The Crying Meme

[pantheraliam]

Find them crying...


Directions:
1. NO BLANK TOP-LEVELS - write a TL that depicts your character crying (character name & canon in the subject line)
2. tag around to other TLs - your character finds that one crying
3. profit

This meme is open to anyone, just don't be a dick. ❤︎

Comments

Eren Jaeger | Attack on Titan

[abandonhumanity]

[It all wells up. He's gotten good at controlling it. He knows how to keep a straight face, to choke it down, to hide in plain sight. His whole life, he was ridiculed for the way he cried, but now...

[He wishes he could, right out there in the open like he used to. He wishes he could scream again, sob, bang his fists on the ground and wail.

[It was freer then. His soul has been suffocated. He tries to feel nothing, and sometimes he succeeds, but still...

[It all wells up. He presses himself into a dark corner and pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes, gasps ripping their way out of his throat. His arms shake, his teeth grit; a sob escapes, but it's short, bitten off before it can echo.

[It can't last. He can't let go. He just needs a moment, and he'll recalibrate. It won't swallow him. It can't.]

so hear me out. what if they cried in the fuck house

[placation]

[ It shouldn't be surprising.

They're in an impossibly strange situation. Forced out of their own worlds, given everything they could ever need in a beautiful home and a long list of conditions to be met before they can ever be freed. There have been nights, when Maruki was back in his own room, alone and cold, that he might have wanted to cry. Everything about being here is already overwhelming, all his nerves raw and flayed open, and it's only worsened by–

Intimacy probably isn't the right word for it. Eren has touched him in ways no one has in long, lonesome years, ways no one ever has, but Maruki doesn't kid himself in thinking either of them really know each other. He certainly doesn't think Eren likes him. It's all a means to an end, and that stabs at his already sore heart, makes those solitary nights all the more miserable.

So it shouldn't be surprising, no. But he truly didn't expect Eren to be the first to break.

He hesitates for a moment at the landing of the stairs, listens to that sawed-off sob. He genuinely considers sneaking away, as quietly as he came, so that Eren is none the wiser that he overheard.

Maruki has never been able to turn his back on someone in need, though. And they're going to be here together for a long time, aren't they?

He descends the rest of the stairs slowly, quietly, until he can approach the corner Eren's shoved himself in, crouching down before him. ]

Hey.

[ He reaches out to touch one knee, gentle. ]

Eren. Do you want to talk?

jin | xenoblade 2

[torna]

[ jin cried a lot in the early days. after taking lora's heart, feeling it like a constant in his chest. she was always there and then she wasn't and he had lost her, lost it, lost everything —

and then he had malos. a hand in the dark. and he didn't need to cry in the gutter, alone and desolate. because malos held his hand so tightly. I'm with you, all the way, he said, his eternal vow. a vow from the endbringer himself, we'll go together.

so where are they? why was he still here? alone? ]

Sakunosuke Oda | Bungou Stray Dogs

[savetheweak]

[He can't remember ever crying before.

[Not as a child. Not when he lost his. Not ever.

[He's screamed. He's cursed whatever gods may or may not exist. He's felt his heart race, his throat tighten, but never this.

[It just happens. He feels the wet warmth on his cheeks and he's confused, at first, blinking his eyes, swiping his fingers across them.

[His breath doesn't hitch. His sinuses don't ache. It's only those few little tears, and why? He doesn't know. He truly doesn't.]

The Principal / Ashiya Douman | A Terrified Teacher at Ghoul School! (Yohaji!)

[dematerializing]

[To be brought to tears. How pathetic can you get? His mask is firmly in place, but his teeth grit behind it, fists balled up, breaths sharp through his nose. There's no one around to see. That's the only reason he allows himself this, though he hates it. His heart races, his scar aches.

[There's no sound but those short, huffed breaths, but his heartbeat is in his ears.

[He's well-acquainted with this anger, this hatred, what he's carried with him every day for a thousand years. It's terrible. He clings to it.]

[subdivide]

[What a strange fight for him to have stumbled into. The principal, brought to tears - he always thought of him as an immovable pillar, the heart and stone of Hyakki Academy.

So even he has his chinks in his armor.]

...Sir?

u dared me

[nusumi]

[ There's a handful of times he can recall in the thousands of years he's been alive.

Most days, weeks, months blend together. The only distinction between centuries and eras formed by cards, bets and machines. He remembers nothing and too much. Cards and pachinko. Douman paying with coins then a slip of plastic. Ranmaru adapting when he must out of sheer obstinance. It's not laziness - it's time wasted on something else that will change in days, weeks, months. He'll figure out how to count cards the right away and suddenly there's a new game, tiles, a bunch of beads tumbling down a machine and a man cursing next to him.

But in between those tiles turned clattering metal, he can remember the emotional highs and lows of Douman. Forced into a plan no one knew and everyone was a pawn of. He remembers blood coated distress, pure conviction, exasperation and wrath.

And he remembers a moment, two, three peppered in between the blinding lights, slap of cards, ping, ping, ping of metal beads falling down a chute. He remembers this. It's worse than watching him scramble through a puddle of his own blood.

It's a small mercy that keeps him a roof away. He can hear it. Smell it. He has more than six senses reserved for Douman these days.

It goes and goes and goes until-

Maybe he can't take it anymore. A flap of wings and he's behind a man who's never needed another person. Sometimes Ranmaru almost believes him. ]

You got this drunk without me? I'm a little offended.

Phainon | Honkai: Star Rail

[sunbearer]

[It's not obvious that he's crying to the naked eye. His tears evaporate the moment they hit his cheek after all.

But there are other indicators. The creases of his frown so deep it makes his cheeks hurt. The subtle stutter of his breath. The way he could only be found in a corner far away, hoping that nobody can see him.

He's not supposed to cry. He doesn't have the right of it.]

minato arisato | persona 3

[memori3s]

[ He's not the sort of person who cries around others. He's not the sort who cries at all, living his life at an emotional equilibrium.

It catches him unawares, creeps up on him like a bucket left out to catch stray droplets of water from a leaking ceiling, one that's beginning to creak and struggle beneath its own weight.

It's difficult for him to pinpoint the true source of his troubles. Perhaps it's already too late to grasp at it, swept away by the currents of everything happening too quickly. Maybe it's the dream last night, with the lingering stench of thick smoke and blood. Maybe it's reality finally sinking in, the ephemerality of the time he's been given back, simply the first step in accepting an eternity of solitude once more.

The damp trails on his cheeks finally catch his attention. He wipes them away with the inside of his wrist, the gentle thrum in his pulse acting as yet another reminder of the way time is ticking down. ]

[ ooc: canon-verse, AU, rp game-verse, etc. I'll roll with anything. yolo. we ball. ]

jin asked and i deliver

[ordimame]

[YOLO WE BALL]

[whether Minato is expecting it or not. . . a hand eventually comes to rest against his shoulder, warm and solid, fingers squeezing tightly. they don't know each other that well, but the few months they have spent trapped together has made Edamura pretty fond of the kid. . . strange as he may be]

[besides, it isn't in his nature to ignore someone in distress]

. . . hey.

You okay?

[obviously he is not. but the question is more meant as a gentle nudge. an opening for Minato to talk about what troubles him, should he wish to do so]

[pallasathena]

[She is not supposed to enter Minato-san's room without permission. She is especially not to enter Minato-san's room at times when he may be sleeping. Yukari-san has informed her this is improper behavior, though she does not understand it entirely. However, whenever the others tried to explain it further to her, they'd eventually sigh and give up.

Without an explanation, Aigis must then come to her own calculations in this situation which she has deemed a probable emergency. For example, were Minato-san attacked by a shadow, it would be proper to enter his room without permission and to assist him. She does not currently detect any shadows, but she does detect that Minato-san's heart rate is higher than normal levels. There could be many causes for this, and if she were to wait and respond "properly", it might end poorly for both Minato-san and their overall mission.

And so, Aigis forces the door open and steps inside. Only to find Minato-san at the edge of his bed, liquid leaking from his eyes. She tilts her head as she approaches, a gesture intended to show confusion.]

Minato-san- [She should probably explain why she's here, right...] I was concerned that you were in danger, due to changes in both your heart rate as well as the pacing of your breaths.

[Are you?]

haru okumura | persona 5

[girlybruiser]

[ In spite of such a delicate appearance, Haru knows how to quell turbulent emotions and bury them deep in her chest, where dull pain grows and roots itself around her heart like a plant blooming in a much too small pot.

It's easier to push past the pain crushing the ribs in her chest on some days, put aside her feelings for the sake of the others, or simply because sitting in those emotions is deeply uncomfortable.

But today—

Maybe it's the anniversary of her father's passing, maybe it's the horrid remark overheard from a stranger on the subway about Okumura Kunikazu and how society is better off without men like him, maybe it's the fact that when she opens her chat with the one person she wants to talk to, she can't bring herself to send a message after all for many complicated reasons.

Tears well up in her eyes and the next thing she knows, they're streaming down her face, throat constricted and a heavy weight pressing against her chest. She chokes back her sobbing, hastily rubbing at her tears to no avail. ]

I declare it a reality in which eren ends up in tokyo post-laby

[abandonhumanity]

[Come to think of it... with all he's seen of Haru, he's never seen her cry. He isn't sure how to take it. He's never been all that good at comfort. He finds he doesn't like seeing her in tears.]

Haru. [His voice is as deep and steady as ever.]

What is it?

IM WINGING THIS

[myadmice]

[ Subconsciously, Yusuke steps closer to Haru as they wander down the subway platform. ]

I have heard the same uttered about my own teacher.

[ Others might hesitate to empathize in such a manner. Madarame, after all, was not his parent by blood. But he thinks -- the two of them were raised by men who were once pure-hearted, only to gradually become pawns and stepping stones for power in those men's eyes. ]

But his name is often forgotten by the public these days.

[ It was a common statement that went around shortly after Madarame's arrest. "What a rotten man." "Society is better off without a fraudster like that."

In those times, Yusuke oftentimes sought a distraction.

On the subway platform, he thrusts a hand out at Haru with a flourish. ]

We shall enjoy a warm meal instead! It shall be my treat!

[ Said by the guy who has 100 yen to his name right now. ]

akira kurusu | persona 5

[rehabilitations]

[ there's nothing different about today, just another ordinary sunday. sometimes, akira is out with friends or at one of his numerous part time jobs, but today, he's in leblanc. sundays are slow days, and so akira takes it upon himself to man the cafe alone while sojiro spends some quality time with futaba.

prep work isn't difficult as much as it's tedious, but akira doesn't mind being able to focus on some mindless task while thinking of other things. what's different today, however, is that he sniffs suddenly, tears stinging at his eyes while he stands over the cutting board and pile of vegetables. they stream past his glasses and down his cheeks, dripping onto the collar of his shirt and his apron as he continues dicing.

this onion is really throwing hands today. ]

( ooc: i'm sorry. timeline flexible; cross-canon/au/assumed cr/etc. all okay, go wild and i'll match you. fuck it we ball. )

[savetheweak]

[It was the scent of curry that attracted Oda to the cafe. He has his preferred place in Yokohama, but he's yet to settle on one when he visits Tokyo. He's been here a while now, sitting quietly at the bar, sipping the best coffee he's ever had in his life.

[He notices the kid sniffling behind the counter.]

You alright?

pietro "quicksilver" maximoff | x-men: evolution

[quicksome]

[ There's not much to see when he's caught.

He's standing with his back to the only entrance of the room, bracing himself against the wall with one arm as it all immediately tightens into the most tense, wound up knot of a young man the second he realizes someone else is in here with him. Otherwise there's no movement, not for what counts as a long, long Quicksilver moment, until his shoulders rise and fall with what must be a steadying breath. ]

You've got three seconds to get the hell out of here.

[ And it's suddenly clear, the way those words claw to get out of his throat, choked back by tears he's too ashamed to let fall. ]

First two don't count.

assumed cr if u so please - not labyverse but some kind of jamjar?

[wintolive]

Yeah right.

[Like he'd walk away now.]

What's wrong? Just tell me.

yusuke kitagawa | persona 5 royal

[myadmice]

[ Yusuke blinks up from staring at his wallet, interrupted by the cashier's chipper voice.

"Congratulations! You're our 777th customer of the week, so we're offering you a buy-one-get-one-free special on what you just bought!"

The fingers wrapped around his bowl of cup noodles begin to tremble as he lowers his head again, shoulders shaking with low laughter as the cashier looks on with increasing concern.

"...sir, did you hear what I said? You're our buy-one-get-one-free winner of the week --" ]

You must be an angel sent from above! Such generosity -- no human being with their blackened hearts would ever offer me such kindness!

[ Yusuke straightens and reaches out with one hand, clasping it around the poor woman's own and shakes it vigorously, tears streaming down his face. ]

I will have my chicken flavored noodles for lunch. And then for dinner, I will have the beef flavor that you've gifted to me.

[ "It's a promotion, not... exactly a gift."

But she sees there is no point in reasoning with him as she pushes the second bowl of cup noodles over to him, watching as his fat tears drip onto the conveyor belt.

"...sir? Are you going to be okay?" ]

[ ooc: I don't have a crying icon but if we use our imaginations we can pretend he is crying with joy here... ]

[averageorangejoe]

WOAH! DID YOU REALLY WIN FREE NOODLES?

[The tears don't seem to concern him.]

NO FAIR!

kipperlilly copperkettle | dimension 20: fantasy high: junior year

[madstermind]

[ Angry.

She's so, so angry. It's like fire in her veins, a ringing in her ears. No matter what she does, no matter how she tried, none of it even mattered. Every technique, every plot and plan. None of it meant anything in the end.

So, she's angry. Angry, angry, angry.

Crying is never beautiful. Crying is ugly. Lips peeled back, snot dribbling from one's noses, the way your face almost grins, almost grimaces, eyes shut so tight that they hurt, and your face hurts, and everything hurts. Angry crying is worse. She's yelling, she's screaming, she's gripping at her hair and the sides of her face, tugging at them, before her fists are on the ground again. Not punching — almost punching.

She's so, so angry, and what else is there to do but keep yelling, now? It's all over. There's nothing left. It's rage-filled, her yell, broken, her small voice breaking while she tries to take her anger out on... nothing? The ground? Anything she can get her hands on, of course. ]

[dematerializing]

[Douman didn't mean to stumble upon it. Sometimes, he ends up in places he didn't intend to go, or at the very least, intended to go alone. Regardless, he's seen the pitiful display, patiently waited for her to tire herself out before lightly clearing his throat.]

Young lady.

[A sobbing child, as far as someone as old as him is concerned.]

What seems to be the trouble?

Abe no Seimei | A Terrified Teacher at Ghoul School!

[unpeace]

[No one would be able to tell from a distance, not when he smiles through his tears. Not when his face is always peaceful, always mysterious, all-seeing as the moon. He stands there by his lonesome, a distance away from humans and spirits alike, a painting drawn by creation.

He is untouchable. He is supposed to be untouchable.

And yet, if one would dare look closer - if one could look closer - you could see the drops staining his cheeks. Why would he cry, you ask? Nobody knows.

Perhaps this is supposed to be a story that only the moon could tell.]

[ooc: hi this is novas. i'm voicetesting in the roughest way possible do be kind ❤︎]

[dresscode]

[ It's not his time.

Something has gone wrong for Haruaki, as it so often does– catastrophically wrong, as it occasionally does. If he's here in this strange space, all bellflower fields and gentle breeze and the moon hanging full overhead, then something has gone so very wrong–

But it's not his time. Not yet. Abe no Seimei is there, and he always returns Haruaki to where he needs to be, new life breathed into an old soul.

He takes a few tentative steps forward, a hand outstretched. ]

Seimei...?

[ Haruaki's not close enough to see more than the faintest glimmer of moonlight damp against his cheek. Still, he knows– intrinsically, immediately, he knows.

Another few steps until he can crouch down before the man, all gentle concern. ]

Seimei, what's wrong? What happened?

[ What could possibly shake him? ]

link | legend of zelda: breath of the wild

[skyglider]

[The sunrise is beautiful.

This time of day feels like it belongs to another time and place. Another version of him, one with a mind full of memories and a strong sense of purpose. Link senses that part of himself sometimes, tucked away, buried beneath layers of quiet and the merciless passage of time. Memories. Thoughts. Feelings. They lay just beneath the surface, waiting.

None spring to mind with the rising of the sun, of course. There is no familiar sight to jog his memory; no sudden epiphany to make things fall into place. Only a pain that rises to the surface gently but steadily, mounting as the morning light brightens. It grips his body and soul, the feeling of loss that washes over him, nameless and complete, a symphony of lament that speaks to the deepest parts of him, lost to time.

Four flowers laid before him, graveless mourning for a faceless few.

The heavy price of failure, paid in blood.

Losses that cut him to the core, and yet, he does not know their names.

Goddess. He truly is meant to carry all of this. And he does, because this is who Link is. Never questioning, never doubting; he accepts this fate and holds it close. What reason does he have to do otherwise? What purpose does he serve if not this?

The tears go unnoticed until they drip to his chin. When he realizes, he wipes them with a callused hand, staring wondrously at them, speechless.]

[owlmask]

[ A spirit stands near him, out of his line of sight. Mineru is almost at home here among the dead, long since separated from her body but yet clinging to life. There is a mission to fulfill. Lives to honor. Sacrifices to make meaningful. Her little brother cannot have died in vain.

Here is the hero Zelda spoke of, the knight who was chosen by the sword, by the Goddess. He has much to do, yet he finds the time to honor those who have gone before him. Would that he knew Rauru trusted him with the fate of the whole kingdom tens of thousands of years ago. Would that Rauru could see him here, pausing to acknowledge the dead, for whom he also fights.

Would that he knew how deep Zelda's faith in him runs. ]

It is good to mourn, [ she says, [ walking so he can see her. She kneels on the ground, sits back on her feet, and bows her head. ] To honor the past. Its legacy and their memory carry us forward, and we live because they can't.

Maelle | Clair Obscur: Expedition 33

[deservetofly]

[She thinks she's fine, sometimes. Sometimes, she can even throw rocks, down, down into the water, and she feels like she can cast away her rage and her grief with it. Sometimes she can lift her chin up, remind herself of what needs to be done, stay focused on the vow they'd always made. We continue.

Other times, though, it's too much. She tries to let herself feel it now, all of it, as Lune said she does. But it doesn't burn her inside out; it feels like a weight lodged deep in her chest, holding her in place. All she can do is sit on the cliff edge, draw her knees to her chest, and let her small frame shake with dry, shaky sobs.]


(ooc: hewwo this is candace... I'm voicetesting! also can play her from act III, just let me know what you prefer.)

Meryl Stryfe | Trigun Stampede

[newsbulletin]

[One of the things Meryl's travels had taught her was that she needed to spend more time with people. Not as part of her studies, not in an office, but just with people, living their lives, scraping out whatever living they could, learning their stories. And sometimes, just sometimes, she needs to spend time remembering.

It's a stupid impulse, really. She enters a bar, a little run-down saloon, sidles up onto one of the stools and orders a whiskey. It looks and smells no more appealing than it ever did, but she still takes a sip, and the sweetness to bitterness to burning down her throat almost makes her gag with surprise. The bartender shoots her a concerned look, and she coughs and recovers enough to laugh.

She laughs at herself, at the gruff voice she can almost hear laughing back at her and telling her to get it together, newbie, and she laughs until tears prick at the corners of her eyes and shes has to scrub them away with the heel of her hands.]

It tastes just as awful as I thought. [She laughs again, a small hiccup, her voice close to cracking.] This is so stupid.


(ooc: voicetesting x2! I'm caught up on ep1 of Stargaze, happy to play her from whatever canonpoint you prefer.)

maybe she could be in between seasons? up to you! maximum angst ;; poor girl

[brokeassgoing]

[Badou works a bit like Meryl and her reporting coworkers-- watching people sniffing around for information, and a lot of bar hopping for any interesting tidbits. he tries not to get too into his cups, you get sloppy that way, but he can't just order a water. beer is safer, and he side eyes the young woman sitting beside him at her choice]

Probably safer with a beer, till you can tolerate that shit.

mitsuba | jibaku shounen hanako-kun

[disheartenings]

I. FEAR.

[ The tears that streak down his cheeks are as cold as the dread crawling up his spine. There's no shame in it—no room for shame when it's ice freezing over his limbs, holding him in place, chilling him to the bone. He should move—do something, anything. Fight. Flee. But the only response he can elicit is the silent continuation of tears, falling as drop by drop with every blink from his lashes.

When he finally finds his voice, it comes choked with his fear. ] S-stop this—please...

II. ANGER.

[ As he stomps away, the roil of emotion in his chest feels like it could burst. Every part of him is strung tight with tension—the grinding set of his jaw, the clench of his fists—but what bursts from him isn't an explosion of temper. It cracks and leaks slowly. His eyes prickle, and that tell-tale sensation wells up in his throat. Another thought of what had just transpired and it overflows, angry tears spilling from his eyes, streaking hot down his flushed face. ]

Ugh... Wh-what's that stupid jerk's problem?!

[ His words stutter, but the heat comes across in a tone strained with frustration. Squeezing his eyes shut, he scrubs his sleeves over dampened skin, but the tears ebb and flow with the turn of his thoughts, pivoting between slowly calming and then a renewed burst of anger. Is it really too much to ask for a little bit of consideration?! ]

III. MISERY. (blood, gore, tbhk spoilers.)

[ Once the deep, gnawing hunger is sated, he's pervaded with a different kind of fullness. As the dizzying, all-consuming craving fades, as his fogged mind returns to itself, the feeling that comes to sit, hefty in his stomach, is a pit of regret. There's no satisfaction to be gleaned from these meals—whatever fulfillment they offer is in turn devoured by the aftermath, when he returns to the awareness that he stands over the desecrated carcasses of a dozen inhuman creatures.

His hands are sticky. Supernaturals don't exactly run flush with the same blood of a living being, but their insides can be just as simple or complicated as any. When they get hurt, they leave traces of themselves behind, proof that they existed. On Mitsuba, it's a proof of guilt.

He lurches forward, knees folding in a squat. The thought hits no less hard for the number of times he's had it—it shreds him, claws up his chest, his throat. At his feet are the mangled remnants of a two-headed bird, its ribcage torn open, delicate bone protruding like needles from a mass of flesh and feathers. He tucks his face into his arms, unable to bear the sight of it. He wishes he could be sick with this carnage already, that it would all pour out of him in a wave of nausea to prove the world wrong—he doesn't need this, how could he need this if it disagrees with him, this disgusting, awful practice, cannibalizing the weak not even to live, only to buy himself time.

His body—stubborn and monstrous—keeps it all down. The only thing that makes it past his tightened throat is a shuddering breath, more out of habit than necessity. The prelude to tears is all the same, even if he doesn't need oxygen, the ragged inhale-exhale that threatens sobbing, the pressure buildup that gives way to sniffling. Staring at the sliver of ground between his shoes, his eyes mist, but it's as though he can't muster anything more. How many times has he already cried over this? It's like every bit of grief is slowly being wrung out of him.

When even the tears don't spill, his shoulders shake. He laughs. Sucks in a wet, shuddering breath. Sniffles. He knows how this must look, feeling sorry for himself amidst his own carnage. Isn't it pathetic? Isn't he the worst? ]

flat escardos | fate/strange fake

[escardos]

[ Flat sits down in an area where he thinks he'd be alone. The moon is high in the sky and the park is mostly alone aside from people that are also keeping to themselves.

Therefore, there's no one to care about a young man crying alone at the foot of the tree. His tears roll almost on their own, as the rest of his body and expression remains calm.

He breathes in...and out. Evenly, without any hurry or anxiety. Leaning back, he rests his head against the tree and closes his eyes as the tears continue to roll. ]