#sadness warning

And nearly all of Kyle’s mistakes outside of combat line up with my personal experience with adhd or the effects of trauma on the brain. 

This is why I’m very worried about how the show portrays the abuse as comedy and the victim blaming jokes some of those worked on the show have made, and somewhat hurt rather than just ticked off.

woah nonnie this gets REALLY SAD just fyi also i’m combining your prompt with @theleafpile​ ‘s idea so here’s some sadness

36. “I wish I could hate you.”

Lucifer can feel her. He can always feel her, distance nor time nor Hell ever being enough to stop that. Her life force flickers like a candle at the edge of his senses. It’s time. No matter how much he wishes it wasn’t, there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

He spreads his wings, large and gossamer, and flies up.

Her spark, once bright and blazing, gutters like a flame in the wind, but it’s still strong enough to draw him to her exact location. He steps into her hospital room and quietly closes the door behind himself. Chloe is sleeping, chest rising and falling slowly.

She’s changed. Of course, she has. Being a miracle did not exempt her from the workings of Time. Her skin is delicate and thin, her hair has gone a silver-white, lines sit heavy on her face. She’s still beautiful. He reaches out to touch, but pulls back at last second.

“Hey, buddy, I think you’ve got the wrong room.”

Lucifer turns to see a middle-aged man step inside, looking at him in confusion.

“Jason? What’s going on?” a voice that sounds vaguely familiar says, and a woman steps inside and sees him.

“Lucifer!” she cries and throws herself against him. Her head reaches his chest, her arms thread around his waist. He remembers when he had to carefully angle his hips to protect his more tender spots from being bludgeoned and her hands wrapping around his leg.

“Beatrice,” he murmurs, and presses her tightly.

Trixie pulls back to look at him, and her eyes are the same, sparkling and mischievous. “I knew you would come,” she tells him. She is a woman grown, self possessed and beautiful. He feels a brief pang of sympathy for Daniel. His stories of unworthy suitors now suddenly understandable.

“Your father sends his greetings,” Lucifer says, clearing his throat and stepping back. At Trixie’s furrowed eyebrows, he explains. “Your father was a good man, but he did some bad things, darling. He’s lucky I am back on the throne, I wasn’t about to let him waste away in his Room when I could have him by my side.”

More like he couldn’t abide my Daniel reliving Palmetto again and again, but with his reflexes a fraction to slow to save Chloe. Lucifer wouldn’t wish watching Chloe die over and over on anyone. He’s not even sure he can bear it the once, yet, here he stands.

Lucifer shifts awkwardly. “Mazikeen also bid me to give you her regards.”

Trixie grins, wide and familiar. “You’ll tell them that I love them, won’t you?” She squeezes his arm.

“Of course, darling,” Lucifer replies.

“I’m sorry. Trixie, who is this?” The man steps forward.

“Oh, I’m sorry. This is my husband, Jason. Jason? This is -”

“Lucifer.”

They all turn towards Chloe, who only has eyes for the devil. She awake and cracks a grin, despite her labored breathing. “How long have I been out?”

He huffs out a wet laugh. “Not nearly as long for you than for me, I’m afraid. Time in Hell crawls at a terribly slow pace, you know.”

“You ass.” She smacks him lightly. Her smile fades. “I’ve missed you.” She holds her hand out for his and he instantly obliges, taking a seat at her bedside.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He presses a kiss to the dry palm of her hand. “Not a day went by that I wasn’t thinking of you, darling.”

“I wish I could hate you, but we both knew you had to go.” She gives him a sad smile. “If you’re here, then…that must mean…” her eyes go glassy with unshed tears.

He nods, and grips her hand harder.

“Don’t leave me,” she says, sounding scared. “Please.”

“I won’t. I promise,” he swears, voice fervent. They both ignore the way it shakes.

“Does it hurt?” she asks.

“No.” She knows that when he says it, it’s the truth. “No. It doesn’t hurt.”

She nods and sits further back against her pillows, some otherworldly peace having come over her at his words.

“Mom,” Trixie says, tears tracking silently down her face. She takes Chloe’s other hand.

“It’s okay, baby. Everything’s gonna be alright.” She allows Chloe to brush fingers through her hair, tucking it behind Trixie’s ear. “You’re going to be just fine. You’ve made me so proud, you know that? Stay strong.”

Trixie nods, but her tears come on faster. Jason puts an arm around her and pulls her into his side.

Chloe passes on in her sleep. The slow pumping of her heart falters and stops. The bright spark fights it for a moment, but then untethers itself. Lucifer gets to his feet. He cards a hand through Chloe’s silver tresses, places a kiss to her forehead.

Then he reaches out on the metaphysical plane and gently tugs that light into his chest, where it will be safe and no one else could reach it. He’ll escort Chloe to the Silver City himself. He wakes Trixie, murmurs softly to her. She gives way to sobs. He wraps Trixie into a tight hug and Chloe’s presence surges up between them, warm and loving. Trixie’s tears slow and she stares in awe.

He wonders if she can see it, her mother’s light, pressed up against his heart.

“Take good care of her,” Trixie commands, her words firm.

“I will.” It rings like a solemn oath between them. He pushes a kiss onto the top of Trixie’s head and unfurls his wings, flight feathers spreading in anticipation. With a great and mighty flap - he’s gone.

Lucifer reaches Heaven easily, slipping into the realm of his birth like it was an old suit jacket. Familiar but ill-fitting. He releases Chloe, even as part of him desperately wants to keep her there, where she’s safe behind the cage of his ribs. But there’s no freedom in that.

The light takes shape, then suddenly manifests and Chloe standing before him, hale and whole. She looks almost as she did when he first met her, eyes bright and wicked, skin smooth and young. She looks down at herself in surprise, then looks up at him, and grins.

Then she’s striding closer, grabbing at his neck to pull him down for a kiss so sinful it has no place here in the Silver City. He groans and steadies her, returning the favor until he is sure his Father’s wrath will fall upon them for such desecration. Finally, Lucifer drags himself away from her, breathing harshly.

“Chloe,” he croaks.

“Lucifer,” she replies, with a hint of a whine, trying to use her tiptoes to reach him.

One of his brothers has left his position beside the Gates to join them with a few beat of his wings. It’s Sabriel, dark haired and wings that look like they’ve been dipped in ink. He lands near them and steps forward, smiling kindly.

“Hello, brother.”

Lucifer blinks in surprise at the lack of hostility. “Hello, Sabriel.”

“Chloe Decker,” Sabriel says, face friendly. “You’ve had a long journey. Please, come inside.”

She starts to move forward, past him, but halts when she realizes Lucifer is not coming with her.

“This is as far as I can go,” he tells her quietly, feeling like his heart is breaking all over again, like he’s being rent in two. It’s somehow more awful than the first time he had to leave her. “I’m not allowed past the Gates.”

“Come this way, child. We’ve been waiting for you for a long time,” Sabriel says.

Chloe hesitates, looks like she’s thinking deeply on something, the same look she would get when she was working out a lead on a case. Finally, she decides and steps back to Lucifer’s side. She threads her fingers through his.

He looks down at their entangled hands in shock before raising to meet her eyes. She looks at him with mulish determination, then faces his brother.

“You’ll have to keep waiting, then, because I’m not going inside.”

“Chloe,” Lucifer protests.

“No,” she says, eyes sparking. She grips him tighter. “I want to go with you.”

His wings flex in distress. “Hell is no place for someone -”

“You will not take my choices from me, Lucifer.”

Because there is no freedom in that.

Sabriel seems remarkably unconcerned for losing a soul soon to be in his charge. Could it really be that simple? Could he just take her and go?

Lucifer faces her, eyes dark and serious. “Your father is here, your mother.”

“You’re not,” she replies, like that’s all that matters.

“What of your daughter?”

Chloe goes quiet at that. “I lived a whole lifetime with her, Lucifer. I watched her grow up, become an adult. I saw her get married, I saw her have a child of her own. I will miss her, but she’s living her own life now. Take me back with you.”

She stares at him, unwavering. Terror spills over him like ice, even as hope blooms in his chest.

“Are you certain?”

“I am.” She squeezes his hand.

“Very well.” Lucifer looks at Sabriel, who only smiles mysteriously and inclines his head. He doesn’t seem like he’s going to attempt to stop them.

P was made in a factory by Y and M (they were worker drones at the time) and a human on Sodium-12. (what's with JCJIS and naming planets after an element and a number? Copper-9, Tungsten-13, Sodium-12?)

And then, shortly after P was finished, an explosion destroyed the factory. P, along with the human, managed to escape with severely damaged Y and M. P befriends a Sentinel that happens to be in the lab that he and his friends settle in, and with the human's help, rebuilds M and Y as disassembly drones. The Sentinel allows the human to give M its blue flash.

Then, M, Y, and P go to Copper-9, where they are quickly overwhelmed by heavily armed worker drones. M and Y manage to fend off a few workers, but without P's help, they would succumb quickly.

Y shouts at P, trying to force him to fight. After a while, P snaps and goes feral, killing the rest of the worker drones very quickly.

P then absconds. It takes a while for his squad to find him. When they do, he's about to abscond again. However, M remembers what the Sentinels used their blue flash for and uses hers to stun him, preventing further escape.

Sadness warning

18.) Tell us about the first time you ever saw Pacific Rim.

The date was Thursday, July 11th 2013. The place was the Transit Center IMAX 18. The time was 7:50. My ticket was for 8:00. Where was I? Scrambling with my friends to smuggle in takeout Dairy Queen into my cargo shorts’ pockets to the theater.

Warning: Heavy emotions within, both good and sad. You’ve been warned.

I’m so sorry it took me so long to answer anon! I didn’t want to rush an answer and then I got exhausted after the whole emotional rush and then I got distracted and just..aaaaah forgive me! T^TThank you so much for your kind words, trust me they mean a lot to me! I really wish I didn’t feel like a failure but it’s hard when you see everyone you know rush on with their lives and you just can’t get anywhere, you know? And when that then gets in your way of something you’ve wanted for a long time it just really gets hard... I also really wish I could feel special but I simply can’t ^^’ I go so much under the radar I tend to wonder sometimes if I even exist - I know it sounds awful but honestly it’s true. It’s amazing how much I can go by completely unnoticed. Not that it doesn’t have benefits at times, but generally it causes more issues than comforts. 

“Good Boy” by Kelly Angel:

These are only the first three panels of a much longer (physically, not a long amount of time) comic, so read the entire thing here.

(source: http://www.anythingcomic.com/)

In the major portion of the comic, the text and words work together in a manner that Scott McCloud in Understanding Comics describes as word-specific, “Where pictures illustrate, but don’t significantly add to a largely complete text.”

In fact, for much of “Good Boy”, the pictures could be removed entirely and the the text would be left with essentially the same effect, but as a poem or literary vignette:

You came to live with us about 12 years ago. You were small and fluffy and you’d cry as you ate your food. I remember the time your belly swelled up when you ate an entire tub of cream. And when your eyes swelled shut and we couldn’t figure out what had happened until we found the chewed up orange you were too afraid to get close to...

The pictures themselves don’t depict any new information, but rather serve as illustrations to the narration that the text provides. The combination of the two, however, allow the reader to slow down and absorb the emotions of life with this goofy-eyed dog. As they read, the audience develops their own empathetic relationship with the dog Jay.

Once the text reaches its end, though, the comic continues. After the words “You were a good boy,” the narration stops and a shift is seen with the remaining image-only panels. The previously plain-white background fades to all black. The previous panels consisted entirely of scene-to-scene transitions depicting disconnected, snapshot images of life with Jay, but the post-narration panels consist entirely of moment-to-moment transitions with very little time elapsing between panels.

This drastic shift in composition represents the shift between what is known by the comic’s writer/artist and what is not. The fade to black can be seen as symbolically representing Jay’s sleeplike fade into death and the unknown realm that exists there after. Both the “audible” silence from the lack of text and the visual silence from the solid black background give these final panels a sense of solemnity as Jay’s death is accepted. This black also presents a stark contrast against the bright, faintly glowing white of Jay’s ghost, giving the sense that even after death, Jay is still his bright, happy, doglike self.