#creative writting

[that-gay-ocean-guy]

Do y’all ever wonder if plants have souls? Like when we cut down trees can the ghost of the trees haunt us?

[trinajanagap]

World

you said you found your person

but didn’t appreciate nor reciprocate.

made them leave and when they did,

they end up being blamed for it.

you gave all the reasons

and pushed them out of your home.

your decisions changes every season,

no wonder you often find yourself alone.

is it really the world being cruel?

or is it you being cruel to what was given?

it’s not the world to be blame for this time,

the world just made it even.

[lilismoonhouse]

Yellow light issues

There was a life time After a lifetime I covered the path with stones Made my decisions my own I never doubted it Maybe someday I did I can not find it I can not find who I was before here

They traveled miles But what's that supposed to mean? Maybe I've born tired Of the idea of "playing be" I'm not pretnding I'm simply changing Dressing me out Etheral landing

Yellow light issues Night's wierd visions Tyler what's your number? I feel like I'm lost again But I lost your number too... Shit!

- Lili (me ;) )

[tazzx]

The blues~ (original creative poetry)

This morning when I awoke,

The room stirred in the blues.

For it was morning alright.

But no light has woken up as the town heads up.

For the sky was filled of clouds.

Not just any clouds,

The ones that fall of the heavy rainstorm.

The ones that rest on the ground on a cold winter day.

But has it not rained; for we are not at winter.

For the sky took a resemblance to my insides.

Organs, nerves, vessels for it is their home.

As it is home to my thoughts,

Thoughts hard to see, hard to feel it's true meaning and not the misconception that is translated.

Thoughts that look like "Fog" I lay my eyes upon the blues.

[bradandbasket]

🦋 Blue Butterfly 🦋

Once upon a time, in a kingdom cloaked in tradition, lived a young boy named Milo. Unlike the others, whose hearts were tethered to expectations, Milo felt a secret tug toward another boy, Theo. Their bond, as precious as a whispered dream, was forbidden by the rigid rules of their land. Love, the elders preached, was a duty, a pact between families to ensure the kingdom's prosperity. But the fluttering in Milo's chest whenever Theo's laughter echoed across the marketplace defied such pronouncements.

One breathless summer day, the stifling confines of the castle walls pressed down on Milo. He yearned for a breath of freedom, a glimpse of anything beyond the endless rows of identical houses and preordained lives. He confided in Theo, a mischievous glint in his eyes usually reserved for daring pranks. Theo, ever the adventurer, grinned. "The whispering woods," he declared, a thrill lacing his voice. "They say it's a place untouched by the kingdom's grip."

The woods, a haven of emerald shadows and tangled secrets, welcomed them with a cool embrace. Sunlight dappled through the leaves, illuminating a tapestry of wildflowers. As they delved deeper, a flicker of blue caught their eye. A butterfly, its wings the color of a summer sky after a downpour, flitted amongst the wildflowers.

"Theo, look!" Milo's voice hushed with awe. He reached out, but the butterfly, a wisp of freedom, fluttered away. Its iridescent wings led them on a silent chase, deeper into the hushed embrace of the forest.

Curiosity, a familiar companion in Theo's mischievous heart, tugged at their heels. They followed the butterfly's mesmerizing dance, sunlight filtering through the leaves, painting fleeting patterns on the forest floor. It led them to a hidden clearing, bathed in the golden caress of sunlight. A majestic tree stood at its center, its branches reaching for the heavens like the gnarled fingers of an ancient being.

As they drew closer, the butterfly, alighting on Milo's shoulder, spoke in a voice like wind chimes. "Follow your heart," it breathed.

Milo's heart hammered against his ribs. He met Theo's gaze, a spark of defiance igniting within him. "Theo," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "I love you. No matter what they say, I want you by my side."

Tears welled in Theo's eyes. He grasped Milo's hand, a silent promise echoing in the touch. "I love you too, Milo. We'll face anything, together."

The ground trembled, a low rumble resonating through the clearing. The ancient tree's branches erupted in a dazzling blue light. The butterfly, a metamorphosis complete, transformed into a radiant fairy.

"Your love, pure and courageous," the fairy's voice resonated, "has earned a reward." With a wave of her hand, a shimmering blue light engulfed Milo and Theo. They gazed at each other, a love story unfolding in their eyes.

News of their bond spread like wildfire, challenging the kingdom's rigid beliefs. Inspired by Milo and Theo's unwavering love, whispers of dissent rippled through the cobbled streets. The baker, a woman with eyes as warm as her cinnamon rolls, recounted the legend of two star-crossed lovers who defied a tyrannical king. The blacksmith, a gruff man whose hands held the strength of a hundred battles, spoke of a time when love, not duty, was the cornerstone of a strong kingdom.

The king, a man hardened by tradition, bristled at the rebellion brewing in the hearts of his people. But as he looked upon Milo and Theo, their faces aglow with an undeniable happiness, a flicker of doubt ignited within him. Could love, truly, be a threat?

The following week, a royal decree echoed through the town square. The king, it declared, had seen the error of his ways. Love, from that day forward, would be a choice, not a command. The kingdom, once shrouded in conformity, slowly bloomed into a kaleidoscope of colors, a testament to the transformative power of love in its purest form.

And so, Milo and Theo lived happily ever after, their love story a beacon of hope, forever reminding everyone that love, in its truest form, knows no bounds. It was a love that not only changed their lives, but the very fabric of their kingdom.

[frogboyjxden]

Robyn's record

Sooo we all know Robyn is not a very spidey spider, she is mostly considered a villain In her dimension. Let me explain her powers to you

So she is a shape shifter, can shape into people and can travel through the lack of light in the room, as long as darkness remains the walls will have ears. 

Her radioactive spider was cursed, therefore demonic, so she didn’t get the greatest experience, rough growth of pigment in her skin, her red marks on her body as a lot of meaning into it. Especially the spider in the middle of her chest

Her eyes are red, and light up whenever she feels like letting it spark

Her hair is inspired by Eris, the Goddess of Chaos and discord from the animation movie Sinbad: Legend of The Seven seas

She possesses claws because why not, its attractive

Her entire being is externally made out of pixie dust, I was inspired by a lot of Sandman characters, and I didn’t want her to be made out of sand, and I though about little grains of magic, and then Tinker Bell crossed my mind and I just stuck with it. 

She has night vision, super hearing, enhanced smell an heighten senses in her whole body and physical contact overwhelms  her

Her eyes have a particular story, so she basically had a fight when she just learned combat, and the opponent pulled out a knife and ripped both of her eyes. Which left her traumatized and blind for the most part, she basically became visually disabled and had to use her other senses in order to survive. The reason she is good at combat is because she used to train without vision, over time her eyes started to heal a little bit, she has a big fracture of the damage in the middle of eye. There are so habits that she still does, like staring at people too long because she tries to figure out what they’re doing, due to her vision absolutely it takes a lot of time. With people that she is close, she has to have a hand on their shoulder, arm, hands or face. Over time she realized that holding people’s hand makes them uncomfortable, she was so ashamed that she stopped doing that. 

[julygirl67]

Sunday

Its March sunny and cold

Birds sing

coffee brews

Cherry Blossoms brightly shine beanth the warmth of the sun

The wind is soft and crispy

a new day has begun

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

The Fisherman and the Mermaid

Pairing: Maron Grey x Maelstrom (fem. | mermaid )

Themes: Some danger | Soft ending

Warnings: Mentions of death | Mentions of storms at sea | Mentions of possible drowning | Brief mention of nudity

Summary: Maron, a poor fisherman from Pyke, makes use of a boat gifted to him by friends, and ends up lost at sea. 

Word count: 2.2k words

Minors DNI

Long before the building of the Wall and the Battle for the Dawn, there once was a young man living on an island now known to all as Pyke. He was a poor man, with neither birth nor fortune to his name. He had no horse, and no lord to command his services. All he had was a shack, a tiny spit of land to call his own, and a boat.

He did not mind. He believed in carving out his own destiny with the strength of his back and the sweat of his own brow. Day after day he would put his boat to sea, and day after day he would return, his body worn and his catch meager. And still, he did not mind. This man was content, you see, for while he may have been poor in coin, he was rich in loyal friends: Blacktide and Botley and Drumm, Greyiron and Harlaw and Tawney, and so many more. They broke bread with him, laughed with him, and listened to him when he wove his webs of dreams, and one day, on his twenty-fifth name day, they all collected what they could and brought him a new boat.

It was no great beauty, that boat. It was neither large nor grand, but it was beautiful in his eyes, for it was a gift gladly given. He thanked his friends heartily for it, and the next day, at the break of dawn, he set off again.

The day started gloriously. It was all warm sunshine and vivid blue skies and great big puffy clouds. The young man cast his nets, and waited. And waited. The hours passed and the sun rose higher, and his nets were empty. He rowed further out to sea and cast his nets. The sun rose higher still, and his nets remained empty. The young man did not give up. He rowed further still, hoping a third time would bring him luck. He cast his nets and prayed. His eyes grew heavy, and he yielded to sleep, thinking he was still safe.

The sky turned orange and gold when the sun began to set, and still he slept. The stars started to rise, one by one, and still he slept. The winds grew stronger, the air grew colder, and still he slept. The sky darkened, his boat rolled from side to side, and still, he slept. It was only when thunder boomed and lightning split the sky like a white-hot lance did he open his eyes. The young man looked on, sweat dripping down his brow and the sound of waves roaring in his ears, while clouds as dark as sin obscured the light of the stars and rain fell on him like an angry beast. There was not an inch of land to be seen. He had gone too far out to sea. Fear sank its talons into his flesh, threatening to rip him apart. The young man held onto his boat while it listed from side and side, praying to any god who could hear, to save him from a watery grave.

That was not to be. No God heard him. The storm raged and the man wept, blaming himself for his wretched fate.

If only he had kept to safer shores! If only he had been content and gone back, he could have lived to see another day! Alas, that was not to be. The young man wept and held on while the wind and rain slashed at him, certain of his doom. The winds grew stronger, and the waves rose higher. He closed his eyes and mustered his courage to meet his end.

That was not to be either. The temper in the air calmed, degree by slow degree. The wind, once howling and raging like a living thing, began to die down little by little. The waves, once roiling and threatening to drag him under, slowly calmed and stilled. The young man wanted to shout and laugh. He was alive. The skies and the seas had unleashed their worst, and he was alive. Never had he been more grateful than just then. He wanted to turn back and try to find land. Some land. At least until he could gather his bearings and set out again. He picked up his oars, ready to row long and hard.

That was when he heard it, drifting over the waves like a mist. It was a song, but unlike any melody he had ever heard. It was rich and haunting and beautiful and bewitching and tender, like a sweet confession to a lover. The young man stopped for a moment to listen. That song grew louder and drew closer, and yet he listened. He had never heard such a wondrous melody before. He may hear its like again. He rested his chin on his hand and waited.

The waves grew as still as a looking glass. The young man listened to the song, paying no mind to the small ripple in the water or the silhouette beneath it. There was another ripple, this time louder. The singing stopped. The clouds drifted, revealing a bright full moon. There was a strange stillness in the air. The young man felt like he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder, fearful of what he might see.

At the bow of his boat was a woman. She was half out of the water, leaning on the edge with great ease. The young man was struck dumb by the vision before him. The woman’s skin was the color of a glorious moonlit sea, and her eyes shone brightly like twin stars. Her hair fell past her waist like molten silver. She looked on with barely disguised curiosity. The young man inched closer and closer, equally curious about this creature. He peered over the edge. A beautiful tail of black and silver swished beneath the water. He was taken aback to find he was in the presence of a mermaid. 

"I am hungry," she said in his tongue. It shocked him. "Pray do you have anything to eat?"

The young man gulped in fright, but remembered his courtesies. "Just salted fish and bread soaked through, my lady," he replied, cautiously crawling over to the other end. "Will that serve?"

"Yes," she said as she swam beside him, her smile radiant, her voice like a song. "That will serve."

The young man nodded and dug around a worn oil-skin bag, wrinkling his face when he pulled out the wet food. Strange creature or not, he did not wish to serve anyone such pap. "This is all I have, my lady."

"It will serve," she replied again, her eyes filled with curiosity as she studied the man. Of men, she had heard of and seen plenty. The wretched tales the youngest among her sisters told her were enough to feed her nightmares. But this man… he seemed different. "Lost, are you?"

The young man laughed bitterly. "After a fashion, my lady." He unwrapped the parcels and presented the food, such as it was, to her. "I grew too bold, too greedy, and too desperate. Then I fell asleep. Now I am here." He looked around, his eyes widening at the endless expanse of sea. "Where is here, anyway?"

"You are near Lonely Light, sir," she replied, biting into the bread. It was soaked, just as he said, but she ate it anyway.

The name gave the young man the shivers. "I thought none but the dead may go there."

"My sisters and I are the judges of that," she said even as she helped herself to the salted fish. "And only those who come seeking things they should not meet their ends. Not those whose hearts beat true. They may stay for a night or two before leaving."

"Really? Then does my heart beat gentle and true?" he challenged, his lips tugging at the corners.

"Perhaps," she said, and finished the fish. "You seem decent enough. Tell me, sir, why are you here, so far away from your home?" 

"The fish," he said truthfully. "I thought I would have better luck with a better boat." 

"I see," she murmured, and studied the boat. "It is well made. Did you make it?"

"No. I do not have the coin for such fine wood and tools. My friends gave this to me as a gift."

"Loving friends indeed, to give you such a gift."

"They are indeed."

She studied him again. There was nothing in his easy manner and a ready smile that gave her cause for alarm, and unlike her younger sisters, she could peer into the hearts of mortals. It was a gift that was both a blessing and a curse, but Maelstrom was still grateful. She looked into his, and found it just as she expected it to be.

He has a good heart. And he has been generous with what little he has. A reward is in order.

"What is your name?" she asked finally.

"Maron," came his answer. "Maron Grey."

"My name means Maelstrom in your tongue," she said, before swimming away from the boat to sing.

Her singing was the same as before—utterly sweet and bewitching. Maron watched, his eyes widening, when more mermaids appeared in the water, each as beautiful as the next. They swam up to the boat. One of them tied a thick length of rope made of seaweed to one end. They all took turns swimming and pulling the boat along with them.

The stars were out in all their glory now. Maron could see them glimmering in the water like diamonds. The mermaids started to sing, their voices a glorious harmony filled with magic. He was content to listen, and his eyes widened once again when a strip of land appeared before his eyes. 

Lonely Light. None but the dead may visit here, so the minstrels said. The creatures that lived here were of myth and legend. Each was thought to be as generous and cruel as the sea. They would bless whomever they chose, the songs said, and hinder whomever they chose. Maron hoped he was the former and not the latter. The wrath of a mermaid was a terrifying thing, the songs said.

The boat was guided to a sheltered cove. The air was so thick with salt that it stung the eyes, but the sand was soft and warm beneath Maron’s feet. The mermaids bid him to stay with rest and entertain them with his tales. Maelstrom joined him on the beach, shocking him even more when her tail turned to legs the moment they brushed over the earth. She was unclad, and he looked away, his cheeks aflame, humble words of apology dripping off his tongue. Maelstrom laughed merrily and said, "What gentle manners this one has! Come, eat. You must be famished."

Maron glanced at his feet. A woven platter filled with fresh fruit and roasted fish lay before him. He ate until he had his fill, before accepting a cup of mead so light and sweet that he sighed as in a dream.

"Now sleep," Maelstrom urged, moving to one side while one of her sisters brought a soft mat of woven reeds for him to rest on. "On the morrow, I will guide you home."

Sleep claimed him without a struggle. Maron slept and dreamed. What beautiful dreams they were. When he awoke at dawn, his boat gleamed under the sunlight. The other mermaids were gone. Maelstrom was all that remained.

"My sisters and I will help you find the way back," she said, her feet barely leaving a mark on the sand while she walked. "Now come. I will guide you home. Your friends must surely be worrying over your safety."

Nearly a day passed before Maron reached his home and friends, but he never forgot the maiden who helped him. He would take his boat to see her daily and was pleased to find her waiting for him. Maelstrom showed where to fish and how much to catch. She told him stories that were strange and too outlandish to be true. He listened still, and told her tales of his home. His hauls and income grew, but he spoke to no one of the cause of his good luck. Oh, he shared his good fortune and helped his friends, but he would never tell his secret. Even as a wealthy man, he would still take his boat to sea, to meet the mermaid that had captivated him and haunted his dreams. Their bond grew, and a spark flashed between them. A deep and abiding love soon grew from that spark. Maelstrom would swim towards the shores Maron called home. He would meet her there in secret and take her to his place, where they dined and laughed and share pleasures. Their love soon resulted in a child. Maelstrom gave Maron a son, but he could never stay with his mother. His blood bound him to the lands of mortals, and he was to remain in his father’s world. The laws of Maelstrom's kin deemed it so. There was nothing either one of them could do.

Maron crafted a tale where he claimed to have bedded a serving girl while trading on the mainland. Since the mother in the story was lowborn, no one questioned him. The child grew strong and came to know his true mother. Maron would take him to sea to visit with her, or Maelstrom would join them at night for supper. She taught her son all she could and showed him all the secret ways of the world. That child became the Grey King, the slayer of Nagga, the first sea dragon, and the founding father of House Greyjoy. 

[the-nectar-of-the-gods]

Recovery - a stream of consciousness

I think I may be thawing, or at least I hope I am.

My frozen and stiff muscles are softening with the heat of the sun and ideas of who I used to be - who I (naive child as I was) was adamant on being forever - are melting away; dripping from my brain out of my nose - removing the toxicity that coursed within my bloodstream. Do you think nosebleeds can symbolise rebirth?

I think I'm afraid of showing the world and it's inhabitants the true colour of my blood - I was ashamed of it's boldness and slick, soft movement, pulsing as unapologetically as the oceans tides. It has currents and ferocious waves like the ocean too, boiling and swelling with the cycles of the moon, washing away sense of logic in times of defense; but, alas, the waves aren't always so ravenous as they are in these spells - and they will never be that way forever.

What I'm trying to say is that the ice-age is coming to an end, my walls are tearing away, melting off my bones like butter to hot iron, and I am becoming myself again.

[louiscrawfordportfolio]

This week I got published in Massive again, the student magazine for Massey University in their Media Issue. This is a satirical piece talking about the issues of Inspiration Porn in relation to people living with disabilities.

[trinajanagap]

God gave you a respectable woman

but you still disrespected her.

God is looking at you now confused,

thinking ‘twas what you’ve prayed for.

Compared her to your ex wife

saying, she was better than her.

no wonder she is so insecure;

her worth you brutally lowered.

You got loyalty you never deserved.

Innocence you continuously severed.

A wife you left unheard;

Her image now soiled and besmirched.

[m00n-sh]

I'm supposed to be writing a letter of resignation (e-mail) to send it to my boss this weekend but I got nervous and wrote a 652-words fake e-mail about burning at the stake on a public square written by the marketing/PR team of a big company.

[tazzx]

"Blank" (original poem) ~

I came to the dreadful realization,

A realization like no other,

For You see, I am simple,

I am blank.

I am the paper to whom you are intimidated by.

Just "live, run and scream" from the top of your lungs; " I am a speck on a rock". No, I am blank don't you see?

I have not been written nor drawn on.

I am what you avoid when entering a room for I am "Blank"

I am the cellulose, a pulp derived from wood and lignocellulosic materials such as cotton, rice wheat; I am paper.

Product made to conquer a purpose an idea a person...

Yet I remain blank. " A speck on a rock", yes, yes I am, but I am "Blank" can't you see?

I am waiting, please not too long for my filaments crumble apart at the "tik toc" of the clock.

For all I ask is to be useful not "blank".

Hope y'all enjoy "Blank". Is a poem I wrote at mid of the quarantine. Where all I felt was a need to be more than myself.

[bradandbasket]

I came across this quote on TikTok and it struck a chord with me. It made me realize that telling people how important they are isn't merely prompted by the fear of them leaving; rather, it's a genuine recognition of the value they bring to our lives in the present moment. In the hustle of life, it's easy to overlook the significance of those around us. So, expressing gratitude and affection becomes not just a precautionary measure but a heartfelt celebration of the people who make our lives richer, brighter, and more meaningful.

[frogboyjxden]

Robyn x Hobie; "Until then'

During Halloween, he saw her smiling so much, being happy, and being such a goofball around him throughout the whole night, he knew she was like that because she was extremely drunk, but he ignored that and just went along with it. It was like he missed someone he hadn’t seen in ages like he finally met the Robyn he loves. Of course, he took her home and bought dinner, they went to bed, cuddling and making out…a lot. And in that moment, he knew she was drunk and would not remember what happened the next day. For the first time in their relationship, he confessed his endless love to her, praising her, almost worshipping her, he was genuinely in love. Robyn smiled through it and told him he’s a goofball, she didn’t tell him she loved him directly, but she showed appreciation and gratefulness towards him, for the way he treats her and makes her happy, she admitted that she wouldn’t know what to do if she were him.  

However, the next day, they both woke and went back to their normal lives, Hobie was moody that day, Robyn didn’t remember much of what happened before going to sleep, which is what he wanted. He knew that if he confessed to her sober, she would not know what to say, the worse she could say is that she doesn’t feel entirely that way. Their relationship was complicated, they fought sometimes, but they were serious arguments. And he hated that she didn’t love him the way he does. To him, she didn’t like intimacy, or she didn’t like being touched, conversations were boring or most of the time flirty but nothing interesting, the only time they kissed was when they told each other how they feel. He misses those time, he thought he was doing something wrong, was he saying the right things, at the right time, they talked about her marriage and perceived her “husband” as mysterious and charming, he didn’t wanna admit it but he became quite insecure of that, he didn’t want to know if she was using him to move on, or something else other than loving who he is. Why was she so cold, why did she say nothing about her past, why is she making no physical contact with him, why can’t she look at him, why is she being an asshole and forgetting everything, why did she never tell him she is married, why is she so hypnotizing to him, she never told him one nice thing since they started dating, it’s just laughs and gags but there was never one moment of true intimacy and love, why does she look away and looks annoyed when he pulls her close to talk to her. She didn’t love him, she just used him for company, she loved the idea of being loved. He lost his mind… 

After a week or so, Hobie and Robyn needed to talk about this stuff. Hobie felt like Robyn was not committed to their relationship, he showed her a lot of love but to him she only showed him gratefulness, which wasn’t enough. 

H: Im going to be straight honest, I feel like there is a lack of commitment in this relationship from you, and its bothering me, not only because I feel like shit, but also because I see you, and I see you holding your heart back and it makes me angry, you don’t talk to me about yourself, you’re mean and coldhearted, you are a married woman, you never show me intimacy, you don’t want physical contact, you never tell me anything nice to me.

Robyn listened attentively, she was heartbroken for Hobie, she knew what she was putting him through and that was eating her inside, she learned to not trust people and say nothing personal. She did that with everyone in her life and no one said much, but this is a relationship, and she had to wake up.

The conversation went deeper on Hobie’s side, he kept on rambling about the problems in their relationship and started pointing out every little issue about Robyn. Her attitude, her tone, her glance, her body language, her use of words, the lack seriousness in her response and overall the biggest idgaf person of all time. Hobie wanted a relationship, with Robyn, he knows how she is inside, he sure that she doesn’t even know that. It doesn’t take two to notice that Robyn cannot notice her eyes say otherwise from her words. Hobie hated every second of this conversation, her silence was his eating him inside, she did not utter a word, he almost was sure she wasn’t breathing. For a moment Robyn turned her body away from Hobie and rested her back against him.

Again, she doesn’t like physical contact, so that startled Hobie at first. 

“I am not here to judge you, it’s not my job, but I can’t keep wha I said to myself. You have problems and you need to fix them…”

Hobie fucking hated this, his throat was dry from all of the rotten words and disgusting things coming out of his mouth. He felt ashamed of himself to even dare to critic Robyn, but he allowed himself to because he felt unseen and undervalued by her. Barely even breathing, Hobie’s thoughts were completely opposite from what he worded out. Mold grew around his delicate heart, his chest felt internally infected by his reckless words, as much as he felt he had the right to say these things to her, his brain could not stop running with aggravated thoughts. His thoughts struck him like getting hit by mental, sharp pains of headaches. Was he doing the right thing? Is this what he really wants?

Hobie underestimated his capacity of staying away from his partner, he was in denial, telling himself that he’d rather stay lonely then hug her tight without feeling her blood and her heart quicken the moment his rough skin stains her soft figure. It got so bad he started crying, holding his chest from bursting out, he couldn’t not stop the water fountain of tears pouring down his face.  Robyn breathing heavily and harshly, her soft hands squeezing the life out of his jacket, her curled up body physically begging for some touch.

“Until then, we need a break”

Everything stopped…

Hobie wanted to break up with Robyn, not because he didn’t love her anymore, but because she did not love herself, and that frustrated him, he did not want to be with someone who underestimated their own worth and capacity. He enjoyed the fact that he gave her confidence and took pride in praising his partner. Still, he was suffering, their relationship was quite empty, and he had a lot of himself to give and she didn’t, she preserved herself and made him wait for so long, he knew she didn’t trust him, and that showed, not being committed, tell him to deal with her being an asshole and hide things from him such as where she goes, who does she talk to. Hobie thought it was his job to wait and earn her trust but he was impatient, and he started to hate her. And he was right, she was emotionally unavailable and ran away each time intimacy or deep conversation was brought up.

 “Anyway, I don’t feel loved, I feel like I’m being used, I never realized that you just like the idea of being loved. I’m tired of playing around with the badass attitude and superiority complex, I know in your dimension you’re a worshipped individual but not here. I’m not changing my mind”

 Robyn felt her heart dislocating from chest, she didn’t realize how shitty she was, the truth is she didn’t know where to begin with herself, she never thought someone would love her. Hobie glanced at her and saw her face turned away, he knew it hurt her, he just had to give her a lesson. Robyn stood up, tears streaming down her cheek, she looked at the view and told him 

“I wanna fight for you and give you a reason to stay, but that wouldn’t be fair, I respect you and I understand” 

Hobie wanted to yell at her, tell her she should convince him to stay, but he knew that would not lead anywhere. And that’s how it ended, Robyn swung to Miguel’s office to tell him she would like to quit. And she went back to her dimension. 

After a long night of Hobie smashing furniture in his flatboat, he called Robyn all night because she had nowhere to sleep aside from his place and he was worried she did something stupid. He traveled to spider society looking for her but never found her. He went to Miguel and Jess, and they told him the news. Hobie was terrified because Robyn would freeze and tense up when he tried to ask her what her dimension was like, she told him it was bad but never got into the details. That day Hobie was devastated, he wondered if it was such a good idea to do what he did. They both hurt each other there was nothing else to do

Robyn ran through the city and found a spot to break things and cry, she loved him sm and she planned to sit him down and just let it all out but it was too late. She was suffering physically and mentally, it seemed like time went by so fast, the weather was cold, the traffic was loud and the pounding feeling in her head was killing her. When it happened, she was shedding, her red markings shedding off and falling to the floor like paper, her scars took a white/grey color, she was transforming into something, something horrific. Her hair changed color from red with white strands of hair to black with red strands. Her eyes stayed red, but her colors changed, and so did her heart. From that day, she became the god of the void, Khaos, as a goddess, her broken heart unlocked another alter ego. From now on, she feared, she loved, she cried, she yelled, she ordered, she built, she construct, she created, she reinvented. As of now she ruled over the gods and held all of them accountable and condemned them to restore order and peace. To punish and condemn the evil minds, to owe, support victims and owe your life to their protection and well being.

Hobie became a good memory, but also a reminder that you should not take the people who love you unconditionally for granted. Relationship goes both way, you should give as much as you are gave, and take as much as you took. And a lesson that keeping your guard down does not equal to weakness, but equals to strenght and control

pls don't kill me guys

[julygirl67]

Ive always been the one to let them go now that I saw you I cant let you go impatient i cant maintain control wanting to be near you anticipation you are magnetic and hypnotic my desire for you is intoxicating and mezmorizing when Im in your arms and I gaze into your eyes drowning into you into your charms feeling your warmth givs me chills i let my words spill as I fall weak and say something stupid like I love you