why he’s here. He has lost faith in everything, but he offers up silent prayers anyway: keep her safe. Keep them all safe, and I will stay here with Ophelia and I will not fight. No one could accuse him of not accepting his prison sentence.
Ophelia’s plan doesn’t make much sense to him, although perhaps that is because nothing makes sense to him at the moment. Or perhaps she doesn’t fully trust him so she’s only letting him in on part of it.
He has so little strength, but he holds her back in small ways. He sabotages where he can. Sometimes he hears Jemma’s voice in his head, guiding his actions. Sometimes he even sees her, but she never lays a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” he tells this imaginary Jemma. “I understand.”
“Is this how you felt?” Ophelia asks, kneeling next to him. She has procured a bed for them to share, but he spends every night curled up in the corner of the living room, the stiff wood of the floor burning his joints. “Is this how it felt when she chose someone else? Do you know how much you’re hurting me?”
No, he thinks, of course this is not how it felt. With Jemma, his heart had shattered into a fine dust. With Jemma, he had seen her videos and known she loved him, maybe even loved him the most, and that made it hurt more. But with Jemma, he had thought her happiness could be enough to save them both.
Now, he and Ophelia are locked in a sick dance and when he falls, he will pull her down with him. He will sacrifice himself to stop her, and his anger and disgust and self-hatred will be enough to save the world.
Stopping by the room next door, you grabbed a couple extra wedding book copies although most of them were already in your office.
Just as an excuse.
“Alright, I’m back!!” you said, a fake smile plastered on your face as you pulled out all the wedding book copies and placed it in front of the both of them.
“Ooh!! I’m so excited!! Doesn’t this all look so fun Joonie!!” Rose exclaimed to her fiancé, causing you to cringe at the nickname, a word that sounded so foreign yet so casual coming from her mouth.
Namjoon just nodded, giving her a smile as he looked back up, his eyes meeting yours for a split second, your mouth going dry of the words that were about to come out.
Clearing your throat, you looked away from him and towards Rose,“ W-well did you two have any ideas? You can tell me your wish list and then budget and I can try to make it work to my best abilities.”
Rose’s eyes sparkled as she looked at Namjoon and then back at you,“Well, we were planning on having a vintage-style wedding, you know? Like outdoors, with rustic decorations, lights hanging from trees kind of thing. Could you do that?”
You felt your smile drop slightly, something tugging at your heart, as you thought to yourself, That’s exactly the type of wedding I had wanted.
“Of course, your wish is my command,” you smiled softly, as you passed them a couple wedding books with similar themes.
“Oh my goodness, these are all beautiful. If only I could have them all, Namjoon dear what do you think about this?” Rose asked, as she looked at her fiancé expectantly.
Giving her a warm smile, he looked towards what she had pointed out,“ I think it’s wonderful dear, pick what you like, you know I’ll be happy with anything.”
Rose sighed happily, as she looked at you in wonder,“ Where are you going to find yourself a man like this huh? I can’t believe I got this lucky.”
You felt yourself choke at that, as Namjoon’s eyes widened in surprise, alarm clouding his eyes as you continued to cough.
“Oh! y/n-ssi?! Are you okay?” Rose asked worriedly, as she stood up immediately.
Shaking my hand, you coughed,“ N-no it’s okay! I just choked on something. I’m fine.” you grabbed your water bottle, the cold water running down your throat, feeling a sense of relief after Rose’s shocking question.
They both looked at you worriedly, although something in Namjoon’s eyes looked like more but you couldn’t help but shake it off, after all he was here with his fiance.
Keeping your bottle back in its corner, you smiled at the couple before saying,“ Well let’s discuss the rest shall we?” as you continued down the long and slow path of what would be your unfortunate fate.
Nina wished Colm Fahey could march over to Jan Van Eck’s office and tell him to give Inej back or get a mouth full of knuckles. She wished someone in this city would help them, that they weren’t so alone.She wished Jesper’s father could take them all with him. She’s never been to Novyi Zem, but the longing for those golden fields felt just like homesickness.
So are you done with this blog or just taking a break
So first of all, lose the attitude.
As for this blog? I dunno. It’s up in the air at the moment. I want to keep this blog up and running but also its intimidating to start it up again. I know a bunch of my old followers are no longer interested or concerned with my bullshit and that’s on me. I know that there’s MANY wonderful Blue Exorcist blogs out here now. So… Meh.
I have this blog and @breakurhalo-love - but they’re not attached so I have to log in and log out and log in and log out and its irritating. And I end up forgetting this blog because my memory fucking sucks.
I want to come back to this blog, but I’m not making any promises.
If you guys have been following me for a while I’m sure you know of the break up. And I’m sure most of you are scoffing: ‘break ups aren’t that bad. its been months now’ Well - that may be true for most but. I invested years of love and patience in this man.
And we just so happened to have met because of Blue Exorcist.
He was the Rin to my Shiemi. So now whenever I see Rin Okumura I get physically ill.
I used to watch the anime on a weekly basis because it made me feel close to a man that never loved me.
Now I can’t stand to read the manga when it updates.
I have a Rin cosplay and a Shura cosplay. I debated on putting on Rin today - I couldn’t go through with it.
I won’t even touch Shura.
It sounds God-awful. It sounds incredibly stupid and pathetic and mundane - but. There you go. We’ll see what happens.
Okay so we know Reaper is hunting down ex-overwatch agents for Talon. And I know Pharah isn’t an agent (yet). But if she were to become one would Reaper kill her? He knew her as a child, watched her grow up. Since Reaper is hunting down former friends it is obvious there is very little of Gabriel left. But how far has he gone? If he has no qualms with killing/trying to kill old friends (many of whom just want to try and improve the world), would he have difficulty killing someone who, in his eyes, is a child? He is helping to plunge the world into a new war and children will obvs be caught up in that if Talon were to succeed, but could he pull the trigger himself?
Surreal was the only word that could describe how Saeran felt right now. It had been over ten years since he’d last (and first) seen MC.
“Saeran… wooow, you’ve really changed…” MC commented, her eyebrows arching in surprise as she analyzed his features. “Your hair…”
Saeran felt his cheeks flushing as he suddenly felt self-conscious about his own hair. He’d never had a problem with it before, nor had he regretted his decision to dye his hair pink-white, but it felt so… weird showing it to someone who actually meant something to him.
Sure, it had been over a decade since they last talked, so she should be practically a stranger, but… to him, she was precious.
He didn’t have that many people in his life, in the first place. There had been his mom… his brother… the Saviour…
…Huh. That’s it.
Regardless, MC had always been the one to talk to him while he was locked up at home. He could only imagine her voice through her emails, since he could never risk calling her and getting caught by his mother. He wouldn’t let his only happiness slip right through his fingers. Of course, Saeran was discovered in the end, but he’d really done all he could in order to prolong the inevitable. He wanted to keep talking with MC. He wanted to keep talking with his friend.
His only friend…
Was that so wrong?
To have friends?
“It looks really nice on you,” MC’s soft voice gently broke through his series of thoughts. “And… is that a tattoo?”
Saeran felt his throat tighten up, still nervous from their sudden encounter. “Y-yeah,” he stammered, then cleared his throat to continue. “I, uh, decided to get a tattoo.”
Oh god, Saeran, way to state the obvious, he inwardly groaned to himself.
MC’s eyes softened as she stared at him, still making him feel self-conscious. “But your mom, she… Does that mean…?”
Hope filled her eyes so brightly, Saeran immediately understood what she meant. The unspoken question. “Does that mean you’re free from her now?”
“…Yeah.” His response came in a hoarse whisper. “I’m free.”
Saeran had told her about his abusive mother. She was the only person, next to his brother, that he’d felt he could trust. God, she had been like a beacon of light in his everlasting darkness. Brightening his days, guiding him through some of his darkest moments… She had always been so close to him, and yet so far away, hidden behind a computer screen, but now… Now she was right there in front of him.
He could almost cry from joy.
He looked away from MC before she could notice the rare but genuine, soft smile on his face. He couldn’t help it. Her presence was enough to make him smile.
“How’ve you been?” MC leaned forward with interest, only to nearly fall out of her seat when the bus suddenly screeched to a stop. Saeran’s eyes widened, a slight panic running through his chest when he saw her stumble. Reflexively, he reached for her, pulling her closer by the shoulders.
It was then that he noticed how close their faces were. Her eyes were wide with surprise, and he couldn’t help but drown in the colour…
“Oh, I’m so sorry, this is my stop!” MC exclaimed in realization, quickly pulling away from him. She pulled out a small notepad, hurriedly scribbling in it before ripping the sheet and thrusting it into his hand. She dashed off the bus, calling over her shoulder, “Here, that’s my number!! Have a good night, Saeran!”
…To say the least, he definitely didn’t see the light blush upon her cheeks from earlier.
[Note: MC and Saeran are kids in these emails. Spelling/grammar errors intended.]
To: email@example.com From: firstname.lastname@example.org Subject: Re: Re: Hello!
But emails get inconveniant!! Call me insted!! xxx-xxx-xxxx
To: email@example.com From: firstname.lastname@example.org Subject: Re: Re: Re: Hello!
I can’t… Like I sayed before, mommy will get mad… She’ll hurt me…
To: email@example.com From: firstname.lastname@example.org Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Hello!
The troubling part of having MC’s number now was no longer the risk of his mother finding out. Rather, Saeran didn’t have a cell phone, and there was no way he would call MC from the phones at Mint Eye. He didn’t want to get her caught up with that organization… He actually cared about her.
It’s not like Mint Eye was bad or anything… they had always given him freedom to do whatever he wanted. Still, MC would surely be disappointed if she found out about the things his affiliated organization was forced to do at times. But Saeran understood that sacrifice was necessary to achieve a result.
Well, fortunately for Saeran, he somehow found MC without having to call her.
It was during a walk in the city, with traffic all around him and noisy chatter bouncing on the streets, that he once again encountered his childhood friend.
This time, he was the one to initiate contact. “MC!” he called out to her, his usual glare easing into a gentle gaze.
His blood ran cold when he saw her turn around to hug someone else- another man, instead.
The expression on his face hardened, as he swiftly walked over to the pair. Forcing a cool smile, he placed a hand on MC’s shoulder, causing her to spin around.
“Hey, it’s nice to see you agai-“
“Who are you?” she cut him off abruptly, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion.
The guy next to her stood in front of MC protectively, shielding her. “Hey punk, get away from my girlfriend,” he scowled, staring Saeran down. With a stern glare, he led MC away.
Saeran remained standing in place from shock. Why did she pretend that they didn’t know each other? It had only been a few days… There was no way she’d forget him so quickly, especially when she recognized him before, despite the 10 year gap. Was she perhaps in danger…? Maybe she was in a situation where she had to hide her relationship with others?
Holding on to that hope, Saeran rushed over to a public payphone stand, throwing in some loose change to dial MC’s number. If she couldn’t talk to him directly, surely she could take a call and step aside from the man, right? That was inconspicuous enough. He had to know.
Luckily, the call went through. “MC?” he spoke cautiously, unsure if she was the one who picked up.
“Saeran…? What is it?” she replied, her voice hushed. “Erm, can you call me later, or is this important?”
“No… just… why did you ignore me earlier?” Saeran asked, going straight to the point.
“Oh. Well, my boyfriend doesn’t like it when I’m friends with other guys. I don’t want him to do anything to you. Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “MC. You should leave a guy like that. He’s too possessive. He’s not good for you, MC. Break up with him.”
“Excuse me?! Who are you to tell me what to do with MY life? Who do you think you are?!” she shot back, raising her voice. “You can’t just disappear and then reappear in someone’s life to tell them that they’re making the wrong choices!”
“I never said tha-”
“No, but it’s what you implied! It’s what everyone keeps telling me. My parents have always, ALWAYS criticized me for my choices in friends and love interests. They tell me who I can and can’t be friends with, and they set me up with guys I don’t even like. Mac is the first guy I chose by myself, why can’t you respect that? I’m so tired of being controlled, Saeran. I’m sick of always doing what others want.”
“MC, I understand how you feel, but I know how guys like him are, and you should really-”
She interrupted him with a humourless laugh. “Why do I have to listen to you? Why…” Her voice cracked, quieting down to a whisper, “Why are you trying to control me too…? I thought that you, of all people, would understand me. …I guess I was wrong.”
With that, the line went dead, leaving Saeran frustrated and hurt. His hand trembled as he hung the telephone receiver back in place, just barely suppressing the urge to throw it across the street, had it not been wired. His thoughts were a mess, a storm of emotions on the brink of emerging from within.
All Saeran wanted to do was help her, why couldn’t she see that? How could she just brush him off? Sure, he understood that he wasn’t even an important part of her life. He was just one old friend out of hundreds. He was the only one who considered the other special. He didn’t have any say in her life. But… couldn’t she see that she was still being controlled by her ‘boyfriend?’
The anger picked at Saeran’s mind for days on end, and he shut himself in his room, turning away missions even when they were at the direct request of the Saviour. As much as he appreciated her for helping him escape from his mother’s clutches, Saeran held no respect towards the Saviour, contrary to his subordinates’ beliefs.
His time alone allowed him to properly think over the whole situation with MC, however.
He was finally able to realize her side of the story… because he’d gone through a similar experience. Being controlled, limited to what he could and couldn’t do, always listening to what others told him… Saeran had struggled so hard to find himself.
His mother had always held control over his freedom, robbing him of a happy childhood. He had to do everything she said, whether it was to starve himself or even unwillingly hit his own brother. Even upon entering Mint Eye, he had to follow the Saviour’s orders to stay alive. All his life, Saeran had fought for his own survival. For his freedom. For his own choices.
Similarly, MC had always been controlled by her parents, forced to accept the decisions they made for her. And she was finally rebelling, fighting for her freedom. For her own choices.
While their experiences were on different levels of the scale, the pain was still there, it was their pain, and no one else’s. And pain is pain, regardless how much or little.
With a sigh, Saeran stared up at his room ceiling. If he wanted to help MC, he would have to do it with patience. It takes time to heal and move on, after all.
Sure, they didn’t have a close relationship or anything. But that didn’t change the fact he wanted to help. And he was going to be there to support her as much as he could.
He didn’t want her to fight by herself like he’d had to.