#i sit down!! i cant draw!! why!???? I DONT KNOW MY BRAIN SAYS THE CONDITIONS ARENT RIGHT WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

[mitathemita]

its been 84 years…..

[find-the-eyes]

I’ll Try Anything Once: Chapter 36

Written by: Sol, Allegra Edited by: Beth, Allegra, Sol

“Nick, calm down.”

Nick felt a hand on his leg once again and opened his eyes to see that he was furiously kicking and thrashing. The only difference from last time was that this kicking and thrashing wasn’t purposeful, and it didn’t feel good at all. And it wouldn’t stop. Nick did everything in his power to calm his flailing legs, but he couldn’t. He had never felt so helpless. His arms thrashed out at his sides. Where was Alex? He arched off the bed, gagging as his breathing tube shifted. His blanket came undone and dropped to the floor. He felt himself sliding towards the edge of the bed to join it.

“Nick!” He felt hands on both of his legs now, and a hand on either arm. Through his half-lidded eyes he saw three nurses, doing their best to restrain him as his legs kicked out and convulsed wildly. His arms thrashed violently now, the IVs in his forearms nearly ripping out of his skin. After a few minutes, Nick felt his body slowing down, suddenly crashing from his wild attack. His head lolled to the side as he felt hands adjusting his breathing tube, gently bringing him back to reality. His head was spinning and he couldn’t stop tears escaping from his eyes.

Two of the nurses talked in hushed voices at the doorway, glancing back at Nick occasionally. Finally, after a few moments, they returned to Nick’s side.

“You’re going to have a brain scan later,” the blonde nurse said. “We need you awake for it, so we’re going to take you off the sedatives for now.”

Nick couldn't even find the strength to nod, so he simply looked at her, hoping she understood.

She put the communication board on Nick’s lap. “Would you like to do anything while we’re waiting to do the brain scan? Your friends are art students, right? Would you like to draw?”

Yes.

“Alright, I’ll be right back.”

Don’t leave. Don’t leave.

“Ah…” She glanced around the room and spotted the notebook that was still sitting on the counter from when Alex was writing in it a few days before. “Is this ok?”

Yes. Thank you.

Nick held the notebook close, and as soon as the nurse left he opened it to a blank page. He grabbed the pen next to him and just started writing. He didn’t know where the words were coming from, but they needed to get out. His arms jerked and twitched as he wrote, but he tried to fight it. This was important.

When he finished, he folded the letter with shaky hands and laid it on the bedside table, not even bothering to read it over. He had barely placed the pen on the table before his head fell back and he drifted off to sleep, all of his energy gone. All he could hope was that Alex would understand.

A couple of hours later, Nick awoke to a hand on his arm and a gentle voice calling his name. He opened his eyes slowly to the information that they were taking him back for the brain scan. His leg kicked out again.

“It won’t hurt, and it won’t take long,” the nurse reassured him. Nick closed his eyes again, trying to believe her.

—

Alex found the neurology office fairly easily. It was a small room in a distant hallway, far from anything Alex had seen in the hospital before. So many people are suffering here. Is Nick one of the worst? Alex shook the thought and entered the small office when he was called.

“Hi, Alex,” the doctor said when he went in. Her calming energy immediately made Alex feel more at ease.

Alex greeted her and sat down at the desk, not knowing what to say. “Is Nick alright?” he finally managed, fiddling with one of the pens on the desk.

“Well, it doesn’t appear that the kicking and thrashing were anything more than a bad reaction to the sedatives. His reaction increased when they gave him more, and so on.”

“Why did he react like that?”

“Here.” The doctor showed Alex the scan of Nick’s brain. “He has a bit of damage to the language processing and speech areas of his brain, as well as some executive functions like decision making and general cognition. Has he ever mentioned that to you?”

“Yeah, actually,” Alex realized, “he had a different lung injury before all of this and said he had some brain damage from a lack of oxygen.”

“That explains it, then. Does he act normal, usually?”

Alex thought for a moment. “He does have some unusual behaviors, but… he doesn’t need to be normal. He’s perfect to me.”

“Unusual behaviors?” The doctor leaned closer to Alex. “Can you tell me what you mean?”

“Uhh…” Alex felt uncomfortable talking about Nick’s issues with a complete stranger, when he wasn’t there to speak up for himself. “Well, he has bad dreams a lot...he’s stolen some things before...he has trouble reading and speaking, and he doesn’t always make eye contact when he’s talking to someone new.” Alex paused, then continued with a sigh. “Nick told me that it all started with the initial brain damage that he got from being shot. He doesn’t really have any physical issues, though.”

The doctor nodded. “All of that definitely could be connected to how he reacted. We think the thrashing was caused by a reaction with the part of his brain that controls movement. Rather than turning off, like it usually does with sedatives, it tried to reject them. Because of that, his body didn’t want to accept the sedatives.”

“Oh…” Alex nodded along thoughtfully and pretended to understand what the neurologist was telling him.

“The good news is that he’s been off the sedatives for a few hours now and he’s doing perfectly fine! You’re allowed to go see him now, if you’d like.”

Alex beamed and thanked the neurologist as he left the small office.

—

Alex walked into Nick’s room to find him fast asleep. He smiled when he saw that the IV giving him sedatives had been removed. He walked over to Nick and brushed the hair off his forehead. Nick stirred at the touch and his eyes lit up when he realized that it was Alex. He lifted his right arm and stretched it out as far as he could, smacking his palm against the bedside table. Alex blinked in confusion for a moment before he noticed the folded paper atop the table. “Is this for me?” he asked. Nick gave him a weak thumbs up of approval.

At that moment, a nurse rushed in, saying something about needing to check on Nick. She rushed Alex out of the room before he could even ask Nick about the piece of paper.

Once he was alone in the hallway, Alex unfolded the piece of paper. He held it gently, trying to decipher Nick’s messy handwriting.

--

A lex

Thank you so much for putting up with me Im sory you have to see me like this It hurts a lot so bad and Im scared but pleas dont worry I cant wait to go home and pet Steckrübe again and Play music again but not do anyt hin g dumb this time Because I Ive learned now maybe I shouldnt stage dive until they tell me its okay

But right now it hurts I want to go home but they wont let me I want t o get up but they won’t let me I Miss being able to speak I dont feel like I have a body anmore it just hurts so much But  when youre here I forget You make me happy  Please bring Steck next time I miss him

I’m sorry I didn't listen to you I feel like a bad Flatmate Im sory I cant do anthing to help you out

Im scared I wont get better it Hurts it hurts and I dont know why it hurts so much I still cant breathe Im Scared I wont be able to

My body is kicking thrashing I cant stop it wont stop Im so   tired but I cant sleep it wont Help Im terrified

You saved me

I want to be with you Im sorry I couldnt tell you that niht  it hurt too bad I want to be yours

I love you so much Alex Ive loved you from the first night you Visited me at the prisonn You accept me ffor who I am and you ne ver get mad at me Evn when I deserve it I deseve it 

Thank you Than k you Thank you for saving me I love you I love you I love you Alex I love you

--

Alex braced himself against the wall, trembling as he clutched the paper. Nick loves me. He meant it the other day. And I didn’t listen.

Alex folded the piece of paper again and ran back into the room as soon as the nurse left. The heart monitor started beeping faster than Alex had ever seen it beep before as he approached Nick’s bed. He laughed softly and believed for a moment that Nick was giving a small smile as well. Was he? Maybe it was just the lighting. Alex ignored the beeping and held Nick’s hand. “I love you too,” he said softly. “So much. And you're going to get better.” Alex ran a hand through Nick’s hair. “And I’m sorry for trying to talk about our relationship when you were in so much pain. I should have known better.” Nick started furiously tapping the I love you box on his board, blinking back tears as he looked up at Alex.

Suddenly, a nurse rushed into the room. “Is everything alright in here?” she asked, obviously concerned by the sudden, rapid beeping. Alex dropped Nick’s hand, instantly brought back to the reality of the situation as he remembered the condition Nick was in. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t form the words.

“Just…don't get him overexcited, yeah?” the nurse sighed as Nick’s heart rate slowed back to normal. “He’s still in critical condition and we want him to make it out alive, after all.”

“Alright,” Alex said sheepishly. The nurse gave him a stern look and walked out.

Nick’s eyes were bright, but he wasn’t smiling. He couldn’t. There was no way he could do anything more than move his eyes and his hands. He still had to make it out of the hospital alive before Alex could even think about the future. Was it better to be hopeful or to prepare himself for the worst?

Alex looked back down at Nick and realized that his eyes were still so full of love, searching for an answer from Alex, an answer neither of them could find.

“I love you, Nick,” Alex ran his hand through Nick’s hair, “I really do.”

[amoristt]

Breathe | Peter x Reader

Anonymous asked: I read your Peter Parker fic and I liked it, can you write another? Maybe one where reader is taken and he rescues her?

yessss more peter <3 i just watched homecoming and ive been dying to write more of him! thanks so much for requesting and please enjoy!

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

You woke with a start, your head pounding so hard it almost felt as though it was reverberating through your every last nerve. It raced from your aching head to your toes, and it made you squeeze either side of your temples in hopes of appeasement the awful pulsing. This wasn’t like the migraines you got while doing homework, or the stress headaches that kept you up at night, no this pain in particular felt like something much more… Precise. Carefully your fingers slid their way through your hair, over the top of your skull then to the back of your head where your hair starts to feel sticky.

Half dazed already, you almost passed out when the palm of your hand met something horribly sensitive just below the base of your skull. You gasped in agony, leaned forward and ripping your hand away from the affected area, your stomach dropping when you felt your fingers were wet with something you couldn’t see in the dark. If your throat didn’t feel like it had been rubbed raw with sandpaper you’d have cried at both the pain and the thought of knowing your head was damaged, but hardly any sound came out at all.

Without any idea where you were or what had happened you were left to try and ravage your brain for any competent memory that could aid in finding out why you were in this situation. The last thing you remember, even though it was a blurry one at that, was being in your living room. Something had… Startled you. You could recall jumping up from your couch, carefully treading into the bedroom where you’d heard a commotion. After that there was nothing.

You shifted in your spot, atop something hard as a rock, and began to try and feel your surroundings. It all felt the same. Hard, cold, uncomfortable. Afraid you’d discover something unruly you tentatively felt at every part of your body, starting from your feet, then your knees, waist, chest, and shoulders. Other than the screaming wound on your head there didn’t seem to be any more remarkable injuries. There was some obvious bruising however, and it was evident every time you tried to move anything other than your arms. Your ribs felt like they’d been crushed, your legs weighing one thousand pounds. It almost felt like you’d been hit by a truck, or possibly dropped off a cliff.

Gritted moans of pain occasionally sounded when you tried to move from your upright position, and you hissed when you leaned your head back just for a moment only to feel like surging sting of pain when the spot nudged against the wall behind you. Nothing was adding up in your head and you were all alone in the dark, in god knows where. It was likely no one knew where you were either.

Your mind raced with thoughts of Peter.

He was spider man, surely he know that you’d been taken, you were his girlfriend after all. He must keep some sort of tabs on you what with all the villains he faces.

Stomach churning, you almost threw up at the realization that this whole thing could be because of Peter. Not directly of course, he would never intentionally put you in harms way, but you’d heard his spiel nearly a hundred times. He had tried to leave you numerous times before because of the very fact that he was Spider-man. There would always be villains looking for ways to tear him down, and if they couldn’t do it directly, they’d go for the next best thing. You or his Aunt May.

Apparently they’d chosen you.

Every Time Peter caved into his fears, tried to do what’s best for you by taking his leave, you stopped him. You understood the dangers you could potentially face but ‘what if’s weren’t nearly enough to make you stop wanting to be with him. But it was easy to say things like that back then. You never truly thought you’d end up in a place like this, injured, all alone, isolated. You could be half across the entire country for all your knew. Maybe even on a different planet. Maybe even in a different realm entirely.

The thought of being light years away in the hands of some alien race was enough to finally draw tears to your eyes. You covered your mouth, leaning forward tensely as every bone in your body wailed in protest. In some ways you knew you were being over dramatic. The part of you that willed you to survive tried to soothe your nerves, told you that everything would be okay and if you weren’t rescued by Peter, you’d be rescued by someone else. However there also that one thought that drilled into every fiber of your being- the thought of being out of anyone's reach. Being somewhere else entirely away that no one would even know where to start searching for you.

Growing up with the rise of Heroes as well as villains you’d heard countless stories of survivors, people taken by evil. They were on the news and on articles all over, their faces next to hundreds of words that told of their courage and bravery even in the face of despair. When you were younger you wondered if someday you could be one of the people who would look evil in the eyes, unbreaking, unfaltering.

Yet here you were, and you were not brave. You were crying ugly and afraid, body trembling in both agony and dread. You were praying that someone would find you, take you away from wherever you were so you could go home. All those survivors all sounded the same, all saying that you truly find out who you are in times of great peril, and right now you were discovering the person that you were.

A coward.

There wasn’t a brave bone in your body.

Your thoughts were relentless against you, remembering every moment you’d spent making scenarios in your head about what you would do in a situation like this. In your head you were strong and durable. You were like Peter, with his lionheart and fearless gaze staring directly into the face of of danger, unafraid and ready for anything. All you wanted to do was sit and wait for something bigger than you both in spirit and in body to help you, to rescue you. You wanted Peter to rescue you, it was all you could think about.

Then you heard a soft ding, and something in your front pocket rumbled.

All at once your entire body surged with energy. You sat straight up, dug your fingers into your pocket, and you almost cried when you felt the hard edge of your phone. Pulling it out and clicking on the light you were temporarily blinded by the brightness of your screen, but when you managed to look past the saturation you actually sobbed out a relieved laugh at the texts bombarding your screen. Peter.

8:32 PM: where are you? you left the door unlocked :( you know how dangerous that is

8:36 PM: hellooooo

8:40 PM: ___ ??

8:45 PM: answer me

8:48 PM: please

8:51 PM: ___ this is serious i need to know that you’re okay

There was a gap, then the messages returned 40 minutes later.

9:37 PM: i wont let anything bad happen to you i promise im coming just stay right there dont go anywhere

9:45 PM: i cant get inside we cant get in unless you answer me

9:50 PM: please just tell me you’re okay in there please

Fingers shaking and head reeling, you typed so fast you could barely even make out what you were saying.

10:13 PM: petrr lwheer arw you

As soon as your message sent your phone started vibrating, your ringtone almost making you throw the item 10 feet away. It contrasted the empty silence so intensely. When you clicked answer and held it to your ear you once again almost cried in relief when his voice flooded the speaker.

“___! Oh my god I was so scared I- I thought you suffocated in there, I thought your phone was maybe broken or something I- Jesus ___ I’m so sorry-”

“Save the sorrys for later Parker, what’s her condition?” A voice cut him off in the background, and you recognized it. Tony, he was there too.

“Right, right- ___, can you hear me? Are you hurt? Can you breathe okay?”

The terror in his voice was evident, and even though he was afraid and you were in pain there was a great smile across your lips. If you were on the phone with him then you were still on Earth. You weren’t in the clutches of some alien race, you weren’t realms away from home, you weren’t planets and moons across the galaxy.

“Peter,” you wheezed, and the sheer breath of relief that left him made you shut your eyes in sollace. “I’m okay, I just-... Everything hurts but- I’m okay.”

He sniffled on the other end. “I thought you were dead, I- I’m sorry I didn’t come over earlier I had no idea-”

“It’s okay, wh-.. Where am I?” You tried your best not to cough into your words but it felt like every breath you were breathing in was made of dirt.

On the other end there was a commotion of voices, the sound of Peter in distress, when suddenly he sounded distant. Before you could ask what was going on Tony’s voice was on the other end.

“___? You there, kid?”

“I’m here.”

“Good, stay there. I need to know exactly where you are, can you see anything around you?”

You pulled the device from your ear and clicked speakerphone, turning the flashlight on and finally taking in your surroundings. It was exactly like you imagined it would be- grey, dull with rock walls and flooring. It almost resembled something cave-like.

“Am I in a cave?” Your voice wavered as you spoke.

There was a silence before Tony spoke up again. “Just a little one. It was a miner's cave back in ‘02. Listen kid, you can’t panic, got it? It’s all closed off which means air isn’t coming or going. I know this looks bad and scary but you gotta stay calm.”

It’s all closed off.

You felt a grave dread burrow its way into you.

Air isn’t coming or going.

It suddenly felt like your chest was constricting, your eyes widening at his words and the sight of your flashlight illuminating a pile of rubble in front of what you assumed to be the entrance. “Oh my god,” There wasn’t a shred of light peeking in through the stones and panic started rising in your throat. “Oh my god.”

“No, no, I said don’t panic!” Another commotion sounded and suddenly the phone was taken from him, Peter’s voice reaching you again.

“___ don’t freak out, we’re gonna’ get you out of there,” you couldn’t find it in yourself to reply, your breathing already harshening at the thought of being suffocated in some dank cave full of god knows what. “Listen to me! Breathe in, out, in, out, in, out.”

You tried to follow his instructions, your shaking and uneven breaths rising and falling along with his words. I can’t breathe, you thought in a mindless frenzy. I can’t breathe there isn’t enough air I’m suffocating- 

“In, out, in, out,”

“In,” You wheezed, clutching your chest, sucking in a breath of air, “out.” you released it then did it again, and again, and again.

Eventually you found it was working, your lungs starting to allow you to breath in evenly rather than taking in sharp breaths that didn’t seem to feel like enough at all. Over the receiver he could hear the cooling of your anxiety, and he spoke again.

“Good, just relax a little bit. We’ll get you out, okay?” His voice softened towards the end, and if he was only speaking like this to keep you calm than it was definitely working. Your free hand came to rest on the ground in front of you, holding your body up, and when you didn’t answer he repeated himself. “We’re going to get you out, ___.”

“I trust you,” You finally managed, eyes shutting tightly in hopes of trying to block everything out. “What do I do?”

Peter spoke to someone nearby him, presumably Tony before returning back to you. “Alright, I need you to get as far away from the pile as you can. We’re gonna blast it open and get you out of there.”

You nodded as though he could see you and you scooted back against the wall as far as you could, shrugging your head down into your shoulders incase debris reached you on the other end of the cave. It was small in size and even just looking, feeling the walls against you, made your throat start to feel like it was closing up again. Tears pricked your eyes again and you shook your head at your current situation. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. You should be at home watching a movie, or walking along Queens’ streets with Peter, or doing anything other than trying to keep from suffocating in a cave.

“Are you away from it?” He asked, and you hiccuped.

“Yes, I’m away from it.”

“Okay,” He pulled the phone away from him. “GO!”

The moment he spoke out there was a great explosion, and the walls around you rumbled with such a force that you almost let out a scream. Dust and pebbles fell from the ceiling, and they bounced along the ground and atop your shaking skin. Another burst shook the cave and even more pieces of the ceiling fell, a hunk of stone crashing only inches from your legs and breaking apart in a million pieces, and the sound of it did make you cry out. Immediately Peter was talking to you again.

“What happened?” He yelled frantically, and you croaked out a reply.

“The ceilings falling-”

“Did it hurt you?!” He shouted distantly again. “Wait, stop! Don’t set off another one!”

“It almost did- Oh god what if it caves in-”

“It won’t, we won’t let that happen, I promise.”

“Peter it’s a cave you can’t control it-”

“__! I’m not gonna let you die here, okay?”

You leaned your head back against the wall and this time the ripping pain barely registered with you. Head swimming, you tried to even your breaths again. Something was happening- you could feel it. All of you wanted to believe Peter’s words of comfort, but you were so scared, so afraid that this would be the end of you. There wasn’t enough words in the world to stop the absolute anguish eating away at you. But, an odd feeling starting taking over. It wasn’t frantic or desperate like you’d been moments ago. Despite the scenario, in knowing there was a grave chance you’d never see light again, you felt almost… Fatigued. Tired. It felt like there was a hole forming in your chest.

You realized with dread what that numbing feeling was.  With your cries of fear, your panic attack rendering you momentarily unavailable, you’d used up so much oxygen. So much precious air. The thing that affected you the most, however, was the dawning realization that even with your predicament there wasn’t enough oxygen in the air to make you panic all over again like you should have. You should be freaking out, begging him to hurry up. Instead the fear rippled under your skin, made tears fall down your cheeks in a mellow show of apprehension. Too tired, you thought. 

“Peter,” you spoke quietly into the phone. “Are you there?”

“Of course,” He answered equally softly, as though he knew your state. It wouldn’t be hard to guess, you supposed, given your worn out breaths.

“Peter, there isn’t enough air.”

You said it so easily, like it meant nothing. The anesthetic of thin air made you almost too exhausted to keep crying. It wasn’t like you wanted to die- you’d give anything to keep fighting, to be one of those people you used to read of, but you couldn’t feel it. Even speaking suddenly felt like a chore- and you wished you could have kicked your past self for using so much oxygen while freaking out over being out of Peter’s reach. He was only a wall away the whole time. You’d breathed it all in during your break down for nothing.

“We’re almost in, just…” Peter sounded helpless, and you knew the feeling. “Don’t give up on me. We’ll get in there, please, please don’t give up.”

“I’m not going to.” You spoke, and again, it was easy to say. You realized something drastic, however. You weren’t speaking to soothe yourself, but to soothe him instead. Everything in your head felt fuzzy and numb.

Another bomb set off outside the walls of the cave but you didn’t flinch this time, not even when another boulder of stone slammed directly next to your lap. Dust surrounded you, painting over your skin and clothes. It started to feel like you were holding your breath.

You mumbled into the phone, “I love you.”.

“Don’t,” He whispered, strained. “It’s almost open, don’t you dare,” He was frantic now, voice picking up. “___ I mean it, please, you can’t leave me.”

You could imagine him right now. Jaw tense, shoulders squared. He’d look as menacing as Peter Parker could. Tony would be watching him right now, wondering what to do. He’d never been good at support.

If you could cry, you would have. Instead your chest felt heavy, either with sorrow or lack of oxygen, you couldn’t tell. The surreal feeling of floating started to blanket you, and you could actually feel the carbon dioxide filling your lungs at every breath. You wanted to panic. You wanted to claw your way free, rip each bolder out of it’s place and dig yourself out, kiss Peter and tell him you’re safe, but you couldn’t. You were not strong enough. 

The phone dropped from your hands and Peter still tried to talk to you over the speakerphone. 

Everything around you vibrated again but you barely registered it, your eyes closing on their own accord. Through your numbness your chest started to hurt, your breaths coming more and more frequent. It felt like you were gasping, body desperate for something rich, but it never came, Something in the musty air changed and you felt like you were weightless. This was it.

You could see him.

Basked in white light, his form glowing almost angelically. He was so afraid, moving in slow motion like a dream. You couldn’t find it in yourself to reach out and touch him even after he came closer, dropped to his knees in front of you. Everything was underwater. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t hear him. All the muffled echoes barely reached you. His fingers pressed against your cheek, he made you look at up him. 

You blinked once.

Twice.

Three times. 

And then you gasped, and every fiber of your being ripped from it’s dream and planted itself back into its place, back within the cave, back within the body of the person now shrouded in light and voices.

You couldn’t see anything anymore through the vibrant shine of white, but you could feel and you could breathe and it ached so badly but you sputtered through every breath and found yourself clinging hard to the figure in front of you. There were so many voices that your head was reeling all over again, confusion settling deep within your still foggy brain, but among them you picked out one in particular.

“I’ve got you,” it spoke, “You’re okay, I told you you’d be okay.”

Every part of you shook, clung onto it, breathed every last bit of air you could take in. Hands gripped at your arms and side and you didn’t fight, just let them hoist you up until you were tucked into someone's arms. You knew these arms.

Suddenly you were so cold, and the air changed so drastically that you coughed and wheezed with every single breath. It felt so fresh, and it was such a stark difference that it reached the very depths of your lungs. There was almost just so much of it- that rich, freezing yet precious air. Your head swam with consciousness, your body felt so heavy and grounded. Everything was happening so fast and there was so much of it but you managed to open your eyes just as you were set down on something much softer than the ground.

A bed, and above you, you could see stars. Thousands of them, twinkling and bright, and even though you felt like your entire body was broken they were soothing. Then you saw Peter. He was looking down at you with such a fearful expression, and he did not look brave. His lionheart had been gutted. His hands trembled when he touched at your cheek, his eyes glistening with tears when you blinked up at him.

“Whats going on?” You whispered.

He laughed. He faced down for a moment, shoulders shuddering, and when he looked back up at you there was everything in his eyes. It was the same expression he had when you told him you loved him for the first time, the same expression when you said you didn’t care what the future had in store for you so long as you and him were together. Grateful, adoring, but afraid. So afraid.

Even through your almost headless state you wondered what would happen after this. Surely he’d insist the danger was too much for you.

“You’re okay,” Peter breathed. “You’re out of there, we’re going to a hospital.”

“We?”

He nodded, wiped his eyes, and grinned. “Well, yeah, we. You were right, we- I’m not gonna’ leave you. I mean if you want to leave me I get it- I- understand- But-”

“Talk about it later,” Someone said, and this time you didn’t have it in you to determine who it was. Peter nodded, swallowed, and then you were moving. The bed you were laying on was hoisted up and put back down into what you recognized as an ambulance, and luckily Peter crawled in too.

You lifted a hand and he took it without hesitation, his calloused hands as soft as they’ve ever been against your skin. A breath of relief escaped you, a breath that you would never take for granted again.

“I love you.” He whispered.

Everything around you felt like it was going to concave. You were irrationally afraid the roof of the ambulance door was going to fall and crush you. Your lungs felt heavy and full at the same time. All the nerves in your body felt shot and burnt out, and the back of your head ached something awful, but none of it was enough to stop you from squeezing his hand and smiling.

Peter’s eyes were full of tears yet again. His shoulders slumped, his head dropped to look down before peering back up at you. He could be such a baby sometimes, you realized. He cried easily, but then again so did you. You were both as human as you could be.

You squeezed his hand again and imagined bad hospital food, get well cards, and Peter staying beyond visiting hours. Your heart longed for it all, the recovering process, the worry, the forgiveness, everything. Though it ached you tugged his hand to your lips, kissed at his shaking knuckles, and shut your eyes. 

“I love you too.”

[thyrideneverends]

(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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[haeroniel-doliet]

thbleugh but what bich is gonna fight me for me

idk im just gonna rant again, im sorry if youre on mobile just like, give it a big flick and fly past this i tried i actually have a read more this time

anywy im feelin shitty an dumb n weird an its not fun?? like do we try categorize these feelings: 

1. i have 3 days to pass a course and all the course work i failed to do in fucking march 

1.b. all those emotions to do w unis great! but also ive been solow and sad and dysfunctional its not rly even funny, grades dropping many levels in half a year like. sure grades dont define my life but considering how easy it is for me to get those grades to see them consistently and kinda dramatically dropping isnt helping (even though like i actively know i got lower grades bc i didnt fucking attend class or take in any knowledge. i realise hahah im making a psychology reference bc im a smart psychology uni student.... hmh oh yeah we, we learned about this, i dont know it. my peers do. oh. oh i didnt, i didnt learn anything. oh no. im here to learn abt the subject im supposedly loving and thats the best fit for me bc like hell id be an artist. anyway i have a lot of shit down here i havent figured out who to talk it out to. the mental health advisor didnt have the time for it rly and w counsellors its been different topics but now were in summer and id rather spend the spare money i can rattle off my parents on ballet than a psyhc i could see 2 times best. im just gonna have to wait till septembet bc my dumb white wall subscitption expired too damnti. ugh im just, okay lets move on

2. inadequacy thats not justified? like it is obvs bc it bothers me and i know i can do better and i am better than this all and i clearly have smth stopping me. while to others im doing just fine if not better than them who are really struggling and kinda dont have sympathy for me who goes ‘ugh im doing so badly and struggling, i mean i write perfect essays in one go but its just so hard to do thattt and i know im smarter and better than this’ esp bc say putting words together in that way is difficult on them and not been good at school

2.b. like being good at school but noot being good now, classic phenomenon or has my school system always been the softes most coddliest and where in the normal or worse school 1would have performed average and maybe learned to study and the worth of it to do better, ive just been good enough that caring became so unnecessary i need to waste my time on pointless but constant other things. like youtube and rpchats. constant monotone stimulation for hours. andhours. 

2.c. asking for help bc im struggling w actually getting over the fuzzy and struggle and self hate and blegh feelings to do some work thatd allow me to pass the coursein my 3 days of the very last extended time. and then realising, ah either youve slaved over your work and stressed and panicked to have it good and on time and have no pity left for me and my foolishness, or you never got to uni/struggled to go to uni and think im wasting my opportunity by being an ungrateful lazy piece of hsit. and i know ia m. and 2.d. its the reason why im not doing extra volunteering or serious extra curriculars thatd give the headstart in my lfie. bc, even tho on one side i wanna be that kid and owuld scoff at ppl not doing it who are here for fun and get a degree on the side, rn i see it as not stealing away dedicated good peoples spots who deserve to get the extra recognition for being clever and independent, meanwhile knowing htat probablyill be just fine. worst case scenario for me is literally (ok theres worse but v unlikely) living w my parents and ending up at a mediocre service job to another mediocre office job or smth and never get to a lab bc i wasnt sufficient enough and i never got the cotton balls out of my head and cleared up again to be smart enogh

okay what next, shitty privilige, crying abt my cotton ball head or not being smart

3. okay were gonna do the smart first bc my chest hurts and i kinda feel like crying or smth abt it. like in a dumb (fun) chat im playing athena known for wisdom and all this shit, and though i can throw out a quip or two or cleverly use smth to keep the smartass wisdom stick going on, every now and then i realise how dumb i am and not smart enough that another person could clearly fill this in much better. like. you know all the hilarious posts abt mansplaining and women being pushed out of their fields by dumber men who think they know better bc the others a woman and like, yeah? things where they are confident enough to say, actually i am way smarter than you and i know this bettr. here i am feeling like even if i spent years researching smth i wouldnt have the confidence to feel smart and knowldegeable abt it. like rn, i cant even hold arguments anymore bc im a fool. and i come off as dumb and i dont want to be, i still wanna be the smart kid, but im not working my brain im not doing work or research or learning, im jsut floating by w my cotton ball head thats getting fuzzier and fuzzier and though i can do tasks and would probably b v compeittive if it came to that and need to prove myself as smart, i can no longer feel like id hold my own, esp when people poke holes so easily, trap falls, “hah you dont know what to say ive bested you you dumb bitch” vibey things i just. its horrible? i wanna be smart and be confident in my smartness and feel recognized as smart by other people and live up to that expectation of actually being clever. and not just, knowing im smart enough in some ways bc school ive  passed so easy w always good remarks and participate well in class discussion and all, and im sure nobody thinks im rly dumb bc if i have to ask things im v friendly and try to be attentive. and idk if nobodys expecting more than me, bc again if i cant answer ive developed to be v chill about it and come off as average i guess. 

anyways 4. privilige; like thers multiple inc. the fact im fucking finnish aka my education system was supposedly one of the best, i grew up international so i wasnt even confined to one shitty school in one shitty town, ive had varied school experiences and switching so much i think has given me confidence in myself and shit like that. also bc im finnish i get grants in uni, like free money. and so far i have barely had to use it bc surprise my parents are togther and decently well off bc they got lucky w a job being fancy ppl for 3 years and my older brother is already  adulting and slowly doing his own thing so i can have more money from them. aka. catch my dad paying all my rent and food and everything i need/ ask for on the condition we keep a good releationship. and im reasonable bc he raised me smart apparently idk. but that still means im living at home i have no intentions of becoming an independent home owner bc idk how i would esp since ill be with my parents most holidays for years to come and idk even when or how ill become a real adult being in a real home w real comapnionship. bc rn idk who im even gonna live with, hopefully be civil w them maybe even make a bit of friends but im not gonna have a significant other to move in and support me for a while bc thats a thing idk if were getting into today in this why im feeling shitty rant. 

4.b. so im priviliged in everyway to go to uni for free (damn i gotta apply for that again) in a nice country and a nice and supportive school and get funding from both my parents and my country and not worry abt money and just get a degree all supported and babied again. im also, idk. priviliged bc, fuck writing comes easy to me, i know nayone reading my rants would be like... yeah this is barely legible and terrible writted and mind blurts so i say it is yes bc its mind blurts but i can organise my htoughts into fancy essays surprisingly easy and critical stuff like psych and english came  mad easy to an extent. sure, i wasnt talented in math but i still made it, i am not talented in science but sometimes the concepts click and i can . but then, im also talented in art. and im not ashamed to say its privilige disposition or talent or smth, bc damn. i do not practice or dedicate enough love to claim that. sure, ive drawn always, sure, ive practiced more as a kid thatn other kids and thats probably carried me thru pretty far, but i think ive just had a natural disposition to be good at art technique (creativity maybe not so, or inspiration) but i know what looks good and sometimes how to achieve that. cue montage to art class where i sit w my friends who are talking about bands or making outlines w nut shells bc there i am beside them doing the work in half the time twice as good. mostly bc the teacher wasnt great and would assign essentially copying a picture from a4 to a2 u know like drawing the same thing. and thats not easy. and youre supposed to build up really light layers and slowly refine it.  and ppl who listened only ended up w shitty light drawings that either look like potatoes or vaguely like the picture, while i with boosting confidence would go, we only do one super light sketch one medium sketch and one dark layer. bc by the medium one everything is in its place and looks abt like everyone elses and i need the dark hues to show it accurately even if it isnt perfect, and my work would like almost always stand out on the wall bc it was so different/advanced. i wont lie it influenced my friends to not draw as well or as much sitting next to me, and ofc id feel bad and i could never boast bc i felt bad that they didnt try bc they saw me, thought mines not gonna be like that so im just gonna fuck around and do whatever. and i obvs needed praise but would always feel bad bc it was obviously me who was the best in that class and its so self conceited but, it kinda just was true in that small class half of whom didnt want to be there. me butt kissin and trying to impress myself w my skill. catch like, that first day he asked us to draw the person next to us, and i made my partner draw me first, bc i just knew if i went first theyd look at it and draw me a potato stick figure in 5 seconds and say i cant draw like you. and true. while the rest of the class made sketchy circle guys, some looing so childish, here i went and said, okay i find it awkward having you stare at me and if  you move a lot it makes it harder to be accurate, so, like take out your phone and get comfortable and look down at that for a while hence drawing3/4 unlike anyone else w eyes cast down and damn if i dont remember it being beautiful and identifiable as that friend, even tho the teacher told ppl around me like, ah yes she did it this way, 3/4 not face on which is much easier. which is true but bitch you never said. sides it looks so much better and was so much less frustrating. anyway, even now in that chat i go and like drop my drawings in bc partially i just wanna draw more and showing people makes me draw? u know. and i kinda wanna get compliments. but ive figured im pretty humble abt it. and sure i get comments that are like god i wish i could draw like that from someone that doesnt draw arms or legs and theyre v bublehead cartoon. and im like. you could. but yours is still middle school level, so just, keep working at it, get confidence to break your mold. 

that andtheres this one chick that,,,, gawd, well they admit to being a sociopath in chat which is great and seem real attention seekery in general (theres a surprising amount of people, while in midst of rp and getting compliments go “well i guess im a shit rpr because nobody wants to rp with me ://) post art and then be like dramatically UGH i hate it it looks so bad im terrible at art, literally poster girl for fishing for compliments. and even if i dont like the style at all, i try give in anatomical pointers or smth abt the drapery or smth technical i can complement. bc id want the same i guess? and i dont love let alone like the art itself. and then, while getting so many of those theyre like “yeah well nobody likes my art, say it reminds them of this character (jessica rabbit while all hers have big hips big tits tiny waists massive lips massive eye, but just one eye bc the otehrs covered by hair like theres obvious similarities) which means im totally not original like i thought so why even try!” and other melodramatic things that i can argue, but they dont wanna hear it they want attention and praise and i just ughhh i could preach you about how no art is original and its all from influence, or how someone doesnt have to like your style to appreciate it, or someone might love your style and like. basic stuff ive figured out myself. and it gets frustrating trying not to get a superiority, or to start shoving my own art in there to try compete or smth. and its just. hard. idk. id k. i know theres people who are averse to art and never tried to be good at it who are obvs gonna be omg thats so good i cant even draw and ill be like, hah yeah sure dude if you tried maybe btut thanks. 

also drawing man its so weird, whenever i see someone elses drawing a part of me goes “we must draw so that we can show were better than that” like, either to get complimetns and shift it to me? or to just show them off. to be like. i can do it better. which i kinda hate about myself? that i draw mostly bc of that and a need to show off? like amxxs art or smth, them talking like yeahh ugly art is good art, drawing is so healing i feel great or im so proud of myself for improivng so much look at my art, and a part of me goes, awh yes! my theorys proven working on art for yourself improves and can cheer you up, another goes, yesnow i must draw to show how good i am and show how i too feel fulfilled by drawing but also make it about me by weeping how i hate drawing myself. literally smths wrong w me seeing others pot abt their midrift, or learning to accept their curves or drawing themselves or smth, and theres a gremlin of me going like yeah but i cant draw myself bc i tried once and it looks like shit and ill only highlight my flaws and im slightly afraid of someone saying it looks exactly like me or other dumb shit, or i dont have curves to accept bcim not big hip big thic thigh girl im just. my legs are big but mostly ugly bc of the skin on them not bc of their size (ankles tho oof) and i have no hips i have no butt bc it allwent to my stoamch thats also ugly and my broad   badly postured back thats also ugly w these spots and marks and scars soon probably. and saggy boobs dont forget those. bc theyre literally fat sacks aiming for the ground i guess. anyway. no cute curves,  no beautiful skin no nth its just tough and i cant help but feel the negativity towards myself in almost every glimpse of someone elses positivity. i dont always air it which would be horrible of me to do, but its still there. making their happiness about my misery. maxx loves their boyfriend?> i hate them bc i dont like him and its rining it> i hate them havingsuch a dreamy but fake seeming ‘soulmate’ relationship bc its not true and i think itll end up terribly> im neveer gonna have that and im jealous of them i guess having someone theyd dedicate so much to and who loves them so much theyre all over the place making sappy things> well theyre an oveer romantic whod do it over the smallest things this wasnt a great example. 

anyway yeah extra note, even if i felt comfortable enough for sex im not comfortable enough in my body for that and idk how thats relevant to anything but i guess thats smth id also talk w a therapist abt whod probably tell me, then dont have sex! like yeah thats my plan.but im talking never gonna be able to form a relationship bc even having a friend for a sleepover makes me uncomfortable having them see me in an uncontrolled clothed position. u feel. 

anyway i have a lot of little problems that amount and i guess when i start addressing one the rest pop up their ugly heads and this is why i never getanywhere. this all comes from  how shitty i feel from how i have literally not even 3 full days to complete those tasks and pass, and i know i need to, though nothing in me actually feels like itll actually do the work u know, that spiraled through that chat into privilige of being at school and how i should tryy a bit that turned to im priviliged to be smart to pass and in my talent in art despite not being an artist that spiraled to another way i disliked myself and thats my fucked relations to myself my body and relationships (esp including me that dont exist)  

side note, though no surprise if for some ungodly reason youve read this shit i wrote at 8.30 am when i have a docs appointment abt my very ugly skin at 12.45 i over share. easily. if somseone asks id give them all. look at this. even in that chat i spiraled from, hah fun fucked up thing im almost failing my course bc im a shit, to my  heads filled with fuzz and i hate that i cant live up to my potentia. and im surprised how much i like this one guy, though who with his character ripped into my athena and make me question all my smartness, really makes me feel better ooc??? like theyre genuinely nice and just too informed and funny and playing the dick for a very well thought out reason (drunk doesnt mean it etc) and while the sociopath gal is giving me the side eye after they tried to help but figured out im a prviliged kid whos in school for free and not making the most of it and how easy school has been forme when for them despite their hard efforts they failed high school.u know not reallly helping kinda making me fele worse bc i know i should be doing better and could be and not only bc i have a priviliged opportuntity to and ability, i would benefit so much more if i did it for myself. but here comes by weird guy who slips on a freudian approach and claims they love helping ppl through their problems so i drop another overshare paragraph if he rly wanted to help but lighten it by taking thetopic off, he doesnt return and never address my post bc now its onto talking abt the big rp thing. im not mad. i just, idk i kinda wanted their support, another poor stranger to inflict w my extremely troubled wordy lengthy and i guess complex thoughts and feelings and lack there of sometimes and other shit. 

anyway im not doing great but im gonna grab 3 hrs of sleep before the doc, come back, nap, go to ballet again, come back, ad.... do smth.. work. maybe. one can hope. i hate it will it actually work only time can tell and i hate myself already.ugh. i hate i hate im not okya with this why cant someone else deal w me for me. deal with all these feelings and botherings and make me do my work and be satisfied doing it and do it all in time and feel a little success and reward myself like i should for work done and not just when i want. idk. someone,t ake over my life, you might be better at it. help me dela with school that i currently hate the most even if im meant to end up a scholar or smth