#self para ;; sarah

[samira-kehmet]

Keep An Open Mind || Flashback

Date: 1936

Location: Samira and Kore's apartment

Notes: 54 years into their marriage, Kore has a suggestion that Samira reluctantly gives a try.

Tired, Samira walked into the apartment. She assumed, since it was so late, that Kore would already be asleep. But as she entered their bedroom, she was surprised to see Kore lying in bed, her reading tablet in hand. She looked up at Samira and smiled.

"Hello there, sweetheart." Kore greeted her warmly. "Did you have a fun night?"

Samira didn't answer right away. Rather, she was a bit stunned by how nonchalant her wife had asked that question. As if she had just gone out with some friends for drinks. When it definitely hadn't been that.

"It was... fine." Samira didn't look at Kore as she started to undress.

They were several decades into this marriage so by now, Kore could easily tell when Samira wasn't being forthright about her feels. She rested her tablet on her lap, then tilted her head.

"Samira."

Samira was too tired to argue about this. So tired that she simply tossed her shoes to the side rather than put them right back where they were in her closet.

"Kore." She looked up at her. "I tried it, like I agreed to do. And it was fine."

"Sami, I'm not asking for the dirty details. I just want to know if you enjoyed yourself."

Now Samira fully looked up at her, with an expression of disbelief. How was she supposed to answer that question in a calm manner?

"No, Kore. I didn't enjoy myself." She angrily untucked her shirt from her trousers. "I didn't enjoy myself because I thought about you the entire time it happened."

Kore smiled. "Well... I can't lie and say that my little old self isn't flattered."

Samira raised an eyebrow sternly. "Kore."

Kore let out a small chuckle. Though time had changed her by adding a few wrinkles around her eyes and her mouth, and turning her hair a silvery hue, it hadn't taken away her cheeky humor Samira had always loved. She patted the space next to her on the bed. The same space Samira owned for over fifty years now.

"Come," Kore beckoned. Reluctantly, Samira obeyed and sat up next to her. Kore looked at her for a moment before speaking again. "So you didn't enjoy it. That's okay. I won't force you to keep trying it."

Samira sighed. "I can't do this, Kore. It feels wrong."

She hadn't been on board with the idea since Kore first suggested it. Kore had felt, now that she was in her eighties, that Samira should seek out people physically closer to her in age. There were two reasons for this: one, Kore of course was no longer capable of keeping up with Samira's needs (Kore's words) and two, most importantly, she wanted Samira to get used to the idea of being with other people. A contingency for when her time inevitably came. She wanted Samira to know that it would be okay to be with other people long after she was gone.

They discussed the agreement in detail to ensure there was no room for miscommunication. The rules were strict. Samira would be allowed to sleep with whomever she wanted, as long as Kore was aware that was what she planned to do. It had to be with someone neither of them knew personally. And Samira always had to come back home to her that same night.

The idea of being intimate with someone else after being only with Kore for five decades had made Samira nauseous, but Kore seemed to really want Samira to try it at least once, so she obliged. And right now she regretted it. Going out to a bar and finding a nameless someone felt so juvenile after so many years. She felt stupid, and even though it had been Kore's idea, she also still felt guilty for doing it.

"I think... it would've been worse if it didn't feel wrong," Kore spoke with a sad smile, reaching up to caress Samira's cheek. "It isn't betrayal if I know about it. Honesty is the only way to make this work. And after fifty years, I believe it's safe to say that I trust you."

"I... love you, so much." Samira took Kore's hand softly. "You are as beautiful and desirable to me now as you were the day I met you. And no matter how many times I were to try this, it would not make me desire you any less."

Kore's lower lip quivered, as if holding back all the emotion that hearing Samira say this caused. As if holding it together for Samira's sake.

"I know, my love." She leaned in and softly kissed Samira on the lips. "You don't have to force yourself to try this again. You can talk to me when you're ready. Really ready. But Sami, please remember I would never suggest this if I didn't think it would be good for you."

Samira looked down and nodded. She wasn't jumping at the chance to do this again. But she understood her wife's logic. Maybe... some day, she would feel ready to try again. She pulled Kore's hand from her face so she could kiss it.

"I know."

[dancer-subclarington]

Lonely || Texts || Group || Out of Rp

About: Kyla gets depressed and considers whether being in Ohio is worth it

Kyla: Hey so

Kyla: Can I leave now?

Sarah: No.

Kyla: You’re still no fun.

Sarah: You want to be with your family.

Kyla: My family in particular is overrated

Briar: Not your brothers. They’re at least hot.

Kyla: Everyone in my family is attractive- that’s just bare minimum

Addison: Well they’re also not dicks

Kyla: That’s not a nice word

Addison: Yes, that was my intention.

Brynn: Your brothers are good people. You should stay with them.

Kyla: I’m bored out of my mind here. And my brothers all have their own people here. I do not; and it’s totally boring here.

Sasha: Im sure there’s stuff to do.

Kyla: There’s no theater here; not one! And no dance studio, I haven’t seen a musical or taken a real dance class since London! Also no pageants. No competitions at all okay its criminal!

Sasha: You’ll live.

Kyla: Yeah but its lonely

Rhea: You haven’t found friends?

Kyla: I am not popular here and its seriously messing with my entire existence. Did I make the thing about no competitions clear enough? Cuz Im really over here with no medals or trophies or crowns or any other shiny things.

Addison: You won a competition last week.

Kyla: It was virtual!

Addison: But you got a trophy.

Kyla: It went to my parents house. I have too many in my dorm.

Sarah: Speaking of dorm, don’t you have a roommate to be friends with?

Kyla: I don’t have a roommate. Decorating and redecorating my room is my last thread of sanity. Im really so bored and so lonely and just sad.

Briar: Then leave.

Sarah: She told us not to let her do that.

Kyla: Before I knew just how boring Ohio is. You don’t get how bored I am. I dyed my hair!

Sasha: So?

Kyla: So I’ve had many a crisis and low moments in my life and never have I resorted to dying my hair. A year here and my hair is pink.

Briar: Oh no, you did something fun!

Kyla: Yes, one thing! I dyed my hair and saw the Barbie movie and that’s literally it.

Briar: You just went to Iceland

Kyla: And am re-bored already! Not to mention the fact that Sutton has to constantly turn down jobs for me because none of them are in Ohio. And my mom is pressing me to move and has plenty of good reasons to do it.

Sarah: But your family is more important than your career.

Kyla: Ugh

Addison: And there’s your crush.

Rhea: You didn’t tell me about a crush.

Kyla: I don’t crush!

Sarah: Yeah ok

Kyla: She’s not my crush she’s just someone I like and respect and who is accepting and warm and can cook and is great in bed.

Sarah: Thanks for clarifying.

Briar: Sounds like you have plenty to do.

Kyla: There’s more to life than sex and dance.

Briar: Sounds fake, Ky.

Kyla: Ugh. Im just gonna go find something to smoke

Rhea: Nope

Kyla: Why not

Rhea: Illegal

Kyla: It’s legal here

Rhea: For medicinal purposes.

Kyla: Well then I’m clinically bored.

Rhea: Ky.

Kyla: Archer has Sky and JB and anyone else he wants. Hunter has Sam and Owen and Delilah. Gunner has Alex and Beau. And you know none of those names but the point is they all have people. I have no names. It’s Kyla & nobody.

[isabellexlaurent]

Bottoms Up // Self Para

She didn't consider herself a good Christian woman. Belle forsook the church and its teachings long ago, but she still believed in being a good neighbor. The brothel mistress always provided a place for people to rest out of the elements. An ounce of kindness went a long way. It seems some of the town residence forgot about that kindness when danger came a-knocking. That's why Isabelle went to Sarah on a hunch. Whether or not Sarah knew what Belle was really up to, she couldn't say. All she knew is that the bottle in her hand looked alien to anything that she'd ever seen.

There were a few loose ends that she needed to tie up: warnings to the girls, letters to her loved ones, security measures for herself. She might be doing the stupid thing by drinking the cure-all, but that didn't mean that Belle was a stupid person. Leon worked his damnest to find out what the hell was going on in the town. He questioned everyone to the point that he might be the least wanted man in town behind Arjun. Still Isabelle trusted him. It could be a mistake. She was putting her faith in the lawman to keep his word. If something happened to Belle, she was putting her faith in him to do the right thing and continue what she started.

Her steps were slow as she made her way into the jail. How many times had she been in here to bail out a customer who had a bit too much to drink come morning? How often had she walked through these doors just to talk to Cal or Leon? Now the wood knocking against the frame sounded none too friendly. Each creak putting her on edge with the anticipation that it might be the last time that she heard that creak. Wetting her lips, she stopped in front of Leon's desk. Carefully she placed the vial with the tag tied to it on his desk. If the worst happened, he should have a sample. He should be able to see if the contents matched the slime on the body. He should have evidence of what Sarah had done.

When he locked the cell, Isabelle longed for her shawl. Despite the heat of the season, a shiver ran through her. Her heart raced in her chest. She didn't know which was worse: the anticipation or the dread. Taking a deep breath, she lifted the vial. One third of the concoction remained- far less than Gideon had been forced to ingest. He was still alive. That was a positive sign, yet the two women who had died first also might have consumed the cure-all. It could have lured the beast behind these ghastly murders to them, or if the supernatural was to be believed, it might have changed a person into a monster. She licked her lips, staring at the innocent looking vial. If she dropped it, it could be an accident. No one would fault her for not taking it. But there would be more blood, of that she was certain. Without answers as to what this would do, the streets would run red.

The room was silent. All she could hear was the steady pounding of her heart. Even the wind died down as if nature was holding its breath. Uncorking the vial, Belle said a silent prayer to the god she doubted existed then drank every last drop.

[adeehayag]

too far / a self para (pt. 3)

triggers: murder, death

July 22, 2023 (almost midnight)

Why is it that when Maya died -- I'm really not sorry about it -- but it was my birthday the next day and I went to Medusa to celebrate that, I had people look at me strangely for doing that, but bodies have been dropping left and right recently, and if you're not in a celebratory mood tonight at this engagement party, you're in the wrong?

People suck, I thought, as I made my way to the open bar. And everyone here will pay.

My brain grew tired of planning after Toby, and I figured it just wasn't for me. That was more Jake's area of expertise anyway and besides, it's so much more fun to just wing it because not only will the future dead person be surprised, so will I! A fun, little surprise for me, like a treat.

I want to have a lot of treats tonight, I thought as I took a sip from my drink. The only plan I have for tonight that's set in stone is that I'll convince people I'm well on the way to being drunk as the night goes on, when I'll be anything but, to make people think that I could never be responsible for any of the murders that will be happening tonight.

I had a list of people I want to kill: Jieun and her friends but Jieun specifically for being a fake bitch, Lucia for grieving like she was Dante's girlfriend when, news flash, she wasn't and never will be, that overdramatic, overtalkative bitch, Dominic for making fun of me because I couldn't drive like he's sooooooo special for not making use of public transportation, Analu for breaking up with me all those years ago and still, to this day, never really giving me a reason why, Greyson for not choosing me, Kat solely because it's something I've been dreaming of for a long time now and of course, Sarah and Charlotte, solely for being Jake's sisters.

I didn't need a reason, but I still got them. I'll be sure to let them know why I wanted them dead before I slit their throat.

Everyone's soooooooo cute for thinking I'll stay the sniveling, crying, weak person I used to be that let Kat slap me without fighting back. They'll never expect that that person is dead, buried alongside the rest of the people I stabbed.

The person I am now is just one of the many things I'm so thankful to Jake for.

However, as excited as the thought of having multiple treats tonight made me, I still had to keep up the pretense that I was the woman who had lost everything. In a sense, that was still true. But why dwell on the thoughts of the people who are already dead when I could just think about the people I could still kill?

I wasn't in a celebratory mood, that's for sure. I love love, always have, and I always want to celebrate it, but isn't it clear to everybody that Mei doesn't actually love Levi? It's actually kind of funny to see everyone put on a smile and pretend to be happy, because I'd been doing the same thing for a long time. A long, long time now, it seems.

It also didn't really sit right with me that Mei doesn't seem to be as happy as she could be, when she was getting exactly what I used to wish on every star and every 11:11 for -- a rich, devoted husband, though I could do without the whole religion talk, and a child. A family. A future that's set and stable and secured. She'd never want for anything and she doesn't even seem all that grateful for it.

Maybe I could still have all of that with Jake once Kat's out of the picture.

I kept ordering drinks, kept pretending to drink them, kept walking around pretending to be drunk and that I needed to go to the bathroom or outside to get some fresh air, but I was mostly looking for any opportunity to get people on their own.

Maybe I should have come here with a better plan, I started to think because it seemed like I wouldn't be able to do as much killing as I wanted to, just as the red and blue lights filtered in through the windows. I didn't have to fake my confusion as I wondered what was going on, and the shock evident on my face was genuine when the Chief of Police told the entire ballroom of Lucia's death.

Damn it, Jake. She should have been mine, I couldn't help thinking, though I had to stamp down my laughter as I listened to the murmurs around me. Bye, bitch. Down in the dirt you go, where you belong.

Other than the initial shock and glee that she was dead, though, I found that there was also disappointment. I talked a big game about killing people tonight and I actually hadn't done anything yet. I didn't know Jake was going to kill tonight, and if he could do it even with all these people around, even with a date, even with his siblings at this party, then I most definitely can too. I just need to figure out how to actually do it, and the fact that everyone's now locked inside the hotel room just made everything so much harder.

People wouldn't dare pass up the opportunity to think of me as a weak person, I had come to realize. It's easier for them to think of me as that and I know now that I could use that to my advantage. That, and the fact that everyone thought I was drunk tonight meant that they wouldn't really think twice about me running to the bathroom, especially when I say I'm about to throw up.

I took a special interest when I saw that Levi was going upstairs to his room, instead of going back to the ballroom where Mei was, and my curiosity got the better of me as I followed him up to his room. Just like Toby, I wondered if he was really as nice as he seemed. He was selfish, that was for sure. He wanted to celebrate while people were dying around him.

Maybe the world would be a better place without him too. He hadn't been on my list but I can add him onto it right now, I thought as I checked to see the knife in my purse, the same one I used on Rhys all those months ago. Usually, selfish people were at least smart people, but Levi didn't seem to be one of them, because he didn't even consider having security at this event. An event with his pregnant fiancée, mind you.

I just waltzed in here, in my sparkly dress, a knife that could definitely implicate me for Rhys' murder, hidden in my equally sparkly purse, and nobody knew about it. Sure, I could always say that I have it to defend myself in case a situation arises, but I also didn't want to be labeled a suspect, like Toby had been. All because of a video that didn't even make that much sense to me.

I could turn on the waterworks, though, and I know people would stop thinking that I'd have anything to do with these murders. People never want to see a woman cry, especially one who looked like me and who had publicly lost so much. They'll never believe it.

Suckers.

I laughed as Levi asked me what I was doing, before I took out the knife. What did he think I was doing? Just taking a casual stroll into his hotel room with a knife out for what? A conversation? Wow, he really was stupid.

And then he had the audacity to ask me if I had been the one to hurt Lucia, and I rolled my eyes as I kicked the door closed behind me so that it was just him and me in this room. I deserve a little privacy with the man of the evening, do I not?

No. That wasn't me. I wish it had been me, though. I would have loved to see her die, I told him with a smile. Don't worry, I said, opting for a soothing tone. It's my turn now.

There it is. There's the wonderful panic in their eyes, and it made me grin wider as I looked up at him, the anticipation on my end and the fear and tension on his end palpable before I dropped my smile and lunged forward, only smiling again once I felt the sweet feeling of blood on my hands.

This is what I should have been doing the whole night, I thought as I looked into the eyes of the man who would not stop talking about his beautiful wife to be, about what a blessing a child is, about how blessed he was. What a load of fucking bullshit, I thought as I let out a laugh when I took the knife out. I want to see every emotion on his face, I want to see the moment when he realizes there's absolutely nothing he can do. That he's at the mercy of someone who's friends with his future wife, who even slept at Mei's apartment for a couple of nights.

Mei deserves this, I thought as I stabbed Levi in the chest, a cackle escaping past my lips. An ungrateful woman and a selfish man. Wow, maybe they really are meant to be together.

Too bad he's going to die. No prayer to his god could save him now.

Where's your God now? I asked him before I started laughing and laughing, overcome with the glee that came from the look on his face. I was still careful, though. Even though I pushed him on the bed to make stabbing him easier and escape harder, I was making sure none of his God-loving blood would end up on my pretty cute dress. I could still use this dress in the future, but some of his blood splattered on my purse.

Letting out a loud groan, I continued stabbing him until I was satisfied, sighing with relief once I let the blood drip down to the floor from my knife.

Now that I started, I wasn't going to stop any time soon. I wanted more of this feeling. I wanted to kill. I wanted people to suffer.

I made sure everything was in their rightful place when I got out of the room, making sure it was locked behind me, but my eyes widened when I realized I wasn't alone in the hallway, and I quickly turned around

A part of me wondered if I could get away with it somehow, just keep walking away from this person I met at Medusa since I had my back to her anyway, but then Iris started talking. Hey skank, you obviously know he’s engaged, do better.

And just like that, the smile was back on my face, and the knife was back in my hand.

This bitch.

What the fuck did you just call me? Huh? I asked, eyes glinting with a mixture of fury and glee. I thought I was satisfied with killing Levi, but I wasn't. Not even remotely close to being satisfied because I was already ready to kill again, and I was also so happy with how quickly the next person I'm going to kill was presented to me.

Maybe Levi was onto something with believing in God or whoever, because I wished for more death, and it immediately came to me, wrapped up in the form of a bitch in a tacky dress. A whole coward too, I thought, letting out a laugh as I watched her try to run down the stairs.

I love it when they run. It makes it so much more satisfying when they realize they have absolutely nowhere else to go.

You're going to look so pretty when you bleed out, I said when I caught up to her, just in time to sink my knife into her stomach. That was for calling me a skank. This one is just for fun, I said before I stabbed her again. The anger caused by her words made me to stab her over and over again, after I took my time going down the stairs she had just fallen from. She was unconscious, probably from hitting her head, but I didn't really care. It didn't stop me from stabbing her still.

Serves you right, you fucking bitch. You deserve this, I said, always hating it when people tried to paint liking sex as a bad thing. Calling women skanks was bad enough but it was a million times worse when it came from a fellow woman, especially someone who doesn't even belong here in town. Wasn't she new? What right does she have to comment on things that don't even concern her?

You're fucking nobody and you'll die a fucking nobody, I spat out, about to stab her in the chest when I heard footsteps, causing me to narrow my eyes. I'll come back for her as soon as the coast is clear.

She's not going anywhere.

July 22, 2023 (a few minutes after midnight)

I messed up. I messed up. I messed up.

Iris had survived, according to the police officer, and she knew who I was. I couldn't even get to her now that she was on the way to the hospital.

Fucking Mei. Ruining my plans with that 911 call, causing the hallway and the stairs to be overrun with cops and medics.

I had nowhere to go. No one to turn to. This was it. This was the end of the line for me.

Good.

The one word that snuck into my thoughts was jarring, shocking even me, but I think a part of me was relieved. I already knew I wasn't the same and I'd never go back to the person I used to be, and I had already thought of myself as someone with absolutely nothing and no one to lose, but this truly cemented it.

One way or another, I was going to leave this place either dead or found out. I preferred the former.

I'm going to have my fun first, though.

It was getting harder and harder to pretend to be drunk, but with the news of Levi's death and two additional injuries, nobody really paid me much attention as I tried looking for Kat.

I will not die or be arrested tonight without killing her first. After everything she put me through, she deserves to die. I'll deal with everyone else on my list later.

I lied through my teeth and said that I had a room somewhere so that I could get out of that stuffy ballroom, I ended up roaming around the halls, searching for Kat. What I found was Vera, though.

Eh, close enough.

Vera didn't like me solely because of Kat and for someone who consistently screamed that she was a strong, independent woman, she really needed to start thinking for herself.

Oh, you bitch, I thought when she bumped her shoulder against mine. I would have probably minded my business and passed up on her on my search for Kat, but just this one, small act of unnecessary aggression changed things.

No, actually, that's a lie. I've been itching to kill Vera too.

The only sound between them was when her keycard unlocked the door and the breathy laugh I let out as I wrapped the strap of her purse around her neck and pulled.

Bet you wish you didn't bump into me now, huh? I asked, deranged yet hushed laughter filling the air as I tightened the strap around her neck, wanting her to pass out.

I'm smart enough to know I wouldn't win in a fight against Vera, and who's going to stop me from making sure this fight wasn't fair?

The police? Please, I thought before letting out a yelp when Vera threw her body against mine, causing me to loosen my grip around the strap, but it didn't take too long before I had her pinned down, stabbing her in the shoulder, in the arm.

It's not enough. She deserves so much more.

I watched with glee as she started crawling away from me, and I took my time, knowing she didn't really have anywhere else to go. Another string of laughter could be heard as I realized where she was trying to go.

The balcony? Please, what was she going to do? Jump off it? Bleed to death in the bushes below?

You know, for some reason, I always thought you were smarter than this, but maybe that's just because you're best friends with two of the dumbest people I know, I said, right as I stabbed her in the back, the image of Vera's best friends, Kat and the other being Dante's baby mama, causing rage to run through me, making me pull on her hair to pin her down again before she could reach the balcony and ruin the fun I was having.

Stay down, you fucking bitch, I muttered as I stabbed her over and over and over again, laughing as I saw the tears in her eyes. Aww, are you going to cry, Vera? You're going to cry? I taunted her, the power of being the person responsible for this coursing through me and making me laugh again, before I heard footsteps. Again.

What the hell is up with people just roaming around these hallways? Didn't they know I have people to kill tonight?

Vera was already passed out, and the blood was already on my dress, so I decided to try and drag her to the opened hotel room, but the footsteps were getting closer and closer and I couldn't tell if it was just one person or two or three. I could handle killing one witness but three? Even I knew I couldn't handle that, and the realization caused me to drop Vera's body unceremoniously back on the floor, deciding to just wait out whoever this was before I go and make sure I killed Vera for good.

THE END

Levi really was onto something believing in a God because this felt like a blessing. The footsteps I heard belonged to none other than Kat, the one person I had been looking for in the first place.

Vera and Kat. Dead. Because of me.

Ooooooooh, this is perfect. This is exactly what I wanted.

I was still hiding out in Vera's room, but as soon as I saw Kat enter the room, I let out a cackle as I closed the door behind her, eyes boring into hers as I watched her back up to the wall.

You're not sorry, I spat out, disgust on my face before I tackled her down on the bed, the adrenaline and rage causing me to be a lot faster and stronger than ever. My hands wrapped themselves around Kat's throat, and I couldn't stop smiling. I wanted to draw this out. I wanted her to be in pain for as long as possible. I wanted her to look me in the eyes and know that she'll be dead because of me. That I did this to her.

I win, bitch, I thought as I grunted, tightening my hold around her neck, trying to flick her hands away from my face. I waited until Kat's hands were no longer clawing at her face, until I could see that she was turning blue before I sunk that knife deep in her stomach, exhaling deeply as euphoria coursed through me.

The sweet taste of revenge. The blood. The look in her eyes.

This is all I care about.

Save your fucking apologies, bitch. I don't want them, I said before I stabbed her again, and again, and again.

And again, and again, and again. And again, and again, and again, and again.

I didn't want to stop, the glee in being coated in her blood causing me to not even think about anything else. I didn't care about Vera outside this door, and the fact that people might have seen her at this point. I didn't care if people might hear the laughter from this room and walk in.

I didn't care.

I WIN.

Peals of laughter filled the air as I had the most fun I had tonight, just stabbing Kat everywhere I could, stabbing her more times than I stabbed Sawyer and Toby combined.

I'm not done. I'm never going to be done. I can do this for the rest of my life.

Why had I waited so long to do this? This was so, so, so fun. Hurting Kat was so fun. Killing Kat was so fun. Seeing her blood soak into the white hotel comforter and turning it red was so, so, so fun.

It took her a while to realize she wasn't alone in the room anymore, and the smile only widened when she saw who it was.

My Jakey, I thought, standing beside the bed as I watched him look at his girlfriend. His dead girlfriend.

Now it could be him and me. Together forever. Our happy ever after.

I still had to deal with his sisters, but this was really, really good progress. Kat was no longer in the picture and the proud smile was still on my lips, even as I dropped the knife on the floor.

My work tonight is done, I think.

My head tilted to the side as I watched Jake pick up the knife and stepped closer towards me, backing me up until I was against the wall. What--, I started to ask before I felt his hands wrapping themselves around my neck, cutting off my air.

Kinky.

Oh, I actually kind of like this.

It's only when he kept talking that I realized this wasn't going to be like what they did after Theo and Bianca. I don't understand.

Didn't he love me? Didn't he say it was always going to be us in the end? Wasn't he happy I did what I had to do so we could be happy together?

I couldn't even gasp as I felt the sharp knife -- my knife -- plunge into my chest. Jake pulled me by my hair and threw me on the ground, and I felt woozy from the lack of air. I could feel blood dripping from my chest, but none of it hurt as much as my heart was.

The same heart that yearned for Jake since we were younger. The same heart that wholeheartedly believed we were in this together?

I wanted to say no, I wanted to beg him to stop, but he stabbed me again, and again, and again.

And again, and again, and again. And again, and again, and again, and again.

I don't understand.

I was his, and he was hurting me. He wanted to kill me. As I felt every stab, all I wanted to do was sob and tell him he was the one who made me into this. I thought this was what he wanted. I thought he loved me.

Because I loved him. I still did.

Even as he towered over me and hurt me and betrayed me, I loved him.

I love Jake. I always will.

I could feel myself drifting away now, as I thought about everything in my life that had brought me to this one moment. Maybe this was how it was always meant to be. I'll always be the girl who loves a little too much, gives too much of herself away, to get absolutely nothing good back.

There's nothing left for me to give now, I thought as I looked into the eyes of the man I had sacrificed everything for.

All I ever wanted was to be loved. Didn't I deserve that?

Didn't Jake owe me that? Since my love for him had been the reason for everything I did? Since he's still someone I'd do anything for?

Too much. It's all too much. It hurts too much.

It's almost ironic, how being stabbed in the chest hurt a lot less than a consistently broken heart.

[henryxmonroe-a]

— changes ; a self-para.

trigger warnings: accident, death, grief, loss.

Vermont was a long way from Washington State, but despite the distance, he did everything he could to stay in touch with his family. His older sister, Sarah, had opted to stay behind in their home state after finding the love of her life in the middle of establishing her career as a pediatric surgeon. His parents, as much as they'd joked about following his career, had decided to stay too. He couldn't blame them for not wanting to uproot their lives, but at the end of his career, he couldn't find it within him to go back.

The early morning drive was exactly what he'd needed to clear his head. It was barely five in the morning, but the sun dared to peek over the mountains as he passed the city limits sign.

The time difference was the only reason he hadn't thought twice about answering the call from his mother. Surely she knew how early it was, but what was that about a mother's instinct and knowing when something was off? "Good morning, mom. Look, I might lose you because I'm driving out to these hiking trails outside of the city, but I can call you back later if that's okay?"

Silence. "Mom?" He heard shuffling around, maybe even a sniffle before his father's voice rang through clearly.

"She's gone, Henry. Your sister is gone. Matthew too."

A lump formed in his throat and his grip tightened on the phone. Surely he'd missed words in between. "She's gone where? Are they coming to Seattle? I'm sure wherever she went, she just forgot to tell you. You know how she is." His tone was weak, a sense of doubt washing over him.

"Son. There was an accident this morning. We waited to call until we knew for certain. She didn't make it. Matthew didn't either."

Rowan. Baby Row.

"What about Rowan? Where is Rowan?" He hadn't mentioned the three month old child. Why hadn't he mentioned Rowan? "No. There's been a mistake. They're wrong, okay? It's not her. It's not. She's," he countered, though his father's stern voice was quick to cut him off.

"Henry, son, you should come home. Rowan is with us. Your mother isn't well. She wants you home. Can you come home? Son, please?"

"I'm losing you," he lied, hazel hues burning as he dropped the phone from his ear and ended the call. This wasn't true. It couldn't be true. Sarah was a mother; Rowan needed her mother. Three months old was too young to lose not one important piece of her life, but two.

Carefully, the male navigated through his contacts, gaze misty as he landed on his sister's name. One tap later and he was met with a persistent ring and then the sound of her voicemail blasted through his head. You've reached Sarah O'Connell. I'm sorry I couldn't get to the phone, but if you leave your name and number, I'll call you back at my earliest convenience. Thanks!

He tried again. And then again. By the fifth time, he tossed his phone into the passenger side floorboard and veered off the edge of the road, the warning of the rumble strips doing little to phase him as he rolled to a stop.

She was gone. The sister he'd known for nearly thirty-seven years was gone. They'd waited to call him? For how long, he wondered? Had it been hours? Mere minutes? When had the world changed without him knowing it? Or perhaps he had. The lingering feeling deep his chest had rattled him to the core; had pushed him out his front door and into the car at such an early hour. Maybe he'd known all along, but nothing compared to the harsh truth falling from his father's mouth while his mother weeped out of earshot.

Fist clenched tight, but rather than drop it against the steering wheel in a fit of rage, he pulled back, a hand falling against the side of his head. She was gone. Matthew was gone. Rowan? Rowan wasn't and neither were his pleading parents. They wanted him home? He'd come home. He needed that.

— the aftermath ; a continuation.

Everything between the phone call and his flight landing in Vermont had been a blur. He'd walked through the airport with his head hung low, thankful that no one had asked for a photo or an autograph that he didn't feel like giving. What should have been his sister greeting him at the end of the escalators was his father, a stern-looking man made of emotional steel.

"Your mother is at home with Rowan. We've already made arrangements for her service, but son," the older man paused, a certain look in glassy eyes giving away the pain he hid away so well, "there's something that your mother is going to ask and I need you to be prepared."

Whatever he'd expected to fall from his father's mouth next, it wasn't even close to what he said. "Someone needs to care for Rowan. We've already spoken to Matthew's parents. They don't think they're capable of caring for a three month old baby and quite frankly, Henry, we aren't either. This is what Sarah would have wanted for her. She trusted you, son."

Not even a day ago, he'd been living the bachelor life. Retired hockey player, bar owner, single man with no outright responsibility weighing him down? He'd dealt with the guilt of his divorce all over again, but this? It was the greatest challenge of all.

This is what Sarah would have wanted for her. She trusted you, Son.

There was no answer that signified how he felt. No response that could have accurately summed up the war of thoughts raging within his mind. Of course he wanted to say yes. He wanted to blindly jump into being the man his niece needed, but how? Where did he even start?

Days passed in an instant. There were so many apologies given to him and his parents that he could't keep up. The service had been as beautiful as it could be, but it was difficult rejoicing a life that was taken far too soon.

Before he knew it, it was time to return home, but without baby Row at his side. According to his parents, Matthew's folks needed an extra week to say their goodbyes and after that, they'd fly out to Seattle while legal guardianship was transferred to him. After that, he'd never know a day of loneliness again and only time would tell if he were fit for the role he'd once wanted to play.

[sarahpetersonruiz]

ella aquieta mi herida | self para

tw: death, mention of drugs, hospital

Sarah had been practicing for that day since she was eight years old. Perhaps that was why, as she sat in the waiting room in the hospital, she couldn't muster any tears. It had been hours, and she hadn't moved from the beaten-up blue plastic chair. Not to use the bathroom, not to get a coffee, not for anything. She simply sat and waited. A family sat to the right of her, holding hands with heads bowed, their tear-stained faces hidden from view. They were obviously praying for some sort of miracle for whoever was on the other side of those grey industrial double doors. She wondered if there was any point in her praying. For asking some greater power to make things different. She had tried everything - rehabs, interventions, shouting, crying...All of her efforts were futile. A part of her wished she had someone to hold like the other family did, but Sarah sat alone. Waiting. There was no point letting her siblings know; it would only upset them. Ultimately, was the one who had carried the burden of their mother since she was born. She was the one, she knew deep inside, who made her the way that she was. If her father hadn't struggled to care for two young daughters at such a young age. If she had just been a normal child with normal interests. If she had taken care of her mother more. All words she had tortured herself with for years.

Staring at the colourless tiles on the floor, she allowed herself to cast her mind back to one of the happy moments. When her mother was clean and was trying her hardest to be the parent Sarah always knew she wanted to be. They were rare moments, but Sarah cherished them like diamonds. One of the few advantages of having her strange ability to memorise almost anything. She could remember the cheap perfume her mom wore, how the clothes that had once fitted her hung loosely from her body, but Sarah always though she was beautiful. Her curly hair tied up on top of her head and her honey-brown eyes that Sarah so desperately wished she had too. The soft Spanish song she sang as they danced around their tiny apartment together. "Ella aquieta mi herida. Todo, todo, yo olvida," she would sing softly into her ear. Holding onto Sarah as if she were made of something precious. Paying attention to her, realising in those brief moments just how special her eldest daughter was. She told Sarah how they were going to visit Puerto Rico together - maybe move back there. How things were going to be so much better. How they were going to be a real family. Sarah had heard it all before. She knew better than to believe her. Eventually, the music would always fade away, replaced with screaming matches between the two and the hushed sounds of Sarah comforting her siblings. Their small apartment would become overwhelmed with trash and laundry again. Sarah's mom would lie on the couch, curled up with her back facing the rest of the world. Sarah would steal her perfume, soaking her pillow in it and breathing in the scent of a mother who simply couldn't do it.

The old double doors of the hospital squeaked open, forcing Sarah to return back to reality. A greying man, a doctor with kind eyes and hands occupying themselves with a scrub cap was approaching her, and she knew before he opened his mouth. She had been let down by enough people in her life to recognise when they were about to break her heart. She stood up, the first time in hours, her arms unmoving by her side. The doctor began to speak, using a gentle voice and a well-practiced verse. She wondered how many times he had made the same speech that day. "We did everything we could." She wondered if the fact that she died by an overdose clouded their judgement. She wondered if they even gave her a chance. "We're sorry for your loss."

Sorry for your loss.

Really, Sarah had lost her mother twenty-eight years before.

In the aftermath, she remained calm. She did everything she had to do, like the good daughter she had always been. After filling out the paperwork, she left the hospital and drove back to her apartment. She made her dinner, and she sat on her couch. She looked in the direction of the television, but she never turned it on. She sat like that for a while, waiting for the emotions to hit her. She had read enough books, been around enough people to know that she should be grieving. But instead, she felt empty. The silence was eating her alive. Eventually, pushing away her untouched plate, she stood up and walked over to her record player. It was her Grandma's, the only thing she had that belonged to the woman she never met. Sifting through the dusty vinyls, she paused when she reached a familiar title. Slowly, she took it out of the sleeve and placed it gently onto the desk, placing the needle. The room was silent, before it was filled with the fuzzy noise of the song her mom used to play.

Ella aquieta mi herida Todo, todo Yo olvida

As the song played, Sarah wrapped her arms around herself, the same way her mother used to do when she was small. The way she wished she had done more. The way she should have done the first time she faced those bullies in school, or the first time she had her heart broken, or the first time she doubted if she could make it in the world. She swayed slightly around the apartment, and for the first time, she let herself feel. Her cries came out of her like a demon; the sadness. The anger. The hurt. How could she have not tried harder? How could she have left her on her own?

The song ended, the music giving way to the scratching of the needle on the empty space of the vinyl disk. Sarah didn't move. She stayed like that for a while.

Ella aquieta mi herida Todo, todo Yo olvida

she soothes my wound, Everything, everything I forget

Sarah's heart was breaking.

Breaking for something she never really had.

[soufre-de-paris]

RECOMMENDED READING

sorted by vague topic

(if a link breaks, DM me)

FICTION

Where Oaken Hearts Do Gather by Sarah Pinsker

NON-FICTION // ART

Why I Write by Greil Marcus"…being taken out of one’s self, connecting the self to something greater, something, you know in your heart, that every person ever born must experience or be left incomplete…"

I Am A Transwoman. I Am In The Closet. I Am Not Coming Out. by Jennifer Coates

Everyone is Beautiful and No One is Horny by RS Benedict

Swimming in It: Art and (Im)Morality by Jen Silverman

Clive Barker on the Publishing Industry's homophobia and J.K. Rowling from Thomas Leatham

JRR Tolkien and the Tironian Note (PT) by Eduardo Boheme

Fur maist o history, anonymous wis a wumman by Ashley Douglas

Confronting the Challenges of Participatory Culture: Media Education for the 21st Century by Henry Jenkins

On Body Horror and the Female Body by Julia Armfield

NON-FICTION // SOCIAL COMMENTARY

Conflict is Not Abuse by Sarah Schulman

Decolonization is Not A Metaphor by Eve Tuck & K. Wayne Yang

Life at 800MHz by Artemis Everfree

Para-Bonding by Barbara Genova

How Twitter Can Ruin A Life by Emily St. James

NON-FICTION // LANGUAGE

The Sound of the Feeling that Cannot Be Spoken by Polly Barton

POETRY

To Noah, From Wife, Some Years After by Jean Gallagher

Vultures by Chinua Achebe

[willowmccann]

the day has to start anyways || self para 001

who: willow mccann + sarah miller where: willow + sarah's apartment in greenwich village, new york

"Come on, Willow, we'll be late to 20th century and you know how Sullivan gets when we're late" The blonde heard her roommate shout through the door. Sarah was referring to 20th century architecture, the course they were both taking together as fourth year architecture students. Willow rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock. It was 6:45 in the morning. Their class started at 7:30, and they definitely needed at least 20 minutes to walk to the building where the class was held. The Urban Design and Architecture Studies building at NYU was a beautiful place, but not that early in the morning, and certainly not after a Los Angeles Kings game with the time difference.

Yes, she shouldn't have been watching that game...

No, she couldn't help herself.

Wyatt had been her best friend all through school, both middle school and high school. When nobody else had wanted to be her friend, ignoring the new transfer nerd who was taking AP math while everyone else struggled with basic derivatives, Wyatt had once seen her playing with a small lego fidget toy she'd built herself (basically a bunch of keychains with pieces that she interconnected to make random patterns). After that, once they'd grown up, they'd found each other in the back alley smoking after parties, and it wasn't many encounters like that that made them best friends. He shared his NHL dreams with her, and Willow told him her dream of becoming a world known architect and design sustainable skyscrapers all across the globe. What she never told him was how quickly she'd fallen in love with him, and the reason why she'd never tell him once he was drafted into the NHL even before they left their small suburb in Chicago, Illinois.

That was three years ago. When everyone thought Wy would get traded to the Blackhawks while Willow was touring NYU and getting all her pre-admissions done. And while she was drying her hair and absentmindedly listening to the draft on her phone, she heard Chicago Blackhawks followed by his name. Chicago or any New York team would've worked perfectly... But Los Angeles... That was never gonna work. A last minute trade that threw a bug in her plans to tell him how in love she'd been with her and that she was ready to work her ass off to make the train rides between New York and Chicago to be with him.

She wasn't gonna steal the experience from him. If they weren't going to be together, she didn't wanna be the boring best friend who he'd have to travel every time he could to New York to see because she'd be buried in sketches and exam papers... And she certainly wasn't gonna burden him with the thought that she'd been madly in love with him this whole time.

So for now, Willow just admired him from a far. They'd lost touch, thankfully, because from all the light stalking she did from burner accounts, Willow could tell he had a girlfriend. Having to meet said girlfriend if they'd stayed friends would've been the biggest sucker punch in the planet. So distance worked. She could focus on school, and Wyatt could... Focus on whatever he wanted to focus.

Three years had gone like this, and it wasn't gonna start changing now.

"Willow, if I don't hear you opening this door in two minutes, I'm leaving wito-" "Oh come on, Sarah, you know I always make it and you never leave me... Can you make my latte for me? I don't want us to be late" Willow joked, giving her best friend a hug.

She probably knew why she was so tired and looked sad. The Kings had lost. Sarah didn't care about that, but she cared about her friends' heart...

Oh well, the day had to start anyways, right?

[driyhanxx]

Marami lang akong iniisip hahaha. Siguro kaya ko ginawa 'tong tumblr account na to. Kasi nainspire lang ako kay Ate Joyce na magshare ng stories dito. Hahaha. De kidding aside. Parang gusto ko lang may mapaglabasan ng mga random ideas and thoughts ganon.

Siguro gagawa ako ng series dito ng ka-cornyhan ko sa buhay. Hahahaha. Lets call it #DearFutureWife. Siguro mag popost din ako ng random letter dito para sa future wife ko para malaman nyo kung gaano ako ka-Hopeless Romantic. LOL. In reference don sa movie ni John Lloyd at Sarah. Yung finally found someone. Nagsusulat si Sarah sa future husband nya tapos ghinost sya sa araw ng kasal. Hahahahaa. So ayon na ngaaaaa. Sisimulan ko naaa.

Hello to my future wife. I just want you to know na sobrang excited na ako na magkita tayo. I'm so excited na makinig sa mga kwento mo na kung kumusta ba ang araw mo, mga-rants mo sa buhay. Mga pangarap mo for you or maybe para satin din. Charrr. I'm so excited to comfort you when you feeling down. To celebrate our small success. To travel with you. Excited din ako na suyuin ka kapag mag aaway tayo. Uy alam mo haaa. Natuto na ako!! Susuyuin kita pero di ko na itotolerate kapag mali ka. Icocorrect kita in a proper way. Promise loveeeee. I'm so excited na magsusumbong ako sayo everytime na may mga bagay na nagpafeel sakin na maging malungkot. Love, sobrang excited na ako mag grow with you. Excited ako sa lahat ng pwede natin pagsamahan. Ipagluto kita. Ipapatikim ko sayo yung walang kasawaang yang chow ko at paulit ulit din na chicken nuggets! Pero dont worry, ikaw ang masusunod sa flavor na gusto mo. Leave it to me mahal! ��� I'm so excited to meet you na talaga. Kaya hindi ka pa nirereveal ng Diyos sa akin, siguro kasi marami pa akong dapat idevelop sa sarili ko. Marami pa akong dapat ayusin at iimprove. Siguro hinahanda nya ako na maging fit na fit to handle you, mahal. Or baka naman nireveal ka na niya pero hindi ko lang makita pa na nandyan ka na pala, kasi masyado pa siguro akong focus sa self growth ko at busy pa ako mahalin ang sarili ko. Pero alam mo, worth it yung perfect timing na ibibigay ka Nya sakin. Kasi alam ko na He's preparing me for something special and that's you! So ayon na mahal, I gotta go to sleep na. Kasi may pasok pa ako sa work. Promise ko na kapag nandito ka na sa tabi ko, I will do my best to treat you right and hindi kita papadapuan sa lamok! Promiseeee!! I will do my best to take care of you. I hope palagi kang masaya ngayon and nasa mabuting kalagayan ka.

Ps: Love malapit na ako bumili ng bahay para satin Soooon! Habang wala ka pa. Magpprepare na ako sa pagdating mo!!

[isabellexlaurent]

You have received items from Sarah Caldwell.

1 x 3-day course of a herbal concoction that is for Isabelle's girl. Nothing out of the ordinary here.

1 x dose of Sarah's cure-all. This concoction is a mix of herbs with a viscous liquid consistency. You are not quite sure what herbs are inside, but it does look very different from Sarah's other remedies.

((OOC: Please post this to the dash for the other players reference. Isabelle is allowed to do whatever she wants with these items.))

((OOC: Will write a self-para later. Belle plans to compare the cure-all to the slime found on the bodies. She is going to place a small sample in a safe in the brothel. Leon is also going to get another sample. She is going to be taking a small dose of the concoction after Leon locks her in a cell for the safety of her and others.))

[losterthanlost]

October 31, 2022

Hello.

i need to discuss this. btw good morning. kailangan jud nako ni i-discuss sa akoang sarili:

katung nagpractice mi para sa pehm na play tapos ako bida tapos naa koy mga reactions ug actions na hambog kaayo yawa T^T

i hate what i did back then. i was obviously hambog during the time i ws themain character in grade 9 role play T^T

as ehn. galain akong paminaw. kung maulit ako sa main role, ganun pa rin ba ako mag-act? hindi na. pramis hindi na. may hiya na po ako and maykontrol sa sarili. mas self aware and mas sensitive sa surroundings.

i am sure the cool girls, cheska, ernalyn, and others don't like me because of it. i am sad. but at least i learned a lesson from it. :<

as in. akala ko lanf humble ako pero hindi. T^T. isa pa rin akong malaking gaga. hahays.

okay ilista ko na lang lahat ng napakitaan ko ng masamang ugalt after ko maligo.

---

tapos na ako maligo and kumain. di na ako nafifeel bad. pero kailangan ko pa rin ito ilista para di na ako masyadong malungkot next time na feel ko ulit ito.

so una na maalala ko is si cheska. sinabihan niya ako na may ayusin daw ako sa acting ko or something. tapos akoang gaga na self kay gilabay akoang script tapos kusog ra kaayo. so mura ko ug nagdabog T^T

bwisit jud ko as in. sorry cheska. tanda pa nako ang pagchange sa iyahang facial expression. tapso nabwisit jud siya. sorry na po huhu.

i will just not try to erase that face from my memory because that will serve as my reminder to never be full of myself and accpet ctriticisms well. kalma lang. focus on the task and doing it well. wag gaga.

another is yung nagkamali si ernalyn sa sound na kailangan ulitiin. tapos ang depota ko na self nagdabog? yawa jud. tapos nagdissappointed face pa. dow gaga jud.

hahays. tapos na sad si ernalyn. nag sorry pa siya. pero ernalyn di ka dapat magsorry ako ra jud to ang buang. nice kay naging confident and girl boss na siya pagka senior high. pero ayun din. may dissappointment din ako sa kaniya. kasi pangit talaga yung acting ko. tapos di niya ako prinanka or kinorrect. may duda naman talaga ako sa acting ko. okay lang talaga pag sinabihan niya ako na may mali or kulang or sobra sa acting ko. pero yung i-complement ako in a sarcastic way. pangit non par. sana wala na lang siyang sinabi. yun yung time na concious ako sa english pronunciation ko. hahays. sana wala na lang siyang sinabi.

pero pwede naman kasi na ayaw niya lang maka offend. or baka mej bitter siya sa akin dahil nga nung nagdabog ako nung grade 9 haha. okay lang kung ganong ang reason. i understand. i guess we're quits na. haha

---

many hours later

---

okay so november 1 na po ngayong as of typing. as in 12:18 na. so okay na ko. giforgive man ko and comfort sa akoang prend na si sarah doh. ana siya hayaan na daw yung cringe past self namin. normal lang man daw yon.

edi okay. okay na din ako ngayon. di ko na yun naiisip.

so inaantok na ako as of typing. dami kong gustong irant. pero di na ako magrarant. kasi nga antok na ako.

so

[gazeta24br]

O Insane em Curitiba e em São Paulo será palco de mai um show do turnê de retorno de um ícone do punk/hardcore nacional, o Mukeka di Rato. Após cinco anos parados, voltam com tudo no segundo semestre de 2022 com disco novo, Boiada Suicida. O Mukeka, formado em 1995 na cidade de Vila Velha (Espírito Santo) e cujo baixista/vocalista é o ilustre Fabio Mozine (também da Laja Records), é conhecida pelo humor sarcástico, bases pesadas e vocais velozes. Outro show especial na edição curitibana e em São Paulo do Insane é o Dead Fish, há tempos uma das formações mais destacadas em todo o Brasil em se tratando de punk/hardcore consciente e desafiador, promete um set list especial dos 30 anos de carreira. Mais um show especial com repertório de clássicos: Dance of Days celebrando 25 anos de estrada. A banda, que tem à frente Nenê Altro, é a resistência personificada do punk hardcore nacional, com uma intensa história, repleta de vitórias, dramas, tensões e transformações. Este será um dos primeiros shows do DoD após Nenê passar por transformação de gênero e se reconhecer como mulher. O experiente combo ska punk Abraskadabra é um dos representantes locais, em mais uma oportunidade para apresentar o enérgico e animado show de divulgação do mais recente disco, Make Yourself at Home, lançado mundialmente pela super gravadora norte-americana Bad Time Records. Mais no Insane em Curitiba Mais uma local neste Insane em Curitiba: Water Rats, uma das tantas bandas de Alexandre Capilé (Voz e Guitarra) e que este ano celebra 10 anos de carreira. Em pouco tempo, já acumula turnês por países da Europa e dos Estados Unidos, além de presença constante em festivais pelo Brasil com seu hardcore/grunge. De São Paulo, a Putz traz seu rock alternativo com letras pessoais da vocalista e guitarrista Gi Ferreira, alternando entre momentos explosivos e outros mais calmos pelos acordes e batidas de Sarah C (baixo), Cyro Sampaio (do menores atos, guitarra) e Antonio Fermentão (do Zander, bateria). O primeiro disco foi lançado em outubro de 2021, com 11 faixas. O Insane Curitiba ainda tem a prata da casa Self Defense, clássica formação hardcore na luta desde 2001, e a inquieta – não raramente frenética – banda paulistana Deb and the Mentals, com sua mistura explosiva de indie e punk, agora também com músicas em português. Mais no Insane em São Paulo O icônico Garage Fuzz está em um momento ímpar nos mais 31 anos de carreira. Com novo vocalista (Victor Franciscon, ex-Bullet Bane) e uma sequência ovacionada de shows, a banda santista vem ao Insane com seu hardcore melódico turbinado e ávido por interação intensa do público. Outra banda confirmada no fest que está a todo vapor é o Matanza Inc., formado em 2019 por ex-integrantes do Matanza. Ao vivo, o quarteto é ainda mais robusto e pesado. No bloco do peso, tem também o power trio santista Surra e seu único thrashcore cativante e crítico, com um invejável currículo de shows Brasil afora em questão de uma década em pulsante ativa. O hardcore está muito bem representado ainda com o feroz Bayside Kings, o quarteto santista que modernizou seu estilo no mais recente registro, Existência, cantando em português e trazendo elementos new school do HC à sonoridade. Mais duas bandas completam o altivo line-up do 2º Insane Music Festival: os paulistanos do Ravel, da nova safra que mistura rock alternativo e hardcore com melodias e muita reflexão, e o quarteto The Mönic: peso, bpm’s acelerados, vocais rasgados e melódicos são as marcas registradas da banda que te faz viajar diretamente para os anos 90.

[konstantinvorshevsky]

10 DEATHS FOR 10 YEARS [2 of 6]:

If you know, you know. If you don’t, you’ll find out soon. There’s a reason a name isn’t given, and it’s because I’m forcing artificial suspense because I can’t write it well enough. You’re welcome. This ends in one of two ways: violence and death, or violence and death with extra violence and death because someone is mad..

Date: May 6th, 2022. Warnings: This is what happens when you don’t plot mob violence. I’ll do it.

“They’ll hunt you down for this, you know. You need to be sure.”

“I find that mildly insulting," the woman replied, despite her amused expression suggesting otherwise. “I'd like to think I’ve done more than enough to warrant that already.”

Konstantin couldn’t help a silent laugh.

Well, she was probably right.

“I don’t trust anybody else with this, and neither do you.”

About that, too.

Trust. It was a remarkably difficult thing to come by in a world like theirs, and that was a lesson he’d been forced to learn quickly. Whilst the Vorshevsky hadn’t faced betrayal in the most easily assumed sense of the word, trust was still something he offered infrequently, even to those who had done their level-best to earn it. Of course, trusting people to do a job properly was another animal entirely, and in this context, with how much he was asking of her, that was precisely to what she was referring.  

They couldn’t mess this up. There was too much at stake.  

“You sent Misha and Yuliya away?”

The man watched as she approached him, expression deceivingly soft for somebody who was anything but. It was a side she reserved for few, and he knew that he had been, and would always be, one of them. When she finally settled, it was to perch on the edge of his desk; facing him, but adjacent, with space enough that it wouldn’t seem inappropriate should anyone be insolent enough to disturb him in his private study.

“Mm,” he confirmed with a distracted hum. Konstantin’s eyes lingered on the outermost photo frame on his desk. It was a picture of himself and Larissa as children on a trip with their uncle to Novosibirsk, smiling as only those ignorant of what the future expected of them could. If he’d just sent her back to Romania, instead of letting her come home to Launceston. If he’d just ordered Katarina to take up a protection detail, even when she fought it with every ounce of her pride. If he’d just done everything differently... “Yuliya is back in The Netherlands, and Misha and his family are safely out of London.”

Even though she fell silent, he could tell something else was playing on her mind.  

As a million played on his.

When he leaned back into the expensive leather of his office chair, his eyes finally found their way back to her. Discussions like these, with one of his most trusted confidants, had been commonplace back in the day. She had kept him sane—relatively, at least—where other people had thought him snapped. Without her, it could’ve been so much worse, and they had no idea how close he’d come on so many occasions to turning their worst fears into a reality. But priorities had changed for the both of them, and it felt like these days, he only saw her when he needed something.

It didn’t feel good for him. Though she would never be so bold as to say it, he suspected she felt the same.

“Aviv called me earlier...”

“I thought he might.” A particularly difficult decision, on his part: “He’s understandably furious with me.”

It gave her pause for a moment. When her hand eventually reached out to cradle his face, though, physical affection a sad rarity for him nowadays, the Russian realised that he’d missed it. His hand moved to gently cover hers. But it wasn’t to offer the sentiment back so much as it was to stop her from letting go again.  

“You sent him home to protect him. He might be angry about that now, but he’ll understand your caution once he’s cooled off a bit. Just give him some time, Kostya...”

But would he forgive him for the exclusion?

“You did the right thing.”

“And am I doing the right thing asking this of you?”

It was then her hand slowly retreated in spite of his hold on her, but he was sure the warmth remained even as his eyes followed her once again returning to her feet. The mood seemed to shift, then. If it’d been sombre before, then it was more so now, and even her muted expression still read as that of somebody with the weight of the world on their shoulders. Or just the weight of a decade’s worth of loyalty.

Konstantin stood. Given the gravity of the conversation, it felt appropriate.

“I hid the last time I did a job like this for you, but she was different. If I do this now, I can’t ever come back. I have to think about my children. I can’t risk somebody giving away where—”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. It’s exactly why I said you need to be sure.”

“You’ll not see me again.”

At first, he thought she was subtly looking for him to talk her out of agreeing to what would truly be her final assignment before retirement. That perhaps she was scared, or unsure.

But when she looked at him like that, Konstantin realised it wasn’t the case at all.

The woman before him wasn’t looking for an out.

She was giving him one.  

“I know,” he said. The words affected him more than he’d expected them to.

Konstantin took a hold of her hands; so tiny in his own that he could scarcely believe how many lives she’d held in them. His expression was all gratitude, and awe, and adoration for a woman that nobody who worked for him would ever again live up to. He would miss her. Had missed her. Perhaps, in more ways than one, when he took the time to think about it. Chances were fleeting, and theirs had passed them by long ago—a rather uncomfortable exchange after she had ceased working for his father had hammered that point home.

So many regrets plagued him, and she was no exception.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life. There are a lot of things I wish I’d done differently,” he started, voice quiet but confident, despite the nature of the conversation, “but I should have married you.”

The smile offered in response to the admission was almost sad—an emotion he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen from her, feigned or otherwise—but she nodded, chuckle muted. And her eyes said she agreed with them: Yes.  

This was a goodbye. The finality of it all was asphyxiating. But at least for once, with someone he cared for, he was getting the chance.

It only took a second for her to bridge the gap between them, but when she did, her now loose hands found his face again, this time with what seemed like more purpose. It was almost cruel; a kiss that felt as much their first as it did their last. Tenderness from a woman most people thought possessed none. And maybe the fact that as his hands found her waist—as he realised that he didn’t want to let her go again—should have been enough for him to change his mind. For him to ask her to stay, and find somebody else, trusted or not, to do the unspeakable.  

But they both knew this life always came first.

It always had.  

“I love you.”

Konstantin wondered if her words were faint against his lips because she understood he already knew. They had for a long time.

But he stayed silent.

The interruption the Russian had been anticipating since she’d arrived came a moment later. A knock at the door, followed by the uninvited entrance of a loyalist, clearing his throat to awkwardly announce his arrival. Neither of them considered the man reason enough to rush to part ways. Her eyes were still closed as he looked down at her, hand slowly tucking her hair behind her ear. Things should’ve been different, and that would be another weight for him to carry, now.

One he could only hope was worth it in the end.

“We have to leave now. It’s time.”

Like a switch had flipped, her face returned to its usual stoicism, then; she’d had her moment of weakness. They parted for the final time.

Konstantin didn’t doubt she waited to speak again until she was walking away because she couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Her final words were honest and comfortable, and nothing short of what he always expected of her: 

“It’ll be done as you’ve asked. I’ll expect the wire transfer by the end of the week.”

[newagexheroes]

Bucky & Sarah | Reunited

The knock on the apartment door doesn’t startle Bucky as much as it confuses him. They don’t get many visitors as it is but in the middle of the day like this? Something wrong here. Bucky ignores it. Hopefully whoever is at the door will either leave or realize they’ve gotten the wrong apartment and go away. That doesn’t happen though. No, instead they knock again and Bucky has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. He forces himself away from the couch he had settled on, the book he had been reading tossed onto the coffee table. There are two ways this could go, one it’s a civilian and they’ll head off after Bucky shoos them off or it’s someone here to attack him. Bucky clenches his metal fist as he approaches the door, and he uses his right hand to unlock the door. When the door isn’t forcibly kicked in, Bucky takes it as a sign that it’s just a civilian. So he opens the door just a crack to tell them they’ve got the wrong apartment but words die on his tongue the moment he sees who’s on the other side. Sarah Rogers. It had been a while now since it was Sarah’s turn to step through Magik’s portal. He had been avoiding Sarah like the plague. He refused to talk to her for more than a few minutes and wouldn’t be alone in a room with her. Now here she was standing outside he and Steve’s shared apartment that sad look on her face that she tried to hide with a smile. 

“Come in,” Bucky speaks a bit gruffly but steps aside so that Sarah can make her way in. He’s going to fucking kill Steve for giving her this goddamn address. “I’ll make you tea.” He doesn’t let Sarah get a word in edgewise. He wants to busy himself, find ways to avoid this conversation or any conversation with Sarah. She looks at him like he’s still the boy she knew back in the thirties and he can’t stomach that. Bucky can’t have her think he’s a good man, her son’s protector. That boy died a long time ago and though try as he might Bucky isn’t sure he’ll ever be the boy she once knew. He can’t disappoint her like that, not Sarah. Not the woman who took him in as another son, seen him at his prime -- his shining years. The man that stirs lemon into her tea now is broken, slowly being pieced back together with pieces of a puzzle that have long been scattered and lost. Sarah, the ever polite, makes her self comfortable as Bucky busies himself in the kitchen. The air is stiff filled with words that neither of them seem to be able to say. It doesn’t get any better until Bucky’s bringing over the tea, left hand hidden is pocket as he gingerly hands over the steaming cup with his right. He stands over for a moment before sitting in the armchair that is across from her instead of on the couch. 

“Thank you,” Sarah speaks softly and Bucky merely nods. She takes a few more sips before setting the cup down gingerly on the coffee table. “I think we need to have a conversation, one that’s long overdue.” 

Bucky shifts a bit in his seat, does she know? Of course, she would, she’s Sarah. Sarah somehow knows everything, so much so that it’s almost disconcerting to Bucky that she seems to be a goddamn mind reader. Sarah hangs her head, staring at her hands in her lap. The look of sorrow on her face makes Bucky uneasy. Old instincts rear their head and ache for him to reach out and soothe her. 

“I know Steve must have told you. So I understand why you’re avoiding me,” Her voice is ragged and Bucky realizes she’s trying not to cry. “I’m so sorry.” The woman whispered brokenly and he doesn’t think they’re on the same page. “You’re allowed to be angry with me, Jimmy. Your life wasn’t mine to take, not like that. I put you in danger too when you were nothing but a good boy. -- I didn’t mean to…” Sarah looks up finally, blue eyes rimmed with tears. Bucky can’t stand it. His fist clenches in his pocket so hard he’s afraid he might shatter the metal itself.

“No! -- No.” He doesn’t mean to yell, but he does and it clearly startles Sarah. “This ain’t about the TB. I don’t -- Shit that wasn’t your fault. How were you to know you passed that onto us?” He’s almost relieved that this isn’t what he thinks it’s about but Bucky knows she doesn’t believe him. He doesn’t blame her, his actions don’t really match up with a man that’s not angry with her. 

“I should have known -- Steve was sick enough as it was already and even the healthiest people got it. I was bein’ selfish and that got you killed.” As the woman speaks Bucky shakes his head. 

“You saved me.” The words spill from his mouth before he can stop them and Sarah’s teary face only grows confused and Bucky knows he’s done it. He can’t get out of this not now. He’s got to tell her because it isn’t just killing him but it’s killing Sarah as well. He’s got her convinced that he hates her. That’s not what he wants, not even a little bit. He’s selfish and a jerk. Bucky wants her to think of him as an innocent but can’t stand to look at her when she does look at him that way. His heart is hammering in his chest and he swears if his palms could get sweaty from nervousness they would. He’s not looking at her anymore, he can’t. “I’m not the man you think I am, not anymore.” His words are barely above a whisper and as if on cue his metal arm whirls. 

“I ain’t your boy -- not your Jimmy.” Bucky takes in a deep breath. He’s trying to steel himself but since he’s been working on expressing emotions more freely they feel closer to the surface than anything else. His right hand comes up to unzip the hoodie he was wearing and he closes his eyes as he sits forward on the chair. He slowly but surely shrugs the fabric off, revealing a bright sliver arm that reflects off the light. He knows that Sarah tries to hide her gasp but with his enhanced hearing, Bucky hears it. Sarah shifts closer, she’s still on the couch.

“Please don’t -- touch it.” He finally opens his eyes and those tears are back. He knows for a different reason.

“What happened?” And at her words he laughs, it’s humorless and broken. What didn’t happen would be a better question. So much happened to Bucky and some of it he knows he doesn’t remember. It comes back in foggy dreams and dizzying nightmares. It comes back in echoing screams and haunting ghosts.

“It was the war. -- I got drafted in the 107th after you died here. There was this organization called,” The word gets stuck in his throat and his entire body shutters “Hydra. At the time they worked closely with the Nazis to make weapons and they captured our regime. -- They experimented on us, injected us and tortured us with terrible things. I don’t remember much but Steve found me, saved me.” He remembers that like a storm in the distance, far but sure. It was the first time he’d seen Steve after the serum, big and broad. The hero Bucky had always seen. “Thought that was the end of it -- went on a tour with Steve around Europe fightin’ off the bad guys.” He smiles a bit fondly at the memories of the Howling Commandos, that part was good. Sarah smiles too but it fades as Bucky’s smile fades. “A tour went wrong. I supposed to be dead. I fell off a train on a goddamn mountainside. That’s when I lost my arm..” 

What happens next is like bile in his stomach. It burns his throat and tears start to threaten to burn his eyes. Sarah’s face fades in and out of his vision. The room is dark and damp, he can feel the sweat on his brow and vomit threats to spill from his mouth. His heart is racing and he feels woozy.

“Jimmy?” The voice brings Bucky out of his daze and Bucky can’t hide the sob.

“They hurt me so bad, Mama. They made me do bad things.” The tears come freely now, head hanging to his chest as his hair hides his face. “Hydra found me cause I survived and made me into a… monster.” He looks at his arm in disgust as he finally raises his head again. “They took my memories.” He draws in a shaky breath. “Electrocuted me -- ‘hiccups’ -- until I couldn’t remember my own name and -- ‘sniffle’ -- it worked. I was their puppet -- the fist of Hydra. They put a gun in my hands and told me to shoot and I did. I killed because it was -- ‘hiccups’ -- my job. I killed good people and their families -- I took over entire countries-- I assassinated a president. Anyone who was a threat to Hydra, I killed without any remorse. They turned me into a brainwashed killing machine.” He can’t look at Sarah not now that he’s sobbing like this. He killed so many people, all of their blood on his hands. “They tortured me for fun they got bored. -- And when they didn’t need me they’d freeze me like I was a popsicle. I wasn’t --’hiccups’- human.” 

He covers his face now. He can’t catch his breath and he almost wishes he hasn’t told Sarah. He wishes he had kept his distance and pushed her away so he didn’t have to hurt her. He’s a murderer and now she’s going to look at him like everyone else does -- as a monster. Bucky doesn’t have to look up to know that Sarah is crying. He knows she’s got her hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the sound. She used to do the same thing when she thought she was going to lose Steve. Except now she had lost, she’d lost Bucky. What he doesn’t expect is her hands to pry his away from his face.

“Don’t touch me, please --- please don’t touch me.” Bucky sobs, trying but failing to pull his hands away from hers. He’s a super soldier and yet he can’t seem to break the grip of a mother. He wants to push her away but Bucky wouldn’t dare touch her. The hand that was touching his flesh hand comes to the back of his neck and pulls him until his forehead is on her shoulder and that’s when the cries become worse. He feels like a child, snot running down his face as his entire body shudders as her hand comes to rub his back like she would do when he and Steve were children. “They took all my memories of you and Stevie.” He whispers brokenly and Sarah shushes him.

“You are no monster, James Barnes.” Her voice is just as broken as his voice was and it only makes Bucky sob harder. “You didn’t choose to do those things, they aren’t your fault.”

“But I did them.” 

“No, they did them. They just tried to put the blame on someone else.” Sarah nudges the side of Bucky’s face until he picks his head up. She’s got that look on her face, the one she’d get when she heard someone make fun of her son. It’s fierce and protective. The woman takes the metal hand and presses a kiss to each of the cold fingers and Bucky’s entire form shakes as she does so. “You are still my son, do you understand me. I love you no less, not an ounce. And I am not afraid of you.” 

The words hit Bucky like a ton of bricks and he wraps both his arms around her slender frame. He hides his face into her shoulder once again and Sarah rubs his back. “I’m sorry I hid from you. I’m sorry -- I’m sorry.” The words fall from his mouth as the woman shushes him again.

“You don’t need to be sorry, stop that.” They stay like that for a little while. Sarah holds her second son, helping him through the sobs that possess his body like a man in grief. She doesn’t tell him but she’s angry. Not at him but at the world for daring to try and take his light away from him. She’ll also thank Tony later for giving her the address to the apartment.

[hurtsharder]

Sarah Reese Tag Drop

[mutt-the-punk]

HAI

My nAme is River, I'm a scemo (Scene & emo)person who luvs new friends (Including you!! <33)

I use tUmblr as a kewl (cool) & fUn way 2 find new friendz and to find peOple whom have the same interEsts as mE (Interests later listed)

Oh no.. your computer has a virus! I'll help you out but you gotta listen first.

Dni: Homophobic, Transphobic, Racist, Ablelist, pro overturning of Roe V Wade, -12,+21, Andrew Tate watchers, Msi supporters, falling in reverse supporters (basic Dni), Cringe culture, mean, rude, anti tone tagsif you are &/or support any of the following:

* racist, anti-black, against blm, support alm/blue lives matter, against police abolition & acab. xenophobic, antisemitic, islamophobic, nazi, zionist, assadist. don't support land back. alt-right.

* pro-life, anti-abortion. map, nomap. use/say slurs you can't reclaim. aren't critical of interests.

* romanticize or glorify abuse, and/or mental illness. trauma invalidation. think [emotional] neglect isn't a form of abuse.

if you are &/or support any of the following queerphobic beliefs:

* radfem, terf, swerf. transmed, truscum. against neopronouns, against xenogenders. against lesbians who use pronouns outside of she/her, and gays who use pronouns outside of he/him.

* fetishize mlm, fetishize wlw. think mlm are inherently 'less oppressed' by society, oppression olympics in general.

* believe aroace people aren't inherently lgbtq. mistreat transhets due to them being het. think polyamory is inherently sexual, think you can't cheat on your partners in polyam relationships.

* think bisexuality is the 'default' to being mspec, think pansexuality is biphobic, think trans people aren't included in bisexuality. treat pan/omni/ply/etc. as micro-labels under bisexuality.

if you are &/or support any of the following radinclus beliefs:

* pro-ship, anti-anti, pro-fic. think fiction has no effect on reality. pro-para (pedophilia, zoophilia, necrophilia, etc.).*

* mspec 'lesbians', mspec 'gays', and mspec 'straights'. lesboys, turigirls, 'male lesbians', 'gay women'.

* transabled*; endogenic, xeno-origin, any non-traumagenic 'systems' are included. 'systems' caused by disorders outside of DID or OSDD-1, like 'bpd systems', you get the gist; think you can have any trauma disorder without the trauma.

* this doesn't mean the support for the people with disorders that cause these thoughts and feelings. this means the anti-recovery sentiment of identifying as 'pro-paraphilia' & transabled- whether or not you have said disorders- and the worsening of symptoms.

if you are &/or support any of the following ableist beliefs:

*accuse people of faking their disability, also known as fakeclaiming. exclude the experiences of physically disabled people when talking about ableism. dismiss the experiences of chronically ill people due to the fluctuation of severity in symptoms.

* think allistics can say the r slur, think the infinity symbol is for all neurodivergent people rather than just autistics. against informed self diagnosis.

* think people with cluster b personality disorders are inherently abusive, or that people with DID, schizophrenia, psychosis, ASPD, etc. are dangerous or violent. 'narcissistic abuse' truther.

* misuse mental health terms, like naricissistic, psycho[path], psychotic, delusional, schizo, etc., especially in a derogatory fashion.

If you are any of those, I can't help you! Srry, not srry..

There we are, I just changed your computers oil out!....

Your computer doesn't take oil? Oopsies..

Wellll while you're contacting tech support, let's talk about a few of the things I like!

Interests: Monster high (Mh), My little pony (mlp), Invader zim (Iv), Ruby gloom (Rb), Waffles (no really, I love them), Tone tags, Swag new friends, Slushies (SO YUMMY!!)

My favorite characters: Derpy (mlp), Gir (Iv), Discord (mlp) Draculara (Mh), Ruby Gloom (Rb), Skelita (Mh), Sarah Scare (Mh), Clawdeen (Mh), Lagoona (Mh), Bender (Futurama), Ghoulia (Mh), and a few OthErz

Other: My dms are open but I don't respond often, my notifications are off.

I luv 2015

I REALLLY like neon (Mainly Green & Pink)

I watch REPOSTED Shane Dawson vidz, Markiplier, and Brandon Ferris!!!

LVL 14

You managed to get on the tech support line but you're on hold? Hm.... let's play my favorite song!!

You finally got ahold of them? SWAG! Well I've gotta go, byeeee