Tw Guilt - Tumblr Posts

Have you ever dropped a hobby that you had spent years doing

Do you regret all the time ,money and effort you (or your parents) spent on it

Do you regret stopping it

Do you feel Guilty about it sometimes

Or do you think it was for the better that you had stopped

Was it a weight lifted off your shoulders

Did your life improve

Trying to guilt trip someone by faking a heart attack is not cool

guilt consumes me every second I’m awake

Everything Isn’t Enough

An Angsty Jemma Fic

My first collaboration with @fieryfantasybooklover​

Read it on ao3!

It was an ordinary patrol. That’s all it was supposed to be. Nothing else was meant to happen.

Word Count: 1,396

Tw: Self hate

Diana Wrayburn was left in charge of the Los Angeles Institute for the weekend. The Institute’s normal heads, Helen and Aline Penhallow-Blackthorn, had gone on a short trip with the Consul and his husband. The majority of Helen’s younger siblings were also away from the Institute. Mark away in Faerie with Cristina Rosales and Kieran Kingson. Drusilla in Idris studying at the Shadowhunter Academy. And Tiberius, far away in the Carpathians, at the Scholomance. Julian and Octavian were still in L.A. Tavvy, still being under the age required to patrol, remained at the Institute with Diana while Julian and his former parabatai, now girlfriend, Emma Carstairs were on patrol duty for the night. 

It was a normal night. Patrol nights had been slow recently, so the two were perfectly fine with going by themselves. Also, they were Emma Carstairs and Julian Blackthorn. The two were basically legends at this point. They had been transformed into True Nephilim not even two years ago and lived through it. The two were the dream team. They were damn near unbeatable. That’s what everyone believed, at least.

“Think it’ll be a slow night, Em?” Julian asked. The two had just begun their drive into the city, Julian watching the road and Emma the sensor. They did not expect to see anything out of the ordinary. Because shifts normally alternated, Diana had briefed them on Mark and Cristina’s patrol from last night. No irregular activity had been noticed.

“If it’s slow we can always drive down to the beach,” Emma answered. “We’ll have time.” And just as expected, they did just that. After about an hour and a half of no problems or run-ins with a demon, the pair decided to take their patrol to a place with a better view of the sunset.

“Should we text Diana to get the “Okay?” Julian inquired, knowing that Emma had no intention of playing it safe. 

“Jules we are adults,” Emma replied. “Plus it’s a slow night, I doubt she’ll even care. I’ll bring the sensor and my phone, just in case.” Emma was aware that anything could happen, they were Shadowhunters, she needed to be prepared for anything. 

What they weren’t prepared for though, was a nest filled to the brim with Scorpio demons. They walked down the beach, hand in hand, weapons ready, if necessary. However, as the made their way further down the beach, Emma noticed that the sensor in her pocket was becoming warm. 

“Jules,” She said. “Be on guard, the sensor is heating up.” He looked at her and nodded, now being made aware of a potential threat, his attitude was immediately shifted. 

“How close?” He asked.

“Not sure.” 

“Emma! Watch out!” Julian yelled. It was only at this moment that he had become aware of the presence of a looming Scorpio demon. Julian, drawing a seraph blade and calling out “Gabriel!” with great force as he prepared to face off the demon. Emma, drawing Cortana, silently moved to flank him. The demon, yellow eyes narrowed to slits hissed, revealing its needle-like teeth. This was the moment the battle calm descended in one swift motion. The rest of the world fell away, becoming distant and insignificant in the face of this hulking, bestial threat. 

The demon was the first to lunge, moving as quickly as a blur, barbed tail whipping and spearing towards Emma. She barely managed to dodge, avoiding the needle-like tail. Julian darted forward, then, using the seraph blade to cut deep into the demon’s side, causing a spray of ichor that spattered over Julian. Contact with the liquid made his skin burn. The demon hissed louder, lunging backward before moving with lightning quickness towards Emma. But this time, she was ready, dodging the moving demon and sinking Cortana deep into the demon’s side, killing it in a single fatal stroke. The demon sunk to the ground, disintegrating into nothing. 

Julian exhaled deeply, waiting as the rest of the world came into focus again. Turning towards Emma, Julian’s euphoric feeling of victory faded unbelievably quickly. Emma had sunk to the ground and was clutching her side tightly, her face contorted in pain. Julian dropped the seraph blade to the ground with a clatter, rushing to her side. “Emma!” he shouted. Bending over her, he inhaled sharply at the sight of the vicious stab one penetrating Emma’s side.

“It stabbed me right before I killed it… I didn’t realize it until it was gone.” Emma whispered her face was drawn and pale, the mere act of talking seeming to drain everything from her. 

“Hey hey hey Em stay with me. Stay with me, you’re not dying here.” Julian whipped out a stele, drawing an iratze on her as quickly as possible. The rune faded into her skin, and both anxiously waited for the injury to vanish or at least get milder in some way. When the wound continued to bleed and Emma doubled over wincing, it was clear the rune hadn’t worked. What’s going on? This isn’t normal. Julian’s mind was racing, panic beginning to take over.

Emma was fading fast; it was clear, the poison that had been in the demon’s tail consuming her from the inside out. It feels like fire in my veins. she thought as she faded in and out from consciousness. “Julian, what’s going on?” She managed to say before passing out again.

“No no no no no no Emma hold on please hold on. Don’t leave me now.” Julian begged, tears streaming down his face. Helplessness nearly crippled him at that moment, drowning him in a wave of infinite blue-black darkness. “Help! Somebody, please! Help me!” Julian shouted. Yelling to the angel, praying that he was being heard, but knowing even as he spoke that it was hopeless. They were alone, and beyond help at this point. Emma was convulsing at this point, violently shaking and shivering. Julian frantically drew more iratzes on her, dozens more, hand flying in desperate gestures. But as each one faded, his remaining slivers of hope faded, leaving him cold and empty. 

“Jules,” Emma whispered faintly in a raspy whisper. “I love you.” 

“Oh, my Emma. I love you too.” Their eyes met in that moment, and only a few moments passed before Julian was forced to witness the life vanish from behind her eyes. Her soul, her spirit, her life, everything that made Emma Emma quietly vanished, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell. At that moment, Julian’s heart splintered into pieces and he sobbed. Gripping Emma tightly, Julian sobbed as his very being broke to pieces with grief and sadness and regret and every other possible feeling. 

Have you ever seen the light leave someone’s eyes? Julian had seen it happen more times than he’d care to remember. The moment when you look into a person’s eyes and you know their heart has stopped beating. He had watched some of his closest relatives pass before his eyes. He had looked his father in the eyes as his soul left his corrupted body. He had watched his precious sister’s life be taken away far too soon.

But this? This was infinitely worse. The knowledge that not only was she dead, he had done nothing but sit and watch. All of his efforts seemed so pointless now, insignificant. His Emma’s last words echoing in his mind. Jules. I love you. And he loved her. So much, more than anything he could possibly dream of. For years, she was what kept him grounded. She was what his life was centered around. She had gone from being his first love to being his forbidden love. But that never stopped either of them. Julian had lived silently in love with her for years until their curse was broken. Then, finally, he went back to being his Emma. He would have done everything for her. But now, everything wasn’t enough.

I should have done something else, something more. I could have saved her. If I could have done something better, she would still be here. Julian sobbed to himself, folding inwards under the weight of crushing guilt and grief. Why am I so helpless? Why didn’t I do something, anything else? Em, I am so sorry. I will be sorry until the day I die, and it will never be enough. Because I couldn’t save you, or anybody else. 

HE THANKS ME. HE’S GRATEFUL. ROLL OVER, PLAY DEAD. FOR GOD’S SAKE, MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL, BOY. Michael doesn’t let himself outwardly react to her words, but even the way she says them is oily, brimming with discomfort: like she’s the doll, coming to self-awareness; like she’s the doll her father practices his humanity in front of. “Right,” he says, his own voice laden with wooden sarcasm, “‘cause being grateful is something any decent, thankful person has to practice to their kids. He sounds . . . Really sounds like he’s gunning for Dad Of The Year, Ness.”

Had his father ever done anything like that for him? Mike’s never thought about it much: other than the clothes on his back and the money in his pocket and the blood on his hands every single thing he owned had been William’s. At least until he’d run after Jeremy, got himself a new job, a new apartment, a new life. But his father had a way of becoming every shadow in his house and every rainstorm he found himself under: looming larger than reality even in a room so full of life. Even here, in a whole fucking other timeline, Michael feels his hands pressing down on his shoulders; steadying, suffocating. Easy, the spectre would whisper, down, boy.

Vanessa’s father is here too: not literally, thank god (he doesn’t think he’s here, anyway?) but in the air, their words, the silences between them. In how quickly she covers the raw, exposed wounds he’s left her with (“I’m fine”) and jumps back to him (“We’re talking about you”). He tries for a grin in her direction, knowing and sad and reassuring all at once, but allows the subject switch. Well. Mostly.

“God, I feel like I’m being interrogated,” he tells her, a layer of amusement in his voice, “uh, well, I’m . . . considering everything, I could be worse, right ? Dimension travelling, or — Whatever this is, isn’t exactly my usual Thursday night. I think I’m keeping it together pretty nicely, actually.”

He sobers. Turns his gaze back to his hands. Try as he might he can’t unsee the blood. Wonders if she feels the same . . . if she lies awake at night haunted by the things she’d done as a younger person. The things she’ll still do.

“ I don’t know. All of this is so weird. I think I’m, like, weirdly homesick? — Freddy’s isn’t standing any more in my world. I didn’t think I’d miss it so much, but, being back here . . . It’s not like there are any fond memories in here, but it’s where I grew up. You get me ? ”

CONTINUED. / @hazardess <3 !

MICHAEL LIGHTS UP WHEN HE SEES THE GIFT THE UNIVERSE HAS BROUGHT HIM — AND AT THE BREAKFAST. Jeremy’s smile is reward enough for his shitty minimum wage job and even makes the other baggage shrink for a moment: hastening his way towards his friend, Michael greets him with a faint smile of his own, brimming with delight to see him. “ My hero, ” he says, stifling a yawn and tugging off that night security vest, “ what’d I do without you, huh ? ”

He’s always found his uniform constricting. How could he not? Working in a place with more memories than he cares to admit, for a man he knows deep down is a monster. Night shift is kinder to him than day shift, where he cannot shrink away from the bright sunlight and the knowledge that what his father does what he does is hurting innocent people. When he’s the only one there, he can stew in those thoughts in peace . . . If he’s not being attacked by animatronics from all sides, obviously.

But being with Jeremy — well, when he manages to forget about his injury, about the brimming fears that his own and his father’s tampering had been the cause of the Mangle malfunction — gives him a chance to breathe. To feel a modicum of normalcy again. “You’re literally my favourite person of all time, I hope you know that,” he says, dismissing his thoughts and nodding towards the bag, “ it hit 4am and I got hungry as hell. ” Gone is the heavy weight on his shoulders, the stoop of his posture: around his friend Michael stands a little taller, regains a light in his tired eyes. “ But hey, I survived. How was your night? ”

❛ i know who i am when i’m alone. i’m something else when i see you. ❜ / tossing michael (@bitterborne) at you first ! !!

❝ I know who I am when I'm alone / I'm something else when I see you ❞ | prompt by @bitterborne !

the uniforms changed when the toy animatronics were stashed ... what's what Jeremy was told at least . yet he still held onto his uniform . one set stained crimson - the other in perfect condition ...

those pastels stood out to him every morning . sitting on the edge of his dresser . colours he wouldn't forget .

Michael's uniform held a darker scheme . deep midnight colours and black . blending in with the nights he patrolled .

Jeremy didn't like that uniform . but it seemed to suit Mike . whom ; after his shift , Jeremy had met up with . providing food and company .

he didn't fit in with the sun . Jeremy knew that . where he basked in the sunlight and beamed even after his injury . Mike held the night with him . his friend was a solemn creature .

yet . observant as he was , he took notice of that bit of sunlight .

much like this morning when he greeted him . a bag of breakfast burritos in hand and a beaming smile . he saw the change in body language in his presence .

" another night come and gone ~ I got you an extra hashbrown . "