#thishurt

[beingthisalive]

reminder that ellies bar area has this photo of her and joel and u know every time she goes over there she has to see that and relive everything all over again and then u just know she’s drinking to forget but in reality it never leaves her mind and she lives the guilt of that last conversation and never getting to watch the movie with him….

[ekowolf]

Story—The Only Difference Between Medicine and Poison is the Dose

She rubbed her thumb gently under the sad blue eyes, catching the tears before they traveled too far down Kara’s soft cheeks.

“D-don’t cr-…cry”, Lena whispered as her lips stuck together with the drying stickiness of blood.

Her eyes fluttered, her body finally giving in, the darkness being just another thing to claim her tonight.

a snippet from one of the stories i’m working on

[dodoryeart]

Publix calling a 5 year old a niger on his birthday cake receipt a couple of years ago

[allofmystudentsrunaway]

Lost and Found Coda: The Last Kiss

Ok this took a while, like all day, total challenge. I would say enjoy..but you won’t, i hated writing it. @tinkdw @winchestergirl-13 @omgbubblesomg @winchestergirl-13 @annasvoice @winsister91 et al

He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H. Auden “stop all the clocks”

“Goodbye Cas” He’d said it out loud as he watched the flames of pyre consume his angel, repeating it in his head over and over as the smoke rose against the setting sun. Trying to to crush down the sick empty feeling rising inside him like a grey tide. He craved nothingness, numbness, darkness; if he had known a way, in that instant he would have killed his soul. What good was the promise of eternal life if half of your soul was already dead? What was the good of anything. At some point Sam and Jack went back inside the house, Sam came back a minute later with a bottle of bourbon, which he gave to Dean without comment. Without looking at his brother, Dean slipped the Impala’s keys from his pocket and held them out. “Take the kid, go home.”

“Dean-”

“Sammie please” His brother hesitated, Dean could feel concern radiating off him. “I’m not going to do anything stupid, what would be the point? I’ll take Cas’ truck follow you in a while.”

“Dean I’m not going to just leave you here.”

“Sammie, I’m not asking you.” He heard his voice break, Sam seemed to get the message. His brother backed away hands held up.

“Okay Dean, just don’t be too long.” Sam walked away, Dean returned his gaze to the blazing fire. After a while he heard the Impala’s engine roar as Sam and Jack left, that was when he finally sagged to his knees.

The scream of rage and grief seemed to come from every part of him at once, it tore up his throat; the primeval cry of a wounded dying animal, “Why?”. No answer, just memories bubbling up to torture him. Blue eyes looking at him with love, with worry, with desperation; blue eyes that saw through every mask Dean wore, every lie he told himself. Those eyes were closed forever and the last time, the last fucking time he had really looked into them they had been full of repentance.

They had sat in the kitchen alone for a minute, while the others prepared for Lucifer’s arrival. Cas had looked at Dean.

“I’m so sorry.” he had whispered, and Dean had shrugged it off, touched the stubbly cheek and kissed Cas lightly.

“We will talk about it later” He had said still annoyed. If he had known it was the last time, he would have held him tight, he would have said so many things. Right now he would give anything for his last memory of those blue eyes, to not be the last and for them to be filled with something other than pain.

“Cas, I’m so sorry-please” he stopped knowing it was no good, knowing no one was listening.

[gingerthwip]

A Perfect First and Last Kiss

'Oh my god', the spider thought to himself, feeling his throat tighten as he watched the ending to the Nicholas Sparks novel-turned movie in front of him. 'This wasn't real. I- someone is projecting this into my head- not again, not Johnny too. I already lost Ben, not Johnny too!' Peter's jaw dropped slightly from behind his mask as he stumbled over to Johnny, his legs acting as if they needed to be oiled. He then fell to his knees and leaned over the hothead, his hand shakily hovering over the giant wound in his gut. The blonde looked up at Peter, but it didn't seem like he was actually looking at the masked brunette. It was like he was looking past him, with glassy, maybe tear-filled blue eyes. Peter watched as Johnny gave a weak sob, something so unusual for the blue-clad hero. Peter choked out one of his own sobs as he took his mask off, using it to hold against Johnny's wound so he could try and keep pressure on it. This wasn't right, he felt like he was going to throw up. Johnny was cold, even through his suit, and Peter hated himself for feeling his eyes burn with tears. "Damn it, you moron, you were supposed to /wait/ for me- you were supposed to- if you had waited just one more second, I- I could have webbed that shooter. I had him in my sight!" Peter's own eyes became tear-filled as he watched Johnny take in shuddered breaths, the usually tan face ghostly. Johnny then murmured something that Peter had to lean in to hear. "Peter, if I hadn't done what I did, he would have shot that kid. He was aiming right at 'im, I wasn't going to let that kid be like Tommy." Peter swallowed hard, recalling the fan of Johnny's that died trying to be like the Torch. "That kid was going to die if I didn't do something. I wasn't going to have his blood on my hands too, not if I could have helped it. That kid gets to live with his mom and dad now. Look at them." Peter did look up, seeing the middle school aged kid with his arms around his dad's neck and his mom hugging the both of them. He then looked down and saw Johnny with his eyes closed and his lips parted slightly, and Peter started to panic. No. No no no. This was a trick- Johnny's done this before, but Peter usually looked back at Johnny only to make Johnny's fist collide gently with his cheek. Johnny was only playing dead, any second now he was going to jump up and scare the bejeebers out of him. Peter started crying more, resting his head gently on the hero's broad chest. After a few moments, he heard Johnny speak out in a rare, quiet voice. "Still here, Pete." Peter looked at him and breathed out a sigh of relief, abandoning his task of holding his mask to the wound to hug Johnny. Peter's brain must have sent out a rebellious order for he also kissed Johnny while he hugged him. It was like Peter was supplying Johnny with life-saving air because of how desperate and sloppy it was. But it was a perfect kiss. Peter pulled back and smiled weakly at Johnny, tears mugging up his view of the beautiful man he was holding so dearly, his sobs forcing him to close his eyes. A perfect first and last kiss.

[rootedinwander]

To you:

[queerveganme]

Hand surgery in the pub. It's finally off! Hurt like fuck and my knuckle is bruised and waxed. #thishurt #iaminpain #killmenow https://www.instagram.com/p/Bq5AjlhjWjP/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=v1nz71muv6zy