#...and it just sucks because that leaves me to remember and grieve and doing that with the knowledge that my abuse Is A Joke at My Expense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

swaps55 · 9 months

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I lost my friend to cancer yesterday.

I’d really like to tell you about her.

We meet people throughout our lives who change it, in big ways and small ways, and ways we will never forget. Sara/ @dearophelia was one of those people for me.

I met her here, on tumblr, about 10 years ago. I wish I could remember what piece of writing I stumbled onto first, but she was such a gifted writer that I immediately wanted to see more. I somehow wound up following her live blog of a road trip, which was full of uproariously snarky jokes about Ohio. I had the courage to reach out and tell her how funny I thought she was, and how great her username was to this fellow Mass Effect fan who lived right down the road in Kentucky and got all the Ohio jokes.

We talked. We chatted. I introduced her to a group of people I played Mass Effect 3’s multiplayer with. She grew from a level one first-timer to a total badass who could carry a team and taught other people how to do the same thing.

And then my life fell apart.

Everything fell apart for me. Turning to my family wound up being a catastrophe, and I didn’t have local “real world” friends I could turn to.

So I texted Sara. Told her I needed somewhere to go, and asked if I could stay with her that weekend.

She texted back, “Yes.” Sent me her address, and said to ping me when I got there. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t ask why. She just gave me shelter. So I showed up on her doorstep, and she listened while I told her everything. She didn’t judge me. She didn’t think I was insane. She had every right to think both things. Instead, she gave me safe harbor at a time when I had no control over my life and didn’t know what was going to happen to me.

For the next several months, I made frequent trips up I-75 to Ohio. She kept an air mattress out for me. We played multiplayer. We talked about Mass Effect. We talked about life. We bitched about all the people who hated on one of our favorite characters. She introduced me to Babylon 5. I have so many memories of sitting on the couch in her apartment, with her cat Odo crawling around behind my head. When I eventually pieced myself together enough to leave Kentucky and start the work of starting over, it meant leaving behind that sanctuary with her in her apartment, and it was something I had to grieve along with everything else.

And now I am grieving it again, and so much more. I am so lucky I was able to fly back to Ohio a few weeks ago while I had the chance. Hugging someone goodbye, knowing it’s the last hug you’re going to get….well, it sucks.

But I got that hug.

Sara was so many things. She was a gifted storyteller with entire worlds in her head. One of the weekends I stayed with her, she had recreated the Mass Effect galaxy map on her wall with notecards and string to help her tell a story. She could create a character and make you fall in love with them in a matter of sentences. Because of her stories, I binge watched all ten seasons of Stargate SG-1.

She was also not afraid to unapologetically be herself. I had a lot of things to learn and unlearn about the world, feminism, gender, and sexuality, especially in those days. Listening to her fight for her space in the world and refuse to be told she was anything less than who she wanted to be helped me learn some of the things I needed to learn, and embrace the things I discovered about myself.

She loved music. She made the best fucking playlists. She taped inspirational notes around her condo. She sent me a set of coasters that say, “Fuck It,” and “Nah,” and I use them every single day. Her smile was gorgeous. She lit up a room.

And now she’s gone. I won’t see her in my tumblr notes anymore. I won’t see her on my dash. I won’t get pinged with new Odo photos. She won’t get to hear the new music I listen to that shows up in our Spotify blend. I won’t get to talk about the next Mass Effect game with her. I won’t get any more Ao3 updates in my inbox.

I wanted you to know about her – this pocket friend of mine who impacted my life in ways that I won’t ever forget.

I hope you will read her stories. Listen to her playlists. She was a brilliant human being. She should still be here. She isn’t.

And I miss her.

#dearophelia #write your way out #cancer tw #death tw

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dadvans · 14 days

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hm.

i think this is coming up because longmont potion castle came into conversation recently. the last time i saw you, really saw you where it was just the two of us, we spent the night on the couch in your condo listening to longmont potion castle tapes. "rope" was my favorite.

i saw you again, later, with your soon-to-be wife, who was wonderful. i still hadn't progressed to taking hormones, but you introduced me easily, just like you had with your roommate within weeks of me leaving my ex and deciding to transition. no faltering. you always got me.

i'll always remember you making me stop my car, saying, "psp psp psp kitty, first pets are free," and making new cat friends.

you would have been so much better at being in your thirties than i am. i suck at this. you would have been so good. you would know what to do in this stubborn world.

we started a tumblr for our radio show in 2010. i updated it every week but struggled, because it was so much different from livejournal. i still have that account attached to mine, because there's a picture of us as the icon, and despite how i've changed, i'm not ready to let go of your (occasionally terrible, joanna newsom and titus andronicus, really?) music taste, or the picture of us together in my old kitchen, back when we used to have vodka and pickle parties to watch new episodes of jersey shore.

this isn't an anniversary of your death, it isn't even close. it's just a random day i'm remembering you again. your wife wouldn't let me see your ashes the last time i asked, because she was still grieving and lost, and i respect that, but i really just wanted to read you italian elon musk tweets. you would have fucking loved italian elon musk twitter. you would have been an answer to a lot of things happening now that we don't have. you were so fucking smart, and funny. someone uploaded your one-time standup show when we were college students to youtube, and i've watched it more than once.

if anyone ever deserved to be alive, it would be you, and i'm so mad that you aren't. life was taken from you in the ugliest way. it was taken from you and you were taken from us, and no one had a say, and every now and then (today) i get real fucking angry about it.

i still drive past your old house sometimes and expect to see your franksteined together car. i remember how soft your hands were. your stupid mountain unicycle. the way you made us all listen to drake but also the first press the smiths album afterward like a balm, only to chase that with fucking drake like he was the second coming. you laughed like jimmy carr getting punched in the solar plexus. i miss you so much. i can't remember how long it's been.

#misc.#personal

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dreamerdoesthewritething · 1 year

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Got a random hit of inspiration for a LSK x Reader thing. I write for me, so with anything I write, the Reader is almost always AFAB, unless specified otherwise.

Hope you like it~! <3 ;3

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You couldn't believe the news.

It had to be a mistake.

The government wouldn't nuke one of their own cities, no matter what. That's terrorism. That's un-American. That's unspeakable.

Yet that's exactly what the newscasters across all stations were reporting. The government had wiped Raccoon City off the face of the planet, along with anyone still alive within its limits.

You didn't live there, nor did any of your family members or even your friends. The only reason you care is, aside from it being a tragedy, one of your childhood friends works there. In fact, he was supposed to have started only a week ago.

Knowing the kind of man your friend had become, there's no doubt in your mind that he was there. He sought out Raccoon City specifically because of the trouble surrounding it. The bizarre murders in a nearby mountain area. That was where he wanted to be after he graduated from the police academy. You remembered everyone trying to convince him it was better to stay near home than to go somewhere so dangerous. He was too stubborn to listen.

Now, he was--

The tears started falling and wouldn't stop. You collapsed on the floor. Everything stood still, yet it would never be the same again.

The nation mourned, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, and you grieved right along with it. You hadn't grieved this much in your life. It's the first time someone you loved was taken from you. Your family and friends were there for you as much as possible. You didn't want professional help. Maybe you should, though, people said. A loss this heavy...

He was your best friend growing up. You were there for him when his family was murdered. Your parents took him in, gave him a place to stay so he wouldn't be alone. When the nightmares would get too rough, you'd crawl into bed with him and fight them off, comforting him by holding him and running your fingers through his hair. He'd loved that, and even though he asked you to stop once you guys weren't little kids anymore, there were nights when he'd be at his own home, struggling to sleep, and would call you up and say nothing but you knew what he needed and you'd come right over to do it again.

People teased, insisting that the two of you were more than friends. Rumors of you sleeping together were constant. Heaven forbid a boy and a girl hang out without there being something going on between you. That's what he used to say. You valued your friendship so much that you never told him there was some truth to it.

Then again, just about everyone who saw him felt some special way about him. That's probably why your peers bullied you so much. They saw you as an obstacle to his affections. Attacking his best friend to try to win his heart never made any sense to you or him. If anything, it made him like them less. He also never cared for those who would suck up to or attempt to use you to get closer to him. He always could see right through those kinds of people.

Why were you thinking about this now?

A month had passed since the Raccoon City incident. How had time gone by so fast? You were staring up at the ceiling in your bed, wearing the same clothes you wore the day before and the day before that. You took a leave of absence from work. You barely ate. Hell, you barely left this bed. Why should you? Your best friend was dead. It was the fault of the Umbrella Corporation who started a viral outbreak. It was the fault of the government who chose to eradicate the city a little too quickly, without giving those still alive enough time to possibly evacuate. It was your fault for not fighting harder for him to find employment in a safer city.

You kept having horrible nightmares of what happened to him. Zombified. Mutilated. Turning to pink mist as the warheads dropped. Screaming. So many times he'd be screaming. Every time. You were constantly being showered in his blood, his remains, his death.

You didn't tell anyone about these dreams. They'd push you even harder to go to a therapist. You didn't want to be on more prescriptions. You're fine. You just needed time.

It's like you were waiting for something. What was it?

Maybe you really did just want to die, too.

What a dark thought. No wonder everyone was worried about you. They should be. But you swore you weren't suicidal, because you knew he'd never want you to kill yourself. How many times had he told you that on your bad nights, the ones where the bullies got to you a little too much and you couldn't stop the thoughts that they were right about you, the ones when you couldn't fight them alone? He'd held you and ran his fingers through your hair and reminded you how much you were loved. How much he loved you. As a friend, of course.

Yeah, you were such close friends that your way of comforting one another was the same, too. The Cuddle-Stroke, as you once called it. Then he told you never to say that again, flustered as you laughed your ass off. Silly teenagers. You considered referring to it by initials, but the number of things CS could stand for if someone heard you might raise some alarm.

But damn, you could really go for some CS right now.

Before you could start crying again, your doorbell rang. Who could it be at this time of night? Not family. Your parents had keys to your home and the others knew better than to show up uninvited, especially nowadays. That last part applied to your friends, too. Criminals don't want to draw attention to themselves, so it couldn't be one of those...Could it?

Better safe than sorry.

You grabbed the bat you kept at your bedside for such moments as these and quietly headed towards your front door. The chime of the bell echoed through the house again. You wished you had a peephole in the door so you could see who was there without opening it. You didn't have that option.

Taking a deep breath, you threw the door open and readied your weapon only to immediately drop it as you, too, dropped.

Had you really lost it?

It couldn't be him. You must be hallucinating.

Either that or you were dreaming.

The hands that touched your shoulders felt real enough. They lifted you back onto your feet, never letting go as you were brought back into your house. They proceeded to close and lock the door before guiding you towards the living room.

The man they belonged to was saying something, but you couldn't hear it. It was like you were under water. Your head was swimming. Your heart was racing. Your stomach hurt. Nothing made sense.

He realized you were lost. He felt lost himself, but less so than you. Before coming here, he discovered just about everyone he knew thought he was dead. That he died with Raccoon City. They weren't completely wrong. His heart still beat. His brain still worked. His body wasn't dead or undead. But a part of him had died that horrible night.

Apparently, a part of you had as well.

There was only one thing he could think to do in a moment like this. It wouldn't undo the month of grief. Nothing ever would. But it was the only way he knew he could get through to his best friend, to snap you out of the shock of seeing him in the flesh.

He sat down on the floor in front of your couch, pulling you down with him into his lap. Your head founds its place on his chest. You practically melted into him. He began stroking your hair, running his fingers through it gently and slowly.

Gently and slowly, you started to become grounded again. You weren't in a dream. You weren't hallucinating. He really was here, alive. Somehow. A miracle, maybe?

What the fuck did it matter? Your best friend lived! He didn't go up in flames in Raccoon City. He came back to you. He really, really made it back home.

Why did it take so long?

You wanted to ask. You wanted to get mad at him for putting you through so much suffering. You wanted so many answers, so many things. He had to know that.

But you thought about what he must've been through, and you held your tongue.

"I missed you, Leon," you said, the first time you spoke in days.

Your voice cracked, you sounded miserable. Oh fuck, you were crying this entire time, weren't you? This was not how you pictured your reunion at all, though to be fair you never thought you'd see him again in this life. You probably smell like shit since you've been in the same clothes for at least three days and haven't showered. What does he think of you, seeing you like this?

"I missed you, too," he said.

Like yours, his voice cracked. You forced yourself to look up at his face. He was crying, too. Not bawling, but tears were falling from his eyes, leaving a trail down his cheeks. He was fighting to keep a neutral expression and failing. The light no longer shone in his beautiful blue eyes like it once had.

Oh god, what had happened to him?

He wanted to apologize for making you wait for him. He wanted to apologize for all the grief, all the tears, all the things that happened since he chose to go to that damned city. He wanted to explain why he was gone for so long, why he didn't contact you as soon as he was able. It wasn't because he didn't want to. He simply couldn't. There was so much he couldn't say or do.

All he could manage now was, "I'm sorry."

You acted without thinking, and suddenly your positions are reversed. His head on your chest, you running your fingers through his hair as you hold him there. He's much tenser than you were. Even this couldn't relax him the way it once did. What did they do to him?!

"It's okay, Leon. It's not your fault," you said. You swallowed the sobs that threatened to erupt during that last sentence. "It's not your fault," you repeated.

Of course he knew that. Didn't make him feel any better.

"You're alive," you said, and for some reason your voice dropped to a whisper. Like it was some kind of secret between the two of you.

"I'm alive," he said, matching your tone.

Words wouldn't come to you. He couldn't say what he wanted. So you just held him. He loosened up a bit and held you again, too. No words needed right now. He was alive. You were with your best friend. That's all that mattered.

That's all that mattered.

#dreamer writes #resident evil #leon kennedy #leon s. kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #death mention //#suicidal thoughts //#ask to tag if needed

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 9 months

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TL;DR: I am massively over sharing, but not going anywhere. This will be long, but I am enjoying the freedom that openness is affording me. TW: baby loss.

You might remember a couple of weeks ago I mentioned I thought I had norovirus or food poisoning, it turns out it was the onset of a miscarriage. I didn’t know I was pregnant, but once the vomiting, etc. had passed I felt a heaviness in my lower abdomen, coupled with heavy bleeding. I wasn’t due on yet and something just didn’t feel right. Max drove me to A&E and in the four hours it took for me to be seen, I’d passed most of it on the waiting room floor.

I don’t want kids and, owing to fertility issues, I can’t carry to full term anyway. I didn’t feel like I had a right to grieve, to be sad over something I didn’t want, so I didn’t tell anyone. The only person that knew was Max.

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve shut myself off from everyone and been unbearable to be around. I tell Max to leave me alone when he tries to talk to me. We tried to go on a lunch date together last weekend and ended up going home early because we both felt miserable. He bought me flowers - he always does when I am sad - and they usually always cheer me up. I hated these flowers. They felt like they served as a reminder of my lack of control, a reward for something I hadn’t earned. When they died and I could finally throw them away I felt relieved.

I’ve poured myself into fandom, hoping for a distraction. You may have noticed my last two Aemond fics were angsty ones (Anhedonia and Careless Words) - I think that was my way of attempting to release whatever it was that I’d bottled up.

Then the drama started - I defended a friend and for 48 hours I was publicly torn apart on another user’s page. Old issues were dragged into it and once more resurfaced. It’s hit me a lot harder than it usually would because I just don’t have the capacity to deal with it.

But it did give me the shove I finally needed to open up and talk about what has happened to me. I’ve talked through my feelings with Max, we went on a cinema date together and it was nice, so nice. We told each other we’d missed each other.

It’s like a weight has been lifted, and has given me some much needed clarity on the situation here in fandom. I am not prepared to walk away from fandom, I adore writing too much. However, I can admit that both parties involved in what has transpired over the last few days, weeks, months, have acted appallingly. I hold my hands up to the part I have played and I apologise. I will be better, do better.

With that in mind, I will be Marie Kondo-ing my space and removing anyone that does not bring me joy. I suggest you all do the same. Don’t follow people out of obligation, don’t be nice publicly then slander them in private. If you don’t like me, don’t follow me. I want nothing in my little corner of the web that I don’t enjoy. I don’t want to put out anything that has the potential to sour people’s fandom experience or make it a toxic experience for them.

I can’t be best buddies with everyone, but I refuse to be anyone’s enemy either. I will choose to be kind, because over the last couple of weeks I have not been kind to myself or others. And it has fucking sucked. No more.

I don’t want anyone’s sympathy, so please spare me. I just wanted to be fully transparent. It’s nice not to bottle this up anymore.

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sweeethinny · 8 months

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What Love Turns When It's Over

"When all this is over," Ginny began, and already feeling Demelza's disapproving look she added: "And it will. It's a tragedy with an announced end, I know that... But when this is all over, I'm going to leave broken."

"Don't talk like that, even if things go wrong, we have to hope that they will get better. Sadness only exists because happiness exists, I told you that." Ginny nodded, she understood her friend, understood what she was saying and knew that it all made sense, she didn't disagree with her, but she also knew that her and Harry's story would hardly have an alternative ending, if there was such a thing as soul mates, they were two souls who found each other at the wrong time, on the wrong day, in the wrong year, and in the wrong story.

Maybe in another life, a story with other characters, experiences different enough to change the ending.

"Not with us," Ginny shrugged, even though it caused her almost physical pain. "And it's going to hurt so bad." She gave a sad smile. "So, so much so that I don't think I will ever get over it, even though I know I will eventually, but it will be difficult... Loves like that, that don't work out, hurt more than those that do. My story with Dean worked out if you see if a certain point of view, and the end didn't tear me apart, I've lived with him all we had to live for, but with Harry... We won't have time, or chance, and that's what hurts the most. He will forever be my "what if" and the pain of doubt destroys much more." Ginny sighed, wiping the single tear that trickled down her face, blinking rapidly to hide all the thousand more she wanted to spill from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what to say." Demelza looked almost insulted that she couldn't help, she was a very good friend, she felt Ginny's pain as if it were her own. "It's unfair for the two of you to experience this… You deserved more."

"That's what everyone will always say," She said, looking up at her dorm ceiling. "I don't know if it comforts me more to know that it is an announced end, because at least it gives me time to prepare for it, or I would just like to be caught off guard… I live our moments always thinking "will this be the last? Is it the last joke he tells me? Is this the last time I hear his laugh? Is this the last time we do this?" and I never get the answers. I know we have to take one day at a time, but the anxiety of the end keeps me from that, so I feel like I'm in mourning long before I have to go to the wake. Remember when I said I heard Tonks saying that before love is gone, one side always knows it's over? I feel that way. While Harry is finding everything as vivid as possible, I think I'm morbid on his side waiting for the moment where I bury our love and I can finally grieve. I know it all sucks, I had to be more optimistic, have more hope, think that I also deserve a happy ending, but honestly, I can't fool myself that much."

None of them said anything else, they didn't have anything else to say, as Ginny said, it was a tragedy foretold, she just didn't know when it would all end.

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Without much to say, I thought about it a few days ago already. Things aren't that easy and I think Ginny is the character who understands that the most

#Hinny #Harry X Ginny #My fic

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dreamersbcll · 9 months

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Hi, I was thinking about a prompt where Sam and Tara remember it's their mom's birthday. Sam feeling guilty that Christina isn't in Tara's life because of her and just thinking about that all day. Tara being moody all day because it's reminding her of how poorly Christina treated her and bringing up feelings she tries to bury. Sam thinking Tara's in a bad mood because of Sam. Then a big talk where they both just mutually breakdown and blubber to each other.

Also love your writing :)

“Cuts”

went a little off the tracks.

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“I don’t love you. I don’t love you. I don’t love you,” Tara whispered, tightly shutting her eyes.

She was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the condensation from the steamy shower dripping down the glass. She found it easier to talk to herself when she couldn’t see her reflection staring back.

It was August twenty-second. A muggy, rainy day. It was her mother’s birthday.

Well, she wasn’t her mother, just by blood. But Sam said that didn’t matter because the family could be chosen. Like how the twins were like her siblings, Gale and Kirby, her aunts.

But that didn’t wash away the years of abuse and neglect. It didn’t remove the scars permanently etched into her skin and heart.

She wishes that Christina didn’t have such a hold on her. She hoped to let go of the past and move on like Sam had done. Tara honestly had no idea how her big sister had done it. It was like Christina was a leech, sucking the life out of Tara no matter where she went.

It is only on your mother’s birthday do you realize that you have no idea who your mother truly is.

It was funny. She hadn’t felt like she had a mother for years. There was a period when she didn’t have a sister either, where she learned she couldn’t depend on anybody. People will always leave and find a better thing. Tara was never that thing- she was the stepping stone that led people to what they wanted.

Her mother was something she could never quite get over. Her therapist had told her that she had been grieving the loss of a mother for years, unknowingly. Every time Tara felt healed from her grief, her mother crawled back, infecting every part of her. A mother’s love should be warm and stable. Christina had bruised Tara enough to know that love was cruel and cold.

She knows that at some point, she had to put down the shovel she used to bury her relationship with her mother. But it was as if the shovel was glued to her hands, and she couldn’t stop digging until nothing was left. Yet there she was, still searching in hopes that one day, she wouldn’t have to love her mother anymore.

It wasn’t love. But it was. There was nothing left for Tara to hold onto. She hadn’t seen her mother in years. She hadn’t felt loved by her mother in a decade. So why did she need to hold on so tightly to someone who didn’t care? She had scars across her back and chin from nights of abuse, and her heart was a pulverized piece of flesh that didn’t beat right.

Please tell me what I did wrong. Please tell me what I must do to fix this. I’m sorry. I want you to be proud of me. I want you to be my mother again. Why don’t you want me? I’m sorry I cried a lot. I’m sorry that Sam left. I’m sorry you were stuck with me. Please love me again. Please.

There was no reason to love Christina Carpenter. There was nothing to salvage. But she couldn’t fucking let go.

It was her mother. Her mommy. The person who birthed her and helped raise her for a little bit. Blood of her blood. Kin of her kin.

Reaching over, Tara wiped away the condensation on the mirror, gasping at the person she saw.

Christina Carpenter stared back at her, sad eyes and all.

One could never run far enough from the truth, the person they were meant to be. And even though Tara tried her hardest to forget about her mother, she still found her wherever she went.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I can’t love you how I want to. You can’t love me how I need you to. I guess we’re stuck here again. Alone and estranged,” she whispered, touching the warm glass.

Her mother didn’t say anything. She didn’t even touch Tara back. They just stood there, watching each other. Waiting for one of them to let go.

Neither did.

——-

Tara was taking a long time in the shower. But she was allowed to. It was their mother’s birthday anyway.

Sam wasn’t stupid. She saw the regression of her sister in the days leading up to this date. Tara had become more irritable and closed off and slept less. More often than not, Sam would wake up and find her little sister staring out the window- waiting for something that would never come.

If she was honest, Sam didn’t quite understand the need Tara had to be loved by someone who didn’t want her. Christina Carpenter couldn’t care for anyone but herself. She didn’t love or need anybody but herself- maybe alcohol, but that’s it. Sam learned that at the age of eight, her parents were not trustworthy people. They were not people that she could depend on.

It was harder for Tara. Sam took over and tried to erase the memories and image of Christina in her little sister’s head- but she couldn't do a good enough job for Tara to forget. She wished she could shake Tara by her shoulders and scream that you don’t need her! I’m here now! You need me! Not her!

But she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be effective. And it wouldn’t be enough. It was hard for Sam to admit that Tara needed more than her. More than her big sister. More than the person who loved her and cared for her when nobody else could.

Sam would tear apart Christina if it helped Tara’s heart beat better. She would kill her, quick and easy, if that were what Tara wanted. Sure, Christina was her mother too, but she was dead to Sam. That woman was nothing but the rotting corpse that plagued her sister’s waking nightmares and reality.

She knows Tara has been in Christina’s fist since they were little- and she knows they’re both bound to their mother by blood. But it was all relative. Tara didn’t owe her mother shit, and Sam desperately wished she could shake that into her little sister.

Here and now, Sam was here. Not their mother. Sam cared for Tara, kept her warm and fed, and put a roof over their heads. She loved Tara like Christina never could.

Only if Tara knew that Sam would do anything, she asked. She would hunt down their mother and rid her of this planet. She would do anything her baby sister asked for.

Tara just needed to ask.

——

Finally exiting the bathroom, Tara tried to make a beeline to the bedroom. She needed to be alone. She needed to wilt from the memories of her mother. Unfortunately, she was stopped by her sister.

Sam leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, with a neutral expression. Tara tried to push past her, tried to ignore her.

But Sam wouldn’t budge.

“Just fucking let me pass, Sam. I don’t want to do this now,” she gritted out, trying to hide the wobble in her voice.

Again, Sam didn’t budge. Instead, her big sister pulled her into a hug against her wishes. She tried to struggle against the touch, feebly pushing back at Sam. Her sister didn’t let go, only held her tighter.

“I know you miss her. I know what today means to you. Come here and let me love you, please,” her sister murmured, kissing the side of Tara’s head.

A muffled sob escaped her mouth, and Tara felt her walls crumble. Her sister always knew what she needed. She always knew how to care for Tara.

She wrapped her arms around her big sister, letting her sobs wrack her body, and her tears stained her sister’s shoulder.

As Sam held her, Tara remembered all the times Sam was there, and her mother wasn’t. There was a picture somewhere of Sam teaching Tara how to walk; Sam’s little face lit up with glee as Tara toddled over to her. There was another one of Sam teaching her how to write a bike, Tara's pigtails flying in the wind as Sam ran next to her.

Realistically she knows that Sam is the only one who has been there for her, the only one who has truly loved her. She knows her need for a mother hurts her big sister and cuts her deep. And she also knows that nobody will ever love and protect her as Sam does.

She knows that her mother did a number on them. She knows Sam can’t sleep more than four hours a night, and Tara can’t handle criticism. There were more scars from their mother than acts of love. And there always would be. That would never change.

But she hoped that Sam knew how much she loved her. How deeply she needed her. No matter how much Tara missed their mother, it wouldn’t change how Tara needed Sam.

“I love you, Sammy,” she whispered, her voice muffled against Sam’s shoulder.

She could feel her sister’s breath catch in her throat, choking a bit on the emotions. Tara only hummed and curled her fingers deeper into Sam’s middle, grounding her big sister.

Sam eventually found her voice; although it was choked up and watery, Tara would never stop craving it.

“I love you too, so much. I’m sorry that she still has a chokehold on us. You know I would do anything for you, right?” she thickly said.

Tara nodded against her sister’s chest. “I know. I’ll always need you more than I need her, okay? I promise,”.

Her big sister didn’t say anything, her body shaking with silent cries. It didn’t matter to Tara. She would hold onto her sister until the end of time if it meant she would stay forever.

#scream #sam carpenter #tara carpenter #carpenter sisters #ao3 author #my writing tag #mommy issues galore #just. sad.#AU: a house in woodsboro

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sparrowsage · 5 months

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The Warehouse: Digging Up Old Memories

Buckle up, because this piece is something. I really enjoyed writing this piece, even if it is a giant emotional show lol. A huge shoutout and thanks to @flowersarefreetherapy for giving me the general idea for this piece! I hope I did it justice! And thank you to @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, and @whumpcereal for cheering me on as always!

HEED THE WARNINGS FOR THIS ONE!!!

TW: Minor whump (Jayden is 14), head injury, threatened noncon drugging, implied noncon (off screen), threatened noncon, mentions of past noncon and torture, implied future noncon, character death (off screen), suicidal thoughts, adult character referred to as 'boy', adult language, heavy grieving ((If I missed anything, please tell me and I'll add it!))

“No, I’m sick of doing this shit!” Jayden yelled, stepping back from Logan as the Keeper moved in closer, towering over the teen. “You never stay true to your word! I can’t let you stand by and hurt Sparrow after I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do!”

Sparrow stared at the two of them, wide-eyed as fear grabbed hold of him. Sure, Sparrow’s challenged the Keeper’s here plenty of times, but that was because whatever ended up happening would happen to him. Jayden fighting back like this? All for his sake? It was thoughtful, but he couldn’t handle the wrath of the Keepers.

Logan backed Jayden up against the wall, his hand shooting forward to the kid’s neck, taking hold of his throat in a tight grip just shy of suffocating him.

“I’d be real careful about your choice here, boy. That piece of shit over there doesn’t deserve a hero, let alone a scrawny one such as yourself. Everyone always comes to the realization that they can’t escape this fate, one way or another. It’s easier for the both of you if you just follow my orders. So what’ll it be, pretty boy? Are you going to show me and the bastard here how much of a good listener you are and suck me off or are you going to continue your little defiant act thinking you can best me?”

Jayden’s hands were around the Keeper’s wrist, doing his best to try and scratch Logan in an attempt to get the hand off his neck, but it wasn’t working. He was too weak. At the question, Jayden stared right back at Logan, his expression sharp enough to cut diamonds.

“Jayden, please-,” Sparrow tried, on the verge of getting up from his spot against the wall by the door. Logan had told him to stay put and that if he moved, he’d force Sparrow to watch the worst Showing he’d ever put Jayden through.

“Shut up, runt,” Logan growled, his head turning slightly in Sparrow’s direction. “He has to make this decision on his own.”

There was silence for a couple seconds and Sparrow could feel the anger rolling off the both of them in waves.

“You and this whole place can go rot in hell. I’m not following another one of your stupid orders just because you think you deserve respect,” Jayden finally spat, bracing himself against the wall before kicking his foot out, his heel landing a direct hit to Logan’s crotch.

The Keeper could hardly brace himself before Jayden’s foot connected with his crotch, Logan doubling over for a moment, his hand never leaving Jayden’s throat, before a loud, angry scream erupted out of his mouth.

In a fluid motion, Logan used all the strength he could muster and lifted Jayden by his neck and threw him to the left over by his desk. Sparrow watched on in horror as he saw the fear and terror flash across Jayden’s eyes as he went flying before the back of the teen’s head connected with the sharp corner of Logan’s desk. He crumpled to the floor as Logan doubled over again, letting out small groans of pain.

“Jayden!” Sparrow shouted, his body jerking momentarily as he went to get up, but remembered Logan’s threat from earlier, causing him to stay in place.

He wasn’t getting up and there was blood leaking out onto the floor. Sparrow couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

“Jayden, get up!” he cried out, Sparrow’s whole body frozen in fear.

“Shut the fuck up!” Logan yelled, his head turning sharply to look at Sparrow.

“No, please, he’s not getting up!” Sparrow pleaded, his fists white with how tight they were balled up. “Please, I’ll do whatever the fuck you want, just take him to the medical ward, please!”

Logan chuckled slightly as he was finally able to stand up straight again. “Oh, you think a bit of pleading will convince me to get him treated? As if. The little shit deserved it, thinking he could fight back like that. Besides, you stupid mutts always seem to recover. He’ll be fine come tomorrow.”

Instead of continuing on with what he had planned, Logan gave one last look to Jayden and Sparrow before deciding to leave his office. There’d be time to do things with them later.

Sparrow let out a snarl as Logan passed him to leave, waiting for the door to shut before he rushed over to Jayden, his hands hovering over his body, afraid that a single touch would make his friend crumble into dust.

#####

“No, you have to let me stay with him!” Sparrow shouted, desperately trying to fight his way out of Josh’s grip on him. “Let me go!”

“You’re scheduled for a Showing and there’s no way you’re missing it,” Josh growled, his grip seeming to get tighter the more Sparrow fought. “He’ll be fine and you’ll get to go back to the main room and see him once the Showing is over.”

“No, he needs me to stay with him since you fuckers won’t take him to the medical ward! Let go of me!”

Josh stopped trying to drag Sparrow forward and out of Logan’s office, instead pulling him in close with an iron tight grip on both his wrists. Their faces were mere inches apart and Sparrow could feel the warmth of his breath. “I won’t hesitate to inject you full of muscle relaxers, boy. You know as much as I do that you’ll do anything to fight back during these things, so do you really want to give up being able to move all because you want to sit by your little friend?”

Sparrow’s body froze at the threat, his eyes going wide for a moment. Josh was right, he couldn’t go through a Showing drugged up like that. He’d have no control (not that he did during Showings) over anything. He couldn’t get injected with that stuff.

Josh smirked as Sparrow stayed still, finally continuing towards the door to the office. “That’s what I thought. Once it’s over, you’ll be able to spend as much time with the little runt as you want.”

#####

Sparrow wasn’t proud of the Showing he just went through. It had to have been the most compliant he’s ever been during one, but he didn’t want it to be dragged out. His only thought and priority was getting back to Jayden to make sure he was okay.

Josh had been surprised with how compliant he had been, as was the audience that showed up to watch. It was utterly embarrassing, but he didn’t care enough to not do it. He would have been the most compliant pet in the entire facility if it had meant getting out of that Showroom faster.

Once the Showing was done, Josh walked him back to the main hallway before leaving him there to do his own thing. The moment Josh left him, Sparrow started running to the main rooms, his heart rate picking up as he tried to get to the room as fast as he could.

Sparrow was almost certain Logan would have moved him out of his office during the Showing, so the most logical place to put him would be one of the main rooms. That, or Jayden had woken up and Logan kicked him out of his office and he made his way to their spot in one of the main rooms. If Sparrow didn’t see him in there, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

When Sparrow finally made it to the doorway that led into the main room he and Jayden usually ended up in, he scanned the entire room, trying desperately to locate his friend. His anxiety was starting to climb with each face he saw, none of them being the young teen before his eyes landed on a figure in the corner where Jayden and him sat most of the time.

He was there, sitting in his normal spot, looking completely fine. Jayden was waiting for him.

Sparrow did his best to make it over to the back corner of the room, nearly tripping over several pets as they tried to sleep or just pass time, not even bothering to let out any kind of apology before making it over to his friend.

“Jayden!” he called out, falling to his knees in front of his friend before embracing the teen in a tight hug.

“You’re okay! You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he said, his voice going quiet as he spoke, letting things sink in. His friend was okay, he was alive and that was all Sparrow cared about.

“Of course I’m okay. Do you really think a bump on the head would keep me down?” Jayden joked, hugging Sparrow back.

Sparrow pulled back slightly, his hands still on Jayden’s shoulders, afraid that if he let go, Jayden would disappear. “It’s just - you collapsed once your head hit the desk, a-and Logan refused to bring you to the medical ward, and then I was dragged off for a Showin-”

“Sparrow,” Jayden interrupted, his voice a bit firm, “I’m alright, I promise. I can’t die that easily. Besides, we promised each other we’d find a way to escape this place some day. I can’t go back on my word, now can I?”

Sparrow wiped at his eyes, tears starting to form. “I’m just happy you’re okay. And you’re right, we are going to escape this place one day. Just please don’t go pissing off any more Keeper’s. Leave that to me, I can handle it.”

Just then, the entire main room started to fade out, a black abyss surrounding the two of them. Sparrow didn’t even notice, his entire focus was on his friend.

Jayden looked at Sparrow with a soft smile, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“I know you can. That fighting spirit is what’s giving me hope that you’ll be able to make it out of here alive. If you hold onto that, you’ll be able to escape. Just keep fighting. For the both of us.”

Sparrow faltered a bit at that. “W-wait, what do you mean by that? We’re going to get out of here together.”

Jayden didn’t answer, continuing to give Sparrow that soft, warm smile that he cherished so much as he slowly faded away. Before Jayden was completely gone, Sparrow reached forward, trying to grab hold of him before he fully disappeared, leaving Sparrow alone in the dark abyss.

#####

Sparrow woke with a jump, jolting up from his spot on the floor of Damon’s office. Looking around the dark and empty room, Sparrow couldn’t see Jayden and was a bit confused, but mostly worried.

Where was he? Jayden had just been in front of him a second ago. He wanted that back, he needed it back.

The more he woke up though, the more things finally started to settle in.

Four days ago, he had been brought back to the Warehouse from his two week stay at Volkov’s island, having gone through his ‘welcome home’ Showing yesterday. Two months ago, Damon had been put in charge of training him, starting up a brand new hell for him to navigate on his own. Five years ago, the Keeper’s gave up trying to train him because he was deemed a lost cause and couldn’t be trained, instead just using him as a free-for-all and overall enjoying causing him pain, discomfort and humiliation. Seven years ago was when he had watched Logan give his one and only friend a death blow and then later finding out that Jayden had died all alone while he was in a Showing Josh forced him to go through, unable to be with him in his final moments to make him feel safe and loved.

As reality came crashing back, Sparrow couldn’t help the gut wrenching sob that erupted out of his throat, the pet clutching his hands close to his chest as he curled into himself.

Ever since it happened, Sparrow had done all he could to repress that memory to the point that he couldn’t remember it at all. All he chose to remember was that Jayden died. Everything else, how it happened, the look of fear and terror right before his head connected with the desk, how much he tried to fight back as Josh dragged him off to the Showing, Logan’s fucking taunting once he finally told Sparrow what they did with Jayden after he died, he wanted to forget and never remember.

He had no idea why the memory resurfaced. It had been so long ago, yet now he could remember every detail clearly, as if he were reliving it in full. It was the worst pain he has ever felt and would probably ever feel. And what made it worse was that his head went and twisted the events, giving him the false hope that Jayden was alive and fine. But Sparrow could never see him again.

After a couple more minutes, Sparrow wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control. It had to have been close to morning, if he had to guess, and Damon would be here soon to put him through another day of hell. If the Keeper walked in and saw him crying or saw the evidence that he had been crying, Sparrow would never hear the end of it.

Before he could put a cap on his emotions, he felt another sob bubble up from his chest and before he could stop himself, he reared his fist back, sending it straight towards the wall beside him. The wall stayed intact but Sparrow let out a loud shout before biting his tongue, cradling his hand.

Why couldn’t one of these guys have killed him too? Why couldn’t he have had the peace that his friend had? All he wanted was to be with Jayden again, because he was the only one that made this place bearable. His smile and laugh lifted his spirits no matter how he felt and his presence made Sparrow feel safe, even though there wasn’t a single thing either of them could do when the Keepers came for them. If he didn’t have that, if he didn’t have him here, there wasn’t much of a point to keep fighting.

The pain that now pulsed from his bleeding and possibly broken hand acted as an anchor to the real world for him and Sparrow was able to stop the tears from falling, taking in a couple deep breaths before he felt like himself again. Damon would probably point out his hand when he came in later, but right now, Sparrow didn’t care. If Damon was overly concerned about it, he’d get it looked at because unlike Logan, Damon wasn’t going to sit by and have a wound that looked serious enough unchecked. Sparrow had no doubt that the Keeper wouldn't let him die before he himself molded Sparrow into the perfect pet.

Taglist: @mannerofwhump, @honey-is-mesi, @painful-pooch, @whumperfully, @hiding-in-the-shadows, @flowersarefreetherapy, @goronska, @blueyellow8green, @oddsconvert, @darkthingshappen, @whumpcereal (if you want to be added, let me know!)

#The Warehouse #Sparrow Cresky #Jayden Cresky #Minor whump #head injury #threatened noncon drugging #implied noncon (off screen)#threatened noncon #mentions of past noncon and torture #implied future noncon #character death (off screen)#suicidal thoughts #adult character referred to as 'boy'#adult language #heavy grieving

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blackwidownat2814 · 1 year

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Lift Me Up (J.Seresin)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x reader, Jake Seresin x GN!reader

Word Count: 1294

A/N: There was no prompt or request to make me write this. I wrote it to help a friend. They recently lost someone very near and dear to their heart, and I hated that I couldn't be there to help them grieve. So I decided to do the next best thing. I wrote about our favorite naval aviator helping them through this horrible time. I've never written a gender neutral reader before, so I consulted with a couple people to make sure I did it properly. Thank you so much @jobean12-blog and @nuggetynoodle!!

TW: death of a loved one, dealing with grief, angst, a little fluff (because our beloved Jake tries to lift our spirits)...

‼️⚠️I do not give permission for any of my work to be copied, translated or reposted anywhere else but on my own blog and AO3.⚠️‼️

This is for you, my dearest @buckysdollforlife.

Masterlist

You blinked yourself awake that morning, not immediately remembering what you had to do later. When the memory hit you, you almost physically recoiled, the sadness hit you like a punch to the gut. The emptiness in your chest was like nothing you’d felt up until this point.

He must’ve sensed you were awake, because you felt his arm tighten around your waist as you were assaulted by the memory of the last couple of weeks. You were so grateful to be able to lean on him during this entire thing.

“How are you feeling, darlin’?”

“Is this a nightmare, Jake?” you asked him quietly and without turning around to look at him. “Is that why everything sucks? Am I still asleep, stuck in some never ending hellscape?”

Jake pulled you back, tighter against his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder and leaving a trail of soft kisses.

“I wish I could say yes. I wish I could say this was all just a nightmare and you’ll wake up in a world where she’s still here. I’m sorry that I can’t. I’d give anything to give her back to you.”

You turned around in his arms and placed a hand on his cheek.

“I know you would. That’s why I love you.” You gave him a small smile and leaned in for a peck on his lips. “Thank you for everything you’ve done during this whole thing.”

“You don’t have to thank me”, he said with that cocky smile only Jake Seresin could give. “You’re my person.”

You were still somewhat numb to the world by the time your aunt’s funeral came around and you had intended to simply dress in black, but Jake convinced you to have a bath and surprised you with your favorite bath bomb from LUSH. As you sat soaking in the glittery blue water thanks to the Intergalactic bath bomb, Jake washed your hair and scrubbed away the tears tracks on your face.

You still dressed in black, but wore a cardigan with yellow and blue flowers, your aunt’s favorite. When you were finished getting ready, you sat on the edge of your bed to watch Jake finish getting ready.

“You don’t have to dress all fancy, you know.” Jake looks at you in the mirror and smiles.

“I know darlin’...”, he replies as he slides his belt through the loops of his dark blue pants, making sure the clip was on the correct side of the buckle. “...but your aunt always said she loved a man in uniform, so I wanted to do this for her.”

“Jake…I just fixed my face.”

“Now, sweetheart, ya know there ain’t nothin’ ‘bout that face I’d fix, right?”

“Ok, wow, Mr. Texas”, you said with a laugh. “Your accent is sometimes almost non-existent and sometimes, just super strong.”

“It happens.” He flipped his shirt collar up and turned to face you, holding his tie. “Would you mind helpin’ a guy out?”

You stood and took the tie from him, placing it under the collar, and tied it in a Windsor knot. When you finished, you carefully took his coat from the hangar and held it open for him. After he slid his arms in, you smoothed the shoulders out and helped him adjust the lapels.

“Thanks sweetheart.” You unzipped the protective cover of Jake’s white service cap and handed it to him.

“Lookin’ good lieutenant.”

“You ready to go?”

“Do we have to?

“We do.”

“Let’s do this.”

The funeral had been lovely, a lot of the parts of the ceremony had been chosen by your aunt, like the music and flowers.

She’d also asked for the reception following the funeral to be held at the Hard Deck, as she’d fallen in love with the place after you took her there to meet the Daggers a few years ago. Penny was more than happy to oblige.

After thanking everyone for coming, and having a few bites, you wandered outside and sat in the sand to watch the waves crash. You felt the tears start to fall as you remembered the last time you were here with your aunt…

It was a gorgeous day. Your aunt was perched in her beach chair, you next to her, as you both watched the Daggers play their weekly scheduled game of Dogfight Football. Jake screamed out as he scored a touchdown, pointing at you with the ball and a smile.

“Hold on to that one, Sweet Pea.” You turned to look at your aunt with a smile.

“I plan on it.” You both smiled as you continued to watch them all play.

“He’s going to be the one you’ll need to lean on when I’m gone.”

“Please, don’t remind me”, you replied, trying to hold back tears. “I don’t want to think about that right now.”

Your aunt took your hand in hers and pulled it towards her, placing a kiss on the knuckles. The Daggers cheered loudly as Coyote ran down the beach and scored a touchdown. Jake jumped up and down next to his friend as he celebrated.

“Oof, that boy sure is something”, your aunt said, with a bite of her lip.

“Nah”, you replied, smiling at Jake’s cheers with his team. “He’s everything.”

Jake watched you sitting in the sand from the back deck of the Hard Deck.

“How’re they doing?” Startled out of his thoughts, Jake turned to see Rooster, Coyote, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, and Phoenix standing around him.

“Not well, but that’s to be expected. Their aunt meant a lot to ‘em”, Jake replied. He looked back over at you and saw your shoulders shaking. “Excuse me guys, it seems I’m needed.”

He hopped off the back and headed towards you. When he made it to you, he sat behind you, a leg on either side, pulling you back towards him.

“Let it out sweetheart, I’ve got ya.”

“It’s not fair Jake! She didn’t deserve what happened to her! She’s going to miss everything, like if we get married or have kids or when you get promoted and all the awesome places I promised to take her if you happened to get stationed somewhere exotic.”

“You wanna marry me and have kids?” You smacked him on the leg.

“That’s what you got from all that?”

“I’m sorry darlin’”, he said as he squeezed you tight. “Please continue.”

“I just miss her so much. She was so special to me.”

“I understand, I felt the same way when my grandma passed. I didn’t think I’d ever be okay. I don’t think I’m okay now, and it’s been years! If I talk about Nana Seresin, I will start crying.” He kissed you on your temple. “I am by no means an expert in grief, but what I know is that it will get better, no matter how cliché that sounds. One day, that stabbing pain you feel will dull, and it’ll be just like a bruise. You’ll be able to think of her and all the memories you’ve got of her without crying and look back on them with happiness.”

“When will that happen Jake?”

“I don’t know sweetheart. It’s different for everyone.”

“What if I forget her?”

“You won’t. You know why?” You shook your head. “You’ll never forget her because a part of her will always live on in you, and everyone’s hearts she touched. The squad will never let you forget because they loved your aunt too. We’ll help remind you every day.”

You sat up straight and turned to look at him and placed your hands on his cheeks, running your thumbs over them.

“When did you get so smart, Lieutenant?”

“I’ve always been this smart sweetheart.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“And don’t you forget.”

PS: I'm real sorry if I made you cry my friend!

#Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin x you #Jake Seresin x reader #Jake Seresin x gn!reader #Jake Seresin angst #Jake Seresin fanfiction

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compassionatereminders · 3 months

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i've been having a hard time after my break up with my ex who i've been together with for almost a year. i broke things off because i couldn't stand how he kept running away from our problems and ghosted me whenever it was convenient for him. i told myself i wasn't going to withstand being treated like that when i've done the best to be patient and understand him.

it's been five months since i broke things off yet i still find days where i cry over how painful it was, as if the wounds are still fresh. i've been focusing on taking care of myself more, being with loved ones, immerse myself in things i love, but i dread over the possibility this pain continuing on until it doesn't. it really sucks and i hate feeling this way.

do you perhaps have any advice or words to help with coping through this grief? anything helps really. thank you for reading this far!

I can't guide you through your grief, but I can reassure you that it is completely normal to still hurt from losing an important relationship years after it ended, and that you really shouldn't feel wrong about still grieving a lot five months in. That's very common. So just keep doing what you're already doing, stay gentle and patient with yourself and remember that you still missing them isn't a sign that you made the wrong decision by leaving. ❤️

#chat with kat

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anachronistic-falsehood · 7 months

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whiskey help i dont watch qsmp what the hell is going on with charlie i keep seeing cool art please infodump 2 me (<< guy who is unfortunately weak for glitch aesthetics and also guy who enjoys charlie slimecicle)

OKAY. SO. You're aware of the eggs right? Slime and Mariana had one named JuanaFlippa (trans icon <3) and she died pretty early on which SUCKS because i LOVE HER!!! there are also these things on the island called Codes. they're just glitched out forms of binary code and they used to keep trying to kill the eggs. the codes can impersonate the eggs and have multiple times before to try attacking the islanders

ON CHARLIE'S BIRTHDAY. he goes to his house and finds this fucking underground cave. where did it come from? who fucking knows. HIS DEAD FUCKING DAUGHTER SHOWS UP. when she writes on her signs to talk, it's basically terezi speak, like a whole bunch of letters are replaced with numbers which is Weird bc she didn't used to do that. but charlie is a grieving father and it looks like his daughter is back. she says it's not safe for her here yet and leaves him alone in the cave

FAST FORWARD TO A FEW DAYS AGO. charlie finds juanaflippa again and she wants to hang out and do egg tasks with him like they used to!!! fun times!!!! she is killed multiple times throughout the night bc of Shenanigans but she always comes back. eggs don't do that. charlie doesn't care!! she's alright and that's all that matters!!!

yesterday. i was watching cellbit's stream so i might be missing some more context but the pov from the other streamers makes it sooooo much more fucked up. anyway SO. phil and cellbit go to visit charlie. they see juanaflippa. and their own eggs are missing right now, and they know juanaflippa's dead so it's... really weird??? but hey if one of the dead eggs is somehow back and charlie seems sure that it is her then let's just be calm and polite about it. (cellbit's "i must be the best tio ever" instincts kick in and he is so so nice to her in the beginning oh my god it was so sweet I MISS SEEING HIM WITH THE EGGS)

at some point charlie. sneezes??? kind of?? but it sounds like.... glitched out computer noises. that's not normal!!! but he treats it like it is. cellbit realizes that part of charlie's shoulder is.... black??? with green lines through it??? it looks kind of like one of the code entities OH FUCK THIS IS CLEARLY NOT JUANAFLIPPA. and her being an imposter gets more and more obvious. she doesn't take damage now, her signs are riddled with leetspeak and completely glitched out symbols, she wants to blow up mariana's house, and she doesn't remember a lot of things.

like this is so clearly not juanaflippa but charlie doesn't care. to him, this is his daughter!!! she's finally come back to him!! and yeah her shell is a little cracked and she writes a little weird and he can understand the strange symbols on her signs and his shoulder hurts and he just makes sounds that he can't control, but that's his baby. that's his daughter. he misses her so much. there's nothing wrong with him. there can't be. not as long as juanaflippa is here

#qsmp #friend tag :3 #q!charlie #MY LITTLE GUY. HE'S SO FUCKED UP HE'S A GRIEVING FATHER WHO JUST WANTS HIS BABY GIRL BACK </3 #oughghfh. i miss flippa :( mi huevito #whiskeys word soup

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heartofspells · 2 years

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I don’t respond well to bullying (that’s a lie, i clearly do). Except when it involves Sirius and Harry. And hugs, apparently.

Have fun, @impishtubist. (hopefully)

Happy Sirius and Harry Saturday! (and it is technically Saturday for me, so...)

-----

Harry had always liked hugs. Since the day he'd been old enough to wrap his little hands around larger fingers, he'd always clung on in some way.

Sirius remembers that tiny baby, fresh from hospital, splayed in his arms, legs bunching up, kicking out a little but barely mobile yet. Sirius had stared down into those eyes James had been sure would match his own once they changed and been enamored. His godson. Harry Potter. His best friends' son. The entire world in a small body shorter than Sirius' forearm.

But when that hand had reached out so surely, tiny little fingers wrapping around one of Sirius' own, Sirius had been captured, gone. Annihilated. Everything was over after that. All that Sirius Black had ever and would ever be belonged to that small boy. And that never changed, not for one day.

There'd been no question in his mind about taking Harry when his friends died. He'd been grieving, angry, beating his fists against Remus' chest in uncontrollable rage and helplessness, Remus clutching him firmly, tears welling in his eyes as he'd watched and let Sirius do whatever he'd needed to just get through it. But Harry…he'd been a sort of grace, a breath of painful air sucked into stinging lungs sliced open with glass that had stuck and splintered. Harry had healed Sirius as much as it was possible for him to heal.

As his godson grows, Sirius watches him, counts and catalogues all the different ways he takes his affection as often as he wants it. There are running tackles, arms thrown around legs as he rides on feet with each step taken, laughter bubbling from his chest and flushing his perfect face, green eyes bright and glittering. There are the early-morning dives into beds, limbs flying, elbows in ribcages and sternums, knees digging into thighs and hips. Sneak attacks from around chairs or dark corners where only the faintest of giggles signals he's there at all.

Sirius holds onto every one of them, cherishes them. He takes them while he can, adamant for them, craving those arms around him, his own around smaller shoulders, fingers pushed into a mop of black hair so like James' it aches.

He keeps them all, and he's grateful he has, because one day, when Harry's nearly ten, he stops. At first, Sirius thinks he's done something wrong. He tries to take a hug for himself instead of waiting for Harry to initiate it as he almost always has, but the boy denies him, holds up his hands, turns his back. Sirius deflates, sags with it, feels like rubbish left to rot at the bottom of a bin.

Remus tells him it's normal, Harry's growing up, branching out, away from them and their little family they've created. He'll circle back. Sirius is forced to believe him, but he despises it, an internal flame flickering and dying away, life only breathed back into it during those rarer and rarer times when Harry pushes in for that special sort of attention that swells Sirius' heart before it's puttering in his chest again when his godson once again leaves.

The years pass and Harry gets older. They do too. He goes to school, and Sirius and Remus find themselves alone for the first time since…ever. Even after they'd left school, they'd never truly been alone, the war pulling them in separate directions, meetings always being demanded, their friends around in some fashion nearly constantly. With Harry gone for most of the year now, it feels like the first opportunity they've had to really just breathe. Sirius doesn't want it.

They don't know what to do with themselves. There are owls, care parcels sent. They receive several letters in return, but they grow fewer and further between with each year. Harry comes home for holidays at first, but as he ages, he disappears to the houses of his friends. Sometimes they come to their home, Sirius nearly begging for it without actually begging, just to try to keep Harry as close as he can for as long as possible. Remus calls him out on it. Of course he does.

"This is going to keep happening, Pads. You may as well get used to it," he says one night during the summer after Harry's third year as Sirius is moping and pretending he's not. He glares down into the sink basin, scrubbing over a plate with a little more force. "How often did you want to stay home over holidays while we were in school?"

Sirius' head whips in Remus' direction, eyes baleful. "That's different, isn't it?" he nearly snaps. "We aren't my family, and this isn't that house."

Remus doesn't seem fazed by his tone, resting his hip against the counter's edge, hands dipping easily into his pockets. "Doesn't matter. What about me? How often did I stay with my parents?"

"Also different," grouses Sirius, turning back to the dishes and glowering down at them. "You had me, didn't you? Prize and a half."

Remus snorts. "Cocky," he mutters. Sirius ignores him.

"I just don't understand why they can't come here," he grumbles. "Why does Harry always have to go there, away from us?"

"They do come here," says Remus gently, stepping up a little closer. "And Harry doesn't always leave. But he's growing up, Sirius. He's making his own life exactly like we taught him. You've got to let him do that. You can't keep clinging. You'll only drive him further away if you do."

"I am not clinging," denies Sirius, hands raking the soapy flannel furiously over a spot that just will not be removed. "Just because I want to see him, spend time with him, know how he's doing and feeling and – "

He stops suddenly when soft fingers touch his cheek. Sirius jolts a little, pulling out of his spiral he hadn't even realized he'd been drifting into. He looks up at Remus, hands dropping the plate when one of the other man's settles over his wrist.

"I know," murmurs Remus quietly, firmly. "I know, Sirius. I understand." Sirius feels as though all the air is leaving him, and he droops, turning and letting Remus gather him into his arms, head ducking and resting over his shoulder, face pressing into the curve of his neck.

"I miss him," whispers Sirius into warm skin. "I just…he was always so – so…affectionate. And now he's…not. He's not, Moony. I can barely get him to answer a letter anymore."

Remus runs soothing hands over Sirius' back. He doesn't say anything in return, because what can be said that hasn't been already? So they stand in their warm little kitchen, Sirius remembering Harry with his chair pulled up to the counter, hands in dough as they'd made biscuits, chocolate smeared on his face from cupcake frosting, blowing soap bubbles from small fingers as he'd helped with dishes, always Sirius' task by demand, but he'd never minded sharing with Harry.

The days keep going and Harry pulls further away. Sirius learns to be okay with it, even if inside he never really is. Harry finishes school, gets a job, makes a career and name for himself. He gets married, Ginny a lovely and bold spectacle, so much like Lily that Sirius' heart clenches up a little whenever he's around her. Harry visits on occasion. They do as well. It's never enough.

Harry has a baby, and they go to St Mungo's to meet him. James Sirius. And as Sirius holds him for the first time, he's thrust back into it all, those tiny fingers wrapping around his own, gripping with far more strength than should be reasonable or even logical. Sirius thinks he'll have green eyes like his dad. Hopes.

"Give the baby to Ginny, Sirius," instructs Harry after hours or maybe just minutes. Sirius has lost track of time, staring at the perfect little face, lost in memories. He blinks at his godson.

"What?"

"Hand him over, Black," orders Ginny from her bed, holding her arms out insistently.

Sirius frowns, but does as he's told, though reluctantly. He transfers James over with care, and then turns back to Harry, frowning deeply, not understanding. He'd been bonding. They'd been getting somewhere, to a place Sirius hasn't been in far too long. He stares at Harry, who gazes back at him with an unreadable expression.

Sirius is just opening his mouth to speak, to question why he'd just handed that drop of absolute perfection away for no apparent reason, but before he can form the first word, Harry is moving forward. His arms wrap around Sirius, pulling him in, and it's the first time Sirius can remember an embrace by his godson that hadn't been forced into existence by his own hand.

He stiffens for a moment in surprise, and then he's crumbling, his own arms wrapping Harry up, holding him close, refusing to release ever again. They lock and Sirius feels right, so very right, something dropping and snapping back into place inside himself. There are pinpricks and stings under his eyelids, but he blinks them away, refuses to let the tears fall, not now.

Remus stands at their sides, watching and smiling, his eyes shifting over Harry first and then coming to rest on Sirius. The expression softens drastically, and Sirius feels so much love in that moment he thinks he might burst with it.

"Thank you," whispers Harry into Sirius' hair. He glances over, spies Remus, and then one of his arms is reaching out, looping around the other man, Harry tugging him into their embrace as well. "Thank you so much. For everything. Just everything you've both done."

And Sirius is not crying. He's not. The dampness on his cheeks is from sweat, the hug too warm and something he's no longer used to but better than any other he's ever had before. Because Harry is still theirs and they are his. The proof is in touch, in the softness of his words, in the love that fills Sirius full and never leaves him, not for a second.

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transrevolutions · 11 months

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les amis & co. as penelope scott songs:

enjolras- born2run- here's a little fact I cry all the time / about the state and healthcare and the grand design / sometimes it's sad sometimes it's bittersweet / but it's how you'll know I'm me

combeferre- shitty song to listen to after a shooting- I don't have to read anything you ever read or wrote / you're not special just for torturing the poor / you unoriginal spineless monster it's been done before

courfeyrac- 7 o'clock- so it hits me real hard round 7 o'clock / drink a coffee and floor it and get ready to rock / but there's nobody here and nobody downtown / if nobody hears you are you really around

jehan- drizzle the categorical imperative- trees lose their leaves when they flower I grieve / and everything always feels wrong / the state kills the innocent / god picks on job

feuilly- montreal- and I don't wanna die / but I'll jump before I'll fall / and did you really think so I mean / no one fucking thought I'd make it to montreal

bahorel- lukewarm- throw a punch watch it sail through the air / keep talking but there's nobody there / can't remember anything that you say / slit your throat and die and wake up the next day

joly- american healthcare- I fucking helped people / I thought that I could save the sick / but if it's all the same to you there's one more thing I gotta do / with god as my witness you corporate fucking prick / I did not become a doctor for this

bossuet- lavender- trying my best / giving my all / but it turns out that's not very much at all / what am I gonna do / when you leave me too / what am I gonna say / when you walk away

musichetta- soap- there's salt inside my veins / sugar on my tongue / freckles on my cheeks from goddamn fucking west coast sun / I feel so beaten up and bruised / I don't know what I'm gonna do / I can't keep anything at all from slipping through my raccoon claws

grantaire- moonsickness- fuck I'm not a marxist / I'm not a fucking democrat / but because of all this bullshit I'm not anything at all / all I wanted was a framework / none of them can live here / there's nothing to believe in and there won't be til we fall

marius- hammerhead- all I really know is that I'm never coming home / and I'm sorry that I didn't tell you so / I'm gonna go and get an internship / and then I'll get a job / and then I'll pack all my shit up and fucking go

cosette- honeysuckle- there will be many kinds of trees / there will be plenty of bees / all the movies will be free to watch / we'll sit in the garden with our bunnies drinking honeysuckle lavender butterscotch

eponine- rat- I loved you I loved you I loved you it's true / I wanted to be you and do what you do / I lived here I loved here I bought it it's true / I feel so stupid and so used

gavroche- this night will not suck- I miss my home / take bullshit to the face and just let it go / the system is fucked I'm alive by sheer luck / but with god as my witness this night will not suck

montparnasse- cigarette ahegao- trash on the walls trash on the floor / liquid eyeliner stuck to the door / screwing everything up and doing everything wrong / in my defense I wasn't supposed to be around this long

#penelope scott #les mis #les amis #enjolras #combeferre #courfeyrac #jehan #bahorel #feuilly #joly #bossuet #musichetta #marius pontmercy #cosette fauchelevent #eponine thenardier #gavroche #montparnasse #les miserables #pigeon.txt

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hhighkey · 2 years

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AN// for @dris-stuff <3

Kamado Tanjiro Headcanons

ENEMIES TO LOVERS

the sweetest boy but y’all have a rocky start

you’re a tsuguko under flame hashira rengoku

you may not have the same mentality that rengoku is able to on a daily basis

but you’ll follow him in staying outside of the debate about tanjiro once master accepts him

on the inside though- you’re furious

he broke demon slayer code!

you felt for him and his sister, it sucks but the fact is he’s keeping a demon alive

and tanjiro knows how you feel too the day you displayed disgust in passing at the butterfly mansion

he won’t like anyone who shows disdain towards nezuko

so as excited as he is to work under rengoku, he doesn’t want to see you

fast forward to mugen train uh oh

neither of you are happy to see each other, rengoku didn’t tell you those three idiots were coming

but your opinions are soon changed

after y’all are woken up from the dreams you awake to nezuko looking you dead in the eyes

you realize you’re under attack

you end up working with nezuko and zenitsu to protect the people on board you don’t know where everyone else is

in such a short amount of time you’ve done a 360 about nezuko and you completely understand why tanjiro fights for her

you admire him

oh you want to just apologize to him

akaza happens

fuck him i legit hate him so much

but you’re a wreck as rengoku tells his final words to you and tanjiro, you’re sobbing

you can’t do this without him! you’re not ready to be a hashira yet!

you would not leave his body

tanjiro with the help of kakushi had to drag you away as you screamed, a sobbing mess

it’s heart wrenching

but tanjiro just holds you, through all the pain he’s in to try to comfort you

you’re inconsolable for days

laying up in bed in the butterfly mansion

your life feels over

but you look over to see tanjiro with nezuko, the tiny demon girl fussing over her brother with tiny grunts

you’re jealous of that

and like it’s sensed, he gives you the largest grin he can muster

“i’m sorry,”

is all you say

“i understand now why you’re doing this. if you’d let me help…”

tanjiro accepts immediately

he’s thankful you don’t hate him or nezuko because he always found you pretty lmao

whilst you recover you train and tanjiro and gang as you’ve taken over title of flame hashira

and oh boy you and tanjiro are inseparable

you’re each other’s shadows in a way

he brings you food jokingly feeds you

the biggest emotional support as you two work together to remember and grieve over rengoku

he helps you gain the confidence that you can do this. you can be a hashira and carry on in his remembrance

he has the kindest smile and it always makes you smile as well

he’ll play with your fingers as you lay out watching the night sky

he’ll ask about any scars you have and how you got them

but there’s one last thing

kyojuro’s brother and father

you two go together

que the angst; the fighting. sad senjuro

senjuro loves you and you can tell he’s hurting

the way tanjiro stands up for kyojuro and you warms your heart

you’re mad when he goes to the entertainment district

jealous?

you feel anxious with him leaving you know what goes down in that district

it felt like you hadn’t seen him in years before he comes back, you were so impatient passing the days training and spending time with senjuro

and he got absolutely fucked up too

you’re not even sure if inosuke is actually alive oh my

you heard about tengen and his retirement and you’re so happy for him and the wives

but tanjiro is back!

he’s in bad shape but he lights up when he sees you

you never leave his side as he recovers, making sure he has his meds, foods, bandages changed

you listen to every detail of his mission

it’s actually the funniest thing ever they pretended to be girls how tf did they fool anyone

but it’s so evident how strong he’s gotten and it’s absolutely amazing

he’ll be at the top in no time you’re sure

but you are worried. worried about nezuko and him and the future as he tells you about everything nezuko did

but one day he grabs your hand-

“i thought about you every day while i was there. i think for a long time i didn’t think i had a chance at finding people i would love again or consider family, or i was nervous i’d lose them like my family. it’s why i can’t lose nezuko. but i realized i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you either,”

that’s all he had to say

you’re pressing your lips to his before he even knows what’s going on

y’all are together from that day on

tanjiro is such a kind boyfriend

i feel like he’s definitely an acts of service or quality time guy

he likes being in your presence even if it’s you guys dying training

you guys are cute, nervous little love birds around each other

blushing when your hands touch

quick pecks then running away

zenitsu practically lectures him how he needs to be more confident with such a beautiful girl

but you wouldn’t change anything

you like that he’s gentle- it’s endearing

there’s lots of late night talks, serious talks where you just hold each other

his kisses are always slow snd sensual, softly rubbing your back as your lips move together

he’s SO respectful of you too

always gives you space if you’re changing

probably let’s you win in training even though everyone knows you’ll win anyways

definitely protective though

he’s lost so many people already he can’t lose you even though you’re capable but so was rengoku and he’s gone now

he will take hits for you, pushing you out of the way to take the brunt of it

definitely doesn’t like if you have solo missions he always wants to go

waits patiently at your estate for you to come home

panics if he hears you’ve been injured

he gets so sad going on and on about how he should’ve been there to protect you

will want to hold your hand as much as possible so he knows you’re there with him, you aren’t going anywhere

holds you so tight when y’all sleep or cuddle, wants to feel your warmth and know you’re close

y’all feel dumb for ever hating each other at one point

nsfw

kk so i’ve never rly considered tanjiro in an nsfw way so imma do my best

there is def nothing going on when y’all have beef with eachother. you guys would really just glare at each other

and it isn’t until a few months after the entertainment district and you guys have gotten together do y’all even consider

i think you guys are just young and don’t realize with how busy you are

it takes him getting a little jealous with the attention your giving inosuke one night to do something about it

he’s quiet on the way back to your estate

you know somethings up

he makes a move when y’all have gotten ready for bed and nezuko is sound asleep in the spare room she claimed as her own one day

pins you to the bathroom sink after you washed your face, kissing you hard

he’s needy when y’all fuck

definitely a switch i think

likes when you take control on top

but loves staring into your eyes as his cock fills you up, whispering sweet nothings into your ear

definitely a moaner

loves whispering ‘i love you’s’ as y’all kiss

you love taking care of him after a job

and he loves watching you on your knees as you take his length, tangling his hands in your hair to help guide you as his heads thrown back

will always take care of you

boy knows all your spots

knows exactly how to make you come

he def comes on your stomach or back depending on the position, y’all aren’t risking kids yet

after missions- slow sensual love making

other times- def y’all fucking for hours

hmm why do i see semi public sex as a thing- like in the bathroom at the butterfly estate after getting wounds patched up

and y’all definitely still have sex even if zenitsu and inosuke are in the other room

loves keeping you quiet with his hands

overall y’all have such a fun and sweet sex life, tons of communication

#awww pls he’s so cute #i’ve never written for tanjiro before #tanjiro kamado #tanjiro fluff #tanjiro headcanons #tanjiro fanfic #demon slayer headcanons #demon slayer #rengoku kyojuro #zenitsu #inosuke hashibira #uzui tengen

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starwalker03 · 6 months

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Would WMLP Dick ever go back to the base Slade held him prisoner in?

oh now that is a thought.

he probably had to when Slade died. man. that'd suck. Like he's just lost Slade and is grieving whilst also having real freedom for the first time in a decade, and he has to track down every detail of Slades: bases, bank accounts, open contracts, caches, vehicles, safe houses, etc. and he takes a step into an especially old, well-hidden base, unaware that it's that place, because it's not like Slade wrote a note saying 'this is where I meticulously broke the spirit of Dick Grayson'. and he gets half way into the base when he is hit with vertigo and deja vu because this is it,

this is the place of his nightmares.

it's twisted by memories, dusty, dark, mostly empty, but it's still very much the place he dreads. He walks past a room Slade held him in solitary confinement in. He stalks through the dungeon, home of his first kill. He stands in the kitchen where Slade gave him his gear.

He opens the door to Slade's bedroom, and he can't go in. but he needs to. he needs to make sure it's empty, needs to check for general wear and tear.

and part of him needs to stand in that room and remember what Slade's weight on him felt like, his smell, the feeling of his breath on his skin, he needs to grieve, he wants to love, and he wants to burn it in hate.

he collapses in a heap in that bedroom. he searches the walls, the carpet, the bed, for answers. why did he do this to me? why did he treat me this way? Was I enough for him? is he proud? Why do I want him to be proud?

I think he burns it down. I think he destroys it. I think he keeps the ashes to bury with Slade. I think he tries to pretend he doesn't miss the place, and when he pushes that feeling down all he has is rage, fear, eternal misery, and he feels guilty about it. Because how can he hate Slade in such fervour and love him at the same time? How did Slade manage to do this to him?

And why did Slade leave him this way?

#dc comics #fanfiction #dick grayson #young justice #with morality like a polynomial #wmlp #angst #deathstroke

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nicotine-and-heartaches · 8 months

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i don't think i'll ever forget that moment. i was 5 and in kindergarten. it was friday because i remember wearing my little p.e uniform in school. my mom was carrying me, holding me a little too tight seemingly afraid i would slip from her arms at any moment. my grandma was there too, both of them were with me at school. this wasn't really big of a deal, except that this never happened before. it was either my mom or my grandma who would bring me to school, never the both of them at the same time. and in my young mind, i knew something was up. so the moment i felt my mom's hold loosened, i locked my tiny arms behind her neck and held on tight as if my life depended on it. but i was just a kid and didn't have much strength compared to two adults. and before i knew it, i was already in my grandma's arms. i looked back at my mom, i looked at her in the eyes and i saw that they were red. people who know my mom would always tell me that i have the same dreamy eyes as her. eyes that always look sleepy. i would give genetics all the credits, only if i actually get enough sleep, but i don't. so majority of the time, if i wasn't high or drunk, i really am sleep deprived.

my mom's eyes were red and i knew that she was trying to hold a storm behind those. i stifled a sob and i am quite sure that same sob never found it's way out of my chest until now. i told her not to leave me, to stay with me until my class ends. she just got back a month ago after being gone all my life, i literally just knew about the woman who gave birth to me, she couldn't be leaving again too soon right? but she assured me that she'd just be at home, doing some chores. she promised me she'd be waiting for me and we would watch teletubbies once i get home just like any other fridays. she kissed me on the forehead and just like that, she's gone.

and you see this was the very first time someone broke a promise to me, and if i learned anything from this, you don't make promises to a child that you have no intention of keeping because chances are, it's going to scar them for life in every profound way possible. after school, my grandma and i went home. of course my mom wasn't there, all her things gone. i didn't cry, i told myself that she just went to our neighbor's house, completely pushing the apparent fact at the back of my mind that her cabinet was empty. i was afraid to ask my grandmother because i didn't wanna hear the truth that she left, again. so i just sucked it up and sat at my favorite spot in front of the tv and watched teletubbies.

i remember looking at my tiny feet, i have a small mole on my right middle toe. my mom does too. my grandma once told me that my mom was never meant to stay at one place, she's always moving, she has spent more time in different places than her own home. and I can't stop wondering, maybe my mom was a lost soul too, maybe that's why she's always on the move looking for herself. so the first time my grandma saw my mole she told me that i ought to do the same. i looked down at my little toes, i couldn't stop thinking about my mom, where was she or when was she going back. if she wasn't meant to stay at one place just like my grandma told me, she should have at least brought her daughter with her. or maybe, she didn't really want to be around me because after all, i am half my father.

i never saw her again until i was 12. she was gone for 7 years and everything that happened in between was all a complete blur. my brain moved too slow while everything around me moved too fast. i don't remember much of my childhood, the only thing i remember was having an imaginary friend and letting it go when i was 10 because my grandma told me i was already old to have one. i got my period when i was 9 so i was forced to grow up fast.

almost two decades had passed and i still remember every detail of that memory in my mind and everyday i am still learning how to grieve.

— alaska grace // mother why did you lie

#spilled ink #poem #mother issues #writing #poetry #spilled thoughts #prose #dark #writers on tumbr #writings #alaska

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