#breakingbelljar

[lumierc]

“I’d do anything to make you stay.” >:)

when the one you love is hurting, how can you not ache with them?

how can you stay mad?

she knows she still has every right to walk out that door, for their love has gone bad. it has become something malicious with teeth that tears — and they have never been cruel people ( he has never been cruel to her until recently. but she knows. she knows whatever cruelty he is treating her with, he is torturing himself in a way much harsher that her suffering would pale next to his ). but at that moment, none of it matters. not the agony that he induced, the fight that just happened or the jarring words that still ring loud in her head like a broken tape on replay.

he is still the man she knows despite everything that’s changed. there are still parts of him that love her despite all the damage that’s been done. there are still reasons that make staying worth it, and she’d never want to lose him. not any day, in any universe. 

and so she stays. how can she not when it’s him that asks her to?

“anything?” she whispers, her throat still burning from the poison that they spit into each other, but her feet are no longer desperate to run, and her lips are slowly curling into a smile. a jaded one laden with blues, but a smile nonetheless. the warmth of his hand feels like home ( along with the roughness of it, the certainty with which it holds hers ), comforting her in a way that only he can when she is consumed by the violent waves of emotions. ( it is strange, isn’t it? to be comforted by the one that made you hurt in the first place? ) she thought that was it. she thought it was not going to happen, she thought he was going to just let her go. 

( she is glad that he didn’t let her. that he asked before he gave up because she would. she’d stay and stay and stay, as long as he wants her to. ) 

she pulls him closer by the arm that reaches for her before she stumbles into an embrace and is startled by the raw desperation of it. how long has it been since they last held each other? since she let herself collapse in his arms? how long since they replaced love with venom? “start by talking.” she murmurs into the nape of his neck, as her arms cling onto him like a fretful child plagued by the dark tales of the night. ( it was close — she almost lost him. ) 

“tell me everything.”

[demondarlington]

💖

nay you beautiful pumpkin. you’re so kind, and sweet, but also so incredibly fierce. you love hard, and you love well, and i think if you never accomplish anything else in this world (which you obviously will), then you still would’ve accomplished more than most. i also think you’re so damn talented, and your writing always such such a beautiful voice to it. i know you’ve been having it rough, so i also want you to know that you’re loved. that i’m thankful for you. thank you for existing, for creating, and for letting me be a small part in that.

Send 💖 for something positive.

[hallaheart]

breakingbelljar started following you

welcome to the coconut blog

[salcmes]

voldemort. sirius. luna.

Voldemort: what 3 items would you chose to be your horcruxes?

Three rubies, that I’d bury in three different places. Throwing them to the bottom of the ocean seems more effective, but then I’d never be able to find them when I got tired of immortality.

Sirius: if you became an animagus, which animal would you choose?

A black cat.

Luna: do other people tend to think of you as strange?

Fuck yes, just - yes. I’m Luna Lovegood’s evil twin, I’m the weird person at work, it’s a part of my identity. 

[penelopehalliwell]

arabella wilson + aesthetics 

i look young but inside i am old and filled with the deaths of other people.

[danwilds]

✔ yes yes yes

tysm !!

send me a “✔” if i’m one of your favorite blogs

[lumierc]

“Come on, is this what you want?” you know who~

when they were younger, it was never a hassle to slip into his house. she knew everything about it, or she liked to think so. she knew he always kept his window open before the winter dawned. and when it was locked, she knew where the secret key lied. sometimes she would find his mother, disheveled and overworked, in one of those rare incidences that her shift didn’t overrun. the lady who’d squeeze her a smile despite her exhaustion, one that fran would return the same warmth, the same softness with her own. 

sam, to many others, was a mystery no less than she was. but she’d always known where to find him.

except it was harder these days. days when the skies were greyer and she could feel him slipping away, little by little. these days, he would no longer be found in his room, bickering with his siblings over trivialities on the phone, with an envy that she, too, had the luxury of companionship, no matter how often he lamented about it. these days, it was rare to find him with the awkward yet candid smile that shone in his eyes the first day they met. these days, it was more common to find him dolorous and desperate, with a bottle in his rough hands instead of his cherished camera. there seemed to be an air of despair that loomed over him like a derisive storm, accompanied by a stench of overconsumed vodka in the air, of despair, of lost hopes.

and this was her selfishness talking: she just couldn’t quite grasp why he was suffering so much from such loneliness — as though the whole world had deserted him.

no, she had always been by his side. 

                        — now he just didn’t want her to be.

it was not the first time she found him like this. terrible mood, terrible tone, terrible attitude. in fact, the absence of bewilderment had wounded her and laid upon her a weight that she could not explain. as a child of no roots, she was no stranger to changes. but the sight of him had her wondering just what had happened, and it had frightened her how little she knew. it was as though their lives were separate instead of merged, and he had flipped through pages that she could no longer catch up on.

it had become a pattern: she would attempt to take away what was poisoning him, and he would resist in sloppy movements. but this time, he was more defiant than before, as though the act of caring was a sin of its own.

she heard the venomous words slipped from his mouth and all she could do was laugh. no delighted chuckle as in their first encounter, but one as bitter as the cheap liquor that she was trying to draw him from. was this what she wanted? to see him like this, all battered and broken and nothing like the man she once knew, the wonderful person that she fell in love with? she wished she could tell him how much this was hurting her, too, and how it could all be fixed if he’d just let her in. 

she wished she could tell him she did not just sign up to be there for the pretty parts, that she would stay with him through all of this. and she would’ve said it, if she couldn’t already tell how he would answer with an indignant i don’t need this. she had envisaged all of it. how she’d know that he did not truly mean any malice, that it was only the alcohol talking, but she would feel the dagger in her nonetheless, and frankly, she would not know how to not cry after that, so she would rather not tell him.

“yeah.” she heaved, a weary smile on her chapped lips as she sat on the floor, sinking onto it as fatigue was sinking into her bones. she was tired and helpless, but of course, no more than he was. they used to tell each other everything — now they could barely talk without fighting. “it’s silly, right? me wanting my best friend back.” her eyes lingered on him, but the cutting indifference made her look down to her fidgeting hands. she wished she knew all the right words to say, but her mind was a labyrinth that all her thoughts got lost in. “i just... i want you back. i want you to let me in. i want to help.” the firmness of her voice surprised her, before it deflated into a voiceless murmur. “— and i really miss you.”

[demondarlington]

DO NICOLE AND AARON FOR THE SLURRED WORDS THINK OK YES

she's frustrating, asnd agnnoying, and the biggest fucking brat i'vze ever met. she ahs tlhe entirhe world at hezr feet and ohemsow all she sees is this blackness, this void. it's so exasperating becaues she has iwt all. but hse doesn't nwant it eall. di see it every time ai look ta her, sthere's this blanpkness, this detachment. expcept when she's drunk, or whenever she seexs me. somehow i bring out something akin tto life in her. and she does the same for em. eoven her smell is intoxiita,ngc and her eyes drlaw me in just as much as her mouth drives me away.

send ‘slurred words’ for a drunk description of your character

[demondarlington]

🍷for Nicole & Aaron.

princess and her knight. biting comments. misunderstandings. sunflowers in a haze. maybe we aren’t so different. ( protect her ). mommy dearest. for the job. for her. a life of someone else. holding hair back. holding feelings back. secret touches. anger. hotels. no limits. cat and mouse. thorn in the side. pounding headaches. stolen glances. suppressed desires. ( you need me ). need. need. need. brat. emotionless. drunk. cold. too warm. your smell. home. shampoo after a shower. all dressed up with somewhere to go. dangerous but safe. so safe. teetering on an edge. pull. calm thoughts. heated arguments. nods of understanding. hands touching. knees brushing. hide and seek. never quiet.

[lumierc]

✴ - sam & frances >:)

SEND ME ✴ FOR MY CHARACTER’S REACTION TO SEEING YOURS KISSING SOMEONE ELSE

She thought it won’t hurt anymore. 

She thought when they are both grown-ups ( and far, far happier versions of themselves. better, too ), she will be able to look at him, to look at him in all that glorious happiness, and feel just as happy too. Even when guilt still follows her and nags her from time to time, the baggage of the leaver. Even when it is with someone else, even when it isn’t her making him smile like that anymore. Like the sun is behind his eyes, and he isn’t even aware of it.

( Like the stars are at his knees, and the whole world sings for him. )

She thought ( she wished ) she will be able to treat him just like an old friend, like any other. One of those she shared pieces of herself with, whose path crossed and eventually parted with hers, like any other. Doesn’t that always happen, doesn’t everything come to an end, and hasn’t she always believed so? That nothing is permanent, and the world is an ever-changing canvas, that new beginnings are born as often as endings are met.

But here is the thing: he isn’t any other, and there is no burial for what was once their love.

( How can one dismiss what’s once their whole world as a mere passerby? How can the quiet the chaos of her heart and walk without a glance? )

He is there when it rains so hard that it sounds like pebbles thrown at her windows, when her stomach aches from an abundance of laughter, when the sun is hiding and the day is colder, when someone mentions the word forever and she can’t help but see his face. He is a permanence in her heart, an opening that seems to never heal. She does not like it, but it’s just how life is: some ghosts never leave — some stay forever and make a permanent home from the hollow of her heart; some memories never fade with the ticking of the clock, some leave a void in her chest when they revisit without a knock.

She wanted to believe it won’t hurt anymore ( so she made believe ), but it is shattered the moment she sees him again. 

He is not just an old friend. 

He has never been just a friend, and he never will be.

He is the sun, the stars and everything in between, and all she can do is stare.

( How do you look at a part of your soul staring back at you without feeling something, anything? Like air was sucked out of your lungs, and your heart raced from the fear of suffocation? The fear of looking at part of yourself separate from you, and know in your heart that you will never be as whole as you used to? )

He looks about the same. Older and more mature, perhaps, but she will always recognize that boyish charm in his smile, one that never ages with time. The same worn leather jacket that he will never turn his back from, not even in the heat of the summer, the same laugh that can warm the coldest of hearts. As radiant is the smile on the girl in his arms, her laughter just as warm as his. 

No one will doubt the happiness that glows on them, a happiness that her mind is trying hard to grasp as pain snatches and pierces her from all angles.

But she understands.

She remembers.

It just doesn’t make her smile the way it used to. 

Now it paints her world a burning, scarring red, and she bleeds all over.

Are you okay? Her friend asks with a concerned tab on her shoulder, but she doesn’t register it til moments later. Right then, they are foreign words from a foreign mouth. Blinking, she turns her head from the vanishing pair, submerged in the sea of strangers, while the sounds of their laughter still resonate on her mind. Yeah. A nod, a customary smile stitched on her lips, a shrug accompanied by a heaviness that only grows.

( How can she continue without looking back? How can she silence the howling and numb the aching of her heart? )

She thought it won’t hurt anymore. But it does, it does, it does.

She wanted to believe it won’t hurt anymore. Well, maybe someday. She repeats quietly to herself like a mantra, a lie that she refuses to give up on. Maybe someday, but not today.

[whispcr]

breakingbelljar replied to your photoset “tagged by @khonglee & @kaladndekars & @parkingsonwrites !!! thanks,...”

um you're so hot bye

omg nay pls you are the most precious. ahh i am flattered ♥♥♥

[demondarlington]

No matter what it is, you'll make it through it - with your sanity at least partially intact. I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!

you’re a babeee

[demondarlington]

you are equal amounts angst monster and beautiful soul. also, hoo boy can you smut, tanya dearborn.

dELETE THIS

[whispcr]

“I’m sorry” kiss (VANE)

“I’m sorry” kiss // @breakingbelljar

Dane Wolff was a colossal idiot. This was not breaking information. She lived recklessly, stupidly, and prided herself on the fact. She left a trailing blaze of fire in her wake and burned what she touched, singed it all to ash for she had no use for anything that was behind her. She was not the type to look back or dwell on regrets. Hell, she didn’t have regrets. That was the kind of wild life she wanted to leave. One day, she was determined to pull a Chris McCandless and evaporate into thin air from this wreck of a town. She wouldn’t head to the wilderness, however, but would roam from city to city until she hit the coast and begin all over again. ( Contrary to what may have been popular belief, she could read. Not very well nor very fast, but her interest had been piqued enough for Into the Wild to hold her attention. )

There was nothing that rooted her to this town. A deadbeat father who was either gone on the road or loafing on the sofa, older brothers who had long since abandoned her. One was a nothing, never amounted to anything and probably would be back in jail before long for breaking the condition of parole; the other had made it to a management position last she had heard. She had no interest in following the path of either of them.

She was her own person, independent, and she didn’t need anyone to tell her what to do or how to be. She couldn’t count on anyone but herself.

She had spouted out similar lines with her tongue hot and sharp. In the last couple of weeks, after her blood had stopped boiling and ran cold, Dane had gotten her first taste of regret. The taste was bitter on her offending tongue, scalding and hard to swallow. But her pride had been thicker and even less willing to go down. And the days that she had gone without talking to Valentina James turned to weeks until it was soon nearing on a month.

Val called her a Great Dane, a punny barb at her oddly suited name, but a Great Dane was a dog that was loyal. Dane felt that her last name was more appropriate for her, the lone wolf who rejected the idea of a pack. Better to turn away now, Dane reasoned, than wind up inevitably disappointing Val and being the one that was rejected at the end.

Some could call her a coward, but mostly she was just stupid. It did take a fair share of bravery, after all, to show up at the James’ estate in the middle of the night. Wanting to keep her idiocy to a minimum, she did not ring the doorbell nor did she attempt to access Valentina’s window from a tree for no such tree existed. So she took a page out of the thriller genre rather than romantic comedy and climbed her way over the fence to the backyard. It was a gamble, but she knew that the family had a dog that they let in and out through the night.

So maybe – no dice. Lips pursing, Dane wiggled the door knob to no avail. The simple (read as: smart) solution would have been to wait until morning. Or to throw Val a text. But Dane Wolff was not only stupid; she was also stubborn. And her cell phone’s service had been cut off, her father once again neglecting to pay the bill on time.

Kneeling down by the window of the patio, Dane tapped on the glass with her finger, hearing the faint jingle that followed before a furry face appeared. Continuing to incessantly tap now that she had the dog’s attention, she didn’t stop her motions until barks echoed through the house.

“Good guard dog,” the blonde muttered before she was making a dash for the shed, hiding behind it and waiting with baited breath. She could only hope that the dog didn’t sniff her out where she was perched on her knees, head peering out once she saw the inflection of the patio light.

Val’s room was closest to the kitchen, so she wasn’t too surprised to see that it was the dark-haired teenager standing there to let the dog out, silk robe wrapped around her and a displeased scowl on her face.

Dane had lucked out that she had come on a night where Val stayed in but maybe the other girl was the same as her. Maybe she had also discovered that creating havoc and tearing up the town wasn’t nearly as fun without each other.

Before the dog could reveal her location, Dane straightened up her legs and turned the corner of the shed to step to where the light of the patio could shine on her figure. She pulled down the hood of her jacket and held up a hand. “So, before you say anything, yes, I’m an idiot. The worst kind of idiot which I’m sure there’s a more fancy word for, but we all know you’re the smart one in this relationship.” 

Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Some kind of relationship and if that didn’t bring a tremor of terror to her shaking bones. She was no good at maintaining relationships of any kind. She’d never seen an example of a good relationship. That meant that she was going to have to bullshit her way through it like she did everything else. Yet despite them both being headstrong girls, Dane feared what could happen if she half-assed it. It seemed far too delicate of a thing for her clumsy hands to try and hold onto. 

She had to be all-in and she had never put forth much effort toward anything before. And she still had her pride to think about, “But we also know I’m the adventurous one and you must have been bored out of your mind without me if you’re at home on a Saturday night.” Not that she was one to talk. 

This whole apology thing wasn’t going well for her and falling quite flat, if the unimpressed look flitting over Valentina’s face was anything to go by. Dane threw up a helpless shrug. “I’m not sure what you want from me,” Nor was she sure that she could be what Val wanted. “But I have been thinking lately…” The pause that followed was elongated, Dane’s face twisting and morphing unpleasantly, the words hard for her to muster and admit, “That maybe I can count on you…” She was quick to qualify the statement, “For some fun. That maybe it’s kinda nice fo you to be my player 2.”

Deciding that she was done with fumbling words, Dane closed the gap between them. There was a chasm that existed between them, a distance that was difficult to bridge considering their stubbornness and different upbringingings. Valentina was all ice and Dane was all fire, yet some days, it felt like Dane was the one that was melting, chinks of her armor falling off. 

Wrapping her arms about Valentina’s neck, she locked her lips with hers, melding their mouths together roughly. She was always going to be coarse and she was always going to swear like a sailor and she was never going to amount to the potential that Valentina had. But maybe there was a reason they were the same height. Maybe, for all their differences, despite them, they could find a way to walk together. On equal footing. Beside each other rather than apart.