#sister fights

[gawrkin]

(Source: The Misfortunes of Elphine, by Thomas L. Peacock)

Ouch. It makes it sound like she punched her than slap her.

Also, its pretty interesting that Peacock flipped around the roles of how the Welsh Triads described: it was Gwenhwyfach who slapped Gwenhwyfar:

[thedisabledlife]

One Panel Illustrated Comic Titled “C.D.M.A. Fighting (Childhood Disabled Martial Arts)”. Comic description: two young sisters in wheelchairs are fighting each other by simply swatting their hands up and down. The sister to the left is holding a ruler with her other hand, and says “I’ve got a ruler and I’m NOT afraid to use it!!!” The other sister is yelling “ARRGHH!”]

When you don’t have the strength to put up a fight, you improvise. No damage was ever inflicted. Other tactics we’d use included scratching with our nails, or driving each other into tables.

[aclosetfan]

Hug Prompts: the hug to hide your tears

characters: Bubbles, Buttercup

word count: 1216

Title: And there were stars in her eyes

“Butters?” Bubbles asked with a quiet voice, peeking her head over the gutter of the roof. Her tone carried a tremor of worry, but it was more tender than anything else. She sounded sweet and soft and ready to help.

There was a sniffle near the chimney, “G-go’way.”

Bubbles frowned but was nonetheless relieved. In moments of high tension, Bubbles preferred Buttercup sulking closer to home. She didn’t like when her more temper tantrum-prone sister shot off into the throes of danger to “destress.”

Bubbles focus zeroed in on the chimney, and she debated her options. Either she honored Butters’ request or did the right thing and checked on her. Inside their home, Bubbles could hear Blossom ranting and raving at the Professor—not to; at—listing off all of Buttercup’s supposed flaws. Bubbles wished she wouldn’t. Blossom knew Buttercup would be listening no matter where she flew off to. That was probably how the fight had started in the first place. Buttercup only ever heard what she wanted to hear, and what she wanted to hear were all the bad things people said about her.

Quoting the Professor, super hearing was more of a curse than a blessing.

Bubbles stifled a sigh, listening to the twisted and hurtful words Blossom was spitting. ‘Mean,’ ‘arrogant,’ ‘ignorant,’ ‘aggressive,’ ‘stupid,’ ‘pig-headed,’ ‘meat-headed,’ the list, in Bubbles opinion, was circular and repetitive, but Bubbles wasn’t dumb; Blossom wasn’t repeating adjectives on purpose.

Her list of mean words was nothing more than that: mean words. They were meant to hurt Buttercup as much as Buttercup had probably hurt Blossom. And when Blossom was hurt, she used the sharp edges of her vocabulary.

Another sniffle pulled Bubbles attention back to the chimney, and she frowned, making up her mind. Slowly, she floated up onto the roof and landed as quietly as she could. Leaving the Professor with Blossom, Bubbles made her way to the chimney.

Immediately, she could make out a dark figure huddled in the shadows. Bubbles stood in front of that figure, waiting for her presence to grab its attention. She paused only a moment before one of Buttercup’s bright green eyes peeked out between the fingers of the hand it was hiding behind. The white of her sister’s eye was tinged red, but it did little to alleviate the intimidating weight of her glare. If Bubbles were anyone else, the look Buttercup gave her would have made her bulk, but she was not anyone else. She was Bubbles. And love made her brave.

“Are you alright?” Bubbles asked with the same soft voice as before.

“I said go away!” Buttercup snapped, her head falling back behind her arms like a shield, “are you deaf, dumbass? Does anyone in this house ever bother listening?”

Bubbles ignored the comments. Buttercup didn’t mean anything by them; she just hated when people caught her crying.

“Wanna talk about it?” Bubbles asked again after a moment, approaching even closer to her distraught sister. When Buttercup didn’t bite her head off for it, Bubbles sat down right next to her, her back leaning against the chimney.

It was a cool night out, and a breeze brought goosebumps to Bubbles’ arms. She didn’t mind, though. The stars littering the night sky were far too pretty for her to care about the cold.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” came Buttercup’s muffled reply. Buttercup’s voice had sounded hoarse, and Bubbles wondered how long she had been crying before she had come out to find her.

Bubbles didn’t respond to Buttercup. She knew better than to believe that excuse, so she sat tight and started counting the stars, hoping for a shooting star to pass over their home. She knew shooting stars weren’t actually magical, but she still wished on them all the same.

Right now, she wished her sisters would stop fighting. According to the Professor, this time her sisters had started fighting shortly after Bubbles had left for a friend’s house. She didn’t know when the argument had ended, but based on Blossom’s reaction inside, Bubbles didn’t think it had been very long ago.

“She just thinks she knows everything!” Buttercup growled, voice still muffled, just as Bubbles had known she would, “She thinks she’s smarter than me, but she’s not—” Blossom was smarter than everyone, but Bubbles knew that wasn’t Buttercup’s point, “—other people have ideas too; she needs to listen to them. It’s not fair.”

The Professor would have told Buttercup that Blossom was just going through a phase—a very long, very tiresome phase in Bubbles’ opinion. Sympathy wasn’t Blossom’s strong suit, she was too black and white for that, and somewhere along the way had decided that she—and only she—knew best.

Buttercup was the worst at entertaining this notion.

“She thinks she’s our mom, but she’s not, Bubbles!” Buttercup’s head snapped up, and she looked at her with large earnest eyes, “She’s not! She can’t boss us around like this! She can’t, so why does everyone seem to think she can?”

Bubbles sighed and went back to counting stars. Then, after a moment of thought, she shrugged, “cause Blossom’s usually right, Butters.”

“So that’s just it then?” Bubbles couldn’t see Buttercup’s scowl, but she could hear it, “Because she’s right, we just have to listen?”

“No,” Bubbles smiled, “we don’t have to listen. That’s just why everyone thinks we should. We don’t have to do anything, really.”

Buttercup slouched, “Yeah, but—” She struggled for the words, stopped, then shrugged, tears pricking her eyes, “—yeah, whatever, I guess.”

Bubbles blinked, surprised the fight had drained out of her sister so quickly. Usually, it took a few good hours for her to get to this point. She nudged her sister, bewildered, “Is that really it? You haven’t even punched a wall yet.”

Buttercup snorted and sniffed, “What’s the point? She just gets her way no matter what I say.”

Bringing her attention back to the sky, Bubbles mulled over what Buttercup had said. She sucked her teeth and nodded, “It does feel like that, doesn’t it?”

Buttercup let out a heavy sigh.

“I think it’s mature of you, though, letting the anger wash over you like that,” Bubbles complimented, giving Buttercup a tentative smile, “it takes a big person to do something like that.”

Buttercup returned her smile with a wry one, “I hardly think you can call me the bigger person. It’s all still there—” She put a hand over her heart “—the anger, it’s right under my skin. The more I ignore it, the worse it gets.” Buttercup turned away from her then, her gaze searching the stars, and Bubbles watched their reflections gleaming in the unshed tears pooling in her sister’s eyes.

“It burns so much, it hurts,” Buttercup continued, “I can’t handle it—it waits for me to be happy, and then it ruins it all—” Her voice broke, “—I-I think sometimes I may be br-broken.”

Buttercup’s eyes squeezed shut as tears began to slip down her face.

“That’s okay, Butters,” Bubbles soothed as she pulled Buttercup into a hug. Her sister slotted easily into her waiting arms, eager to hide, “lucky for you, my hugs are like glue.”

Buttercup tucked her head into Bubbles’ neck and cried.

[maribatshipper]

Can anyone assist me?

I’m a teenager with two younger sisters, and two older brothers, but we’re here to talk about my sisters.

We’re gonna call them S and J. S is older with autism. J is younger and normalish. We’re always fighting. I’ve tried to find ways to not fight, but it never works. I end up losing my cool every time after they lose theirs. Just a few minutes ago, J decided she wanted to play Twister when I wanted to be alone with some downtime. She plays while I spin the wheel. Easy, right? Apparantly not.

I said to her in a calm voice, “Your feet aren’t on blue.” her feet were both off blue just enough for it to be out while her left hand is trying to be on yellow.

And here’s where all hell breaks loose.

She starts yelling at me that her feet are on blue when they are clearly not, her heels are elevated while her toes are on the mat, OFF OF BLUE! This counts as, “Not on blue”, but she doesn’t see that, so, I say, “You don’t have to be a jerk about it.” That’s when she decides to throw her shoe at me. Her hard, painful, big footed shoe at my arm right underneath my shoulder. It hurts and I let her know it hurts. She tells me not to call her that. Here’s probably where I went to far.

“Well I didn’t call you a bitch!”

She threatened to throw her other shoe at my face. S came in and decided to diffuse the situation, we’d go into the other ends of the house. I willingly agreed, angry.

This happens all the time and it breaks me to see their looks of hate directed at me. What am I doing wrong as the big sister to make my little sisters hate me so much? Why can’t we ever be as awesome as kids on TV or in the books? Sure, they have issues, but not repeated hate-filled fights. I can’t control my own temper like I should when it’s with my family. What should I do?

[hottie-trash]

This is the fight I had with my sister today

Today I was mopping my house and had to wash the mop heads we use. I opened the washer and saw my older sisters blankets were there. So being the good sister I am, I put them in the dryer bc if she cant remember to move them to the dryer she can sleep in smelly blankets. (But that's not the petty part) So they are in the dryer. When my sister comes home my mom has just decided she's going to do laundry and my sister puts a few things she needs washed with my mom's clothes. HOWEVER!! When it needs to be moved to the dryer, guess what's still in there! Her blankets. So I tell her (politely) to take them out. (I mean they are her blankets who else is supposed to do it?) But she ignores me the first time. And I'm like okay I'll just tell her again later. (I was eating tuna) So I tell her again and she ignores me again. So I decide to wait for my mom to tell her to take her shit out. Instead my older sister decides it's time to sleep. She says goodnight to my mom so I shout from the kitchen "go take your stuff out of the dryer!" But she yells "goodnight" and slams her door. I go and open her door and tell her to go take her shit out but ofcourse she doesn't listen. My mom and younger sister are sitting on the couch watching me and eventually my mom gets up to go do it herself. (Because she is a sweetheart) so I go to stop her and my older sister closes the door. So I tell my mom "fine, if she doesn't want to do it herself I'll do it" so I grab her shit and start walking towards my dogs kennel (he's still a baby and will rip up anything in sight) but my younger sister sees me and she's like "Becky no" so instead I go to the closet we keep everything and stuff them in the bottom shelf bc knowing my older sister she won't look anywhere that's not obvious.

[angsty-writer]

I was fighting with my little sister about who the best DC villain is, why is not important.

I was getting frustrated. My sister was getting frustrated. Our mom was extremely frustrated.

She turned to me and said. “Drop it, she’s 11.”

“And?”

“And sometimes you have to pick your battles.”

Yeah, and obviously I’m picking fucking this one.

[pure-clown-shit]

Me and my sister take out our anger on each other

No we don't hit each other

We just say mean things to each other then we're fine

[theloneshipper]

A fight with my sister

Context: we are in the middle of tickle fighting on the bed, and she goes to kick the hand that holds my phone

Me: Stop! My phone was expensive and I don’t want it broken!

Her: I’m worth more than your phone!

Me: I didn’t pay 700 dollars for you!

Her: *clutching her heart dramatically* I am betrayed!