the real happy ending

More Than Enough

Just a sad blurb low key based on a true life story because I’m in my feels at the moment, except this has a happy ending and my real life version didn’t so that’s why the ending is mediocre at best😂

Only lightly edited 

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Your back pressed against the door as you slid down to the floor, your eyes scrunched shut as you tried your best to hold back the sobs that were aching inside of your chest. Your hands were crumbled in front of you, your palms up to the sky as if you were begging something, anything, for help.

As the lump in your throat grew bigger and bigger, the tears began slipping down your cheeks. You didn’t dare to take a breath, because you knew the first thing to escape your lips would be a desperate inhale. 

And you were right.

The broken sob you released sounded foreign to your own ears, as if it had come from someone other than you. But as you sat alone on the bedroom floor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest as your hands covered your mouth, the noise echoed off of the walls. The same walls that felt like they were caving in on you.

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest as you struggled to take a steady breath, the tears never coming to an end as cries continuously left your swollen lips. Your head was pounding and your throat was sore, but there was no end in sight.

You hadn’t heard the front door open, or the slight pause in movement from downstairs as Shawn stopped to listen. You didn’t hear the quick, worried steps as they made their way up the stairs, a hand laying on the doorknob.

But you did hear his voice.

“Baby? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he asked, concern laced in his voice. 

He lightly pressed the door against your back, unsure of your position but sure that it was close due to the loudness of your sobs.

“Please let me in,” he said in a softer tone, and you leaned forwards with all the power you could muster. 

He cracked the door and slipped inside, sitting down beside you. His arms instantly wrapped around you, holding you tight against his chest. One arm was  around your shaking frame, the other resting a hand on the back of your head as he held you against him. Your hands left their previous position over your mouth, your arms snaking around his warm body and pulling him even closer to you.

“Shhh, darling, please take a deep breath,” he soothed, pressing his cheek against the top of your head. He gently rubbed his hand up and down against your back in attempt to calm you down. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong.”

He pulled you back from his embrace, cupping your face between his hands. Misery washed over his face as he took in your appearance, your broken demeanor breaking his heart. He leaned forwards and kissed the tip of your nose, stroking his thumbs across your cheeks.

“What’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath - the first steady breath you’d taken in countless minutes - and looked into his comforting eyes. 

“I-I was just thinking,” you hiccuped, and a knowing look formed on his face.

“We’ve talked about this,” he said gently, “You’re always overthinking. It’s not good for you.” You leaned into his touch as he spoke, enjoying the feeling of him being there for you.

“I know,” you said, your voice sounding hoarse. You licked your lips before you spoke again, “You could do so much better than me,” you whispered, tears welling up again in your red, glossy eyes.

“What? Darling, no. You’re more than enough. We’ve been over this so many times. I love you,” he said frantically, knowing exactly how much this thought was crushing you.

It’d been on your mind since you started dating almost year ago, and it was still enough to break you.

“I feel like I’m a burden to you,” you confessed, “It’s not that you make me feel that way, I just,” you let out a frustrated sigh, “I’m so sick of not feeling good enough for you. I love you so much, Shawn, but I’m so scared. I already know that I’m easily replaceable, but I’m afraid that one day you’re going to wake up and realize it too,” you explained, sounding more broken than ever.

He said nothing as he pulled you against his chest, pressing a long kiss to the top of your head. 

“You are not replaceable, okay? I promise you that I’m never going to leave you, but you have to believe me. I hate seeing you upset like this, y/n. I’d give you the whole entire world if I could and I don’t know if I’ll ever be okay with the fact that I can’t do that. I love you so much.”

The two of you sat there on the floor for what seemed like hours, Shawn refusing to let you go without knowing just how much he loved you.

And god, did he love you. 

2

ok y’all sorry to shitpost but um can we just appreciate that every white mccree is Officially Banned Forever (Always Been but ya know)

6

Tfw you procrastinate so hard that you end up making a bunch of bisexual Wonder Woman icons for no reason other than that.
Please just reblog if you use? :)

2

“You know, you don’t get to decide what I am.”

Sarah // my favourite new character from Season 2 of The Man in the High Castle (I love her and am always here for more badass resistance ladies! \o/)

For @stephanieebrown in celebration of her beautiful new hair and my 200 followers.  Prompt was ‘timkon’


The Gotham air is cool on his face and Tim Drake feels like he’s dreaming.

Bruce is yelling something in his ear (stop please don’t do it) and he distractedly reaches up and tugs the comm out, lets it fall to the rooftop beneath his feet.

Tim can hear the whine of the drones as they rocket towards him, and it bothers him a lot less than it should.  They’ll be on him in a minute.  Maybe a minute, maybe less.

It doesn’t matter.

The thought strikes him so suddenly that he frowns, pauses.  

Of course it matters.  This is a sacrifice.  He’s seventeen for God’s sake.  He’s seventeen and he has college and Steph and the Titans and-

And it still doesn’t matter.  None of this is right, it all feels so wrong, and it’s only now that he’s about to die that he really notices.  It feels like a dream, it feels like it doesn’t matter because…

Because it’s not real?  

No, that’s not quite right.

Because he’s not real.

That doesn’t make any sense, and yet instinct tells him it’s the correct answer.  

But how can Tim not be real?  He’s Timothy Jackson Drake (real name buried, forgotten as best as possible) and he was Batman’s partner for a little less than a year as Red Robin.  He’s a genius, a hacker, a prodigy, and he’s going to take a break from being a hero to go to college.  He exists, just ask Steph or Jason or Cassie.  

And yet, there’s a small, cynical voice in him that just thinks, Wrong, wrong wrong.

Only now it really doesn’t matter because the drones are on him.  

Tim twirls his bo staff.  He hopes that he can maybe take some of them out before they get him, before it all ends.

(He doesn’t really bother to think about the ending.  It doesn’t matter it it hurts or if it’s quick or if there’s a bright white light or absolutely nothing.)

Everything seems to slow down.

Something’s hurtling towards him, past the drones.  Some of the drones are exploding, but not all of them, and the ones that are still active shoot.  Every single shot carefully aimed to take Tim down.  

The blur that’s made it past the drones crashes into Tim, arms are wrapping around him, there’s a familiar scent of leather and hay and home, someone is yelling, “Robin!”

Instinct takes over, like this is something he’s done a hundred times before.  He pulls his arms and legs in, making himself as small as possible.  Somehow he knows that he doesn’t have to worry about the body wrapped around him, he doesn’t have to be afraid that all the drones are firing on this person instead.  It will be okay.

The warm blast from a chain of explosions hits his face, and Tim knows it’s okay to look up.

The boy who’s holding him is achingly familiar, even though Tim’s never seen him before in his life.  He looks kind of like Superboy, but his hair is shorter, his face less angular.  His eyes aren’t as angry.

Besides, Superboy is gone.

The wreckage of the drones burns around them, and this beautiful boy lets out an agonized sigh, even as he smiles. “You stupid self-sacrificing bastard.”

And the words make Tim’s heart pound, make him realize there’s a warm happy glow in his stomach.

This is real.  This matters.

“I don’t remember you,” Tim says.  Because he knows this boy, somehow, some way.  Of that he’s sure.   

There’s a flicker of hurt in the boy’s eyes, and something in Tim flinches at the idea that he has hurt him.  But the look is gone in an instant, replaced by relief and a wild, uncontainable joy.

“That’s okay,” the boy says.  He smiles at Tim and it’s like the world has dropped out from under his feet.  “I’m Kon.”

“Clone boy,” Tim says.  He has no idea what the words mean or why they come out of his mouth so easily.  All he knows is that it feels like something has come loose in his chest, that he can breathe again, and it feels like he hasn’t been breathing in a very long time.

Kon’s hands are still on Tim’s shoulders and he looks like the sun has come out after years and years of rain.  “I’ve been looking for you a long time.”

This is real.

This matters.

It started with a simple smile,
that reaches our eyes,
grew into a romantic kiss,
under the sea of stars,
Yet it ended up with tears,
and memories leaving
painful scars.

They say
happy endings
are real,
but maybe
it doesn’t involve
you and me.

—  ma.c.a //Us, From The Past

Anti-cheating culture is so profoundly monogamous that you end up attacking happy polyamorous people. “Real men are loyal to one girl and don’t have side hoes,” “you only ever need one girl in your life,” and “if you flirt with other people while in a relationship you’re an awful boy/girlfriend” has a detrimental effect on people who have never cheated in life by reminding them that their happy relationships containing more than two people are awful in your book. You tell them that they are bad and that their relationships aren’t as good as yours.

It is okay to be anti-cheating but the point should be the lying and lack of consent, not the number of people.

Guess who got emotionally scarred again by playing the Platinum Demo after finishing FFXV?

Me. I did. I never played the Platinum Demo (nor Episode Duscae, bad move on my part). So when I saw that it was still available, I tried it out.

DON’T DO THIS GUYS. 

Playing as cute baby Noct when you know how his fate turns out is going to HURT. A LOT. 

Especially when you:

- learn that one of Noctis’s most treasured gifts from Regis was a soccer ball that he had always asked for. Then what he just wanted was for his father to play with him. But since Regis is a busy king, he can’t. So Noct would just wait by the Citadel steps every sunset waiting for Regis to come home, but no one shows up. So he just learned to ‘not care’ anymore. (tears)

- You’re led to believe that his ‘safe place’ is the Citadel, Insomnia. But after you fight an Iron Giant, baby Noct’s real ‘safe place’ appears: the REGALIA. It’s because when he’s riding the Regalia, he gets to be with Regis all the time. (then he gets to be with Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis later on) This makes the whole crash at Gralea and Noct saying goodbye to the car all the more painful. (It was already painful to begin with; but knowing this makes it especially tortuous). 

Noctis has been dealt such a shitty hand. Best worst sacrificial lamb ever. He needs a real happy ending! 

TABATA WHY DO YOU MAKE US CRY ALL THE TIME?!

5

Go! I’ll be right behind you.

gimme those happy endings. i don’t want this nitty gritty “real world” nonsense. the real world makes it hard to be joyful as it is, but the real world is also beautiful and alive and awesome in between the shitty parts. it’s not all nitty gritty and it’s hard enough finding the beauty without seeing the beauty erased. i don’t need to see reflections and representations of myself being miserable. i want to see reflections and representations of myself overcoming obstacles and defeating evil and finding love and finding my place and importance and riding off into the sunset in a red corvette with the top down while my girlfriend gallops along beside me on a white horse. i don’t think wanting to see representations of myself finding their happy endings is childish or naive. i think it’s hopeful, and i think hope is what a lot of us need.