These are the cuts after I cleaned them up. Probably wont scar too badly.
Relapse…I tried to read the bible first, but the thoughts and emotions wouldnt stop.
just everyone close their eyes and imagine
jeff playing airplane with his son
gdbsfshifgfslfdgteywfdsgfuisakhgsudjv FOREVER FANGIRLING
metalliccolouredphallusinmybutt:
i could go on and on about this picture, but I feel like kath could write about it better (that’s not a hint; seriously it’s not)
but just
that’s the model Normandy he’s holding
why?
because a pilot goes down with his ship
“Jeff, you don’t have to do this—” her voice is quiet in the back of his mind. He wasn’t sure what was memories of her and what was actually just his conscience speaking. It’d taken the form of her bittersweet voice after her death all those years ago.
“What’s the fucking point?” he seethed, grinding his teeth. “Bastards take you away from me, then take away my ship. Haven’t flown since the day you died.”
“You told me you wouldn’t give up,” she was begging in his head. Whatever strands of life were left in him were quickly breaking. He forced back tears.
“No, I told you I’d follow you into hell,” he swallowed hard, clutching the model Normandy with one hand and picking up the pistol in the other. “And I’m gonna do just that.”
He shut his eyes and a bitter smile spread over his face. A few tears fell, but not enough to make a difference.
“Jeff,” her voice made one last plea, but it wasn’t enough.
“A pilot always goes down with his ship,” he breathed, pressing the pistol to his temple.
I’m legit tearing up :(