'And he's the best fuck that ever walked. He's beautiful - rich, in money and everything else; he's a rockstar to boot, trapped in the body of a fighter. And how he fought; at a state of turmoil with himself - somewhere inside his soul that only she...
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
♱
'Childhood living is easy to do The things that you wanted, I bought them for you Graceless lady, you know who I am You know I can't let you slide through my hands Wild horses couldn't drag me away
I watched you suffer a dull, aching pain And now you've decided to show me the same No sweeping exits or offstage lines Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie I have my freedom, but I don't have much time Faith has been broken, tears must be cried Let's do some living after we die'
CW: strong depictions of attachment in BPD — co-occurring conditions in her physical health problems, depression, previous eating disorder and substance abuse — references to teen pregnancy, suicidal ideation, body-checking (emotion as equal a focus as physical appearance, though even a vague description could be upsetting)
If closure is penicillin for the soul, Hera couldn't help but wonder why she didn't have either. Not that she wanted to take antibiotics — though that seemed a loaded statement when she thought to how she used to worry about her health to the point of making herself unwell. She wanted closure, though, and whenever it seemed attainable she found something drew her back two steps more than she'd already taken...
Hera's stomach turned over and her hand holding the teacup shook so that the cup rattled in its saucer. She tilted the cup to her mouth, lips pressing to the fine China as she drank the hot liquid.
A pensive silence assumed for a few minutes, no one saying anything more than a muttered 'yes' or 'no' to Tonks adding sugar and milk to the tea.
"I feel we should talk about this before we all go to sleep, " Remus said at last, sounding far less discomposed as had been before. "I don't like that anyone here might be troubled by this at night, much less Hera— "
"I'm not fifteen anymore, Lupin. I said I'd rather not talk about it, " Hera said shortly, trying best to ignore the rising anger she felt. But if anger was a secondary response was it hurt, vulnerability, or neglect she was struggling with?
"And I said we have to!" Remus' voice sounded almost frenzied as his hand nervously scratched at his chin.
"Oh, that's convincing. " Hera nodded, tone contemptuous, "Go on, then, "
