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Hearth's Warming Helper

Found 6 results

  1. Luna's Admirer

    Sad The Hurt

    No pony's made of stone, some ponies are just better at holding back their tears (as long as possible) than others. This is the story of the depressed Pinkie Pie and her emotions in her depressed state. https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13094778/1/The-Hurt
  2. DoctorMcCrimmon

    Fan Fiction TMNT Fanfic: Final Farewell

    Final Farewells That fateful moment was etched in all their minds; burned forever behind their retina like an old computer screen left on too long. Every painful detail seared within them, even years later. The days and weeks leading up to it had long since faded, so overshadowed by that final instant. All that remained of that time were journal entries and Donatello's data logs. And a worn photograph. The formerly vibrant red hair of the youth in the picture had long since dulled to a faded orange. Scratches marred the glass cover, and the once ornate frame was now in a state of disrepair. Where once hearts decorated the edging, most had long ago come off, been rubbed away, or simply faded into oblivion. It sat on a cluttered desk, vials and potions scattered about, intermingling with various half-built gadgets. In a place of chaos, however, it held a spot completely devoid of clutter. A large, three fingered hand picked it up, drawing it close. Donatello sat lethargically, holding the familiar image reverently. He traced the figure in it mournfully, and though his vision blurred, he couldn't manage any more tears. Five years. Half a decade of heartache. Supposedly, time healed all wounds, but he was still waiting for the healing to happen. Every time he saw that picture he felt that sharp pain in his chest, as surely as when it just happened. A soft knock broke the silence that surrounded his tumultuous thoughts. "Donnie?" The unnaturally quiet tone of his younger brother preluded the orange-clad turtle's presence. "We're waiting on you, bro." Mournful brown eyes turned to meet his brother's sad blue pair. "Yeah, I'll be right there." Setting down the well worn photograph, he stood up, turning to grab his Bo-staff before following Michaelangelo out into the main room of the lair. He was met by the rest of his family, which now included Casey Jones. All of them had a piece of black fabric tied around their arm. The black stretch of fabric around his own upper arm was loose enough to be hardly noticeable. But it left a weight that was more psychological than physical. Without a word, the group headed topside, Casey in the lead to clear the way. Though still young, loss and world-weariness aged the twenty one year old man. His dreams of being a professional hockey player had fallen to naught, his whole life now revolved around his vigilanteism. Half the time, his need to avenge his first love superseded even proper hygiene and nutrition. Though his shoulder length hair was currently tied back and presentable, there were days when he quite honestly had the appearance of a caveman. But none of that phased him. He had refused to rest until every last Foot Soldier and Kraang was wiped from the Earth. Countless days saw him working to exhaustion, until he finally passed out in the turtle's lair, which he now also called home. It took five years, and innumerable allies, mutual enemies, and heartache… but it was done. Finally, the Foot and the Kraang were vanquished. It was a weight lifted from their shoulders. But it was a hollow victory. The turtles and their rat father followed Casey through the twilit streets towards the familiar metal gate. It's tall, black iron bars rose dauntingly from the ivy-lined, iron fence. The word 'cemetery' scrolled ornately across the top arch over the gate. Within, melting snow covered acres of headstones, statues, and plaques, obscuring most of them from view. Footprints formed paths between the markers, marring the soft, white blanket that masked everything. Silently, the group marched mournfully towards a distant end. They passed a stretch of smaller markers, each one with a tiny wreath in front of it. Mikey's eyes skimmed the headstones, reading the names of too many babies and small children, taken before their time. Sniffling, he didn't even bother hiding the tears soaking through his mask. Raphael refused to even look at the heartbreaking sight, instead watching his feet as they made perfect imprints in the snow. But even that didn't save him the pain tearing through his emerald orbs. —•–-–•— On they marched, until finally they reached the far edge of the cemetery. A large angel stood in marble, it's hair tied back in a short ponytail, an eternal headband of golden yellow stone set atop her head. In one hand, she held a silver fan in a defensive pose; the ornate sakura blossom cut out of the centre of it cast a blossom shape of light across her face from the setting sun. Her other hand was clenched, held out to her side. Her pearly white wings spread out from her back, like a hawk about to take flight. All six of them were silent a long while, staring at the face of their fallen friend… their sister in all but blood. She looked as young as she had half a decade ago, time doing little to weather her features as it had theirs. Beneath the statue, a headstone held the name of the most important person in the world. "April O'Neil". Even after all this time, her name still stood clearly engraved into the stone. "Gave her life to save the world" was split into two lines below her date of death. And while it did take a bit longer to finish her mission, they finally did it. Their gaurdian angel could finally be at rest. His brothers held back as the tech moved closer to the statue. After so long, he had no more tears left to shed. Instead, he knelt before the statue, removing the black band and his bo-staff and placing both at the foot of the headstone. "It's done." He whispered softly to the stone; hoping wherever she was now, she heard him. "I'm s…" his voice broke, vision blurring with tears that refused to fall. "I'm so sorry it took so long, April. But I kept my promise. I finished it for you…" Behind him, he heard soft sobbing, coming from not only Mikey, but Raph as well. The cold, wet snow soaked into his knee pad, but he didn't move. None of them did for a long moment. He hardly noticed the chill. It had felt so cold to them all for so long now, what was a little snow? The gentle crunch of heavy footsteps over the snow dragged him back from that empty chill. Looking up at the gloved hand that came to rest on his shoulder, his chocolate eyes met the jock's glassy pair. "Hey, my turn, gaps… you can't hog her to yourself." His cheeks glistened in the dull light, proof of his silent weeping. "I gotta get my piece in, too." With a nod, Donatello stood, stepping aside for his friend and formal rival to grieve. After her death, there had been so much blame between them. So much anger. But that eventually passed… and what remained was a mutual respect built on shared anguish. /If only April could see us now…/ the purple clad brother thought, as he felt the salty sting spill over his eyes. They both would have died for her. Shell, they would have killed each other for her… but it took her own death to bring them so close. Donnie returned to his brothers, head down as the tears he thought himself no longer capable of spilled freely down his cheeks. His brothers drew him into a mutually comforting embrace, while their father stood silently over them, staring sadly at the statue of the second daughter he had lost to the Shredder. The knowledge that Saki was finally gone for good did little to console him. Or any of them, for that matter. —•–--–•— One by one, April's adopted family stepped forward to pay their final respects. Each one gave their final, tearful goodbyes to their fallen hero. Michelangelo had to be pulled from a clinging hug of the statue of his sister. His mantra of "You can come back now, April. The bad guys are gone now… Please come back… I miss you…" broke their shattered hearts to dust. But they dragged him back, as much as it hurt them to do so. "Come on, Mikey. Time to go home…" Raphael told him, walking with him in a protective side-hug. The youngest brother looked hopefully up at him. "Do you think she heard me? You think she's waiting for us back home?" The quiet, hopeful innocence in his tone made the usual hothead bite his lower lip. Looking between the rest of his family, then back to Mikey, he nodded. "Yeah, I think she heard you." His voice wavered a moment before he cleared his throat and tried again. "As for the other part, we'll just have to go home and see…" The half a decade seemed to wash from the younger turtle as his eyes lit up for the first time in forever. "Then what are we waiting for!? You think she's hungry? I bet she's hungry. We should bring her pizza in case she's hungry…" He hurried ahead of them, turning back when he realised they weren't following. "Guys? Come on! She's waiting for us!" Even Master Splinter took a stuttered breath. "Michelangelo, April is gone. She is watching over us, but she cannot return." He tried to tell him gently, walking back the way they had come. "But as long as we remain, and keep true to her memory, she is never truly gone." Michelangelo's face fell, tears welling up again. "But she wouldn't do that to us! She was just waiting for it to be over to come back.…" His insistence annoyed both Donatello and Casey. "She's /dead/, Mikey. D. E. A. D! Don't you think if there were ANY chance she'd come back, /I/ would have thought of it already?!" The genius snapped, taking the youth aback. "I would give /anything/ to have April back. But it just isn't possible. So just. Shut. Up!" Furiously, Donnie stormed past Michelangelo, heading back towards the lair. Leo followed a little more gently, dropping a comforting hand over Mikey's shoulder. "He's hurting. We all are. But maybe now we can heal, now that she can rest peacefully." A brief nod was the only response their Sensei gave before following Donatello's path out of the cemetery. Raph hurried to catch up. "Sensei?" He asked, keeping pace beside his father. "You seem even more distant than normal…" Splinter tilted his head towards Raphael, but that was all by way of response. "I know it's a stupid question given the circumstances, but… you okay?" After a long silence, the mutant rat turned his head, Raph seeing the glint of tears catching on his Sensei's whiskers. "I will be, Raphael. As will we all…" his gaze returned to the path ahead, the direction his purple banded pupil stormed off in. "In time."
  3. ((not sure if this should go in debate pit or not, this is talking about fanfiction)) I was looking up angst fics because I enjoy reading them when I ran into this I personally think that they are overreacting over fanfiction and that angst is fun to read for some people. As for use of rape as a plot device, people have used everything for a plot device, this is nothing new and it will not change Any opinions on this?
  4. Delete this account

    Writing Disillusion

    I have become withdrawn Battered by reality and beaten by the world Held in place by desire, left rot for hate’s sake With greed in my heart, I am here, and within I am dying I have become weak Left alone in the dark to cry out in terror Fleeting pain through the fibers of my being Scathing fire to tempt me into the demise which I yearn for I have become what I fear In my new world, where reality is shattered In the pits of anxiety and misery which forge the fires My heart grows heavy from these burdens I yearn for release… I contemplate the blade… Watch as my river turns red, and allow myself to fall Against all hope and love, my back is turned Away I fly Can you spare another glance at me? I have become a hallucination I walk through life unknowing of who I was, what I am I go about the day unaware of the lurking eyes that follow me For I am never alone, for I have my fractured self Still alive in the smoldering arena of the furthest ravine in my mind I contemplate all ends for what I am, and in doing so destroy the strands that hold me No bonds to tie me and prevent this doing No lies to deceive me as I break the barriers of my desire And no other may know of this struggle for which I fight No one will care for the fractured heart of a broken soul -David Favret
  5. Jadefire

    This week sucked.

    So, yesterday morning I was told that I'm losing my tuition and won't be going back to college, a fun little experience that has left me completely depressed with no idea what I'm going to be doing with my life now among other more personal things I don't want to talk about (not to mention the embarassment of breaking down into tears in front of my own mother). On top of that, earlier this week I learned that my best friend had relapsed hard in his depression and started self-cutting again, which finally culminated in a complete breakdown yesterday afternoon. So, in short, no tuition, unclear future, a possibly suicidal best friend, and several reminders of how truly disabled I am (that's another story I don't want to get into). This is going to be such a fun weekend. Edit: Yeah, this might be a bit of a "first-world-problems" thing, but there's some other more personal issues that occurred that I don't want to get into.
  6. Delete this account

    Writing Dead and alive

    Enter this world I am forsaken in. I this world I am dead, yet living this life. Damned from the heavens and scouring hell. This life that I live, I live it with anger. Anger to be, this shell I have become. My poetry stands, awaiting this storm. Let me rot in my shell, this shell I’ve become. Mashed against, mixed in this angst. I lost myself once again in myself. -David Favret