nvrhere - Tumblr blog

[nvrhere]

… yeah.

"Can't two guys be just friends?" If they stop looking at each other like that then sure

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"One day I will get over them I swear"

*Looks at the 200+ open ao3 tabs*

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i think my favorite thing about sterek is how much of a loser they both are. Like, think about it. Derek, practically a loner and not by choice, had to bite a bunch of teenagers to keep them around him. Stile’ best use to his “friends” is coming in handy for research before they inevitably ignore him again.

And they both just. think the other is the coolest person ever. Like holy shit, werewolf Derek is super strong and capable and never gets flustered the way stiles does. Or how stiles is fast as a whip, always saving the day without any type of supernatural ability. It’s like they were made for just each other?

They find each other always, look for each other in every danger, when no one else does. And yea, even when stiles and Lydia got super close or Derek had allies, they still kept the other in that special spot. Not too far but still in the back of their mind so someone can look out for them.

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[nvrhere]

“You never let anyone get close enough to hurt you” you said to me right before I let you close enough and right before you hurt me.

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QUICK ! which wlw are you ?

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it’s weird that when i was going through the worst shit of my life , i’d consume the most vile , disgusting , gorey media possible. it was almost like a comfort.

now it’s like i can’t even look at that shit without barfing , i feel proud of how far i came . almost fully normal

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the thing about being replaced is it’s a feeling you deny up until it sits right in front of your face.

once things are clear- and you and everyone- comes to the understanding that someone else is receiving your affection, the moments already passed.

and it sucks.

a lot.

even when she deserves it because she really is that great and lovable.

she’s just better. she laughs louder, her cheeks tinge pink with it. when she does it, she turns towards you and places both hands on your forearm with a gentle grasp. you feel taken when all of her eyes and lips angle themselves towards your being. it makes your chest puff up in a proudness that only someone so great and lovable can make you do.

I’ve never been great or lovable.

I’ve always been told im too rough. my face gets serious in all the wrong moments, and i look at you with a tentative smile instead of something wide and so open to receiving anything you can give.

i have nothing to take. im so full of sadness, so tinged with blue. there’s no more marks on this canvas worth making. the picture so ugly and wide.

she’s a painting of a cloud, always pleasant to look at whether its at high morning or at sunset. all of her at any time is digestible.

and its so unfair, isn’t it? That we have the same colors and you just show them better, you just carry it lighter.

but you deserve that love, i swear it. you were born deserving, grew up deserving. so deserving no one told you different. no one beat you down to ensure you knew you were any less deserving. no one proved it to you the way they did with me.

so when i see you replaced me, I let the moment pass. i let the laughter wash the hurt right out of me.

[nvrhere]

//TW//Ab*se, M*rder//

G*ps* R*se is honestly a better person than me, cause my mom would have to beg to only have those stab wounds to part earth with.

She would’ve personally been fed every drop of medicine left from that big ass pantry from my own hand. I would’ve made sure she wouldn’t feel a thing in any of her muscles expect the brain. And rest assured, she’d be parked in that wheelchair in front of loud ass cartoons until she kills herself from lunacy.

She got off too fucking easy. Mental abuse is a killer; a million times more deadly than physical abuse the way it burns on your soul for your entire life. The lights look different, you can hear them buzz louder. Footsteps aren’t just soft padded noises, they come down like thunder and they match your heartbeat. You feel suffocated, trapped, in a cycle of betraying them or yourself. You are never the victim even when you so very much are.

The PTSD is the same, I guess. You flinch at movement, have nightmares, search for a way out in every space you occupy, think of the entire conversation and rehearse it over and over before they happen, and you never feel alone.

G*ps* is luckier in a way. Her abuser messed up by letting her feel too unloved, and the guilt that bitches life was floating on sunk, hard.

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In my dreams, your hair is still blond, even though it’s clearly brunette in your instagram profile picture. I stare at it after I wake up, glancing at the lock to show your posts are private. You still smile openly. It says “kate,” but that was never your nickname when I knew you.

I still know you, I know your smile. It’s the same and I know this because you go from 16 in my dreams to 22 in that silly picture. You’re holding a dog, but it’s not your poodle. I wonder his name and wish you still send silly snaps that I learned Bob’s name from. I stare at that too. It’s ugly.

The bitmoji, I mean. Never you. You were the beautiful one between the two of us. I remember staring at you studying for hours, it’s always after you finish quieting my sobs. I hate my family, you were more a sister to me. You were more than a sister to me.

We stopped talking because you sent nudes to the guy I liked. I never liked him, I never liked the way he saw you naked. Before I got to. And wasnt that sick? That I would wonder when you’d be comfortable enough to show me something up close like your chest. It didn’t seem as personal seeing as you lived inside of mine.

Your name isn’t “Kate.” You don’t like weiner dogs, they remind you of sausage and you’re a vegetarian. You love volkswagen beetles, but theres a jeep behind you. You also hate profile pictures. When I meant more to you, it was a picture of us. We were covering our face in my backyard. Being silly teens, and we printed it out at school just because we wanted proof.

I want proof of you. I imagine you under me, arms wrapped around my neck as I breathe onto your chest. You rub your hands over my hair, whispering how much you’ve missed me. I missed you more, and I prove it with my tongue. I claim you and keep you under me, protected and safe. Away from boys, the world, my family. Away from a world where I stare at your private instagram profile at 4 in the morning and I’ve got work in 3 hours and my hand’s aching and I want you back even as my best friend and you’re at college upstate and I could just drive the 6 hours and scare you or i could simply message the number that I hope is still yours with a “hi.” I don’t text you at all.

I live quietly until the ache comes back, and I open instagram on my phone again.

When I think about my ex best friend and wish I could tell her everything going on in my life again.

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ALSO DOES THIS NOT SEEM LIKE DEREK AND STILES TO YOU? IS THAT WHO I AM NOW? LIKE FROM COMFORT CHARACTER TO BECOMING HIM?

It’s like the yin to my yang.

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It’s like the yin to my yang.

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creepy groomer i used to work with when i was 17 started texting me again . i think he’s 28 now.

strange? does he not remember how the entire circumstance of which i let him step within the mandated 6 feet during covid was because i liked the attention from older men?

being in my 20’s just means i like them 40 and up now , not guys a mere 6 years older.

i was thinking about making a tinder just to message them and feel a rush but ik that’ll crash and burn so badly. a whole population of men with nothing to lose having a picture of my face and sweet words from me. i can already feel the fear and i’m trying to convince myself it’s a bad fear NOT a good one.

he’s messaged me twice now . just a “hey,” and I wonder what he means. Is it to get my attention , is he hoping I’ve kept the same number , is he scared of saying what he wants. does a shark announce he’s going to tear your limb from your body or does it just unhinge it’s jaw awaiting the moment where it swims close enough to snap shut?

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— Nitya Prakash

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getting a job is so hard because now you have new coworkers and a uniform and an older manager who tells you that you’re doing so good. he hovers around you at the register in that ridiculous plaid shirt and you wonder if his wife bought it for him or not. you get customers commenting on your banter asking if you’re father and daughter and you bite your lip when he laughs. he bumps into you by accident all the time and says sorry as he glances back and you realizes he never glances at anyone else. his way of talking to women is to look off in the distance far above their head and it works cause he’s so tall, but he somehow always finds your eyes. he smiles and teases you in the break room and you just think, please god just do it now. then reality sets in and you remember his response to the woman’s question was that his daughter is four years old and his wife is on his lock screen. he apologizes for even grazing your fingers because there are sexual harassment awareness posters all over the staff lounge and the other manager is friends with your very protective father. and having a new job is just so hard.