With All This Hunger Games Renaissance, This Came To Mind And I Cannot Brush It Off

With all this Hunger Games renaissance, this came to mind and I cannot brush it off

Hopefully I’ll manage to properly write this one out

For all his scars, Jason truly couldn’t understand how you were so adamant on calling him beautiful every day without fail.

You have been together for years, enough for him to note that you aren’t one to drop words without feeling them, however for all his brain capacity, he still couldn’t wrap his head around you looking at him; nasty J scar on almost the entirety of his left cheek or every other jagged line of terribly healed wounds gained over the years; holding his face between your hands as if he was made of glass before speaking the same set of words as every day of the last few years.

“You’re beautiful, Jason”.

He liked to think that after coming back from death and all the shit he has gone through since forever, there is a very small list of things that are still capable of surprising him but there you were, at the very top with your kind words; specially those. He sees himself in the mirror every morning before getting into the shower, there are days when the pain creeps up his back like a ghost summoned by those scars and in those instances he has to look away to avoid puking.

Then why? Why were you so hell bent on telling him that lie? Sure, he knew you didn’t consider it to be a lie per se or else you’d never say it; always honest to a fault; but how? You were the most amazing person he’d ever encountered, you were perfect in every way; fitting like a puzzle piece in his arms; so how could you in all your perfection, look at him and call him beautiful? Not handsome, beautiful. How could you choose such a word that would only begin to describe you, you were the beautiful one in his eyes, so why were you so generous by giving him a compliment that should only ever be used to describe the likes of you and not him; never a monster like him.

You on your part knew, you noticed every time how his eyes would open up just a millimeter in surprise to your words, nevermind that you had been saying them to his face for the last two years, but you couldn’t help it, he really was beautiful, those pretty green eyes full of fire and wit, a strong built that revealed him as a fighter, those scars that told a story of struggle unlike any other but that still weren’t enough to keep him down proving himself a true survivor and all that without mentioning how despite the way he went about delivering justice he had a good heart; you were well aware of the orphans he took care of and he was always so sweet to you.

He was beautiful, you just wished he could come to see it one day, but in the meantime you had no qualms on repeating it to him, maybe after a while of hearing it he’ll learn to believe it.

i spent 15 mins making this rather than writing

Don’t worry if like me you’re still single on Valentine’s, we still have our ships and fanfiction

I’ve recently come to the conclusion that Dabi’s backstory speaks to those of us older siblings that were asked only the best by our parents, those of us who were told that we should be better than them, those of us that were supposed to be excellent in order to set an example for our younger siblings, and started hurting ourselves in the pursue of that but then our parents just suddenly stopped asking the best of us yet we had already burned in ourselves their expectations but when they stopped pushing us it felt as if they abandoned us and so we kept pushing ourselves even more in hopes to regain that praise or approval we once had that we misinterpreted as love and then we became bitter towards our siblings because they seemed so put-together, so effortless and yet they get that same praise we practically beat ourselves in order to get

Does it make sense? Can anyone else relate or is it just me?

Me, if all the fictional characters that lived in my head paid rent: