Tw: Crying - Tumblr Posts

"I couldn't take it, couldn't stand another minute

Couldn't bear another day without you in it

All of the joy that I had known for all my life

Was stripped away from me the minute that you died

To have you in my life was all I ever wanted

But now without you, I'm a soul forever haunted

Can't help but feel that I had taken you for granted

No way in hell that I can ever comprehend this!"

~

-Red Like Roses, Jeff Williams

Whumptober No.19

...Well then. This was not how she planned to be spending her Tuesday afternoon... Dumb villains getting in the way of her going to the bookstore-

(Click for better quality)

Doodled some ocs from an rp bc hark adopted val and we stan. Pink hair is mine, but coop ain't on tumblr 😔

Doodled some ocs from an rp bc hark adopted val and we stan. Pink hair is mine, but coop ain't on tumblr 😔

Soap Mactavish x Reader - Mental Health Day

Word Count - 1.1k

Warnings - depression, cursing, very SFW

A/N: This is a gift for my friend @bunnyreaper, so reader is described!! Sorry y'all <3

For bunny, I want you to know that I love you so much and that you are valued and loved. I hope this brings some light to your life :)

For the past few weeks, it feels like every day has been the same. Wake up, cry, eat whatever shitty snacks are in the pantry, cry some more, check your phone, and go back to bed. Rinse and repeat. You know you must look like hell, with unwashed hair and bags under your eyes that won’t seem to go away, but you can’t bring yourself to care – or rather, you care but you can’t find the energy to do anything about it. You haven’t had the energy to do much of anything recently, now that you think of it. Depression is a bitch, you know, but it doesn’t change the fact that when it hits you upside the head with an emotional baseball bat, you’re unable to fight back with the metaphorical pool noodle you have in response.

Your phone buzzes on the pillow next to you, and you groan, opening your eyes blearily and sitting up. Afternoon light is streaming in through the blinds, and you squint at your phone screen. You have a myriad of messages, but you only care about one: a message from your boyfriend, Johnny “Soap” Mactavish, the cheerful, firecracker of a man that barreled his way into your heart and made a home nestled between your ribs. You love him with everything you have, but even speaking to him has taken more energy than you’ve had recently.

Johnny <;3: Mind if I stop by, bun? got something I think you’ll like.

Thankfully, Johnny has always been both understanding and accommodating of your mental health struggles and has never asked more of you than he thinks you can handle. Which is why, you think as you smooth out your hair in the bathroom mirror, he’s coming over to see you. You pull out your phone and fire off a quick text before heading to the bathroom.

You: I’ll meet you at the door :)  

By the time you’ve put on your least dirty pair of pajamas and brushed your teeth, there’s an excited knock at your apartment door. Knowing you must look a mess, you aren’t quite thrilled to open it, but all reservations melt away as soon as Soap sets the groceries he was holding down and sweeps you up in his arms with a bright smile and a gentle kiss on the cheek. “Olivia,” he murmurs, practically lifting you off the ground with the force of his hug. “Missed holdin’ you, love.”

“Missed you too, Johnny”, you mumble into his strong chest, feeling the muscles under his shirt. Yes, you were being squeezed quite tightly, but you most certainly didn’t mind it. It was nice to be surrounded by him again.

As he sets you down, you notice he’s holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers in his arms. You can’t help but smile at the sweet and romantic gesture, but before you know it hot tears are rolling down your face. Johnny’s brow furrows in worry, and he softly lifts your chin up to wipe your tears. “Shh, shh, bun,” he whispers, wiping your tears with his thumbs before holding you close. “S’okay, I’m here now, yeah? Yer not alone now. Never have been.”

At that, you cry harder, dampening his shirt with your tears, but your boyfriend doesn’t seem to mind. He lets you sob into his chest, rocking you gently back and forth in the doorway of your apartment until your sobs die to sniffles and shaky breaths. Once he’s sure you’re calm, he doesn’t hesitate before picking you up with ease and carrying you into the kitchen.

“Alright, love,” he declares, a determined glint in his eye. “First order of business? Getting some food in you.”

There’s no room for protest as he sets you down on the counter before turning to the stove. You begin to protest, opening your mouth to speak phrases like you really don’t have to and that’s too much, but the words die on your lips as he raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you dare, Olivia,” he teases. “I know you’ve been too unwell to cook.”

At that, you don’t offer anything but a sheepish smile and a shrug, and he grins. “Thought so, hen,” he says as he turns back to the stove and begins cracking the eggs he brought.

You watch as he assembles what appears to be the most perfect breakfast out of all breakfasts, complete with eggs, bacon, and waffles (admittedly, the waffles are toaster brand – while an amazing boyfriend, Soap does not have the ability to make batter from scratch). Handing you a plate and leaning next to you on the counter, he takes a big bite of the eggs. “What do you think?”

You mirror his actions, taking your own bite. Your stomach grumbles in appreciation, delighted at the first taste of real food, and you smile at him, your eyes showing a light in them he hasn’t seen for weeks. “They’re amazing, Johnny. Thank you,” you say, kissing his cheek lovingly in response.

As the both of you finish your breakfast together, you feel the dark cloud that has been surrounding you over the past few weeks slowly lift. By the time breakfast is cleaned up, you’re feeling a lot better than you had been. The flowers are freshly trimmed and put in a vase on the table, and they bring color to the apartment that you haven’t felt in a long time.

Soap gently coaxes you into the shower, and while you scrub the past few weeks’ tension from your body, he does a load of laundry and strips the sheets off your bed. By the time you emerge from your sauna-like bathroom, your pajamas are in the dryer and your bed is made with new sheets, blankets and stuffed animals folded and arranged with military precision.

As you sit with your back to his chest, Johnny gently brushing the tangles out of your curls and massaging your scalp all at once, he murmurs your nickname. “Bunny?” He asks.

“Hm?” You turn your head to look at him, the light of your bedroom lamp reflected on his face.

“I know that you don’t like asking for help. And yer so strong and kind and smart, you don’t always need to. But don’t ever feel like you can’t rely on me, okay?” He cradles your face in his warm hands, sincerity reflected in his bright blue eyes. “When your brain is lying to you, I want to be here to tell you the truth.”

At that, you can’t stop the tears from spilling over again, but unlike before, Johnny is here to hold you close in his arms, running his hands soothingly down your back and murmuring kindness into your ears. Unlike before, your bed is no longer empty, and your brain is no longer full of negative self-talk and racing thoughts. Johnny surrounds you like the warm blankets in your shared bed, his scent enveloping you and lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

You’re just barely drifting off when you feel him kiss your temple tenderly and whisper softly in your ear: “I love you, Olivia.” And then you fall asleep.

“Oh, darling,” the whumper cooed. They looked down at the whumpee, snivelling and crying on the floor. The whumpee shook, heaving with sobs and exhaustion, tear tracks cutting lines through the dirt on their face. The whumper leaned down a stroked hand down their cheek, ignoring the soft flinch from the whumpee. 

The whumper smiled, tucking a lock of hair behind the whumpee’s ear. “You look so fucking pathetic.”

@anniektheyoutuber i'm sorry for what it happened to u :( (🇮🇹:mi dispiace per cosa ti é successo :( )

Tumblr

○_Annie k_♡

Me crying-

🇮🇹:scusate ma nn posso fare una storia dell solletico..

🇺🇸:sorry but i can't do a tickle fics..

i promise.

summary:  running into your ex-boyfriend, namjoon, stirs a lot of feelings inside of you, moving you to give your husband, yoongi, the full reason why that relationship ended pairing: (past) kim namjoon x reader | min yoongi x reader genre: exes reunion, angst, bit of fluff rating: PG word count: 5.1k tags/warnings: mentions infertility, heavy conversations surrounding infertility, heavy angst, a lot of crying, a slip of the tongue that could be triggering, sfw intimacy that alludes to but does not describe anything physical, there is fluff i promise but if any of these topics are triggering for you, please dni

a/n: this has been sitting in my drafted fics for quite some time. for the sake of story progression, the italicized conversation between reader and namjoon could be considered a general plot hole. it is very emotional but i really love this fic. i know i don’t need to explain my writing process but i remember when i wrote the emotion into this story and how much it eased my pain back then, so i hope if nothing else, it can just feel like a hug of sorts. please be sure to read warnings before proceeding.

The toe of your shoes crease when you stretch upwards, fully extending your fingers and singing a silent victory song when the tips of your fingers touch the box. You pull it forward three times but to no avail.

“I don’t understand why they put things so high up,” a male’s deep voice suddenly appears next to you followed with it is a long arm, his hand grabbing the box with ease before bringing it down for you, “here you go-“

You laugh, ease finding its way back into your body before looking up at the kind Samaritan, “thank you-“

But it isn’t long before you tense up again at first sight of the man.

“Namjoon-“ your breath escapes you and with it goes the box tumbling from your Gumby-like hands, “oh my gosh-“

Both tumble forward to save the item before it can connect with the ground. Ultimately it lands in his hands, though he is just as shaken as you.

“Namjoon-“ you repeat his name followed with a suffocating breath, all of it lodging in your throat.

“H-hello,” he finally blinks, clenching the box between his hands as your name tumbles out of his mouth.

At the sound of your name you scan the narrow aisle for any onlookers, your mind taunting you that everyone is aware you’ve unexpectedly run into your ex-boyfriend.

You move your cart to the side to allow another shopper to pass through the aisle. An awkward exchange is made between the two who are no longer mere strangers, finally securing the item in your basket.

“Thank you a-again,” you stutter, keeping one hand on the cart handle and wringing it around, “I’m so sorry-“ a breathy laugh manages to slip through your lips.

Namjoon scurries for a topic noting your nervousness while trying to keep his at bay.

“I suppose this isn’t the scenario you saw yourself in if we ever did see each other again-” he curses at himself, “not that I imagined this either.“

You struggle to find his eyes, choosing a place next to his head when you finally gather yourself enough to form a coherent sentence, “no-no it certainly isn’t.”

Continuar lendo

(Info-dump below!! May have some grammar errors lol) (Also dw Wally's fine ♡♡)

Wing Au lore:

They were puppets, but they broke free from their strings in an act of defiance. Home saved them, gave them freedom. But in turn, it sacrificed themselves for their friends. Traces of him still remain, hovering in the minds of the neighbors and sometimes speaking to them in their dreams, but things will never be the same. With Home's sacrifice, the neighbors broke free from their strings, gaining life outside of their own puppeteers as they were changed. The neighborhood morphed. It changed into a genuine, real world. Welcome Home, as a show, was canceled, and they are now in control of their own lives in turn... mostly. The show set was basically their own 'real world' prior but there was nothing outside of the neighborhood. They were controlled by a script rather than actual handlers. Everyone followed their script, whether or not they wanted to, and over time each became more and more aware of it. That's what they broke from. Their souls broke away from their puppet bodies. As for the wings?Home had always been fascinated by birds. They were small, colorful, and soared through the sky with a sense of absolute freedom. It envied them. It admired them. He wanted the neighbors, his friends, to be free like them. They were the one most powerful of the group, Home being the bridge between Welcome Home and the show Directors. Home felt like their guardians, in a sense. In severing that tie, they severed the connection between those worlds as he gave his friends their freeom. There is still trouble, of course. Traces of those strings still linger, and patched wounds will never fully dissappear. But Wally's doing the best he can for the others, now. They're all doing their best. The neighbor's soul is in their wings, and eyes, like the *essence* of them. The wings themselves represent freedon, the ability to choose, and the ability to escape peril or burden, the very essence of the owner as well as the gift from Home. Even with wings, there are still thread-like strings attatched. Can be felt in vague tugs, like something's attempting to guide them. If someone's mental state deteriorates, so do their wings. Feathers will fall out or become misshapen and messy the worse it gets. At absolute worst, absolute rock-bottom, the wings will be a mess of mangled, tattered feathers and all but inner coverts will be missing. If wings or even feathers are cut, pulled, or damaged, the wing owner will feel physical *and* mental pain, given how important they are. Their body can be healed easily, much faster than a human's speed (their blood is black because why not. No organs or stuff, just all black stuff on the inside). A deep lacerarion can be fine within the hour, and natural death isn't a thing for them. However, if their wings are damaged enough, or removed, they will die. This can also happen with mental deterioration

... if they ever die, they join Home

no. no i have not been crying for hours :)

No, don't cry. :<

Dude I’m really stressed out and for some reason I feel like I need to listen to music but whenever I try to I start to cry and hyperventilate and stuff and so I decided to just fuck it and now I’m crying while listening to the Rio soundtrack so that’s how my days going :)

I want to cry, i can't anymore

I hate myself so fucking much. my body is disgusting. I want to puke when I look at them

I woke up today about 5am with huge anxiety and fear. That's was awful. I took my calming medication and fell asleep again. I think about this big fear until now and i can't stop, it paralyzes me, i want to cry. I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared. Help me

I don't know what to do, i can't find place for myself in home. I'm scared of my own mind and I'm losing control of it, everything is stronger than me and it's terrifying.

Please get me away from my own mind. Please please. I'm so scared

I live, but i don't live, u know what i mean?

Waking up with anxiety, this shitty fear. Day like every day :)))

I look after my sister's dog in the city in her apartment, I live in the countryside, where we have a house far from any people, and I passed young people on the cage who were happy with alcohol, now I also hear their party and i cry because I realized how much my life is hopeless, no parties, I don't have a beloved boyfriend, I want to come back to home and hide in my azyl, wait no... I WANT KILL MYSELF