#i just spend every day wanting to die so bad im just empty and lonely and miserable all the time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dulcesiabits · 4 years

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dorm leaders + s/o going between worlds

request: im not the person who requested the twins s/o going between worlds but 💗💘💓💕💖💝💞❤ that was perfection i tell you do you mind if i could request that but with the dorm leaders? ignore the request if you dont want too!!

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle has the days you’ll visit NRC marked everywhere: on his calendar, in his planner, and he’s prepared several alarms on his phone, just in case. He’ll arrive at the mirror chamber ten minutes early, so he can pace around and anxiously wait until the exact time you’re supposed to step through. If you’re even a minute late, he’ll be worried.

He’ll never admit it, but Riddle misses you terribly. His mood is a lot worse when you’re gone, and Trey will often find him sighing and staring into space instead of doing his homework. Sometimes he wonders if he can convince you to stay with him forever, but he respects your decision to go between worlds too much. Besides, Riddle isn’t sure he could ever find the words to tell you how he feels.

Riddle enjoys whatever sweets or baked goods you bring back with you! Dollar store candy, or a homemade pie, he doesn’t mind whatsoever what it is as long as it’s sweet. You get bonus points if it’s something he’s never eaten before. He’ll also enjoy studying the various histories and laws of your world-- Riddle wants to know about where you came from, and maybe one day he can apply that knowledge in person...

Leona Kingscholar

To the casual observer, it looks like Leona doesn’t miss you whatsoever. He acts the same as ever, but he’s a lot more irritable without his favorite cuddle buddy. Ruggie wishes you would visit more often, if only so Leona would be easier to deal with. The days you visit NRC are the only days you can see Leona exert any effort. Even if he’s a few minutes late to your meeting, he still drags himself out of bed, unprompted by Ruggie, to come pick you up.

Leona knows your travelling unavoidable. This isn’t your world, and you have a whole life in some other place he doesn’t know about. Besides, he’s much too prideful to come out and tell you that he wishes you wouldn’t leave him. Whenever you do visit, Leona is basically attached to you at the hip: he’s holding your hand, or lets you cling to his arm, or ruffles your hair.

Leona isn’t that interested in your world, but he is interested in your life in it. Do you have any other friends? What’s your family like? How different is your world from his, anyways? You don’t have to answer his questions if you don’t want to; he’s perfectly content with just holding you. Leona has always been more interested in you than anything else.

Azul Ashengrotto

Everyone knows when you’re coming to visit, because Azul will begin humming as he works. Also, people tend to seek contracts from him more often on those days, in the hope that he’ll be in a good enough mood not to scam them too harshly. The knowledge that you’re coming to visit makes it easier to relax for Azul. He’s done his best to keep busy, so he can forget that you’re not with him.

Azul loves you, but he has toyed with the idea of getting you to sign a contract with him, with the catch being you have to stay forever. At the end of the day, he couldn’t bear to see you unhappy, and tricking you to do something leaves a sour taste in his mouth. You’re different from everyone else. If you were to stay, he wants you to stay on your own violation. Besides, he’d probably end up helping you for the price of a few kisses.

Much like Riddle, Azul is fascinated by your world. He wants to know everything about it, so bring him a lot of books, from history to fiction to research dissertations, because he reads fast. Maybe he can borrow a few business ideas from your world to apply to the Mostro Lounge, or add a new menu item that utilizes food exclusively from your world.

Kalim Al Asim

Kalim’s mood is written all over his face. He’s just not as energetic or happy when you aren’t around, and his parties aren’t as grand as they used to be. If someone mentions your name, he’ll immediately whip his head around, only to sigh forlornly when he remembers you aren’t there.

In all honesty, Jamil is driven crazy. Kalim mopes all the time, and he unintentionally uses his unique magic to make it rain in Scarabia, to match his mood. Kalim counts down the days until he sees you again, and he is running to the mirror chamber as soon as class is over so he can launch himself into your arms. Please pat his head and tell him that you missed him! He is not going to let go for a long time. Kalim will also give you a bunch of presents so you don’t forget him when you’re gone, and this boy has no idea what the word “excessive” means.

Kalim enjoys the different sorts of food and games you bring from your world, but he’d honestly be happy with anything you give to him. He just wants to spend time with you, and make you happy. He’s excited the day you bring back some matching bracelets. Kalim treasures it, even if he owns far more expensive things. Whenever he’s lonely, it’ll remind him of you.

Vil Schonheit

Ah, Vil. He’s cold, beautiful and perfectly unflappable, if you ignore the fact that he scowls a lot more and takes out his frustrations by viciously polishing his potato underclassmen into perfection. It’s a lot easier to focus on his maintaining his appearance and managing his dorm instead of the fact the person he loves the most won’t come to visit for another 6 days, 13 hours, and 27 minutes.

For some reason, Vil finds the way you call him beautiful more appealing than when anyone else does it. It’s frustrating that he doesn’t feel like his best when you’re not around, and you can bet he also spoils you silly when he sees you again. He’d even let you ruin his lipstick by kissing him, which is a privilege no one else is allowed.

Vil is the most interested in the trends in your world, and the movies. Maybe he’ll start a similar trend in his world, just so he can be reminded of you. In fact, if you have social media, he’d probably fuss over it, offering to help you curate an account that attracts millions of followers. In regards to movies, Vil is a part of the movie appreciation club. He’s curious to see how movies might have developed differently in your world. If you give him your favorite ones, he’ll treasure them, and watch them when he’s in a bad mood.

Idia Shroud

Idia buries himself in video games and projects to forget the fact you’re gone. He’s used to being alone, but he’s not used to feeling this lonely. No picture or video of you makes up for the real thing. He’s hoping he can invent a device that lets you communicate between worlds, so that even if he can’t see you in person, he can still chat with you 24/7.

The only time you will see Idia out of his room is when you’re visiting. With his hoodie pulled over his head in terror, he’s trembling as he heads to the mirror chamber, so he can throw himself into your arms. He’s always a few minutes late so he doesn’t have to spend too much time outside of his room. Please help guide him back there, actually. Idia will also require a lot of cuddles and kisses to recharge, too, even if he’s blushing the whole time.

It’s obvious that Idia is fascinated by the technology in your world. Show him your phone, your video game consoles, or any other electronics you have lying around. Idia will definitely tinker with them a little bit, giving them new features and helping them run more smoothly. He’d be happy exchanging game consoles, so he can play your favorite games, while you play his, when you’re apart. That way, it feels like you’re connected.

Malleus Draconia

It’s astonishing for Malleus that one human can make a few days seem like a few years. Normally, he doesn’t feel the passage of time quite so acutely, but he can feel every hour, every minute, every second, that you aren’t with him. He’s lonely, because you’re one of his only people he can talk to freely. Things aren’t the same without you, and he thought he was used to being lonely.

The mirror chamber is always empty when you arrive, if only because no one wants to be in the same room with Malleus for too long. As soon as you arrive, he kisses your hand, and whisks you away. He has so many things he wants to talk about with you, and there’s never enough time. He wonders if he can convince you to stay in his world, but he knows it’s a cruel thing to do, when you’ll die long before he will. As it is, he is satisfied with these small moments, where you can still smile at him.

He is floored by the Tamagotchi you bring him from your world. If you have your own, Malleus will hope your Tamagotchi and his can become friends, and he’ll insist on them having a playdate while he talks to you. Malleus also enjoys photography of your world, and when you present to him an entire portfolio of gargoyles, he gives you a hug in excitement. What would he do without you?

#liya writes #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twst

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oikawa55seggys · 3 years

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LITTLE FRIEND

character: Solomon Obey Me

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

p/s: this is my first time writing and im not any good in writing so im sorry if im bad in grammar :) so please correct me if anything wrong ^=^

Part 1.

The loneliness had haunted Solomon for so long. The feeling had squeeze his heart, enough to make him feel the constant pain. He used to be happy by having the people he loved at his side. But where those people go? Unfortunately, they gone 6 feet under him. The one thing Solomon hate the most about himself, is that being an immortal. Anyone will love to be immortal, to live a long life in this world. To able to see how the world will changed in future. But he hated it. He hates that he has to experience death of people he cherish and adore. How selfish he thought, that everyone will die in young and old age, but not him. He blames himself for his own wrong-doing. To him, his life has no longer meaning despite being the most powerful sorcerer in centuries. What's the point being someone really powerful if you just feel like nobody? Poor guy, pray that the hatred, emptiness and loneliness are enough to take his life. He don't want to live another centuries alone. He wishes he died the time he opened his eyes every morning.

Thankfully, he got a friend in Devildom. Satan, avatar of wrath. Satan is the one of the most powerful demon. The most unexpected thing Solomon ever expect from Satan is he is a cat lover. Maybe life isn't that bad when Solomon get the chance to meet him, although all Satan asked from him is keeping the stray cats in secret place so Lucifer won't find out about them. At least, Solomon feel little easy helping to keep the cats.

The avatar of wrath can see how his cat- buddy is lonely, only by looking through those lifeless eyes and fake smile. He feels pity for his buddy, that is the reason he asked him to come over sometime. That guy did nothing for all his life except magic. So he thought, letting him spend time with the cats will at least make his day better. Satan might refuse to admit it, that he wants to do something for Solomon. He planned what are they going to do when Solomon have a visit to Devildom. So now, looking how happy Solomon is when he gets to spend time with the stray cats they are taking care of.

Little do Solomon realize, his smile brighter when he gets to play with the stray cats. Does he still recognized the joyousness he once felt? It happened long time ago and never again. He forgot how that fulfillment of personal goals and desires make one happy feel like. How one could forgot how happiness happened in a situation? As he still in the mind thinking about it, a black cat come approach him. Step by step, cling to his embrace. It took Solomon a second to process what is happening. The cat seem to love him he thought. How weird, he feels comfort for the first time? It is like the cat is saying "It's okay, you are not invisible." to him. He can't hold himself anymore, the tears dropped from those lifeless eyes. Why he is crying? Isn't he not able to cry anymore because he only feel numb all this time? His eyes immediately meet Satan's. Confusion is what wrote on Solomon's face right now. Satan lost for words. He never thought this stupid guy can cry. Without hesitation, Satan run and wrapped his arms around Solomon.

Solomon was shocked with Satan's move. But, he can't deny it anymore. He stuttered telling Satan how he has been feeling so lonely all this time. He cried out all the words he unable to say before. How long has this guy bear with that horrible feelings Satan thought. "There, there, it's okay, cry all you want. It just don't wet my shirt." as he patted his buddys back. Solomon feel embarrassed that he is crying in front of the one of the most powerful demon, but Satan is his cat buddy and he trusts him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to burst out crying so sudden." he lower his head. "Don't be stupid, you weirded me out that you actually can cry." Satan strokes the guy's hair, give him another comfort.

#obey me #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #angst #obey me angst #obey me fanfic #obey me oneshot #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me luke #obey me asmo

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ncssian · 3 years

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A Favor: Part Four

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: hey y'all. my new job has been draining the life out of me so i have very little energy left for writing, which is why these updates are taking so long. im still very passionate about this fic though, it just takes me more time to write :(

in other news, this chapter is saturated with descriptions of pain, both physical and emotional. i hated writing it but it was worth it.

***

Nesta, 14

Sometimes it all becomes too much. Feyre asking for help with homework and Elain begging for more money to go to the strip mall, and their dad ignoring them all as if they aren’t even there. Sometimes she wants to leave it all behind and pretend she isn’t anchored to three other people, wants to pretend she is a lone being in a lonely world.

When she needs to go away, she comes here.

Cherrywood House is quiet, as it always is this time of year. One of several expensive vacation homes in the Smokies, Cherrywood is Nesta’s favorite for a multitude of reasons— it’s empty for ten out of twelve months of the year, it’s the only house with a clear view of the nearby lake, and cherry blossoms bloom on trees out in the back every spring.

It’s early June, and she has a few more weeks left with the house until its owners return. The family that owns the place never leaves a trace of themselves behind when they leave each August, so Nesta returns the favor by never leaving hints of her inhabitance either.

She takes her worn Converse and socks off at the back porch and climbs in through the unlocked window barefoot. This is where she belongs. A ghost roaming the empty halls, with no one to care for and no one to care for her.

She makes her way upstairs to her preferred hideout spot: an airy bedroom with a bay window seat that looks out onto the cherry blossom trees outside. Cracking the window open to let the fragrance of flowers in, she settles into the bench seat with her book of the week and starts reading.

Absorbed in dreams of deep love and deeper kisses, Nesta doesn't notice the sun going down until she can barely make out the words on the page before her. Glancing up with sore eyes, she realizes she needs to leave soon if she doesn't want to take the wooded path back home in the dark.

“Damn,” she sighs, but she gets up and shuts the window firmly.

She keeps her nose in her book all the way down the hall and down the stairs, and doesn't sense anything off until a large shadow flashes in the corner of her eye. Her head whips up, and the face that greets her looks just as surprised as she is.

Nesta freezes.

“Um,” the guy says. He’s maybe a few years older than her, seventeen or eighteen, and tall with shaggy dark hair. The front door of the house is still cracked open behind him. “What the fuck?”

Nesta unfreezes. And then she runs.

All the way through the main hall and to the back door, while the boy’s shouts chase her through the house. “Hey, wait up!”

They weren't supposed to be here this early—

Her hand wraps around the back door handle and she flings it open, shoving through the second screen door and shooting right down the porch steps. Heavy steps behind her ignite a panic in her, and she gains a burst of speed.

“HEY!” he calls again. Soft grass becomes dirt and twigs beneath Nesta's feet, and she knows she's reached the tree line. Dark shadows fall over her as she darts into the safety of the woods.

Still standing on the back porch and waving a raggedy pair of Converse, Cassian tries calling for the girl one more time. “You forgot your shoes!”

Cassian wakes up at five in the morning to the sound of the house’s pipes creaking, a telltale sign that someone is using one of the faucets. Blinking his eyes open, he hears the distant sound of the shower running.

Who would get up in the freezing cold at this hour just to take a shower? He checks the time once more to make sure he isn't imagining things, and gets up to peek his head out of his bedroom. Sure enough, light leaks out from under the bathroom door.

Cassian walks up to the bathroom and listens closely for any sound beside running water. He knocks hesitantly. “Nesta?”

Her muffled voice calls back to him, but he can't make out a thing.

“Are you alright?” he asks. “How long have you been in there?”

There’s no response, and now he’s concerned. Raising his voice, he says, “I’m going to come in to hear you better, is that okay?”

A soft affirmative answers him, and he tries the doorknob. It’s already unlocked, which is odd, but he pokes his head into the steam-filled bathroom cautiously. “Nesta?”

From behind the curtain of the shower, a pale, tired face appears. She’s sitting on the floor of the tub, he realizes. “Hey,” she attempts a feeble smile at him.

Cassian fully enters the bathroom, the humidity dampening his skin. “Are you okay? When did you get up?”

“I’ve only been in here for an hour, maybe.” Her voice is weak enough that he has to move closer to hear her. “Don’t worry about your water bill. I’ll pay it, I swear.”

He shakes his head, confounded. “I don’t care about the water bill. You still haven’t told me if you’re okay.” He moves to crouch beside the bathtub, the opaque shower curtain the only barrier between them.

Nesta rolls her eyes, looking embarrassed. “It’s just cramps. I get really sick on my periods, and I would have warned you that they suck ass, but that would imply that my period could affect you. It doesn’t have to affect you— if you just leave me to myself for a few days, I won’t even be a bother.”

Cassian blinks, not really knowing where to start with that, so he just says, “But why the shower?”

Nesta shifts uncomfortably behind the curtain. “Sometimes hot water is the only thing that helps with the pain. I already tried getting out of the shower, but it hurt so bad— I had to go right back in. I’ll get out eventually, don’t worry.”

Cassian frowns. This all sounds incredibly worrying. “This is normal for you?”

She’s about to answer when her face pinches in a look of discomfort. “Cassian,” she says, strained.

He leans closer, wanting to help. “Yeah?”

“Get out.” She doesn't look like she has the energy to add anything else.

Cassian wants to defy Nesta and stay right there, but that would require arguing with her, and she clearly is no longer in the mood to hold up a conversation.

Reluctantly, he nods. “I’ll be right down the hall. Yell if you need anything.”

Nesta is already sinking lower into the tub, trying to get more fully under the burning hot spray. Her eyes drift closed and she hums in answer.

Cassian doesn't return to his room like he said he would, but heads downstairs instead. He spends a good ten minutes reading the drug labels of various painkillers from the medicine cabinet before carefully arranging a nonlethal cocktail of them on a tray. He adds a cold glass of water and various handpicked snacks before returning upstairs to set the tray by Nesta’s bedside, and turns the heat all the way up to combat the chill in her room, just in case.

Then he goes back to his room and waits. He tries to listen closely for the sound of the shower stopping, but he’s not used to being up this early on a Saturday, and his bed is so warm…

He falls asleep waiting.

***

Nesta stumbles out of the shower long after Cassian leaves her and downs a handful of pills without thinking too much about who left them for her. She already has an idea of how the next few days will go, and she just hopes Cassian will allow her the dignity to suffer through it alone.

She crawls into bed exhausted and shuts her eyes tight. The next time she opens them, sunlight is streaming weakly through the windows. Jarring pain lances through her abdomen, and she brings her legs all the way up to her chest and whimpers. From the edge of her consciousness, she notices the snack tray has been replaced with lunch— some leftover lasagna from the night before. Sneaking out her hand from her mountain of blankets, she goes for her phone. A text sent nearly an hour ago waits for her.

Cassian: please eat.

Nesta glares at the lasagna because she knows better. She might have spent this morning eyeing the bathroom tiles to determine if they were clean enough for her to curl up there and die, but she's not at a point to abandon her dignity just yet. The last thing her roiling nausea needs is solid food. Instead, she gathers the focus to text back Cassian: Leave me alone today.

It's only after she sends the message that she realizes it sounds harsh, but she can't bring herself to explain further or to soften her tone. Her pain always has a way of stripping her of any defenses and formalities and leaving only a primal creature behind.

Turning her phone off, she closes her eyes and inhales tightly through her nose. A wave of cramps that feels closer to what a brutal stabbing victim would feel like overtakes her, and— no, she has to get up.

During times like these, the bathroom is Nesta’s favorite place in the whole world. Cool tiles to rest her head on, hot water just a foot away, and a spacious tub if she ever feels like passing out. Heaven. Naturally, she escapes there first.

After maybe another hour of restless writhing and moving about, Nesta decides the suffering isn't worth it and hobbles downstairs in search of some Nyquil to knock her out. She’s got the medicine cabinet halfway open when a broad hand slams it back shut, and she turns to find Cassian standing behind her with a stern look. “You haven’t eaten anything all day. You can’t take meds on an empty stomach.”

Nesta wants to cry at the denial of pain relief, but she grips the counter behind her and manages a glare instead. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I will absolutely tell you not to wreck your liver, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

A desperate whine escapes her, and she can’t believe Cassian has to see her like this. Even worse, she sees sympathy soften his face as his hand slips off the cabinet next to her head. “I made soup,” he offers. “Can you have soup?”

Nesta hesitates. Her insides don’t hate the idea of soup. She nods.

***

Nesta insisted on avoiding Cassian for the rest of the day, and Cassian graciously eased off her back once he knew she’d eaten. He kindly pretended he didn’t hear her running back and forth from the bathroom all day because she couldn’t sit still, and only interrupted her once to make sure she took more Tylenol before bed.

Now, long after night has fallen, Nesta is truly alone. Her medicine either hasn’t kicked in yet or isn’t strong enough to do its job tonight. She can barely think straight, and this is when the most primal part of herself comes out.

Despite her age, despite everything, she still cries. She cries as if anyone would bother listening, physical pain intertwining with the pain and humiliation of being ignored. “Papa,” she calls into her pillow, again and again.

She hasn’t trusted her papa in years, and yet she still expects him to rescue her. She still waits for him to show up and make everything better.

A hot tear leaks from her eye, and the catharsis of it distracts from her cramps. She curls up into a ball and cries harder, as if she can weep out everything that’s wrong with her body.

A soft knock interrupts her helpless whimpers, and Nesta hears the door open a moment later. “Nesta? Were you calling for me?”

Somebody came. No one’s ever come for her before.

A sigh of relief escapes her, and she forgets to put her walls up. “I’m just—” she tries to say, “so tired.”

She hears Cassian come farther into the room and curse. “Fuck, it’s an icebox in here.”

A hand nudges at her mound of comforters, giving Nesta’s shoulder a shake. “You should’ve told me the heater wasn’t working. Are you okay?”

That question sets her on edge. “Do I look okay?” her voice cracks. She wants to cry even harder now that he’s here, for some reason.

“Obviously not,” he mutters. “You’re staying in my room tonight. Get up.”

Nesta groans and burrows further into her freezing cocoon of sheets. “Don’twannamove.”

“It’s either that or I’m carrying you. I’m good either way.”

Nesta finally cracks her eyes open, glad that Cassian is only a tear-blurred figure in the dark. She doesn’t want to read whatever is on his face right now. Gathering her heavy comforter around herself, she gets up and lets Cassian lead her down the hall to his room.

Toasty warmth hits her as soon as she’s inside, and she makes an exhausted sound and drops the comforter. In a blur, she’s tucked into Cassian’s bed, enveloped by his scent and his lingering body heat on the sheets. Under the dim lamplight, Cassian seems to finally take notice of the tear tracks on her face. Clicking his tongue in sympathy and concern, he rubs his thumb over the sensitive skin under Nesta’s eyes. Her whole body shudders under the gentle touch. Who knew just the pad of his finger could combat this inescapable agony?

“This isn’t normal,” he murmurs. “I’m taking you to a doctor as soon as this storm clears.”

If Nesta was in the right state of mind, she’d tell him absolutely not. However, she’s barely comprehending his words as it is, so she watches him click the lamp off in silence. Darkness fills the room, but she can hear him moving.

“I’ll be right back,” his voice rumbles, and then she’s alone again. More tears leak at the feeling of abandonment. She’s so sick of herself.

After what feels like an eternity but is only a few minutes, she hears Cassian return. The mattress dips behind her as he climbs under the blankets with her, and then Nesta feels something hot and dry being pressed to her side. A towel. “Does this help?” he murmurs, his voice surprisingly close to her ear.

Wordlessly, Nesta reaches down and takes his hand holding the hot towel, dragging it beneath the hem of her sweater so the heat burns against her bare skin. She sighs and allows her tensed body to sag, leaning back into the hard cradle of Cassian’s chest and arms.

In her ear, Cassian’s breathing has gone shallow. His hand slips from her side, only to find her back and start rubbing up and down.

Her eyes flutter shut.

“My mother was a Muslim immigrant from Algeria,” Cassian whispers out of nowhere. “And whenever I felt sick as a little kid, I would crawl into her lap and she would rub my back just like this, and say some prayers and blow on my face, and I would feel better.”

Nesta makes a weak sound of acknowledgment. That sounds nice, nicer than anything she ever knew growing up.

“I’m sorry I don’t know any prayers,” Cassian says. Then, Nesta feels a whoosh of breath tickle the side of her face. “Does that help?”

It feels weirdly good, and Nesta's shoulders start shaking. She doesn't know if she's holding in a laugh or a sob. Cassian’s hand stills on her back. “Nesta?”

A sharp wave of pain sets her straight. After she breathes through it, she tells him, “You don't need to pray. Just… keep talking to me.”

His hand resumes drawing circles on her back. “Alright.” And he whispers stories into her ear for the rest of the night, until she's fallen asleep and long afterward.

The next morning, Nesta is feeling much better. Cassian knows this because she’s sitting in the living room when he comes downstairs, straight-backed instead of hunched over in pain, and she’s regained the energy to glare at him.

Cassian’s relief at seeing Nesta okay hesitates at that glare. He slows on the bottom step. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Don't call me that.”

He blinks, not sure what he did wrong. Before he can ask, Nesta says, “You didn't listen to me.”

“Excuse me?” He strolls deeper into the living area.

“I told you to leave me alone while I'm on my period, and you didn't listen. You dragged me to your room and made me spend the night with you.”

“You were crying for help,” Cassian says in disbelief. “What was I supposed to do? Ignore you?”

“Yes.” She looks even angrier. “It’s humiliating for me to have you see me like that. It's humiliating to have my own family see me like that.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re—” He almost says overreacting, but some deep instinct tells him that word won’t fly well with Nesta. “You’re wrong,” he decides. “Whatever you think I’m thinking of you after last night, you’re wrong.” Cassian has no problem going into caretaker mode for Nesta; it's his natural state of being most of the time anyway. Besides, last night was… a new experience for him. For a multitude of reasons. “You can't tell me you go through that every month and have never had anybody take care of you.”

“I haven't, and for good reason,” Nesta seethes. “You had no right to see me like that.”

Cassian leans on the arm of a chair and crosses his arms, considering her. “Have you ever seen a doctor about your period?”

“That’s none of your business,” she snaps. Here is the Nesta that Feyre is always talking about: quick to anger and always on the defense, to the point that she comes off as unreasonable. Nothing like the helpless woman in tears from just the night before.

It brings out a rougher side of Cassian, one that wants to nip and bite at her boundaries instead of letting her be comfortable all the time. “That’s no way to talk to someone who stayed up all night to wait on you hand and foot, you know.”

“Don’t you dare hold that against me.” Nesta’s voice is dangerously cold.

“I’m not holding it against you. I’m taking you to a doctor.”

“No.”

“I already made an appointment.”

“Cancel it.” Her voice is brittle and she’s now trembling with restrained rage. Cassian doesn’t know if it’s because he’s refusing to give her a choice or if she just really doesn’t like doctors. Either way, it doesn’t change how Nesta ran out of bed at four this morning to puke her soup up. If it wasn’t for all this snow, he would have dragged her ass to the ER by now.

“I don’t have health insurance,” Nesta admits when she sees that Cassian won’t back down. “And I’ve made it this far without any cause for concern; there’s no reason to go.”

“Then I’ll pay for it,” he says simply. Her lack of care for her health astounds and angers Cassian at the same time. How is it that nobody, not even her family, has looked at this woman before and said You’re not okay, do you need help? How many times has she cried in pain with no one to listen?

Nesta has now stood up and is turning red in the face. “Absolutely not. Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Cassian smirks and straightens up.

“I’m not going to the doctor,” she barks. “Cancel the appointment.”

“No.”

“DO IT!”

In that moment, Cassian sees it. He sees how beneath the adult manner and adult words, the carefully crafted facade of cool, there is an explosive, tantrum-prone child. And he’s about to reveal her for good.

“It’s this Wednesday. I hope you don't mind skipping class.”

An enraged shriek shatters the air in the room, and before Cassian can even be shocked Nesta is verbally pouncing on him, yelling, “How fucking dare you, you complete shithead—”

“Nesta.”

“You have no right to— You’re so useless, this is why I didn't want to stay with you, this is why I never talked to you—”

“Nest—”

“You egomaniacal manipulative bastard— just because you let me stay in your house doesn’t mean you can tell me what to do—”

“Damn it Nesta, can you just shut up and LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE!”

Nesta freezes and blinks, taken aback. Cassian immediately snaps his mouth shut, wondering if he’s finally crossed that line he’s been so cautiously toeing this whole time.

He watches her face closely, looking for signs of upset— or worse, fear. She only says, “Fine.”

He’s confused. “Fine, what?”

“Fine, I’ll go to the doctor’s.” Just like that, her fight is gone and the facade is back in place. She sets her jaw, but a hint of surprise and newfound discovery lingers in her eyes. “But I’m not letting you pay for it. It’ll have to come out of my own pocket.” She doesn't look happy about that part.

Cassian wants to argue her, but he knows how to pick and choose his battles. For now, he’s just baffled that he demanded Nesta to do something, and she listened.

He raised his voice at her. God, he yelled at her in anger and she only blinked in response, and now she’s listening to him. What kind of sick alien shit is this?

***

a/n: i love talking about these characters so if you ever get sick of waiting for part 5 just shoot me an ask and ill gladly discuss nessian with you

tagging: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @sensitiveillyrian @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx

#a favor #nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #ncssianwrites #nessian fic #nessian au

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ratisnotcrying · 3 years

Text

camera

summary: Martin’s written poetry for as long as he can remember - he thinks the first poem he wrote was in year one, probably with some questionable rhyming and no actual link to whatever the task even was, but he had enjoyed it, a lot, and had entered every poetry competition (under a pseudonym) right up until sixth form.

Then, in year twelve, one of his teachers had lent him a photography guide and Martin became obsessed with the idea of taking pictures to go with his poetry.

prompt: ‘camera’ from creativepromptsforwriting

pairings: jonmartin

warnings: the lonely (entity), hurt/comfort, but otherwise i think it’s just fluff

word count: 1.4K

a/n: this is cross posted on ao3 and I thin this is rly ooc - its defo outside my comfort zone and im pretty sure i hate it bUt… i also have tpp on the brain and some of jons lines sounded a bit like juno??

~~~

Martin’s written poetry for as long as he can remember - he thinks the first poem he wrote was in year one, probably with some questionable rhyming and no actual link to whatever the task even was, but he had enjoyed it, a lot, and had entered every poetry competition (under a pseudonym) right up until sixth form.

Then, in year twelve, one of his teachers had lent him a photography guide and Martin became obsessed with the idea of taking pictures to go with his poetry. He would have liked to stay and learn photography, but his life was flipped on its head and he had to drop out. So he did the next best thing: he got a disposable camera and took pictures in his neighbourhood.

It was an… adequate solution - he could take the pictures when he had to walk to the shops or had to wait for his mother somewhere, and he could nip into Boots to get them developed when he was in town. In the few years between dropping out of sixth form and joining the Institute, though, he didn't have much chance to write, let alone have time for photography.

By some miracle, having a stable, full time job changed that because just after he got his first payslip, Martin found a vintage polaroid camera in a heart foundation shop not far from his house - it was quite dear, especially considering that he had to find the right parts, but it gave him the kick he needed to start taking more photographs (trying to get his money’s worth and all that).

He started off taking pictures on his way to and from work. He kept a small notebook with him all the time and tucked the polaroids in between the pages (to stick in at a later date) and would write his poems on the corresponding pages. He had briefly entertained the idea of taking a few pictures inside the institute, though he quickly decided against it - Jon would no doubt have been angry, and Elias seemed to have eyes in the back of his head.

His next venture was more nature based and he took to spending most of his time in various national trust parks and gardens with his camera and notebook, though it was at this point that most of his poetry was touched with elements of his feelings for Jon. And various horrors he read about in the archives. It was a weird time.

It had become such a habit, carrying the camera everywhere he went, that it was no surprise that he ended up with more than a few pictures of him, Tim and Sasha together, though these went in a little photo album rather than his notebook.

Sasha and Tim would tease him about his hobby - not in a malicious way, mind you, and, in fact, it turned out alright for Martin in the end because Sasha had nicked his camera once, when they were all at Tim's and took one of Martin's favourite pictures.

He and Jon had been in a not-so-heated debate about something - he can't remember what anymore - and they had completely forgotten that Tim and Sasha were even there until the camera flashed from over the coffee table and the pair of them had started cackling at the absolute horror on Jon’s face. He had tried to tell them off, but their laughter was infectious and he hadn’t been able to keep a straight face for long enough.

Sasha had given the picture to Martin and told him to put it in his photo album, and Tim had joked he should mark this momentous occasion - “the first and only time a picture of the elusive archivist has ever been taken.”

It was a lovely picture. Jon wasn't scowling at him, which was a nice change, and it was clear as day how utterly besotted Martin was - all soft smiles and heart eyes. He had intended to stick it in his photo album, really, but he decided against it - something about it capturing his feelings so plainly made him want to hide it away.

So he put it in his wallet. Maybe it was a bit weird, but it's not like anyone knew he had it or anything, and likely no one would ever need to know it was there. It wasn’t until a week later he decided to get some double-sided tape and paper to stick a poem to the back.

Wish

I wish that you didn't have to know, I wish that my thoughts would slow, I wish that you would see, How much you mean to me.

~~~

It wasn't until he and Jon were safely tucked away in Scotland that Martin was reminded of the polaroid in his wallet.

“Martin, I’m going to the shop. Do you have any cash?”

“Should do - have a look in my wallet. I think it’s on the coffee table.” Martin called back from the kitchen.

There was silence for a moment and Martin went back to the washing up.

“Martin?” Jon said, the vaguest hint of laughter in his voice. “What’s this?”

Martin lifted soapy hands out the sink and used the back of his hand to push his glasses up before turning around. Jon was standing in the doorway holding up a polaroid. The polaroid. Fuck.

“Uhh…”

They both stood there for a moment. Martin was convinced he was actually about to die of embarrassment.

“Sorry? I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to be weird or anything, I just-”

“Martin, it’s alright. It’s… actually kind of sweet.”

“You think? I mean, I thought it was weird when it was taken. I never thought it would be sweet, I mean, who keeps pictures in their wallet anyway? I don’t-”

“Yes, Martin, I think it’s sweet. Now, do you need anything from the shop?”

~~~

A few nights later, Martin couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t sleep most nights, but this was a bad one, one that found him sitting on the little bench outside in his thin pajamas for most of the night. He stared blankly into the horizon, barely registering the sun rising in muted orange through the thick fog that had wrapped around him.

Martin had never been one to indulge, but since his time with Peter he allowed himself this one luxury. Being here, alone… there was cold comfort in it, a tender stiffness settling in his bones, keeping him firmly in this place - he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be here, but it was familiar; it was safe insofar as he could navigate it.

He startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder, which was soon replaced with a blanket.

“It’s cold, Martin. Come inside?”

Martin hummed noncommittally, slowly becoming aware of how the stiffness was actually near painful, the cold comfort was not comfortable, just deceptive, and he couldn't completely tell where the empty landscape ended and he began. Except it wasn’t empty. It wasn’t empty because Jon was there, perched sideways on his lap and half wrapped in the ratty old blanket that had been on Daisy’s sofa when they arrived. Because it was freezing and Jon’s fingertips and lips were already turning a funny grey shade.

He swallowed, throat dry, “Sometimes I think that I'll wake up and you won't be here. Not… not because you don't want to be, more because I still don't know what I did to deserve this. I can’t tell if this is real.”

“You don’t have to earn this, Martin,” Jon frowned, brushing dew-soaked curls from Martin’s forehead, “You’re allowed to be happy,

Martin didn’t seem to hear him, eyes drifting in and out of focus on something neither of them could quite see, “I- We don’t even really know each other, Jon.”

“We have time, Martin, we can learn. For example, I know how to make your tea properly now - it’s very complicated but I know it’s important to you.”

Martin laughed shakily at how proud Jon sounded of himself, and absently started rubbing Jon’s hands between his own to try and warm them up.

“I wish that you would see, how much you mean to me, Martin.” It was Jon’s turn to laugh now, Martin’s cold-kissed cheeks burning up with an embarrassed blush.

“You’re shivering, come on, I’ll make tea.”

#jonmartin #jon sims #the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers #a bit #scottish safehouse period #the lonely #a smidge #canon typical tea?#hurt/comfort #fluff??#lmk if i need to tag anything else

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atinybitofau · 4 years

Text

S A N ⇨ mafia au

THE ONE WHERE SAN = SMILEY SATAN

part two

• he watches you.

• and he’s thinking to himself.

• fuck, this dumbass chick really had to be at the right place at the right time.

• he was the most wanted hitman in South Korea

• the most skilled hitman belonging to none other than the top class mafia group ATZ.

• he was trying to fill up his empty schedule that’s all.

• wanted to kill some low life useless fuckers for fun and extra money— why not.

• he never gave a single shit to care about meaningless souls like society’s proper.

• he’s the greatest hitman to ever live?

• why should he care.

• never spent more than 10 seconds looking at a face pretty or not.

• his tongue pokes at his cheek, leg bouncing underneath the tripod of his sniper in impatience before he lets out an exasperated groan.

• “Fucking bitch better move out of my way or I’ll blow her brains out too.” he mutters under his breath.

• he was losing too much oppurtunity.

• “5 seconds, San. Take the shot.”

• “I’m fucking trying! There’s some bimbo in my line of fire and I am not going to waste my time cleaning up her mess.”

• he sighs, finger hovering the trigger counting down from five.

• that is—

• till he stops at three as soon as you turn around.

• you’re gorgeous, he thinks.

• like no one other.

• his eyes narrow and his mouth waters at your beauty.

• special and nothing he’s ever laid eyes on before.

• satan’s gift to him after hard years of working for his ass.

• san’s lips part and he has to look out of the scope for better landscape.

• you smile and he’s shot down.

• he forgets for the last three seconds what he was supposed to be doing.

• “You dumbass. We missed the mark. Now we gotta wait two more hours. You better hope you can sit your cocky ass down for it all cause you are not taking your eyes off that scope, San.”

• with pleasure, he wants to reply to his boss but his finger grazes his lips instead of the trigger reveling on you.

• yeah he didn’t mind.

• fuck yeah he didn’t mind.

• not when you’re on the other side of the scope for him to drool over.

• it bogs him why you were working at that piece of garbage establishment and how he could slither you up his sleeve before he leaves.

• he sits back in his chair, watching you more than his target at this point.

• “San, are you paying attention this time?”

• he hears Hongjoong but he’s more intent on watching you then listening.

• you had curves for days and he couldn’t wait to get his blood stained hands on them.

• “10 seconds.”

• “San.”

• “4 seconds.”

• he packs his sniper, pulling out a small pistol from his weapon bag, strapping on a vest under his business suit.

• “What the fuck are you doing, you idiot?”

• “Gonna get the girl.”

• “SAN IM GOING TO FUCKING KILL—“

• he pulls out his in ear out before his boss could finish and practically runs to the building across.

• he has to get you.

• he won’t be able to think straight.

• wont be able to work straight without knowing he’d see your face every night he comes home.

• won’t kill anyone until he gets his reward.

• “Sir, I’m sorry but you can’t go in there.”

• San doesn’t like to wonder at a pretty face twice.

• at least one that’s not yours.

• he shoots the poor receptionist point blank and half the building with just a little pistol between his fingers.

• not knowing he got the target down in the process.

• but then he see’s you, the lone survivor.

• scared shitless behind your desk with wide eyes and trembling lips.

• “Hi.” he manages to say from his salivating mouth.

• so that’s what people’s faces look like, he thinks. two eyes, one pair of lips just like his.

• he’s never looked at another person for this long before.

• he’s thinking you’re the only person he’ll ever look at for that long. the only person he’ll ever give it worth.

• “Um, hi.”

• you kind of think he’s nice..

• for smiling at you before killing you.

• you think he has a nice smile for a psychopath.

• and that you might not want to haunt him later for killing everyone you hated in a span of 2 minutes.

• “You’re very pretty.”

• you let out a faint laugh of disbelief.

• there’s blood on his cheek, a smoking gun in his hand, and a heart okay with killing innocent lives.

• but he has the time to call you pretty instead of put a bullet through your skull?

• “I’m San.”

• “Y-Y/n.” you mumble tripping over your feet. “Ow. Sorry I’m y/n.”

• he smiles again this time teeth in full view.

• he may be a bad bad criminal but

• he’s got the most sweetest smile in the world.

• “Sorry for killing all your friends, sweetheart.”

• you blink shaking your head at the assassin. “S’okay. They’re not my friends.”

• “I’m glad. They were chumps anyway.” the corner of his lip curls up. “You got a family, y/n? Actual friends?”

• he approaches you.

• you take a step back not knowing what his intentions are.

• his gun seemed noncompliant by his side and you suddenly feel like he’s not trying to threaten you.

• quite the contrary actually.

• you have a weird feeling that maybe this charming assassin was trying to impress you.

• “My family.. my family don’t care what I do. My friends are just people I talk to every now and then.”

• in other words, you had nobody.

• but in no means were you trying to make a good impression.

• you just didn’t want to get killed.

• “I’m gonna give you two choices.”

• “Okay.” you were very obedient and it showed with your answer.

• you weren’t the type of girl who overstepped boundaries.

• he liked that.

• a little too much.

• “You’re either going to come home with me like a good girl— a very nice pretty girl I must add and stay with me until I die,”

• you swallow because you don’t necessarily see a way out.

• “Or I could just shoot you and leave you here with the rest of these dead useless no good rotten excuses for human bodies.”

• let’s see.

• spend your entire life damned to a hot psychopath killer who obviously thinks of you as the prettiest thing on the planet.

• OR

• die with a bunch of losers at a piece of garbage establishment where you never really belonged in the first place.

• “You.”

• now he feels like a twisted version of prince charming.

• he gets to run away with the girl.

• “I think you have the prettiest eyes.” he says as he rushes to you to hold your hand. “The prettiest smile.”

• he reminds you of a lovesick puppy when he looks at you.

• “You don’t talk to a lot of people do you, San?”

• he’s sweet to you.

• it bogs your mind how this sweet little bean was actually a heartless sociopath.

• “No.” he answered you proudly.

• you breath a soft chuckle and he thinks it’s the most precious thing in the world.

• if something were ever able to kill him, it’d definitely be you.

• “You’re gonna love me.” he says rubbing at the back of your hand, eyes dawned in obsession. “And I’m gonna love the shit out of you too. Is that okay, sweetheart? Are you okay with that?”

• “Y-yes.” you’re flattered and a little bit terrified. “Yeah, yeah that’s okay.”

• it’s not like you have a choice.

• his smile almost makes you convinced he’s not actually a cold blooded killer.

• anyone who would’ve saved you from that crap life of yours?

• you probably woulda loved anyway.

• but you definitely weren’t complaining that it was Choi San that ended up saving you.

• he’s just an assassin by day and your boyfriend by night.

• who knew the devil could be so sweet?

@atinybitofau

#san #choi san #ateez san #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #san x reader #san reactions #san imagines #ateez au #ateez mafia au #mafia au

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supernatural-reacts · 3 years

Text

Season 14 episode 17

- OH HEY ANAEL IS IN THE RECAP

- hi Donnatello

- oh no

- unrelated but didn’t Lucifer wake up this season? Are they not gonna address that?

- Mary and Jack!

- “everyone keeps asking me that.” “We’re family. It’s our job.” “Yeah well it’s annoying.” JACK DONT BE MEAN TO MARY

- ANAEL!!

- CAS!

- I read that this scene only exists because Daneel went to Dabb and said “write me and Misha” and I love that

- 👀 ancient Hebrew?

- “I’m grateful. For every day I get to spend with you and Sam.” THIS IS REALLY SWEET BUT I KNOW WHATS GONNA HAPPEN TO MARY SOON AND I HATE IT

- Sam just knew that was from the bible? Damn!

- seriously? Fucking Nick? Why is he even still alive

THEY 💕

- “I’ll burn this place to the ground and you with it.” OH HI CASTIEL

- I love Anael so much

- “we’re all lonely because we’re all alone.” CAS’S FACE HERE IM

- “so he saves one angel. And watches millions of people die screaming every day. What does that say about him?” DAMNNN ANAEL

- Nick do not compare yourself to Dean

- Jack this is a bad idea...

- Nick shut the fuck up and then go die

- Nick saying he can’t see Jack’s soul is so weird bc why would he be able to see it? He’s just human

- oh hey a god amulet

- Cas praying 🥺

- “just because god’s not with us doesn’t mean we’re alone.” “Why because we all have each other?” “Yes.” AWWW I LOVE THEM

- why does Nick act exactly like Lucifer

- he injected Donnatello with grace? Where did he even get that

- I SHOULD NOT HAVE SAID ANYTHING ABOUT LUCIFER BEING AWAKE LMAO

- dudeee I don’t want Lucifer back :/

- Sam kill him

- SEE THIS IS WHY I SAID KILL HIM

- is the empty just letting Lucifer go?

- OH JACK GROSS

- I’m happy Nick is dead but I guess it’s bad that Jack killed him

- JACK PLEASE STEP AWAY FROM MARY YOU ARE MAKING ME VERY NERVOUS

- MARY NO PLEASE BE CAREFUL

- OH SHIT

- IS SHE DEAD? DID HE KILL HER?

#dean winchester #supernatural #dean and sam #sam winchester #spn #supernatural thoughts #sam and dean #spn thoughts #castiel #destiel #spn season 14 #supernatural season 14 #jack kline #anael #anael spn #mary winchester

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wonhosgiggle · 4 years

Text

A Hospital Room

Wake up, eat, take medication, sleep and repeat. That was the common routine for the male for the past decade of his time spent here, in a place like this, the hospital room. Staring at the same white walls which confined him and reminded him of the winter snow, so cold, oh so lonely. Confined in the white walls, nothing to wait for, no hopes for recovery at all. This is how it was for him. Every day. Every night. The loneliness buried in his heart felt like the cold winter breeze, it never left his sight. He never had a friend; he was introverted, and never left those white walls that surrounded him. He was afraid of what awaits him outside of his little shell. Besides the fact that he was scared, he always wanted a friend, someone to spend the rest of his days with, all the happy memories they could make together, but he couldn’t. Robin lacked that self-confidence.

He usually sat on his bed, knees pulled all the way up to his chest, and his chin resting in between his knees. He stared at the white walls, with the same droopy eyes. Knock knock. He jumped at the unfamiliar sound. He stared at the also white door and waited to see if he would hear that noise again.

The door creaked open and robin shuffled in his place, pulling the blanket over his head, covering his small frame with the blanket. Thud, Thud. Footsteps, closer and closer to his bed. Robin pulled the blanket down, peeking his head up towards the door, his eyes landed on another figure who stood in front of him. Robin stared at the mystery person, he wanted to ask who he was, whether he went to the wrong room or not, if not then what was he doing here? “uhh… Hi.. im Jason, in your new roommate” he pointed towards the empty bed that was placed in front of Robin’s. oh, roommate. Robin nod his head, clearing his throat. For some reason, a sudden stroke of serendipity struck the male, he began to feel warm. This is his chance to make a friend! The winter breeze he felt in his chest started to disappear and it felt like summer. Jason nod his head at the quiet response and walked over to his bed. Sitting on it and facing Robin. Jason smiled widely, his smile as bright as the sun, making Robins cheeks flush and his mouth turning upward into a smile. “m-my name is r-robin…” wow, he spoke to someone! It was his first time in ten years hearing his own voice. “I hope we can be great friends, Robin” Jason’s smile still bright, making robin feel warm.

The next day

“I’m here because I’m Narcoleptic”

“what’s that?” Robin asked, as he shuffled by Jason’s side as they got their breakfast from the hospital’s cafeteria. Jason chuckled “narcolepsy a chronic sleep disorder characterized by overwhelming daytime drowsiness and sudden attacks of sleep. So basically, I fall asleep easily which isn’t really great”

“oh… is it bad? Like can you die?”

“nah, well if I fall asleep in the middle of a road then maybe” he grinned.

Silence.

“what about you Robby?” Robby?

Robin scratched the back of his neck “I suffer from unexpected seizures…” Jason nod his head. “ahh.. okay…”

.........

After that, the two got closer and were inseparable for a whole year. Best friends. Just as Robin wished. Since meeting Jason, Robin looked forward to his recovery, and most importantly, found the plain white walls so amusing and much more colourful, even though they were as plain as ever. They would lay down on their beds and talk about their days, what tests they went through, the results and how their recovery was going.

“hey Robby?”

“hmm?”

“do you ever wonder if you would actually recover?”

“yes, why do you ask that Jason?” weird.

“nothing… its just that I’m losing hope”

Oh. What’s gotten into him?

“can I ask why…?” Robin was getting concerned.

“no reason….”

Jason stood up. “I’m going to the rooftop for some fresh air. Wanna come?” he grinned like always. Robin shook his head. “not now, I’ll meet you up their later..” something feels off.

Robin shrugged it off and stayed in his bed for an hour, maybe he should join Jason now? Robin got up from his chair, slid his flip flops on and shuffled his way up the stairs to the rooftop. “Robby you came!” Jason exclaimed. He was close to the edge, too close. “Jason come a little closer, that’s dangerous” Robin took a few steps forward, trying to be in reach with him. Rain started to heavily pour upon the two, hitting Robins’ glasses lenses, he couldn’t see Jason anymore.

“why..? I-I’m fi…ne…” he was feeling drowsy. “j-just sleepy...R-robby….”

His eyes began to flutter shut.

He fell back.

Robin screamed, trying to reach out for the other male. His hand barely touching Jason’s. he was too late.

Robin fell onto his knees, his hearts pace began to pick up, his breathing was the last thing on his mind as he struggled for air. “j-jason he… he… he fell… JASON!!!!” he screamed, tears streaming down his face, his tears staining his pale cheeks.

The summer and euphoric feeling he felt in his chest was no longer there, if only he had stayed by Jason’s side, like how Jason had when Robin had his seizures… if only he was there he would still be alive. But because of his actions he wasn’t and that has made all the difference.

I was mf sad so i wrote this while listening to sad but peaceful piano pieces. Listen to what ive linked. It really set the sad mood.

#i was mf sad so i wrote this #this is a draft pls #lowkey this was my english assessment but i edited this heavily #depressed noises #no but really im sad

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writebythenight · 5 years

Text

The Silence

Chapter Twelve

Rose was sharpening her knife. It had started to drag the last time she used it when Rick approached her for what she knew was going to be one of the worst conversations of her life.

"Ya alright?" He asked her when he came to a stop.

"Cut the shit... please?" She said sadly. "I know you think I fucked up but nothing bad happened."

"It could have."

"I was armed. He wasn't" Rose shrugged. "I saw the proof that he was sick spilling out of that bucket! You really think I didn't think about it logically? He was sick, unarmed and if he managed to get past me then Eddie was outside..."

"And what if he got past Eddie too?" He growled. "What if he had gotten to Judith?"

"He would never...!" She stopped herself before defending Negan but the look on Rick's face told her he already knew what she was going to say.

"He's gotten to you." Rick looked at her with the look he saved for the times he really needed it, she called it his cop face.

"No..." As much as she tried to hide the uncertainty in her voice she knew it was pointless. "I let a sick man be more comfortable, that's all there is to it Rick. If I really thought anybody could have come to any harm I wouldn't have done it."

The man just stared back at her for a long time looking for any part of her expression that might give away her true feelings. Rick was sure she was starting to soften to the man he wanted kept away from everybody and he couldn't help but feel slightly responsible for it, he had asked her to do just that. How could he be angry at her?

"Shit..." He said under his breath. "Okay." He knelt down in front of her and placed his hand over the one that held her knife. "I trust you, Rose." The sincerity in her eyes told him he could.

"I would never do anything I thought would put Judith in danger." She told him quietly. "Any of you... I fought alongside you!"

"I know." He nodded to her, feeling stupid that he would ever doubt her, she was a strong and capable woman. That was exactly why he trusted her to do it in the first place.

"Rick came to see me yesterday." Was the first thing Negan told Rose.

"Oh yeah?" She asked sitting back in her chair.

"Told me about his day like I'm his fuckin' wife or somethin'.'" He made a sound of disgust. "Kept talkin' about the future you're all creatin' out there." Rose noticed something different in his voice. It wasn't the usual warm tone but empty and her stomach dropped, already knowing what was coming having seen it so many times before. People always ended up here.

He had done so well so far. She stayed silent knowing by now that if he started a conversation he wouldn't need much coaxing.

"I got to thinking' how I'll never be a part of that." He stayed sat on his cot, leaning up against the hard wall one of his long legs bent and the fact that he hadn't come right up to the bars like usual bothered Rose to no end. "I'll never get to just sit outside with a beer, watch people do stupid shit." He paused but it was a heavy one. "I'll never get to have you." He finished.

"Negan..." She started quietly as she stood up at the bars but she just didn't know what to say.

"That day with you..." Negan said softly. "It fuckin' broke me." His voice cracked with the strain of the emotion he was holding in. "The second I got back in this cell I just felt cold, alone... fuckin' hopeless. The silence... it's too much for me, Rose."

"Come here..." She said quietly, not having anything else to say while her heart broke for him. The only thing she could think of doing was touching him, that always made him feel better right? If she could just...

"Im no good for ya." He spoke in the same monotonous way he had when he began this conversation. "Just like I wasn't for Lucille."

"You need to let go Negan. You've been beating yourself up over that stuff for too long."

"I don't want you comin' in here anymore, ya hear me?" He rasped still looking at the wall.

"What?"

"I don't deserve you spendin' all your time in here. You can deny it all you want but I know you got feelin's for me." He laughed slowly, maliciously. "I've always had the worst luck. So meetin' the girl of my fuckin' dreams in the god damned apocalypse while I'm locked up with no chance of a future with her... that sounds just like fuckin' like me."

"Negan you're bound to feel like this! The worst thing would be to be alone... I'm not leavin' you alone to rot in here."

"So what you gonna do spend the rest of your life pining over me like one of them desperate, lonely, ugly fucks who fall in love with people on death row?" He lazily rolled his head to look at me now. "Cos' that's what I am sweetheart. I'm gonna die here. I give it the big fuck you to Rick and everybody but I know I'm not gettin' out."

"Whether you like it or not Negan... I'll be coming to see you everyday."

"Oh shit! You really are desperate aren't you."

"Stop being an asshole cos you think you can push me away." She said not taking anything he said to heart.

"Go find some normal, boring fuck and stop botherin' me would ya?"

"Funny you should say that... Gabriel's started to look real good."

"I'm fuckin' serious, Rose." She had stupidly thought making a joke would perk him up alittle, the fact that he didn't come back with some snark remark worried her. He was right, this was serious. "I can't give you what you deserve. I'll never be able to."

It went pretty much the same way every single time Rose went to see Negan. He wouldn't eat, she got no reaction from him even when she offered to flash him and she as being serious. No matter what she did he stayed in that deep dark pit of depression she has seen so many others in before, had even helped people get out of. This time she felt helpless.

"He's not eating." Michonne seemed to be making a habit out of searching Rose out and begging her to clean up her and Ricks mess. Rose threw down the trowel she was using and stood up to face her.

"You know what Michonne. Neither am I!

He's depressed! Of course he's fuckin depressed! It's fucking cruel. What do you want me to do for him? Give him a prescription!"

"I don't... I just thought..."

"You thought I have some kind of connection with him right? That's what Rick asked me to do! Make a connection with a imprisoned man but get the third degree off you both when I actually try to help him."

"I get it." Although Michonne looked like she wanted to rip Rose's head off she just walked off.

"You've been talkin' to Michonne." Rose's voice echoed in the cell which felt completely empty. No reply.

"You had a lot to say to her apparently." Rose sighed.

"It's been a week. Are you gonna give up?"

Nothing.

"I miss you."

Silence. Rose squeezed her eyes shut feeling stupid in a hundred different ways for having said that.

"You asked me once... what the worst thing I've ever done is?"

She heard him shuffle and hoped she'd finally got his attention.

"Ask me again again and I'll tell you."

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?" His voice was still flat but at least it was words.

"It was a while after this whole thing started... I was with two other women and there was these guys, four of them." The same dread that always filled her whenever she thought about it came in floods and she had to take a deep breath. "We joined up with them, safety in numbers and all that. One night they were talking to themselves, laughing about stuff and kept looking over at us. I knew straight away something was off, men have that certain look when they're thinking about doing terrible things. I told the other two, Erin and Abi." There name made her eyes fill with tears. "To keep hold of their weapons and I remember thinking first thing in the morning and we're gone."

She looked up to see Negan had turned to face her now.

"But it was already too late. They came over one with a gun and the other three grabbed us. Pinned us down and I fought, I fought so god damn hard and I was lucky. That's all it was. I wasn't any stronger than the others and the guy who came to me was a little smaller. I got away just before he... I stabbed the sick fuck. There I was running away, half naked lucky it was dark so the shots the guy fired after me, missed." She began crying now and she knew it was an accumulation of everything... the loneliness, her unwanted feelings for Negan, the hostility from certain members of the group but most of all the shame and guilt. "I just ran off. I didn't help them!"

All that could be heard was her soft sobs as she tried to control herself. "I got out of the place we were holed up and kept moving until morning. I've no idea how I survived any of it. I was just lucky. That's the only difference between them and me."

"You did what you had to do." His voice made her jump. "I'm so sorry that happened Rose."

"Don't!" She snapped. "Don't feel sorry for me. It's those poor women..."

"I don't know what the hell you hoped would happen by tellin' me that. All it's made me do is get angry that I can't hold you! That it could happen to you again and I'd be locked up in this FUCKING SHIT HOLE!" He raged worse than she'd ever seen him before. "Yeah you stand there like a fuckin' deer in the headlights darlin' cos there's nothing I can do for ya! So just fuckin' leave!"

Rose hesitated, not knowing what to do until she came to a harsh conclusion. "You're right. There's nothin' either of us can do for each other." She said quietly, in defeat. "I thought I could help you. That was so naive of me."

And then she left.

"Rose.." Negan said so quietly she didn't even hear. "Fuckin' shit!" He shouted, enraged that she was carrying around guilt because of some sick fucks and just as angry that he couldn't do anything about it.

Later that day Rose had been doing paroles around the walls having needed to get out. Walking back to her house she was intercepted by Scott, his warm friendly eyes looking concerned.

"Is it all sorted?" He asked.

"What?"

"Maggie..."

"What about her?" Rose asked getting frustrated.

"I thought you'd have been told... Maggie turned up at here about ten, fifteen minutes ago... I told Michonne..."

He didn't even finish his sentence before Rose was racing off to the place she knew Maggie would be. The panic pushed her to run even faster knowing all too well what the only reason the woman would have stepped foot in Alexandria.

Chapter Thirteen

A/N

So sorry for the cliffhanger but this is close to 2000 words and I don't know if anyone would want a chapter that long.

Thanks as always to anyone who has followed or left comments. It means so much!

#twd negan #negan fanfiction #negan x oc #neganxoc #negan x rose #the silence #the walking dead fanfiction

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flameontheotherside · 5 years

Text

Lemme Just Vent A Second

I'm about to be homeless. I ended a rebound relationship gone too long.....8 years. Everything that once made me happy is slowly making me feel empty. Since my spiritual path, I had to dump my old friends. It was hard to do because they are good people but this new lifestyle I'm on, they wouldn't understand. I'm trying very hard to remain positive but it's like increasingly harder and harder with every day to try to be thankful for what I have.... Or had.

Please don't read this and think I'm trying to look for sympathy. Well I am to a level because quite honestly I have like no one. Everyone has thier issues and shit, I don't feel comfortable hitting them up to complain about how lonely and depressed I am. No one needs that. I know shit can be worse and it looks like it just very well might be in a few short weeks.

I just want to write what I have in my heart without people judging me.

Maybe someone is there having the same bullshit and we should kick it with a few drinks and a nice bowl of trees. I feel stuck and straight up invisible. Everyone has gotten the memo except me. Like I was out walking to get some food. And it didn't take long to remember how lonely I am. You know that one person you see eating alone? Like a few bites in I was like, fuck this shit I'm out bitch. Back home I go.

Lately I've been so tired and alone. Really alone. I don't have real life friends and that's what I need. I don't need some "guru" giving me some wise words I already know and shit. What I really need is a fucking hug, man. Like sure my mom is here for a few days but I don't like getting all emotional or wimpy around her. It's weird and I feel dumb talking about my relationships and how bad I'm hurt from them.... Because well it's kind of her faulty parenting. Awkward....

Being psychic, you'd think I would have seen this coming.

No, not necessarily. I must have a mental block or something because I don't know shit and honestly I rather not know about my future. It creeps me the fuck out. It would be really fucking God damn great if I just got a fucking break okay?

Erik is dead, I had to get over it.

All of my relationships sucked and I was hurt by every single one. I had to get over it.

I'm probably never going to be able to or be given an opportunity to love anyone for the rest of my life. That I have to get over.

If I have to spend the rest of my life miserable and alone like this just do me a favor and shoot me please.

All mellow drama aside Im impatient as fuck.

I want my life back. I want my happiness back and to help people pro-bono again. I want to get back in to doing my psychic and mediumship work again. I want to get back in to writing and doing music again. I can't help others or focus on anything else until my life is back on track and so far all I'm seeing is...

*Katt Williams voice*

Fucked up, fucked up, fucked up, fucked up... Fucked up, fucked up, fucked up, fucked up... Lol

To be honest I'm scared AF. Meanwhile Vince is sitting on money his parents saved up for him now?! What the actual fuck. Does he know how lucky he is? Yes, because he got a brand new phone and talked about how it's a piece of shit (Any phone not a ZTE is not a piece of shit I promise you. Motorola still have some good phones) and as I was asking to borrow some scratch from Kane for food...

Vince is like, Oh I forgot to tell you [my] dad sent me some money he had saved up for me. You can't touch it...

I'm like....

Uh, no, bitch nigga I don't want your daddy's money...

... or your money or anything from you. What I want to know is what you said to your mommy and daddy to get them to funnel you cash like that.

He's an honorary trust-fund bitch nigga. Someone please stop me from beating him in to a shrimp he is. Fucking asshole. I break up with him because he's a deadbeat drug addict and he's REWARDED?!

Are you fucking kidding me, Jesus?! You're going to let this happen Jesus?! Have you forgotten all the bullshit I was dragged through? When the fuck am I due for a break?... When I die?!

😆👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 In case you haven't noticed what's keeping some of my sanity intact is watching Katt Williams stand-up.

😘 💞 💕 ❤️ Good night!

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧Don’t forget to take a look at Erik’s blog ran by his amazing mom Dr Elisa Medhus. Lots of stuff about his afterlife and 💩 at channelingerik.com.

(◕‿◕)♡ Social: Twitter Tumblr Instagram YouTube

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lim-lifeinmotion · 5 years

Text

A story about a boy just a little bit broken

I would like to tell you a story About a boy that is broken Not by much Only just a little bit if at all You see this boy was a happy child He did normal happy child things He’d play and sing and dance Even if not very good but oh how this boy liked to play In the mud, mud pies, mud soup He liked the mud he did Stuck in the mud, mud scrub, mud bath mud, mud, mud, mud, mud He was an odd little child, Liked playing with barbie dolls, ken dolls He had no preference really And eating snails He enjoyed spending time with his friends Although mum made this difficult sometimes You see mum didnt always agree with the other mums Im sorry you cannot see them anymore But that is okay because he had plenty of other friends to play with But none were like them He felt sad and lonely Where are all my friends? This boy also loved to fish! What a thing it was Spending time with dad who he never really saw One weekend away this little boy had a new friend Of who’m he’d like to play! A new friend he thought “I’m so happy” Mummy and daddy should we play? Allright said the little boy He knew nothing better Down his pants went I dont understand why? Touches his pee pee Nobody can touch that? But a new friend is a new friend “This is our little secret”? Okay So everynow and then They’d play mummy and daddy She was a lot older He was only 3 he didn’t know any better He did not want her to touch his pee pee Or lick his private parts But a new friend is a new friend Will everyone be angry? So as the years went by mummy and daddy wouldn’t stop fighting To count the days when they were happy? He was young but even he could count as high as 10? It’s all your fault we fight they said Time and time again If it weren’t for you kinds we wouldn’t have these problems “I don’t want to be the problem”? How do I not be the problem? Be a better boy, listen a little more, Maybe if i stay home I can show mummy I‘m a good boy I dont want you to go away This little boy found a new friend! Hip hip horaay He was so happy and excited A reason to wake up every day But this boy could never stay over Not for a whole night What if mummy was gone when I get home? Please take me home, I want to go home now. Once more mummy disagrees with the other mummy, I am sorry you cannot see them any more I’m sorry I’m not supposed to talk to you I have to listen to what mummy says Now they wont stop fighting, And we’re moving in with my aunty I liked her dog and her pool and her piano A few years we were happy, no more yelling at last But as this boy got older He saw his sister being yelled at Please stop fighting I don’t like to see you all cry When she was 15 she had had enough He didn’t want her to go but knew mummy would be happier if she did So she did We were happy again Daddy came home but the fighting continued Only with my other sister now It wasn’t long before she moved out A few years into highschool You see everyone in this family Was in the top of their clases They were not dumb or stupid They weere in fact extremely smart Nerissa was good at english,

drawing, she was also a very nice singer Tyla was good at netball and maths, she was so popular and so was nissy Ryan was good at maths and art and really enjoyed running and sports, He wasn’t the storngest but he could run and never look back But now everyone had moved out And I was again all alone The boy had no friends Although everypne knew who he was At school he’d walk and chat Bounce between groups making them smile and laugh You’re so funny ryan So many friends now! But on the weekends it was playstation and games Nobody wanted to hang out with him Out of uniform he really didnt belong And the yelling started again His entire life he did not think it would ever be him? But im such a good boy mummy I try my best every day Until one day It was time to leave You see out of nowhere he met a boy A boy he fell in love with Someone that liked him, thought was funny and kind It’s all he’d ever wanted The boys became close They shared their first kiss Their first everything What a time to be young, to be alive He would get bullied By the younger students Because the older ones knew his sisters Everybody loved them But they no longer went to school They both left way too young They were so smart and so popular I dont understand why? But this boy didn’t care The silly words people would say He was happy and in love He finally had a friend He started living with this boy, His family were like his own No fighting no yelling A safe and peaceful home for two years they lived together until they grew apart When you’re young you are curious There is so much to live for to see and to do He began to see the darkness again His home was gone again He had no friends The words now had power He tried but he let them in Fag they would say Push and shove him they would do In class he cried At home he died He began to wonder about death How beautiful it would be So he took the knife and made his first cut An addicion he would soon regret At first they were small On the wrist because thats were people did it right? But too many eyes saw You cannot wear an armband all year So he took the knife and took to his thigh So much more flesh to cut I can go deeper and harder now than before This boy truly wanted to die Bloody sheets Vodka bottles He stopped going to classes But did all his work He didnt want to be a drop out But he didnt want to go to school So in a bottle of chi he’d mix A bottle before, during and after school Nobody suspected a thing, He never wore uniform anyways He was never rude or inpolite The opposite in fact He had to be a good boy He had a job which he quit Becausee he drank and cut and cried Nothing could stop it A part of him had died So he decided he needed money Skipped a few weeks rent Was told they needed to talk So up he went and left He didnt mean to hurt them He didnt want to be a burden They found the bottles and the bloodied mess He didn’t want to make them angry So back he went “home” To the yelling and screaming The rules oh the rules Do not exist From here things fall apart and there is no more rhymes That little happy child, he was dead now, he died a long time ago and all that was left was darkness, sadness, an anti depressant shell He spent his days drinking and taking drugs and cutting himself. Nothing made sense, the only clear thing in his existance was the fact that he no longer wanted to be in this world and he made it clear that he was just waiting to die. I missed a lot out of this story, a lot of good things happened, he was so loved but honestly those memories are all but faded and bleak lost somewhere in the dpeth of the lonliness he had felt his entire lfe, the sadness, the emptiness that filled him. He was annorexic and coudln’t eat, he saw his weight go from 64 down to 48 where it would stay for some time. He met a lot of amazing guys but none felt right, none gave him that feeling that young cute boy did and no matter how hard he tried all he ended up leaving was a wake of destruction and hurt wherever he went. I could count 10 different people he ended up destroying, 2 earned the label. He never intended to hurt them, he really tried, he just wanted to feel loved, to feel something, anything at all. But never could. He sold his body for sex at the age of 17, he needed money to continue drinking and living because partying to forget was all he knew. What a messed up life this poor child had, no wonder he’s a god damn mess until the other day he knew anything bad that could have happened had happened to him, the other day when he remembered he was molested. He’s been raped by his best friend, molested when he was a child, sold for sex, beaten, thrown to the ground, abandoned on the side of the road by his parents. literally kicked out of the car at 3 or 4 years old and I just remember him standing behind the car screaming and crying, begging to let him back in. He been cheated on, drugged, ruphied, overdosed and died. He’s tried to kill himself on more occasions than I can count of both hands and both feet. He’s put himself in hospital but never once has he intentionally tried to hurt someone, Never has he ever laid another finger on another human being that he hasn’t blacked out and done in a fit of rage, childhood trauma is funny like that. I am not a bad person and I know this to be true but I feel like there is little more that life could throw at me, little more that I can have done to me because I have seen it all, been through it all and I am so angry at the world for this. For so long I see eyes that reflect the soul, I know how to play this game, I managed to trick myself into believing I was happy in order to stop myself from killing myself, you can sure as hell bet I will trick you too. When you look into my eyes and you see that pure innocent smile, that cheeky grin, the light sparking as it fills you with that infections glow. Sure some of the time it is genuine but for the most part I am just so sad and there is no way I want to put that onto anybody else, ssssssssso I will fool you into believing I am happy and so damn peaceful but my actions reflect someone so broken, so detroyed, someone that has next to no love or respect for themselves because how can I? After everything? Im working so fucking hard to make this work, to re learn the things I had stripped away from me, pice by piece, like tiny cracks forming on the glass I was constantly trying to fix and mend but like so many cracks I couldn’t keep up with the speed at which they were forming and shaterring. I became so very good at fixing them but now I am left with a broken soul, A shattered mind, a scarred body, left trying to yet again mend the pieces but she is so very tired, a life without a brake and I am ready to put the brakes on before I break because breaking is all I know how to do, breaking is what I do best but I just need a brake because it will break me otherwise. I know I am such a powerful person, I am so god damn resiliant yet still so fucking loving regardless of all this shit. I wonder sometimes how the fuck I am still here, kicking, working, moving forward trying to make a better life for myself, because with all this on a page and missing quite a lot, that is too much for one 24 years of “life”, That is too much for anyone to endure. I havent even mentioned my sisters life, how they both tried to kill themselves, “Home” was that bad that they would rather have died than exist. My youngest sisters boyfriend killed himself when she was 16 or so, she wanted to follow, had a note and the noose all ready. How much shit can life throw at somebody before it really is just starting to take the piss, I feel my life is just one big fucking joke because no way can this be real, no way can this be the reason I was put on this earth for. If there was a god why would he look at a 3 year old and smile telling him he was going to be sexually assaulted time and time again, beaten and abused for the rest of his 25 years in the world. How fucking dare you. How fucking dare you. This may seem like I am asking for pity but that I do not want, I don’t need your sympathy because it makes no god damn difference o me, It doesnt change the chemicals in my brain, it doesn’t give me a reason to get up in the morning or give me comfort in bed at night. I want you to know how fucking cruel this life has been and why I am so god damn fuking messed up in the deepest and darkest way possible. “Why” is the big question of endless possibilities but this is one of those reasons, one of the many possibilies, the endless ways my life could have gone and destiny looked at me and chose this path for me. Fuck you, Just fuck you and your bullshit lenses about flowers and fairies, I grew up with the monsters under my bed, the headless horseman was my ride through hell and back, Samara was my pen pall and nobody was there for me in the end to protect me, I can’t even protect me, I can’t say no to people so I just close my eyes, pretend to be enjoying it and let it happen. Fuck you Unedited rant because fuck reading this to edit its way too fucking much

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thyrideneverends · 3 years

Text

(2017)

Escritos que encontre del año 2017 . Y conversaciones conmigo desde el año 2020 ([]).

____________________________ AAAHGH IM SO FUCKING SAD. I cant help but feel that im rotting. I dont want pity; people helping; people empathizing. FUCK YOU. I can do better than you. I DO. In fact. I havent been blinded, and hate everything around me as an excuse for giving my life away for what it was supposed to be. [this could be missunderstod since i was clearly angry 4 something i dont recall, I was refering to people in general, how they put themselves above the others, how they always wanna get "there" first, how they talk trash about their relationships, the anger, the hate that breeds out of them when they are wronged(even if there`s no purpose or whatsoever to cause them, specifically, any troubles), the screaming, the violence, that kind of hate..]

I dont want to just 'be happy' because I have to; so I reject happiness. But I want to feel it like something real and not made up.. does that makes sense? Thats a paradox i cant escape lately. [thats deep man, fortunately we figured that out. Have we figured that out? Happiness now is closed for manteinance ^-^ ]

I cant find pleasure in anything.. I destroyed everything..[you had to start somewhere, right?] I cant find meaning in anything.

I just need someone, i just need not to be alone. But I am; Even surrounded by everyone. I know I am. I know you are too.. I hope you are strong enough to endure it.

[hablabas de otro tipo de soledad, lo se, pero vos todavia no lo sabias, o si?]

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Sometimes I feel like I forgot an important part of being alive. I remember a different version of myself from a few years back. I feel like I'm just existing; nothing pushes my happy button. And when I'm not strong enough to think that it's fine; that I don't need that.. I will just panic questioning myself why, the reason for me not belonging. I know it's fine; I know I can just spend the rest of my..50years left? just doing this; living this eternal circling hell. You might say it's a choice.. That I don't put that much effort into it. That I'm just playing this part. Complaining my ass off. And to that.. I can only say I'm sorry.. I'm doing the best I can. [I know you were.. truly; and u did a great job never letting me down] _________________________________________

Why are we even here right.. What powers you? You wake up, work or study, ingest food, sleep. Repeat. To finish your career and become something.. To earn enough money to become someone.. Be better in what you're doing or you'll be out. You'll be useless. You'll be garbage. We[the system] won't need you.. And then we have to be happy about it.. We have to function collectively happy and there's no room for the outcasts.. And IM to blame for it.. I could be happy like all of them.. But I'm just sitting my ass here thinking what else I can sabotage, in order to understand why it's unnecessary and wish to be also capable of that... Just capable maybe of.. not be weird; not be me.. And sometimes thats all that matters. That Im me.. And I love not being a part of them. I just can never get a hold of that moment and make it last.. I will feel alone just a moment after. [Im so glad we worked our loneliness, I mean, we have such fine moments in silence..]

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Aah... I was just given advice by a hot girl on tinder about how should I type, express and resume myself so the person on the other side of the screen won't stop replying thinking I'm an idiot.. She basically said :- "hey, you're an idiot but maybe a cute one. Here's human help. Just stop being you and people will like you" Y'know what? that's bullshit... It makes me so anxious that it happens all the time. There's always someone judgin. Not only online; real life is the worst. I just don't fit in here I guess. I'll keep talking with the tinder girl, maybe and get emptynessly laid, why not? But I think I hate this.. I hate that everything craves for a definition and people just won't LOOK; Im hidden among them... God how I wish to know who's there ravaging their brains with questions while walking in that empty crowd. I wish I could find you and ask just what you were thinking there. At that unique moment. You are not alone... But if you feel like I do; I wonder if you also wonder. I wonder if we're just very far away from each other.. I wonder if it`s true that there can only be one of us by this cosmic rule that goes: only one 'you/me' for every thousand people. Or.. maybe it's just me. Too old to be an idiot... Too idiot to fully be himself around smart well adjusted people. I guess it's a matter of perspective. isn't it pretty much all? Have a good night stranger.. [Not so stranger.. my dude.. U didn't get laid btw, you couldn't pull through with that. And then you promised you wouldn't lie about who you are.. You wouldn't ever play another role other than the one you are. Well, it was more like a statement than a promise, to yourself. I was there.. Best decision you ever made. You mutated loneliness into a condition, a simple symptom of your choice of living; instead of a disease on itself.. Very clever.]

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You don't have to read but if you wanna unload please write it down. Everything u hate.. or love; This I wrote on my personal account but it makes me anxious to open myself to judgy people, so I erased it.. We live to judge because we love fixing things that didn't go right with us. Never understanding each perspective is unique. Well Im gonna paste it here because I don't want to lose it.. I don't want something I really meant to be just a deleted thing..(even if it is)

Have u ever felt like you're unique or different? But then just analyzing, we all just walk towards and objective. We don't do things just because. You don't get up every day to just go to work.. to just have breakfast or go shopping, idk; people set goals. We follow patterns. We repeat the same exact thing to strangers of the streets. The same exact things other strangers reply to us.. We are the same NPCs to others. And then realizing this I just wanna scream PLEASE GET ME OUT OF THIS. Please look at me! I don't want this. I don't want to be aware of this.. I don't want to feel I'm just to you what you guess I am. What's the point of everything? How do I get to know who I am if I'm always this self-centered stupid attempt of somebody? Nobody wants that. Sometimes I am glad to be "awake". To be different from the other people in their bubbles... But most of the time I'd give EVERYTHING to be exactly like that. Because I feel lonely. Because I have so many friends, but we can't communicate. Because I've lost the ideal of love because at a certain point I was scared of being a problem and it hurts so fucking much. I don't think I am special.. or more intelligent or cultural, I just feel I have a different degree of "profoundness" than most other people. It's not something I talk about or show, most of the time i pretend to fit in, but I don't. I can fool myself for periods, I've fooled myself for so many years now, but in the end it always comes back, I can't hide it forever. it hurts so much. I don't know if it's a blessing or a curse and I feel like a fucking show-off that just wants attention..

[I felt that.. dude. You write beautifully..]

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Hi person reading this. Be nice, life is full of shitty people. Make a tiny difference; someday we're all gonna die so its cool. Dont hold grudges ^^ . [^^]

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We are all just internet jesters shitposting to fill the void Even if you're just taking selfies and being beautiful while loving life, smiling to nothing and eating healthy shit while showing off the new place you just visited to a bunch of strangers that doesn't give a fuck about you .. (actually those are the worsts) yeah.. (Don't get me wrong I'm not saying it's bad. I do that too ! we like showing ourselves to others..) Screaming... I exist. Notice me sempai. We just are ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

________________________________________________ *draw of myself* [couldnt find it anywhere, where did u put it D: . i remember the sad expression] I know It has a lot of imperfections but so do I. I guess this is how I see myself.. Maybe I just wanted it to be like that. To express something to myself. I still feel like a little kid sometimes even tho I'm 25; "I just can't play with the other kids because I feel different and they make me feel different." Now I can't play with the adults, they're too adults. They make me feel too adult; i need to act up every move to become like them. And then alone, I can be at peace being who I wanna be; But it gets lonely from time to time; Not being able to understand who are you really; where are you really above the necessity of impersonating this other dude to get laid, get the job, get the money. And for what?.. Just to keep doing it because there is really no other choice.. How sad. But anyway. Ever tried to draw yourself? To see what's the image of you that you hold in your head.. if u truly do it; it doesn't matter if you know or not how to proyect yourself.. Every trace you make on that paper is a creation this world has never seen.. your chance to make a difference; it doesn't have to be trendy or impact in mankind. I suppose that's what I call art. And that's why art is everywhere.. Everything that can never be repeated.. Anything that comes from you; or life itself. A random amount of dirt.. Sunlight getting through the leaves of a tree.. Pieces of a broken cup and the stain of coffee in the carpet.. I'm not an artist myself tho; never considered myself even close to one.. I haven't drawn in years.. This is my first one in a long time; I just felt like it.

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