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#sad vibes
cerleansky · 2 years
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The legacies people leave behind in you.
My handwriting is the same style as the teacher’s who I had when I was nine. I’m now twenty one and he’s been dead eight years but my i’s still curve the same way as his.
I watched the last season of a TV show recently but I started it with my friend in high school. We haven’t spoken in four years.
I make lentil soup through the recipe my gran gave me.
I curl my hair the way my best friend showed me.
I learned to love books because my father loved them first.
How terrifying, how excruciatingly painful to acknowledge this. That I am a jigsaw puzzle of everyone I have briefly known and loved. I carry them on with me even if I don’t know it. How beautiful.
~Edit~
Yikes guys I didn’t expect this post to blow up.
I’m grateful it did though. Looking at all the comments and tags really takes a stab at my heart because it just shows how wired we are for connection. If life has any meaning, then it’s that.
This concept really sunk its teeth into me as it reassures the notion that no one is ever truly gone. Parts of them just change into you.
That teacher I talked about inspired me to become a teacher myself. This was my first year teaching. Here’s to a new generation of curved i’s.
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hollow--graphic · 1 year
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A veces siento que soy todo lo opuesto a lo que buscas en alguien.
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shoujo-dump · 7 months
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Hoteri Hotette First Kiss
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002yb · 5 months
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If I may, an Au where Jason and dick were together before Jason's death, so when Jason comes back it's Nightwing, not Batman he tries to get to kill the Joker.
The only tragedy is that Jason feels he has to force Dick's hand. He gives Dick an ultimatum as if Dick would ever refuse him. He tells Dick to choose as if there's a contest.
'Him or me.' Jason mourns, oblivious to the reality that Dick chose Jason a lifetime ago.
Jason anticipates betrayal. He waits for disappointment. What Jason doesn’t know is that loss twisted Dick until he broke and with those pieces he drew new lines and boundaries that begin and end with Jason: Dick's legacy, his Robin, his little wing.
There aren't enough bullets in the gun he's given, but that doesn't stop Dick from aiming where it will hurt the worst. It doesn't stop him from emptying it, seventeen rounds - vicious and brutal and cruel.
Dick shoots where Jason was mutilated; his ankle and knee and hip, his shoulders, his ribs. He spent months tormenting himself with Jason's autopsy report - mourning every wound and every desecration until it was burned into his memory, until it was all he saw and all he dreamed. Dick could aim to kill, but he wants Joker to hurt. He wants him to suffer.
Dick knows Joker was laughing when he killed Jason. It doesn't matter how filled with rage Dick is or what resolve vengeance blinds him with, Dick isn't laughing. All the anguish that's been caught in his chest is torn from him - a strangled, wounded, inhuman sound.
The only tragedy is that Jason thinks Dick didn't mourn him, that he hasn't felt his absence every day since Jason was taken away from him. It's Dick's greatest regret and his greatest failure that this boy would think for even a moment that Dick wasn't changed by him in life and death, that Dick didn't love him viscerally, unconditionally.
Jason pulls away from the carnage, staggering back from Dick’s line of fire. There's something helpless in his expression, something young although Jason is so much older than last Dick saw him. But Dick doesn't see him through the tears that well up in his eyes. He's blinded by hurt and regret. He chokes on all his grief because fuck this terror that's haunted and hurt Jason.
(And damn Dick, too, for not doing this sooner).
Seventeen rounds and it's not enough. It doesn't hurt enough. It's not personal enough, so Dick tosses the gun and stalks forward with bare fists and bared teeth. Joker went for Dick's heart; Dick will take Joker's - he'll steal every beat and give it back to the boy Joker took from him.
Dick still isn't laughing, but neither is Joker. He smiles though, all bite to match Dick’s snarl. His is a madness not even Joker has known and it's clear in Joker's eyes what he thinks; Dick feels it, too: oh, so this is a monster.
"See?" Joker asks through blood and broken teeth, a swollen face and gasping breaths and Dick hates him. He hates him, he hates him, he hates him. "Hehehe, you see!"
Dick doesn't see anything but opportunity to lay a devil to rest and give a boy he loves peace. It doesn't matter to Dick what happens from here, just let Jason rest. Let that boy rest.
Dick will cross whatever lines he needs if it's Jason on the other side. He'll go to whatever lengths because Dick should have done this years ago; he should have followed through, but Jason was gone and Dick thinks he wanted to torment himself with his failures.
No more, Dick thinks to himself. No more.
Jason has always been the braver between them though - always painstakingly, heartrendingly kind.
It's why Jason stops him. It's why Jason wraps himself around Dick and forces him back and keeps Dick away. He stops Dick from crossing that line, holding Dick tightly, fiercely because Jason recognizes Dick's torment and how Jason's demands will add to it once all the adrenaline passes.
And Jason can't - he can't kill Dick in that way.
But Dick can. He will. He would do anything to give this ghost of a boy peace so that he might move on. Dick has to let him - he has to...
Dick fights him, jerking in Jason's hold to finish what he started. Desperate, frenzied, mad. His voice breaks when he screams and Jason's heart breaks along with it because it's everything he's felt for years.
"He took you from me." Dick cries, holding fast to Jason and letting go of everything else to cling to him. Hands bloodied and bruised and trembling because they can't pull Jason close enough. "He took you from me!"
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wastedpoets · 9 months
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Why create something just to deny it love // Surviving Girlhood (and wishing you hadn’t) By Skyler Scott - Available on Amazon
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bsdtual · 7 months
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Depressed Stray Dogs
inspo
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atacckgl · 1 month
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Gönlümce olsun istemedim, gönlümün hakettiği sen değilsin diye..
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To My Dearest One (Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader)
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Premise: Leon comes home after a mission.
Sad Vibes/Slight Comfort, Song fic
Word count: 1072
Content warning: Not beta read or really edited if I'm honest. Vague Infinite Darkness and RE6 spoilers. Leon and his whole deal, especially post-RE4 stuff. Depression. Isolation. Implied suicidal thoughts. Reader is sort of a living emotional crutch for Leon. Also reader is not quite all right. I can't write domestic fluff for the life of me. Look, the grammar is going to be a mess, I constantly switch between using APA, AP, and MLA on a regular basis for professional stuff. My brain is gonna zone out here.
Song fic time and first time writing Leon. Came up with the idea while I was studying for my interrogation test for history and I had a concert where this song was performed playing in the background. Finished writing this in between studying for my psych exam in a couple days. Hope you enjoy (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)
Song: Itoshiki Hito E (To My Dearest One) by Kotobuki Reiji (CV: Morikubo Showtaro), Translation by Utapri No Sekai (slight variation by me)
The apartment is quiet besides the sounds of light music and cooking as he enters. Despite living there for a few years, it lacks much character causing it to feel hollow. One of the only things proving that it was Leon's apartment was the sun damaged photos, yellowed with time.
One of them from years ago as he visited Sherry on her birthday. The smile on the girl's face. Claire.
It all felt so distant.
Everything grew out of reach. Nothing seemed to last for a broken man, especially for one who had the bright sparkle in his eyes beaten out so violently.
As he approaches the kitchen, the smell of onion and herbs wafting through the air, Leon notices the nostalgic yellow tinted light that colors the white walls.
At the stove-top was a familiar figure standing before a pot of soup.
You.
A heart made of glass is always... hurting anything that tries to touch it. Yet you embrace it so tight without fear.
His arms wrap around your waist as his head sits upon yours in this rehearsed dance. He smells your shampoo as he takes a deep breath.
"Welcome back, Leon.” You say in a light tone as if he wasn't gone for a little over a week. "I'm making tortellini soup tonight."
He can hear how much you missed him. Even if you don't say it, those feelings tinge your voice.
"Mmm," he sighs with closed eyes, "That sounds good. Haven't had that in awhile."
Leon’s hold on you is strong. He wants to savor the moment.
There’s an itch in the back of his mind; one that would never leave. That this relationship would only hurt you. That he was taking advantage of your kindness. That he could never express just how much he loved the sense of normalcy you brought.
As if sensing his emotions, you quietly grab his left hand with a softness Leon wasn’t used to feeling.
Your hands were light compared to his calloused hands, which were covered in blood. Regrets marred his digits.
The plush feeling of your lips is unfamiliar to his inner wrist. This intimate touch caused Leon to melt.
A simple touch, a simple act, a simple situation in your eyes but it doesn’t feel so simple to him.
A clink as the spoon is set down. You turn around to face him.
But such happiness is sometimes, through cruelty of God, suddenly in front of my eyes… disappears and it makes me so scared.
The look in your eyes, how greatly it contrasted the steely eyes he would see everyday. Fresh eyes that didn’t twist with fear, changed. Not hardened by painful experiences. The look in your eyes is different.
Tired but understanding.
It is something that Leon was grateful for. A calm in a life that he felt so little choice or support in. A happiness from not feeling alone.
A deep hunger satiated but it caused a fear to rise.
What if you saw what he faces everyday? What if you got hurt even more than before? What if… you left?
They kept scratching at the back of his mind.
I live only for your sake. This voice will take an oath, to my dearest one.
Night carried on. Dinner came and went. No discussion of his work.
The ticking of the clock counting down the seconds before the feeling of the mattress would soon greet the two of you. The nighttime routine felt so unfamiliar. He was a stranger to this domestic moment.
“Apparently Sara,” your coworker, Leon had to remind himself as you spoke, “had decided to drag me out while you were gone. Saying that I was being too focused on work again.”
You roll your eyes in a familiar manner as you wipe the skin of your face with a cloth. There’s a soft, tired look, one that is aware of reality.
“Right.” Leon responds. “I already know you were hunched over your desk, typing away at a proposal looking like Gollum." He chuckles as he remembers the first time he saw you at work.
“Hey.” You pout cutely in response, before sitting on the bathroom counter and sighing. “Let me see your face.”
You put out your hand expectantly and he obliges as he puts his chin in your hand. Reaching with your other to grab his cloth and wetting it with water, you smile sweetly with the look that Leon loved.
A careful caress with the cloth as you clean his face. Your thumb traces over faint scars, reminders of the memories he can never escape. There’s a tightening in his heart at this touch.
As you finish and wring out the cloth, you turn back to face him still sitting on the counter. The softness of your hand shifts to cradle the side of his face.
In response, he lifts your chin with his fingers and gives that charming smile of his. “I have the world in my hands.”
“Not sure about that.” You reply softly. “Pretty sure I got it in mine.”
As you get into bed, due to a learned habit after living with Leon for four months, get into the side of the bed away from the door. He lies across from you and lets out a heavy sigh, as he feels exhaustion wash over him.
His hand finds its way to your waist as the light turns off. Leon’s face burrows itself in the crook of your neck, like something was commanding him to get as close as possible to you. To find the core to the warmth. The rhythm of your breath, a lullaby, gently sends him to sleep as his fingers curl atop your skin slightly.
Even at that moment, the scratching turned into digging.
Your eyes heavy and on the verge of the precipice, a whisper drifts from Leon’s lips as he is asleep.
“My only… Make me happy when…”
Will it be sent to you? Will it be conveyed? Words will never be enough… for this feeling of mine, to my dearest one.
By the time the rays of the sun bounce off your gentle skin, Leon is awake and doesn’t move as he watches you sleep peacefully. A smile creeps onto his face as he notices a line of drool.
In that moment, the man, who long lost his faith and wishes, says a silent prayer.
AN: Like what you read? Consider reblogging or leaving a comment. Thanks for reading.
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hatterbby · 3 months
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I want softness and forehead kisses. I wanna have my hair played with and be read to. I wanna bask in your warmth and have you kiss away my tears. I just want to love and be loved in the most tender moments when I am weakest.
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theidlespoon · 2 years
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feminine urge this masculine urge that how about the mentally unhealthy urge to isolate myself from anyone who i ever been faintly vulnerable to.
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noodle-yap-yap · 6 months
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Memories
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hollow--graphic · 1 year
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A quien tengo que rezarle para que las cosas vayan bien contigo?
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sh-1-9-9-8 · 28 days
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"Anhelo de Libertad y Superación".
"Anhelo salir de esta casa y disfrutar de mi vida. Me entristece no poder convivir con nadie. Lo más probable es que mañana salga a buscar trabajo, ya que me aburriré de estar encerrada sin nada que hacer. En este momento, me siento frustrada por estar atrapada aquí. Es demasiado tarde para salir a buscar empleo, y como hace apenas dos horas me fumé mi último cigarrillo de hierba, tendré que esperar hasta mañana para poder fumar de nuevo. Mientras tanto, tendré que levantarme temprano e intentar conseguir dinero rápidamente."
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002yb · 6 months
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I just want Dick to softly hold Jason's face and kiss his checks
Despite Dick's best efforts to be gentle, Jason flinches - pulling back so violently that he hits the wall behind him. He feels like a fucking animal, wounded and cornered and violent in his desperation. While Dick tries not to spook him, Jason is already beyond that point. He's disturbed; he's scared.
Fucking fear toxins - fuck.
But Dick is persistent and patient, calling out to Jason in a voice that soothes while everything else seems to fall apart.
There's a cackle in the distance that echoes off of alley walls, the drag of metal on concrete that draws chills down his spine. Jason swallows thickly and tells himself it's not real (only it was; it is).
A shadow shifts and something horrid gets caught in his throat - panicked and hurt and young. It tears violently from his chest when Dick grabs hold of him, a hand around the back of Jason's neck to draw him close, fingers grazing a still-tender scar and Jason can't even scream because he's bleeding out again, cut at the throat and left to die as the world burns red around him.
The antidote is administered efficiently despite how Jason thrashes and fights. He thinks Dick might apologize for being rough with him, but it's Dick who will leave with all the bruises Jason gives him. Even still, Dick holds him. Grunting when Jason pounds at his back, hissing when Jason scratches his nails into the weave of Nightwing's costume. Holding firm until Jason yields, weak in Dick's hold because all of the adrenaline falls away and leaves Jason raw.
'Get the fuck off of me,' Jason should say, but his body still trembles and Dick still keeps him tucked away in the cradle of his arms, his chin rested over Jason's head and keeping him small like he hasn't been in too long. It feels safe; it makes Jason's eyes burn with frustration and resentment and with hope he doesn't want.
That sound from before tries to escape him again when Dick pulls away. Jason bites it back, jaw clenched and teeth aching as he swallows down his own vulnerability. He's given away too much; no more.
But then Dick's hands are holding Jason on either side of his face, cupping his jaw and pressed to his cheeks. His thumbs stroke gently beneath Jason's eyes and Jason feels dazed by the tender affection.
When he searches Dick's expression, Jason sees a lingering concern. Dick got Jason the antidote though - they both know that Jason is fine, his hurt pride aside. Despite this, Dick wipes away tear tracks and speaks to Jason in a low and steady voice, a hush of sound to help bring Jason down. Foreheads pressed together, so close that their lashes give one another butterfly kisses as they flutter close.
And Jason still shakes. Fine tremors that wrack his body and wrecks the rest of him. A part of him wants to push Dick away or start a fight; he reaches up and holds onto Dick's wrists, instead.
There's blood on Jason's hands. It smears over the black and blue of Dick's suit - staining him, tainting him. Marred. Jason lets go in an instant, shrinking away when he realizes.
Only Dick won’t have that. He takes Jason's hands and rests them along the cut of Dick's jaw - held in a way that lets Jason feel Dick's pulse and the steady breaths he takes. Dick brushes his fingers over Jason's split knuckles and the points of contact bring Jason down; breathing even, heart calm.
"Why didn't it get to you?" Jason asks, his hands dropping from Dick's face to Dick's collarbone, smearing Jason's blood across him in a haunting way. Jason takes his hands back, anxiously reaching up to his own neck, just to be certain that he isn't dying - isn't dead.
(He looks at Dick, too. A careful inspection. Beneath the blood is a bruise along his jaw and Jason winces at how it swells).
"Exposure, maybe." Dick says. Reasonable as that sounds, Jason can't shake that it's a lie. Because Dick's eyes are dilated and though he tries to fight it, he's shaking. When Jason catches his gaze, Dick's smile is crooked - aware that he's been caught out. The bastard is still dosed. Before Jason can ask a question they both know the answer to, Dick assures him, "It burns out of my system faster than you guys."
This, Jason believes. Even still, he feels miserable that Dick would put Jason first. They're not anything to each other, not really. Dick should have left Jason to his demons; it's what Jason deserves.
When Jason insists on getting Dick an antidote of his own, Dick refuses him. Hand wrapping tight around Jason's wrist - a bruising grip.
"Don't-" Dick pleads with him and Jason flushes because Dick lays his fears out bare for Jason to see; vulnerable and consuming. "Just...stay. Don't go anywhere, okay?"
Not again.
Please.
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welcominthehell · 6 months
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thedepressovibes · 6 months
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