Grief isn't a one way street.
the older you get the more people who pass.
the older you get the longer it feels you're stumbling backwards
A laugh you treasured fading from your mind
the weight of a hug, longed for, but impossible to receive
gentle words, silly inside jokes
meals and treats and songs
and just. Things
I have more reason to lean away from certain video games
than I ever did before
Comics I avoid because they were his favorites
Movies I can't watch on my own because they were things I experienced with him
there's no old man with a protection to carry along
he was my protection
there's no combing the desert for signs of life
it's not there
Chips laden with toppings won't ever taste the same
Precious things, treasured gifts, lost to time and damage,
leaving little to hold to
when time sweeps memories away like dirt over the threshold
I wasn't ready
but you're never ready
it's painful
it's strangling
I have to keep going but sometimes I feel so so lost
If grief isn't a one way street, though
what exactly is it?
and how to I move forward?
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A scene where simon sneaks into wille’s room and they missed each other for just a few hours but it felt like ages. their lips melt into a kiss right when simon steps into the room not to waste any more precious time, simon tripping over his own feet while shrugging off the coat and taking off the shoes, both of them giggling between kisses as he does so and wille leads their connected bodies through the room. basically need them being silly, happy and in love again.
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oh and let’s go back to our vault of ships….THE BOYFRIENDS!!! DORISI!!!!
our greatest hits, by me and you. mike dodds x sonny carisi.
“i’m just saying i think i should be the one wearing white.”
mike shakes his head as he holds the phone up to his ear, fighting back a smile as sonny’s eyes meet his from the couch. “i am on the phone,” he tells him, lifting his cell a little before holding it back against his ear.
“you’re on hold,” sonny counters, and he holds up the magazine he was flipping through. “so go ahead and agree that at our wedding i get dibs on the white tuxedo.”
“dom,” mike says, fond exasperation on his face, as usual. “i’m serious.”
“and i’m not? mike, i mean we both agree you can pull off a tux, but since i proposed i think i can claim the color i want. and white’s gonna wash you out, baby. that irish skin’s gonna look fluorescent.”
when mike looks over again, sonny’s sprawled out across the entire length of their couch, making himself more than comfortable. he slowly starts making his way over, making sure the music on the other end is still pleasant and keeping him on hold. “irish skin?”
“you get burned if the light on your desk looks at you funny,” sonny says with a wave of his hand. “how do you feel about blue for one of our colors?”
it’s that moment mike uses to snatch the magazine out of sonny’s hand. moves with the speed of a trained soldier to dance to the other side of the kitchen as sonny shouts out his protest. and uses his extra two inches to lift the magazine high in the air, laughing as he feels sonny swat at his ass as he moves past him again and again.
“i’m gonna kick your ass, dodds!” sonny shouts, laughing so loud that the woman who finally answers on the other end can let out an exasperated sigh.
“aren’t you two getting married?” liv asks, and there’s a smile in her voice that mike matches with his own.
“he said i have irish skin.”
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I JUST WANT MY BOYFRIENDDDDDD WHY ARE THEY ACROSS THE COUNTRY LIKE LITERALLY AS FAR AS THEY COULD BE
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Prompt 184
“Well damn.”
Jason wrenched his gaze from the mess of red and green spattered across the room, searching for the source of the voice. His head hurt, he wanted his Dad. He wanted Bruce. He… his head hurt. His everything hurt.
“Honestly, didn’t expect them to find another half-breed. Didn’t think there was another halfa out there…”
He tore his gaze away from the floor- when had it gotten there- finally finding the other… person? The person giving him an empty smile through some sort of muzzle and missing an entire arm. Well, he couldn’t judge, he’d torn his nails off while digging out of his grave before… this.
“Hey, kid, don’t sweat it, it’ll grow back,” the man apparently noticed where he was staring, shoulder twitching as he shrugged and more green pouring out. Jason couldn’t stop staring, eyes slipping from the growing pool to the rest of the chains apparently keeping the person on that side of the… room? Cage? Cell?
“Shit, hey, kid, kid, don’t cry, uh, fuck, shh, kid don’t cry-” the person made a noise, some sort of hum or croon that caused him to relax. To his already brain-damaged confusion. “C’mere, away from the door now, shh…”
Oh, when had he started to move? It was like he blinked and was stumbling away towards the chained person, practically tripping over a limb before the person managed to catch him. “Ope, oh you’re just a little baby-” a hand, clawed, carefully ran through his hair, tucking him against a rumbling chest that nearly made him tear up again. He wanted Bruce.
“It’s alright kid, shh, they won’t get you,” the man rumbled, everything about him green to his rapidly closing eyes. Pale skin like a corpse, black scales like rot, hair white like snow, all stained green with blood. “They’d have to kill me again for that.”
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