#ill do a better drawing tomorrow. I'm tired

[c0yoteclaws]

hey do we have new fursona tomorrow

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary391

10/17/24

thursday

today was fun...

kura sushi, unfortunately, was not much more than mid... but i got two cute pikmin bookmarks from a gacha, and their spicy crunch roll was rather good.

we walked around this small plaza in chinatown, with my gf's two k pop friends and one had her husband come along. it was fun, we had icecream and because i had hardly eaten anything today, i had two of those corn dogs... i feel a little ill now i suppose but i think tomorrow i'll be happier to have eaten that than not, since i need to go walk to the shops and collect some things. i took selfies, today, i really liked my outfit, i'll sort through them tomorrow though, since i'm very tired now.

since i keep thinking about fear and hunger, or, i feel like it's now something gestating inside me...silly dreams of course, things i could make, that are impossible really, but still, it at least makes me want to draw more, so i should take that and run with it. just draw freaky stuff... work that out more, draw more scared looking people, i like scenes like that.

i keep feeling so sad it's over, i loved the experience, i'll never have a first time like that again, i feel like the next game miro makes, the final piece of the trilogy, could give me that in a different way, but i'm so attached to this feeling, this particular depression and misery and the expression of escaping it, the affection for these characters... i hope whatever he does next keeps that, a huge cast of people you can save or kill or witness dying.

also, stuff about the sulfur god, he is interesting, i didn't know he was an inversion of alll-mer, or, something alll-mer created of himself, perhaps something that succeeded him, maybe cast the true version out? i don't know. what i do find interesting is that he makes people express their desires, in some sense, but it recalls, in step with the game's setting and theming, a lot of how reactionary forces use desire for violence and extremity as pressure release valves to gain something, or to use people to some end. i do not know, if in miro's cosmology, there is any platonic ideal, everything seems pointedly murky, not unknowable expressions of ideas or thoughts, but expressions of a failure to make sense of things inside others and oneself. ultimately, the gods aren't expressions of a nature, but more, failures on our part to make sense of that nature, to force it into a set of mechanics and things.

i also got sad in the kpop store today, sometimes i do not feel like my gf is as attracted to what i am as she says. this makes me neurotic and makes me desire seeing things from her that might be gross, or lewd, or whatever, that she see others like me, meaning transfemme (still nothing in particular as well, i guess (following this: a second (now third (or incoming third)) i guess)) i guess, and find them attractive, just that i'm a type of thing she likes. which is horrifically self-objectifying, i guess putting it here, it makes me look so sick. i know she loves me, and that she does in fact like that, and like me in those ways, as something to look at. i'm not sure. i just feel distant from it i guess, i know there's stuff she's distant from me on too i guess. we all have things like that. i just wish i were enough i guess, or that, i don't know. this kind of consumer devotion makes me sad. i don't understand... i'm like an alien to it... i'm like an alien to so much... i guess because i never had much money, i just had to take things how i was able to, videogames were often experienced with distance and dreaming, i had to read what books were around while knowing there were better ones out there, i was never able to wear the clothes i liked because i didn't know there were any i could like... always shopping in walmart or ross, hand-me-downs... inheriting music from the internet and my mother and father, it feels different i guess, i feel sheltered in some way, or like, i guess it's true as well, partially homeschooled, even if only by the internet, there is just a gulf between myself and others, i am different even in how i move my body around and i produce illegible things. i feel so much less than everything and everyone around me, including and especially these excellent figures who move to songs scientifically designed to charm, i don't hate it... there's a sweetness to people making these things, and wanting to be an idol. the only kind of idolhood i ever was able to approach when i was younger was being a sex object, like a child fetish statue or something. obviously, i'm sleepy, i always do this when i'm tired...

it's okay though, it's stupid but it soothes, it's obvious, i just can't get over myself in very stupid ways, because my girlfriend loves me, and constantly reminds me, i am just unsure of how to navigate ever feeling distant to people i feel close to. i'm just a clumsiness, all the way down.

i forgot to say, yesterday i wrote something odd (today i wrote too (something impossible for me to make... a vision, though, at least)), it was spurred on by seeing this image, and crying, i will not share it or why i cried because it's complex and impossible to explain, here is the image however:

i guess i can explain some, it's about feeling less than someone, before this image (his eyes... they remind me of my girlfriend's, as does the sharpness of his features), i feel like so little, and the fact is that he seems distant and sorry, i know, he is just doing what is beautiful for a camera, or maybe it is natural, look here another photo of him:

is it projection to see some kind of misery here? or knowledge of difficulty? that it meets a creature like him, it's almost unbearable.

this is stupid, maybe, or it isn't...no, not at all, i will stand by this being a special thing dredged up by playing a game which should be very silly, in some sense, but fear and hunger likely enabled this... which is maybe pitiful, but at least i have a feeling, at least it points us at some sort of feeling.

too, breton's words on his journey with his lover, the flowers, come to mind, something on the other side of this.

i am simply turning, sometimes i feel like i am a moth with burned wings at the bottom of a light fixture, among others who have perished, waiting my turn. i see something very lovely, incapable of meeting it, i am only witness, and then nothing.

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[hiraethprinmec]

Wednesday, January 10th, 2024

its crazy how lighting can make a difference. I lit a candle an incense and turned on the lights. it helps with the mood, around 5 the sun starts to set and i feel worse. today I woke up at 12 , which is better for me sold some shares and tonight I need to schedule my prescription for delivery. I had some lunch and now I'm having some coffee. I'm glad I'm here for day 2 , I'm happy to tell my therapist there's something I like to do. I'm imagining doing this everyday it feels nice.

listening to some high energy music. that helps me too. vanilla iced coffee, I opened my last pod for the weekend and I feel worried but I know ill be okay. tonight I don't know what ill do. I should paint , I didn't last night . writing and painting everyday is the goal. I'm tired from waking up early , I went to sleep at 6 am so about 6 hours of sleep its okay I could do this some days.

I feel safer when I listened to music with one earphone on so I can hear my surrounding, someone calling for me in person or over the phone. tonight I need to shower. ill keep my conditioner in my hair extra long try and get my hair super blonde. I like that word blonde. its pretty and soft like the color. juul isn't hitting the way i like , grateful for it though. i still don't know what I'm going to say to Michelle. therapy is tomorrow morning. what will we talk about? I'm thinking of asking her what she thinks we should talk about.

I need to drink more water today. feeling dehydrated I have that habit of not drinking enough. tonight ill paint flowers ,a longing figure. what does longing look like what will the pose be? put on a dramatic song that I like , I used to paint to it a lot . its sad and I feel a kinship to it. I relate to her. its from silent hill she's lonely unloved. in pain.

sometimes I wonder if the men who hurt me are living good lives maybe they got hit by buses or maybe they're in the arms of their lovers maybe they're still hurting children. do they look back in their memories of what they did to me and feel aroused? guilty? do they feel a sense of longing.

I felt so desired, I knew it wasn't love and I knew it was wrong I was just so lonely. why did they do that to me. that's all I can ask why did they seek someone like me out. talk to me for hours in their own houses with other people in the room next to theirs, people that had no idea what they were doing to me, living with undercover monsters, nightmares. he listened to an action movie in the surround sound while he hurt me.

i remember it was too loud. I couldn't focus and I asked what it was and he said don't worry about it focus on what I was doing, to keep going. what movie was it? was it their favorite? was it just background noise to drown out what they and i were doing. do they feel guilty about me. do they confess me to their priest or will I be imagined on their deathbeds as a last ditch effort to save themselves. selfish again I hope they aren't saved. I hope they're mad at themselves I hope they're alone and scared. I hope they go to prison, I hope they're alone.

Some days I just want to cry and I wish I wasn't here, why did this happen? this is the biggest reason why I don't think there is someone in the sky, a God. they say he loves you but not enough to save you.

some days I don't think about it much or at all and then some days its like a bus hitting me like a wish. I see where I was when this happened, in the loft at my moms house. in my old room.

In my head I am there still, and I see their faces, I see his eyes. I remember sketching once and seeing his eyes. I don't like to draw I like to paint simple expressions just two dots and maybe a line for the mouth, I don't want to chance that again. that sketch was like seeing him again and I wasn't even trying , just drawing the general shape of an eye and I was there again looking at his picture obeying this man that was old enough to be my father .

I wish I could go back in time and protect myself , nurture myself. tell myself everything I always needed. I always feel so bad for my younger self walking around raw with no protection, shield, wall, barrier. loving freely , feeling quickly and deeply, letting everyone in. I wish I knew what i know now , I would do so many things differently. she was so opened to this world, had no idea what would happen, how it would change her as it went on ,who she would be later in life. somedays she doesn't feel real, i don't feel real . like none of this happened and i just go on with my day like i dodged a bullet.

when I'm in bed in the mornings i remember everything that's happened in my life and I wonder why. why was this allowed? this world feels so cruel like a lawless ball of energy with nothing binding it , atrocity's around every corner no justice,

I don't know if karma is real because I don't know what these men are up to now days. are they married? children of their own? did they set a new years resolution? have a vanilla iced coffee this morning? are they relaxing for the evening after a days work? I just don't know.

I think of what I would want to happen to them and imagining cruel things like an eternity in hell doesn't feel right. or dying a early or painful death doesn't feel right either. in my mind I just wish they were plucked from this earth, vanishing into thin air all memory wiped form the minds of people they know like they were never there as soon as the offense was made like being benched at a basketball game for commit a foul. just like what they actually did. gods a bad referee.

[importantcherryblossommentality]

ill sleep after this!! I have to wake up early tomorrow but I finally watched a full playthrough of irisu syndrome. I wanted to compile some parts of Uugi's notes somewhere and so here they are. spoiler warning for the game also him and irisu r literally me ^^

Suicidal Rabbit Diary.txt ))))

I've started to draw more and more pictures of dying cats.

Certainly, there is someone waiting for my pictures. To think that just because of that, my drawing would be this much more enjoyable.

Drawing pictures of cats became a part of everyday life. When it reached the point that I was making dedicated notebooks, she had already seen ten. ))))

In the classroom. Irisu Kyouko four seats away. I was spending that pleasant time like always when a voice called to me from behind. Edogawa Takeru. What does he want? Next to Edogawa Takeru is a broadly smiling Age Hatori. Edogawa says something or other. His voice is rather loud. It must be nice to talk so easily. I was thinking those things while listening. I don't really remember what he said.

Somehow, though I don't really understand why, Edogawa Takeru and Age Hatori started sitting close to me in class. And somehow, though I don't really understand why, we started having conversations. I didn't draw pictures of cats. ))))

The trip is over. Age Hatori stuck close to me the entire time. Edogawa Takeru seemed to pay us more mind than usual. But I just didn't understand what the whole point was. Why did we purposefully tire ourselves out? Doing nothing at home is much better. ))))

Those two have started to actively speak to me. I think it's strange. Why do I care so much about being with people I barely know?

The hotter seasons eventually come around. It's a matter of time before they think it's strange for me to always be wearing long sleeves. It's not something small enough to hide with a watch. And when those people realize it, I'll automatically be estranged from them. Until that time, I'll let them misunderstand. I enjoy being with them. ))))

I thought about it some more. Is there no way for Irisu Kyouko to change her target to me? Irisu Kyouko killing me. That's an attractive Happy Ending. You could say it's my ideal. It would be perfect if Irisu Kyouko would go together with me, but I'd expect that's asking too much. ))))

Age Hatori gave me a truly great idea. Why didn't I realize it sooner?Considering Irisu Kyouko's love of rabbits, isn't the answer clear? If I draw pictures of rabbits in my notebook. If Irisu Kyouko, during her "plan," sees that notebook. What would Irisu Kyouko do to me? I'm excited just by imagining it. ))))

If they knew the reason I hide my wrists,I wonder what kind of reaction they'd have? Would they treat me the same way as they've always done? They probably would. Because they're idiots. Age Hatori would become worried or angry like usual. Even though she's airheaded enough to mistake tigers for cats. Edogawa Takeru, being incapable of distrusting someone else,he'd listen warmly, regardless of what I say, and still be kind towards me. While I was thinking that,I thought that maybe getting Edogawa Takeru and Age Hatori involved in my plan wasn't the best idea. I can say that it was a mistake for Age Hatori to like me. ))))

Hm? If that's the case, isn't this trip unnecessary? Even now I can start changing the world. For the sake of preventing Irisu Kyouko's plan, I should push some reason or other to stop the trip--

Too much trouble. Well, whatever. ))))

The rabbit wasn't well liked by the students, and so it was always alone. ))))

A few days later. The cat came back to the school. Everyone was very pleased. As for the rabbit, everyone had already forgotten it. What happened to the girl? I'll never know. After the rabbit died, nobody saw her again. Were my actions right? In the end, I couldn't change the future. If nobody else, I at least will keep that scarred rabbit deeply carved into myself.

[sillyplacetoputpicsforsharing]

How My ADHD Affects Me (From The POV OF My Friends)

ADHD causes brain fog but I also have brain fog from a multitude of different sources including; pain, fatigue, insomnia, anxiety, PTSD, multiple medications. I am also most likely forgetting something.

ya, that's adhd too with the scattered never ending onslaught of tangents

ADHD: constantly starting and stopping tasks. You seem to have trouble staying on topic or slowing down when you're excited. Issues with processing information

You talk faster when you're excited, and you also seem to have trouble slowing down.You seem to have trouble staying on topic or slowing down when you're excited

Or sticking to one topic that's probably a better way to phrase it.

Difficulty to maintain focus, difficulty remembering, hard time finishing complex tasks?

I'd associate your adhd with the brain fog

I have brain fog and cognitive issues from a multitude of sources including

Did that twice, it's up at the top too ______________

______________________________

Next section probably copied twice but I take no chances and no prisoners

______________________________

ADHD causes brain fog but I also have brain fog from a multitude of different sources including; pain, fatigue, insomnia, anxiety, PTSD, multiple medications. I am also most likely forgetting something.

ya, that's adhd too with the scattered never ending onslaught of tangents

ADHD: constantly starting and stopping tasks. You seem to have trouble staying on topic or slowing down when you're excited. Issues with processing information

You talk faster when you're excited, and you also seem to have trouble slowing down.You seem to have trouble staying on topic or slowing down when you're excited

Or sticking to one topic that's probably a better way to phrase it.

Difficulty to maintain focus, difficulty remembering, hard time finishing complex tasks?

I'd associate your adhd with the brain fog

I have brain fog and cognitive issues from a multitude of sources including

^^You did this whole section twice^^

______________________________

Is it possible to put these following paragraphs in a way people who are not mentally ill can understand? So that it makes sense about how my brain be bouncin' around?

Not sure, my brain runs on adhd too so it all makes sense to me ___________________-

Also Gmoney these photos are reminding me that I wanted to show you how fuckin red my ears were earlier so send me a message tomorrow and remind me to show you please. btdubs just thinking that I wanted to show you those pics while I was doing scribbling out important info at the same time also eating while also still doing my appeal shit really made me pause and be like... oh shit I really do be havin the ADHD.

Also also I have been listening to musical soundtracks with my mom all day while doing the appeal and before I finished drawing over those messages, during which remembering that I wanted to tell you about my ears, I also got distracted because there's a lyric in the Annie song about giving someone Mickey Finn's and I was like the fuckin is that so like I really do really do be havin ADHD.

Also also also I got distracted from all of THAT by wanting to fill up my mom's medication holder. So again I really do be havin the ADHD

It's extremely frustrating because I constantly and I mean constantly go out of my way to help her and her kid I constantly buy them things I clean her room almost every time I'm up there and that's means a lot cuz my place looks like a fucking shitstorm

I am just really really fucking tired of having friends I put so much good will and care into without getting even a quarter of it in return.

I'm constantly getting presents for her or Tyson.

Also sorry some of this does not make sense I am using talk to text.

I have no idea why shit like this always happens to me I had a friend in high school who me and my mom went so fucking out of our way to take care of her cuz her mom was an alcoholic and her grandma and her uncle constantly smoked in the house so she always smell like cigarettes We bought her tampons we bought her clothes She was on her f****** Christmas ornament and then one time she came to my house when I wasn't there and told my mom I was having sex and smoking pot. And I wasn't even doing it! Yet lmfao. ________

yet, nice.

People can suck that's just how that goes sometimes gotta decide if it all worth it with people, had folks like that and sometimes you need the person more than the stuff, bounces around a lot though.

[studysprine]

1/100 days of productivity & doing better | 07.22.2022

photo is mine

today's goals: take adhd meds, make breakfast, journal, organize laundry, start laundry, finish laundry, plan what to cook, study german for an hour, make an advisor appointment, move my body, look into credit cards, be outside, finish looking into the local library's resources online, look into job opportunities, look into internships, read, cook, call dad in the evening, brush teeth, wash face, and plan tomorrow's day

things I have accomplished today:

made oatmeal for breakfast & right now (4:00pm) I'm drinking tea and eating sunflower kernels. afternoon, i ate some jellybeans bc i felt like i had low blood sugar. didn’t have the focus to cook or plan cooking but thankfully a friend brought us some extra food the other day so i microwaved some eggs, grits, and ate it with some of the diced cheese, fruit, and a biscuit (all brought from the friend) + blackberry jam w/tea for dinner!

called my dad in the afternoon

tried tidying up my laptop organization (gave up)

journaled for about thirty minutes about the upcoming semester, potential routines for me to start practicing, the poem I'm Tired by Langston Hughes and the reasons I love it so much, and a personal commentary on how I love accessible poetry and creating prose.

i have organized my unclean laundry into it's different categories to start with laundry (dark colored or thick material clothes, very thick material clothes, whites/creams, towels/rags, blankets, socks, idk pile, and light material/color) and began two loads ! the thick material clothes and very thick material clothes r all washed and i’m finishing the v thick material load in the dryer now. ill have to put the rest away tomorrow bc i’m too tired n sleepy

looked at stuff for my major

began drawing a red crossbill and practiced anatomy

buddy read some of Aristotle’s & Dante’s secrets to the universe one of my roommates !!! that was pleasant

brushed teeth for 45 seconds before sleep, soso proud of myself

what am i doing right now as i type this? (4:38pm) sitting outside on my townhouse porch smoking with my lovely roommate, M. It is a nice day out, the sky is blue, it's decently warm, and there's some Columbus clouds at the edges of the sky. i just saw a pretty bird, which i'm currently trying to identify. (it was a red crossbill!)/ (11:38pm) sitting upstairs on the floor in our lil living room, patiently waiting for the clothes to finish drying. i really like the sound of crickets at night. i like the warm summer. i was/am drawing, trying to practice anatomy because i rlly suck at anything other than realistic faces. the house and the townhouse neighborhood is quiet right now. everything is quiet (except for the crickets and the drying machine, i like the cricket noise, not the drying machine). i have to move everything downstairs to my roooooooom and i dread it but at least then i can change and fall asleep. i’m happy how today went / 12:22 night, i’m in sleep clothes, laundry basket downstairs, fresh teeth, sleepy, will try to close some tabs for future me, then sleep

gratitude timeee: i am SO relieved that I still have my financial support, even if it has been minimized. at least, it'll actually force me to focus to find a job that will help build my resume levels. thankful for the blue sky I saw today and the pleasant temperature, and thankful to have friends who are so kind to me. very thankful for A, the one who brought the food, because cooking can be hard for me and i struggle remembering to eat as it is!! clean clothes finally!! yayayay

last updated: 12:21 at night

[turnerchic]

CRYING LIGHTNING

summary- you cant sleep due to the thunder outside so you and Alex use the time wisely

warnings : smut

y/n pov

it was around 2 in the morning, the house was quit but outside it sounded like there was a flood from how heavy the rain pour was, hitting against the window it had been going on like this for around 1hour and a little more.

you were not getting to sleep anytime soon. rolling over to your side to a sleeping Alex tutting at the sight, he can sleep through anything and here you are. you pulled your body closer to home cuddling into his side, causing him to shift

"y/n..?" he groaned

"did i wake you?" you asked lifting your head from his bicep

"no the- noise outside woke me up more" his fingers rubbing circles into your back

"i cant sleep Alex" you huffed

"mmm anything i can do to help" he dragged out in a tone that made you instantly realise what his brain was thinking

patting his chest "Alex.." laughing

"what why not use our time wisely hmm?" he said kissing you while rolling you onto your back

automatically kissing him back grabbing at his naked arms, shoulders and back tilting your head to the side

he started to leave a trail of wet kisses along your jaw to your neck

causing you to hum out

"Alex stop teasing" laughing, gripping the hair at the back of his neck

he laughed biting down on your neck causing you to squirm

his hand trailing down your stomach to the waistband of your panties

lifting your hips up

"Alex..please"

bringing your own hand to his to push it under the waistband out of frustration

he quickly stopped you, kissing you again

"we've got all night love" he said smirking

continuing to kiss along your neck, surely bruising it

his hand slipped into your panties, and your legs instantly opening as wide as you could

"god y/n...you really want it" he said hinting at your embarrassing amount of wetness

his fingers doing slow circles into your clit

you were laid, spread out for him to do whatever he wanted your legs jolting lightly

"yeah you just lay back y/n.." shutting your eyes

as he lowered himself down, he pulled your panties off

his fingers teasing before his tongue started to work on you slowly

fingers instantly knotted into his hair

moaning out chants of his name

he sucked,flicked,vibrated his tongue on your clit and made sure you were shaking

his tongue went into your entrance, causing you to cry out

he tongue fucked you merciless

his nose nudging against your nerves

his hands gripped at your thighs keeping them parted as he worked on your cunt

you were gushing against his tongue

his got faster on your clit, tilting his head for better access

he was doing number 8's, he was going back to sucking , flicking

giving it his all

you tears of the side of your face, if the noise outside didn't draw out your screams you were surely getting a letter from an angry neighbour tomorrow

"Alex- i'm going t-" he shushed you

"shh just do it darling"

as his tongue circled,sucked one last time you feel apart

your legs shaking and trembling around him as he continued to work until you came down from your high

ams when you did, panting and sweating your fingers in his hair and your eyes half shut

he placed a kiss to your clit and came back up to you kissing you

instantly kissing him back

and when you both pulled back he could tell he had worn you out

"someone's tired huh?" laughing

"you've worn me out alex"

"good-" kissing your cheek

"ill pay you and..that tongue back in the morning" smirking at him

"breakfast in bed" he winked

not proofread and requests open.

[the-breath-in-air]

So You're Disappointed in Loki...Now What?

Okay folks, if you were expecting Loki to be queerer and weirder and you're disappointed in what it's turning out to be...consider checking out these other superhero/sci-fi series (if you haven't already).

Legion (2017-2019) - This show has a real retro-future aesthetic, similar to Loki. (Although Loki's drawing more from the 1970s and Legion draws more from the 1960s). Anyway, Legion is also a show about self acceptance and self-love. It's not *just* about those things; it's also about mental illness, what makes someone a "good person," and how we deal with trauma - with a bit about sexism, racism and colonialism thrown in there. And it is a weird show. Each season key parts of the reality of the fictional universe change - and always in truly bizarre ways. And there are a few canon queer characters too.

Sense8 (2015-2018) - Sense8 is a Netflix series written and directed by the Wachowski sisters and J. Michael Straczynski. It's about eight people around the world who are telepathically linked - and about the evil international corporation/agency that's attempting to capture and control them. Their telepathy is a metaphor for the internet - but also about found family. And there's an element of self-love in here as well. Of the main characters - Nomi is a trans lesbian & her cis girlfriend is Amanita, and Lito is a cis gay man & his boyfriend is Hernando. Eventually pretty much every character ends up being queer, though, because this series is just queer-as-hell. Unfortunately, this series also hits some really tired racial stereotypes and has way too much sympathy for "good" cops.

Doom Patrol (2019-Present) - Season 1 of Doom Patrol ends with a giant rat making out with a giant cockroach. What I'm saying is, this show gets weird. There's a sentient street, a man who eats beards, a narrating villain named Mr. Nobody, and an episode that takes place largely inside a donkey. And that's just the first season. Our heroes are all anti-heroes; they've all got major character flaws. But they're also all dealing with a lot of trauma, and they end up saving the word a few times while dealing with it. Of the main group, Larry is gay. Then there's also Danny - who's a genderqueer sentient street, plus pretty much everyone who lives on them is queer. This show's got a lot about self-love and self-acceptance, but also about the responsibility we have to care for each other.

The Umbrella Academy (2019-Present) - Another show about self-acceptance and the responsibility we have to care for each other. Also, each of the heroes all have pretty serious character flaws, which they either ignore or work to overcome. They're also all dealing with trauma (specifically from being raised by a complete asshole). There's time travel and a time agency and the siblings are constantly trying to avert an apocalypse. The second season in particular deals with racism and homophobia (to varying degrees of success). Also, two of the siblings are bisexual. (And Netflix updated the credits to change Elliot Page's name which is kinda great).

ETA:

Somehow when I first made this post, I forgot to post the obvious:

Ragnarok (2020-Present) - It's a teen drama + what if Norse gods were real and lived in modern-day Norway. It's a bit of a coming-of-age story but also the bigger theme is to do with climate change and evil corporations. It's a Norwegian production with a Danish showrunner which gives it a different perspective than I'm used to seeing (I'm in the U.S.). It's a fun series with some real silly moments in it. Oh and also Loki's here and queer.

ETA2:

Cannot believe I also forgot this:

DC's Legends of Tomorrow (2016-Present) - This is a show about a bunch of time travelers who "screw things up for the better." The first season is rough, mostly because it took itself too seriously and Vandal Savage was a rubbish villain. So you can skip it and maybe read a wiki for continuity. But trust me when I say it really picks up in season 2. One of the strengths of this show is how the writers take what could be problems, and using it to flesh out themes and ideas (i.e. the frequent changes in the cast). It gets real meta and a bit weird, but in a CW-friendly way. So it's got some heavy themes, but also a lot of silliness. It also has a lot of crossover with the other CW Arrowverse shows, but honestly it's completely understandable on its own. Queer characters include (but are not limited to): Sara Lance, Ava Sharpe, Charlie, Constantine (huzzah finally), Gary, and Zari.

[ryo-maybe]

I am attempting to limp back to some degree of normality, and that involves getting back to the three directives: maintain wife's wellbeing, man the wall guarding the Oxford Comma in unceasing vigil, and extract nutrients from words. Today I plant the seed that I shall harvest and pound into bread. Simple and clean, your three words are Dubious, Tour, and Misapprehensions.

It begins like it always does. A mere, slow trickle, amniotic drops of hope squeezed out of the suffocating congealment of a thousand unseen stillbirths. It hurts, drawing this latest of a myriad first breaths. Air ill finds comfort within the atrophied confines of lungs forced too long to suffer the stillness of silence. Not yet, not now: pain sweetens the promise of a better tomorrow, makes it so easy to forget how many of those are now the bitter yesterdays upon a pile of which you rest, uncomfortable and regretful. It's the old song and dance all over again, inescapably repetitive, steeping in its own self-cannibalizing dullness. It exists solely to prove its unoriginal futility and ward off any attempts to revive it, but it hardly matters. For something squirms and churns, slowly yet surely breaking through the outer shell of what ought to be the corpse of things left unwritten, and brings to the white void the ripe freshness of a greeting:

"Gotcha, son of a bitch!"

Double D. Doublename taps on a nigh-imperceptible crack in the vast blackness of the surface his colleague Marantonio Carpaccio has been hitting with a sledgehammer for the past three hours. Sure enough, words trickle out like congealed blood from a papercut, viscous and malformed hints of unfinished ideas, concepts never realized, the lymph of potential narratives that could ripen, if only they were allowed to.

"There's no point. Look, it's already closing up." The Writer points at the hair-thin opening, tired eyes reflecting its already halved length. He is almost too late to retract his finger as the sledgehammer begins again to sing its percussive cacophony, underscored by the mercilessly forceful fall of the other Grammar Policeman's palm on his shoulder.

"So we're not gonna let it." Double squats just enough that each of his colleague's swings avoid turning his head into pulp by a matter of millimeters, scooping up a few words that dripped to the ground. "Because if it does, I'm shoving Tonio's lil' tool aaall the way up your rectum. Isn't that right, Tonio?"

"That he will, indeed. Headfirst, I should specify." Marantonio takes a moment between blows to warn the Writer and wipe his perfectly polite smile with a towel that has long since become too drenched to do its job properly. The Writer grimaces. His dubious gaze lingers on the other agent's digit, smeared with the remnants of paragraphs he remembers never finishing. Some by choice; the others, because of the massive monolith spanning the intersection between four of the City's blocks.

"Besides, it's either gonna be us or your neighbors." Squeezed between Double's index and thumb, the gelatinous narrative yolk dissolves into meaningless phonemes, flecks of punctuation scattering like dust in the wind. "They don't look that happy to have had that thing sitting here for… how long again?"

"One month, give or take." Marantonio's grin hardens, cutting a grunt between pearly whites. The crack has now widened into the shape of a frown, or perhaps an upside-down smile.

"And you didn't even bother to hit up any Eraisers? Fucking hell." The Writer can't help but wonder if Double meant that for the amount of time it took a Writer's Block to grow the size of a city block, or because the seepage of his leftover thoughts have left a smear on the agent's trenchcoat when he wiped his hand on it.

"I didn't–I had my misapprehensions about their ability to help with my, er, conundrum."

"Your 'conundrum' that's now the biggest civic disaster we've been sent to mop up in…"

"Weeks?" The question fills the gap in Marantonio's steady rhythm.

"Days, really. Things've been getting crazy for a while now… crazier, anyway. City's like a circus on tour all year round, I fucking swear."

The sound of Double's foot kicking the Block is drowned by the resounding echo of his colleague's continuous rain of sledgehammer blows. An act of such utter pointlessness that the Writer cannot help but be stirred out of his deadpan stupor because of it.

"I've tried, okay? I just–nothing. There's nothing."

"Buddy, I've seen nothing." Double's knuckles emphatically hit the obsidian wall. "This ain't it. It's a whole lot of anything but."

"That? It's an eggshell." The Writer scoffs, glaring at his Block at once with contempt and pity. All white and no yolk. Oh, it was full once - of worlds and themes, characters and emotions. Stories."

His palm hovers in front of the monolith's impenetrable outer layer, unable to decide between a slap or a caress. Fingers that once wove across a keyboard with confident zest curl on themselves, a spider killed by a crippling lack of decisiveness.

"Nothing. Others in the City have already written all there is to write, read all they should ever bother to read. There are no lessons to impart, no points to make. Jokes? The only one is that, for all the depth I crave, I'm stuck right in front of the most superficial level. There's nothing here. The selfish craving of a thousand voices that do not exist, clamoring for standards beyond my ability to even fathom. Break it, I say. Break it all down. I'm done. Let others speak who have something to say. Words for those who can write them. Me? I…"

"You're full of shit. Just write. You can think about what it means later, and if it doesn't mean jack to you, it'll probably do for somebody else. Or it won't. Fuck do you care? Look up. You wrote all of this. Don't make it more complicated just because."

And so it all comes crashing down in riotous rebellion, crumbles at the feet of the self-flagellating puppet going through its unstirring motions. The Writer witnesses in slack-jawed disbelief the rubbled prison of his insecurity, his bare uncertainty reflected across a speckled tapestry of translucent fragments. He looks - searches? For what? There. Stirring beneath scattered bits of amateurish contemplation, struggling to surface from the intimate privacy of the self to be witnessed by the bored faces staring from the surrounding buildings' windows. The Grammar Police's envoys hurry, digging through the rubble with zeal dictated by professionalism, a will to be done with this already, and something else spelled only in the frantic way they shove aside dreary clutter and stilted lamentations. In the gentle way Marantonio cradles the thing they eventually fish out, in the rough grin Double dons as he pokes the formless, sleepy blob and slams his palm on the teary-eyed Writer's back.

"Well, shit. It's as ugly as it possibly gets, but we still gotta start somewhere, huh?"

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary153

2/14-15/2024

wednesday - thursday

the day started awful, but somehow, at like, 1 pm-ish, my illness improved massively.

i wonder/worry if tomorrow will be similar or if this feeling basically a lot better will continue. cuz i don't think i should/can call out. so i guess ultimately it doesn't matter.

anyway, since the illness is a lot better, today i was able to work out, and also i was able to work on music, but mostly the problem song, i did the return track thing, it is a good idea, i think it sounds pretty good, one thing is just that the vocals still seem a bit too fried, but i'll see what i think of that tomorrow, maybe i should do this to another track before the night ends, too, just so i can get more progress made on the record.

anyway, i just started doing something maybe pointless but maybe not, doing tiny pixel art ufos, it seems cute, just to have them if i want to stick upscaled 32x32 pixel art ufos on the album art, a good homage to my affection for how space invaders looks, and stuff like that.

and now a 16x16 squid. i forgot how fun doing tiny things like that was. i should learn how to get actually good at it, like good enough to draw a tiger or somethingg.

i also have to get around to doing a ribbon, either in 64x or 32x, cuz i know i'll use that on the album.

now i am reopening ableton, just to start at least on the next song's mix/master.

here's a really cute song + mv.

now i'm thinking, as something exports, about how i have a funny tooth, the snaggletooth thing, kind of like that whole yaeba thing every news site was talking about forever ago, which is/was part of the whole exoticizing japan in weird ways thing, that everything/one still does on some level, even when they're talking about how japan is awful, or reasons to hate japan (some valid like racism/sexism/work culture/pedophilia (though i'll be honest and say this last one feels overemphasized, at least around people i know (describing it as an island of pedophiles))), they make it exotic and unique in its evil. anyway the tooth thing always struck me as funny, because i am part japanese and it's a weird beauty standard, but i've also just seen it naturally occuring in other japanese people, it feels like a funny tether i guess. but it's not, like, the only one. for a while i was raised around my grandma, my mom and i living with her a couple times over the years, but she is dead now, all i have are the memories and the things she's given me as habits, and the things my mother has given me as habits she's received from her mother.

i still need to get to talking to my mom soon. idk why it's so easy for me to just hide from my parents. it does feel like hiding. they both would so quickly get mad at me growing up, it made me want to avoid them altogether, a lot of the time. you'd hope, getting older, that this would go away, but it won't, unless i make it, but even then i think it'd have to be something i keep at the front of my mind, but i don't think i can, i have too much i'm thinking about normally, and so scattered too.

the song doesn't sound bad rn, but i want it to be like, more, brighter and stuff. idk. i think i can get it there in a bit.

hopefully after this export it makes a bit more sense, as a thing, and then i can go to bed or something.

yeah i think i got it pretty close to right, maybe i should bring the guitar up by 0.5db.

and omg i forgot to post this last night, i was so tired, so

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[immaturityofthomasastruc]

Honestly, I'm tired. I often try to give the benefit of doubt to almost everyone. Astruc completely destroyed my enjoyment of the show.

Season 3 wasn't great, but had some cool moments that I genuinely enjoyed, but I draw the line to what happened in Miracle Queen.

I can get behind a character hitting rock bottom for rising up in other seasons, but how much Asstruc bashes Chloe has become too much. Everywhere I go, I find people defending this poor choice in character development. I can't say that Zoè's introduction to the show is a poor choice in my opinion, that suddenly I get downvoted almost immediately in Reddit or find myself in long ass diatribe about why Chloe is an horrible person and doesn't reserve redemption.

I was fine with Season 1 Chloe, she was just a bully character who was there to be a plot device to make the main cast akumas and to be Marinette's total opposite.

He wanted to make Chloe unlikable, then he shouldn't have never introduces Audrey. He was pretty telling that the only people who tolerated Chloe were her dad, her butler and Sabrina, even Adrien, who supposedly was her childhood friends, barely hangs out with her.

When Audrey was introduced, Chloe became a sympathetic character and from there there was a bit of complexity in a character in a show where the protagonist are often bland and boring and the antagonist is a worse Mr. Freeze.

Seriously, from that point, I related to Chloe in a way that neither Marinette nor Adrien managed to do. Marinette has good parents and is loved by everyone, Adrien has a shitty father but Plagg, Gorilla, Nathalie and his friends make up for it and even then, the show goes out of his way to show that even if he became a magical terrorist, Gabriel somewhat cares for his son, while Audrey doesn't even remember her daughter's name.

After Miracle Queen, I didn't watch the two specials and I dreaded to watch season 4, scared that the show would have worsened and while I watched Truth, that I liked a little because I liked the Akuma power, even with the stupid thing about Jagged Stone being an horrible father, and I related a bit in Guiltrip, because I have a chronic illness and a bit of depression, I still haven't managed to gather the courage to watch Lies, Gang of Secret, Furious Fu etc.

I realized I was tired after the promo for the second season of The Owl House was dropped a few days ago. I realized that I no longer enjoy the show, that I lurk into the fandom because the show left me unsatisfied and the fan fiction somewhat seems better than the show itself, while with The Owl House happened the exact opposite. For TOH, the show left me so satisfied that I barely enter the fandom, because is that good, while with MLB, I stay for the fandom.

I'm tired of it and I think I'm going to take a break from this show, and it is in part because Astruc's crusade against Chloe.

Sorry for the long ask, but I just needed to vent.

Don't worry, your anger is completely valid.

The treatment of Chloe has proven to be a real breaking point with some fans. After the creator of a show scolds fans for getting invested in a character arc, why get invested in anything else?

It's even worse when you remember this show airs on the same channel that airs Gravity Falls, Amphibia, and The Owl House, shows that actually treat their so-called "bully characters" with depth, showing that they aren't just one-dimensional villains like Astruc claims Chloe is.

I think it's a good idea to distance yourself for now, because things with Astruc aren't going to be pretty tomorrow when "Queen Banana airs".

[hawksugarbaby]

Todoroki x male reader- Caramel and Honey

Fluff + Au where todoroki rebelled and never became a hero 

Todoroki hummed to himself laying out the ingredients in front of him with his mixing bowl in the centre of the counter top, the mix of ingredients in organised lines from first to last except he was missing one ingredient.

It was soon to be your birthday, and todoroki being the gentleman as always was desperate to make you a cake as his local supplier. You deserved it for the kind smile you wore dropping of his orders at the back of the shop and hovering around for a few minutes to talk before disappearing into the wind again driving away in your van with (y/ln) Produce, stamped on the side of the van in big, black cursive.

He took over the shop from his mothers side of the family before she fell ill and had to go to hospital. not wanting anything to do with his disgusting father he chose to stay and manage the store of light pinks and pure whites. He heard your tires pulling up outside on the gravelly path and he opened the door for you to drop off your produce inside on the counters by the door.

"Hey Roki! How's it hanging, making anything special today?" you asked hauling a crate of freshly picked fruit for the season in and dropping it onto the steel top, wiggling under the weight and scooting forward a millimeter. "What do you consider special?" he asked bluntly helping you carry the boxes into the kitchen and put the items in their respective places.

Finally you brought in the cardboard box layered in bubble wrap filled with decorative jars of golden honey pockets of air suspended in the viscous liquid and Todoroki nodded happily in receiving everything he asked for. Sometimes you'd forget the blueberries, or the tea leaves or the bananas grown specially by your quirk. You grabbed a glass of honey flicking the lid open and dipped your finger into the glossy amber tasting it yourself.

"Something special? I would love a rustic honey cake. Just the way mum used to make it with our honey. Not the dumb store bought stuff, the stuff we make ourselves. With the bee's we lovingly care for, for a reason!" you shout but it was muffled by you sucking the honey off of your finger.

Todoroki wiped his chin and cleared his throat "you've got some... there's uh... like a little" you looked up at him and touched your chin the sticky threads of honey clinging to your hand. "Shit" you tutted and wiped it away with the heel of your hand getting that just as sticky as the rest of you. "Well this is embarrassing" you sighed and todoroki exhaled quickly, which was close enough to a laugh to make you smile. "Here" he ran a tea towel under the warm tap and wiped it over your chin and pressed it into your hand for you to clean your hands yourself.

He felt his own face light up red and grabbed a cup of blueberries in preparation for the blueberry muffins he would bake today and you blinked a few time's rebooting your brain after the short interaction making you flustered.

You wiped your hands down and neatly folded the towel over the side of the sink and shook your head clearing the busy, buzzing thoughts from your head and drew your eye's away from him focusing on the calendar hanging next to the wall. Delivery, nothing, delivery, nothing, delivery + (y/n) Birthday. You grinned and pointed to the red circle around the familiar number on the calendar and twisted your neck to watch him stir ingredients together into a pale yellow batter.

"You remember my birthday?" you quizzed and he nodded furiously beating the whisked eggs into the mixture and poured in the cup of indigo berries fresh from the bush. "Hey are you busy right now?" Todoroki asked moving on from the topic of your birthday and lifted his eyes from your strong arms he'd seen carry so many boxes of fruit, to your joy filled (e/c) orbs sparkling happily at the prospect of him. HIM. remembering your birthday.

"I can be not busy?" you raise your palms to the popcorn roof and flick out your phone calling a coworker. "Hey Bro, could you perchance come get the van from the Todoroki Bakery and deliver the rest of the products?" you ask and pushed the phone to your ear with your shoulder and mouthed 'frozen fruit' to todoroki and you quirked an eyebrow. He nodded to the bottom drawer.

"No I dropped a crate on my foot carrying the peaches into the shop and It hurts to walk on it I dunno how driving would go" you chuckle nervously and wink to todoroki who just looked back down at his muffins filling the white, paper cases not quite understanding. "No, I know it's so unlike me! But it's okay, Todoroki said he'd give me a lift home but can you just do the rest of the rounds?"

Your brother agreed and you said your bye's on the phone. "I now have the entire day off" you said proudly and leaned your elbows on the counter admiring todoroki's fluffy hair straying further from the style it was originally in while he pushed the baking tray into the oven. "Wait but I should check your foot if you hurt it" he said crouching down and pressing his cold hands against your ankle making you flinch "no I didn't really hurt my foot I just needed to get out of work" you chuckle.

"Oh okay. Will your dad believe that, aren't you supposed to be the big strong son?" Todoroki craned his neck up to look at you still resting with one knee on the floor and the other pulled up like he was going to propose. You lost yourself in your thoughts again imagining that instead of his hand on your foot he was holding out a small grey box with a gleaming band tucked into the cushion.

"Hey what the fuck is this?" your brother laughed at the scene in the kitchen and you whipped your head up to see him leaning against the door frame uncaringly. "Uhh todoroki was checking if my foot was swollen or anything. No evidence of broken bones yet! So you should just get going with the van here are my keys!!" you said hopping over like a professional actor and shoved the keys into his hand. "Mhm i'm sure that's what it was. OUTSIDE!" he shouted at you pulling you round the corner clipping your arm on the wooden pallets leaning against the wall out back scraping up inside your elbow.

"Hey what the hell, that hurt!" you shouted lightly tapping the bleeding scratched that didn't seem to want to stop bleeding. "Look I know you like that todoroki kid but you can't just skip work to spend the day with him!" your brother turned around and looked at your face, mouth agape and eye's furrowed into annoyance and he shrugged "what i'm just being hon-" "ARE YOU BLIND OR STUPID!?" you shouted back thrusting your profusely bleeding forearm in his face.

"Oh shit what! are you feeling okay?" he panicked suddenly drawing Todoroki's attention and he poked his head out the back door. Being the observant boy he was, his eyes went wide and he jogged over to where you were standing and wiped the blood away with the already honey covered tea towel but the crimson immediately started pouring out again. "He needs an ambulance" the dual haired baker tightly wrapped the tea towel around your arm which was quickly soaked in red.

You moaned in pain and annoyance feeling your head spin. "What could he have cut his arm on?" your brother asked and you held your hand out in front of his face snapping your fingers closed against your thumb shutting him up. "There's a huge fucking rusty nail... on the pallet you dragged me past you dickhead" you huffed. The ground span and swayed around you and the brightness in your vision was turned down so you could barely see the outlines of the boys surrounding you.

And then you were on the floor.

And then you were in the hospital. Staring at the white plaster ceiling at midnight with no one by your side. "Huh" you hummed and checked your phone hissing at the brightness lashing the dark hospital room.

todoroki was in the shop with a bowl and cake pan next to him. The jar of honey you scooped from open and his phone laying open waiting for your answer to his text.

You replied to the questions he asked and Todoroki's phone buzzed on the steel countertop and he perked up immediately reaching for the electronic, slowly running out of battery.

Roki 💖🍰

Hey are you okay?

Fri 12:18

Do you like pistachios?

Oh also raisins, do you like raisins?

Probably not, no one likes raisins

I like raisins...

Anyway. Text me when you see this

Fri 18:35

Roki 💖🍰

I hope you wake up.

I wasn't supposed to get a delivery from you today

But I wish I was cause I like seeing you

You make my heart feel... weird.

Good weird

Sat 8:44

Still don't know if you like raisins and pistachios

Sat 12:27

Roki 💖🍰

It's your birthday tomorrow you know.

Sorry I didn't text yesterday but you were sleeping anyway

How can you catch tetanus so quickly

It's supposed to take 4 days dumbass.

You got it in like 1. You fainted because of the blood btw

Mon 13:21

Please just wake up for your birthday.

I have something special for you

But I need to know if you like pistachios and raisins

Mon 14:56

Roki 💖🍰

Happy Birthday (y/n)

Tue 00:00

You chuckled to yourself at the sweet messages todoroki sent you over the course of the days and glanced at the clock. "I wonder if he's still awake" you croaked and wiped your eyes from sleep then yawned filling your waterline with unnecessary tears.

Bumblebee 🍯

Hey Roki. I'm up

I like/don't like pistachios

And I like/don't like raisins

Sorry for worrying you. Promise I won't get anymore tetanus

I'm going back to sleep

Come visit tomorrow

today*

Sent

Tue 4:13

"You better not be awake dumbass" you mumbled and turned over on your pillow burying your face into the uncomfortable pancake for your head.

Seen

Tue 4:15

The baker smiled and finally started working on his surprise for you chopping his toppings and thinly slicing/ throwing away his toasted pistachios and crunching on a few raisins while working.

At 2pm he walked in and went to visit you with his surprise balancing carefully in your hand. He carefully tiptoed to your bedside and pushed your side slightly. You snorted and rolled over, opening your eye's to an amused todoroki settling himself into the chair next to your bed. "Something smells great" you muttered pushing your face back into the pillow and smiling. "Thank you for visiting" you muffled and todoroki chuckled nodding.

"Happy birthday" he smiled pulling the foil off of the top of your surprise. You peaked your eyes open and sat up smiling brightly. "I didn't know how your mum made it but I made my own recipe" he scratched the back of his head and moved to sit next to you on the mattress. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and kissed your cheek lightly before you could take off the handheld slice you were slowly lifting to your mouth.

"My heart feels weird around you" he sighed and thumped his forehead against your shoulder and you snickered, taking a soft bite of the sticky, nostalgic cake in your grasp. "I know. Thank you for the little updates by the way, very sweet of you" you emphasised the sweet as a pun on the honey cake but of course, it flew over todoroki's head. "But yeah. Thank you for the cake it's delicious" you complimented and leaned your head on his. "Can I go back to sleep now?" you joked and he smiled and pressed you down by your hard chest and lay on top of you. "Just don't sleep for 4 days again" he mumbled nestling into your t'shirt.

You stared down at the parting in his hair with huge, round eye's and put your hands on his back, grasping them together in a hug-ish type thing. "Okay"

[thesentientmango]

First Priority

This is a sickfic for @sander-sideblog who got sick recently! Hey Ópala! I hope you're starting to feel a bit better!

Tw- vomit (no vivid descriptions), medicine, illness, food (mentioned)

Word count- approximately 1400

If I need to add anything let me know!

////

"Alright kiddo!" Patton said as he looked at Roman's now normal reading on the thermometer, "Looks like you'll be able to join your brother at school tomorrow!"

Roman cheered, and hugged Virgil, "Yay! Did you hear that Vee? I'm finally better!"

Virgil giggled, his older brother's excited energy was contagious.

"I can't wait to see everyone again! I wonder what we'll do! Knight Roman will return once more to the kingdom, I wonder if any horrible beasts have tried to conquer it in my time of weakness."

Patton ruffled Roman's hair, "Alright, Roman you keep brainstorming! I've got to make a call, I'll be right back."

Roman bounded off towards the living room, but Virgil didn't follow him. Curious about what his dad was doing, Virgil followed him quietly into the kitchen, and listened in as his dad made a call.

"Hey Emile! Yeah that's actually what I was calling about, Roman's going to be able to go to school tomorrow, so I'll be able to make it in again! I tried to keep up back here, but Roman was pretty sick. Thanks for understanding. There's a lot of stuff I wasn't given to catch up on though, right?"

Virgil heard his dad's cheerful tone of voice slip for a moment, "Yeah that's what I was scared of, okay! Well I'll see you tomorrow!"

Virgil heard his dad hang up and sigh. "It's okay Patton," He heard his dad say to himself, "Family comes first, and you can catch up! It'll be fine!"

Virgil crept out of the kitchen before his dad caught him eavesdropping, he walked back towards his brother who was laying on the floor drawing. When he saw Virgil walk in, he slid one of his sheets of paper over to Virgil.

"You wanna draw with me Vee?"

Virgil nodded, as he plopped himself down next to his brother, and began to draw on the paper provided to him.

An hour later, to Virgil's relief, Patton told them it was time for bed. Virgil had been getting progressively more tired over the past half hour, and was just ready to go to sleep.

Virgil climbed into bed, and his dad tucked him, and kissed him on the forehead, "Goodnight Virgil. Sleep tight sweetie!" Patton whispered.

"Goodnight dad," Virgil mumbled, as the world started to fade around him.

~~~

Virgil woke up breathing heavily. Around him his bedsheets were cold and slightly damp, and Virgil realized he was sweating. He sat up, the grogginess of sleep rested heavily on his head. Virgil kicked his overly warm blankets off, his throat felt dry and scratchy. 'I must be thirsty.' Virgil reasoned. He shivered, a chill settling over him, inspite of the his body feeling warm when he hugged his arms to his chest.

There was a knock at the bedroom door, and Roman began to stir. Patton poked his head in the door, "Oh good Vee you're up! Breakfast is ready, but I've got to get dressed for work, so if you could just wake Roman up, it's right on the table!"

Virgil smiled weakly at his dad, "Sure dad!" He said, his voice came out a bit scratchy and hoarse, but Patton didn't seem to notice.

"Thanks kiddo!" Patton said as he left the room.

Despite his body aching and screaming at him to go back to sleep, he dragged himself out of bed, and woke Roman up.

At this point Virgil felt horrible. He wasn't hungry, and what he wanted most was to just curl up and not go to school, but he knew his dad had to go to work. So after waking up Roman, he tiptoed to the table, and instead of eating his food, he scrapped his plate into the trash. That way that his dad wouldn't have to worry about him. After taking a sip of the juice Patton had put out for him, and it only hurting his throat, Virgil decided his dad had enough to worry about already, and poured that down the drain.

Virgil went back into their bedroom, just as Roman was coming out to get dressed for school. As he passed Virgil he grinned, "Hi Vee!"

Virgil smiled, shoving down his discomfort, "Hi."

Roman skipped over to the breakfast table, and Virgil slipped into their bedroom.

As soon as Virgil closed the door, he collapsed on his bed. Virgil's throat felt like sandpaper, and he felt so warm. Virgil sat up slowly, his head felt like it was full of cotton, and walked to his chest of drawers. He picked the first few peices of clothing that he saw and slipped them on.

His clothes clung to his body, which was still coated in a thin layer of sweat, but he soldiered on. Fifteen minutes later, after Roman had come in and changed, Patton called them.

"Come on kiddos! It's time to go to school!"

Virgil grabbed his small backpack and followed his brother out the door.

~~~

When Virgil arrived at his classroom, tha familiar look of the round tables, a toy corner, and a mini library, he'd seen yesterday greeted him. Because of Virgil's pounding head, queasy stomach, and overly warm body, Virgil sat at his table quietly, and put his head down on it. He had no energy for anything else.

Virgil had completely zoned out when he felt a small tap on his arm. Virgil glanced up, and his teacher Mr. Logan was crouched down next to him looking slightly worried.

~~~

When Virgil entered the classroom and went straight to his assigned seat, Logan thought nothing of it. Virgil was a relatively quiet child, and often did not go out of his way to interact with the other children. However, when Virgil proceeded to lay his head down on his desk, a common sign of distress, Logan went over to the boy, and tried to see what was wrong.

"Good morning Virgil," He said in a slightly hushed tone. "Are you alright?"

Virgil looked back down at the table, "Mhm."

Logan nodded slowly, "Virgil if you are feeling bad, there is no shame in it."

Virgil shook his head, "I'm fine."

Logan sighed, and stood up, "Alright Virgil. If you change your mind let me know."

Virgil hugged his arms a bit closer to his body. "Okay Mr. Logan," Virgil said.

Logan reluctantly stood up, still looking relatively worried as Virgil lay back down on his arms.

~~~

The day passed very slowly for Virgil. His throat had really started to burn as the school day ended, and all he wanted to do was curl up in his own bed.

When Roman had gotten sick, Patton had made soup and all types of things that seemed to make Roman feel better. Virgil sighed looking off in the distance, he didn't want to be miserable anymore, but he didn't want to bother his dad. So resigned to his misery, he waited for the last five minutes of school to finish.

As the announcements came on informing the school the busses were arriving, Virgil was meeting with his brother out the front of the school. Roman was vibrating with excitement as he told Virgil about meeting up with his friends again.

"Kiddos!" They looked over, and saw Patton waving from the car, "I'm over here!"

Roman practicality sprinted to the car, and Virgil followed behind him, as he tried to remind himself to be energized.

As Virgil jumped into the car, Patton smiled back at him, "Hey hun! How was your day?"

Virgil shrugged, "We didn't do much! But I think Roman did stuff."

Patton started to drive, "Oh yeah, Roman what did you do today?" Patton said.

Roman started to tell their dad all about his day, as Virgil began to space out. He was having trouble focusing, his stomach hurt, and his throat was bunching like he wanted to cough, but Virgil forced it away, he didn't want his dad to know. He had to catch up on work, he didn't have time for Virgil.

When they got home, Patton played a few games with the boys before setting them up with a movie and some coloring so he could make dinner. Roman couldn't sit through a movie without something to draw on or fidget with, and Virgil usually would get bored, except for today when he was simply too tired to consume the media.

"It's time for dinner!" Patton called.

Virgil and Roman sat down at the dinner table, adjacent from their dad. Patton had made lasagna, a dish Virgil would have normally been ecstatic to have, but his stomach was restless, and he hadn't been hungry all day.

Virgil ate the food his dad had given to him. It would be rude to not eat it, Virgil thought.

Later Virgil curled in his bed. His stomach churned ominous, and quiet tears slipped from his eyes. He wanted his dad to help him feel better, he wanted what Roman had gotten. It was so cold in the room, but Roman wasn't cold anymore, so the extra blankets weren't in the room anymore.

Virgil eventually fell asleep, his stomach still restless.

Virgil woke up sharply. Bile was rising in his throat. He rushed to the bathroom.

~~~

Patton woke up to the horrible sound of vomiting he had become so familiar with.

Patton rushed into the bathroom, expecting to see Roman, relapsed back into being sick again after eating, but instead Virgil was hunched over the toilet, crying and shaking. Patton was horrified at how pale and sick his youngest looked.

"Virgil?" Patton said as calmly as he could as he knelt next to Virgil. "Oh Virgil honey are you okay?"

Virgil shook his head, still trembling. "I'm 'orry. I did'n mean to."

Patton stroked his son's hair, trying to calm him. "What do you mean sweetheart? You couldn't control this."

"I tried to hide it." Virgil sobbed, "'m sorry Dad. I thought it would go away, and I didn't wanna bother you!"

Patton reached past Virgil, flushing the toilet, before bringing his arm back to hug Virgil. "Shh... it's okay... you could never bother me. Why did you think you being sick would be a bother?"

Virgil sniffed, looking up at Patton with teary eyes. "I heard you talkin' to someone 'bout how you have a lot to do at work. An' I didn't wanna worry you more."

Patton squeezed Virgil gently, "Oh my little stormcloud you could never bother me. You are so much more important than work, family comes first okay? Whatever form my family comes in, they will always come over work." Patton kissed Virgil's forehead, and frowned withdrawing slowly. "Hm, kiddo, you feel pretty warm." Patton made a mental note to check his temperature later. "Let's get you back to bed."

As Patton picked Virgil up, he was slightly alarmed at how cold the rest of Virgil's body felt. Virgil buried into Patton's chest. He brought Virgil into Patton's room, and laughed him on his bed.

"Dad?" Virgil asked, "Dad, why are we in your room?"

"I don't want to wake Roman up," Patton said gently. "Now honey, you're shivering. Are you cold?"

Virgil nodded, and before he could say anything the tickling in his throat evolved into a coughing fit.

Patton immediately started to rub Virgil's back. "Oh Vee... I'm going to get you some water and medicine as well." As Patton left the room, Virgil heard him mumble to himself, "Sounds like what Roman had..."

After Patton had given him some medicine and brought some more blankets, Virgil managed to fall asleep.

~~~

About an hour or two later, Virgil was woken up again but this time a bit more calmly. Patton had shaken Virgil awake. "Hey sweetie. Sorry to wake you up, I need to take your temperature, and you should drink some water, you're probably pretty dehydrated."

Virgil nodded and let Patton, take his temperature. Upon seeing it Patton tutted. "Oh dear. Well here drink some water, are you hungry at all?"

Virgil shook his head, but took a drink of the water. Patton smiled gently, "Alright well I've call you out of school, and Roman's already away. Do you need anything else?"

Virgil bit his lip, "Don't go Dad."

Patton looked at Virgil, confused, "I'm not going to work sweetheart, don't worry."

Virgil croaked, "No, dad, I mean stay in here. Don't leave me."

Patton took the glass from Virgil's hands, "Oh honey of course. Are you tired?"

Virgil shook his head, and Patton hummed, "Okay, well why don't we watch a movie! What'll it be kiddo?"

Virgil shrugged, coughing a bit as he said, "Can we watch Lilo and Stitch?"

Patton kissed Virgil's head, "Of course kiddo. I have to go just for a second to get it, but I'll be right back, okay?"

Virgil nodded, "Okay Dad."

Five minutes later, Virgil was cuddled up to Patton, as the movie began. Patton looked down at his child, who although looked quite sick and was definitely feverish, looked peaceful watching the movie.

Halfway through the movie Patton realized Virgil was asleep, but Patton stayed there, hugging Virgil as he shivered in his sleep.

Patton whispered, "I'm sorry you got sick Virgil. I swear no amount of work is more important than you, you guys are my first priority. I love you."

Patton wasn't sure if Virgil had heard him, but Virgil nuzzled deeper into his chest, and smiled slightly in his sleep. Patton was glad Virgil was sleeping, and just lay there with Virgil, in comfortable silence.

General Writing Tag List: (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

@your-friendly-neighborhood-enby @yourelost-itsokay @thirteenashmctrash @fluff-marry-kill @eden-hp-sanders @4ngstyc00kie @treasureofpriam @remythehero @grayson-22 @amazu-kusuri @sander-sideblog @availe

[dreams-of-wings]

Impossible (6/8)

Imagine Billy Hargrove with a Mixed Race/Biracial S/O

Warnings: Racism, swearing, homophobia, homophobic slurs, mild violence, you throw hands a lot, angst.

Masterlist

You stay blocking the window sill for a bit cuz you enjoy seeing him squirm.

Honestly, he is bad at this whole climbing thing and he's struggling to not fall on his ass.

You finally let him in after he almost falls.

You're laughing your ass off while he's climbing through your window and simultaneously having a heart attack.

"It would have been less of a hassle if you used the door."

"I didn't think your parents would be happy if someome like me came knocking on their door asking for you."

You raise a brow at this, someone like him?

After a minute it occurs to you.

"Oh you mean a violent, racist, douchbag, with a reputation that surpasses the devil?"

He frowns.

Contrary to popular belief, Billy Hargrove is very self aware, and very self conscious about himself, his actions, and his self worth.

He doesn't like being an asshole but it's all he knows.

He low-key is afraid of growing up to be like his father.

Even though he has that nagging voice in the back of his mind that's telling him he's already as bad as his dad, if not worse.

He hides it all under a mask of confidence, booze, and cigarettes.

It still doesn't make his actions okay.

You snap him out of his thoughts.

"What?"

"I said my parents are out of town."

Now that he's in your room you noticed that Billy looked shaken up.

Billy Fucking Hargove, for once didn't have a scratch on him, but he looked like hell.

You question him.

It takes a while but he finally answers.

His dad got pissed at him because Max wasn't home, and he came hoping she would be here so he could drag her home.

You convince him to let you come along, because he is pissed and you know how he can get.

He caves and lets you tag along.

The next stop was Lucas' House.

Neither Max nore her son were there, but she said the kids all loved to go to Mike's house to play games.

Next stop is the Wheelers residence.

You dont know what's being said between Mrs. Wheeler and Billy, but knowing Billy and being able to read his body language- well. It takes everything in you to refrain from rolling your eyes and honking his horn (though you fail at not rolling your eyes).

I mean come on you guys are looking for Max, this is not the time to be flirting.

Fuck he went in.

You audibly groan and contemplate jacking his car to go look for his sister yourself, unfortunately he has the keys and you dont know how to hotwire a car.

Finally, he's out.

You forgive him because he comes out with a cookie in his mouth and has another one in his hand, which he gives to you.

"Hell, yes!!"

What?

Who the hell turns down food? And cookies at that. Home made cookies. And they're fresh.

Last stop was the the Byers house.

Fuck, Steve is there.

"Stay in the car."

"What? No!" Like hell you were going to let him beat up your friend.

"Stay in the fucking car!"

Steve seems both angry and hurt when he notices that you're in Billy's car.

You can't really hear what's being said, it's all muffled.

You panic a bit when Billy shoved Steve and you worry they'll start fighting.

"Shit!"

You burst out the car when you see Billy storming for the door, but stop to help Steve.

"Why the hell are you driving around with him?"

"He came to my place first, looking for Max and I offered to help him. What'd you say to piss him off?"

Steve gets mad, thinking your taking his side, and for the second time that night you find yourself rolling your eyes. "Why did you tell him you didn't know her? I tutor Max and her friends, and you babysit her friends, and you and I hang out, of course you would know her?"

You both stop arguing when you here a loud crash from inside the house.

"Damn it!" "Shit!"

You both walk in just in time to hear Billy threaten Lucas.

Fucking excuse you, Billy???

Steve decks him across the face, Billy taunts him, and this time an actual fight breaks out.

You try your best to get them both to stop fighting, but neither of them will listen to you, the voice of reason.

When Billy has Steve pinned to the floor and keeps punching him over and over again you finally get physical.

You tackle Billy off him while he's oblivious to his surroundings and use your hands and knees to pin his arms to the ground.

"What the fuck is your problem, Billy?!"

You've never seen him look at you so angrily, probably because he feels a bit betrayed.

He somehow manages to roll you both over so now your stuck underneath him.

You flinch when he draws his fist back like he's going to hit you, but the next thing you know- there's a syringe sticking out the side of his neck.

"Holy shit!"

He gets up to go after Max, but promptly falls.

Your a bit shocked by Max's outburst.

Now her, you have never seen that angry before.

When they leave, you stay behind to look after Billy and move him to couch

He isn't happy when he wakes up.

He's actually really fucking pissed.

But he's still a little groggy from sleep and the drug (mostly the drug) so it's funny.

Help this child, he thought he was getting off the couch normally, but turns out he just rolled off and onto the floor face first.

Your freaking out and laughing all at once.

Slurred, "What the fuck's so funny?!?"

He needs aspirin and water like a hangover.

He falls asleep again after you get him back onto the couch, and you fall asleep on the floor propped up against the couch in a sitting position.

You don't wake up till the kids get back (Max wakes you up).

The both of you manage to get Billy to his car. He still asleep like a log.

You go to your place, and they spend the night - Max was worried their dad would be even more angry if they woke him up, and even more so if he caught you helping Billy and Max into the house.

The next morning was very #Domestic.

With You waking up to find Max already up and looking through your cabinets for food.

Suprise, you end up making breakfast for everyone!

Max wanted chocolate chip pancakes, so chocolate chip pancakes she shall get.

No suprise, Billy wakes up while you both are making the sausages and bacon.

Full plate of eggs, bacon and sausage, and pancakes for everyone! Yay! 😀

Honestly the best morning the two of them have had for a while, but you won't catch either of them saying that outloud.

Max leaves to hang out with the others.

Billy still seems mad about the previous night.

"What, are you going to pout all morning? All day?"

"I dont pout."

"Oh I'm sorry, what would you prefer to call it- sulking? Brooding? Plotting my death?"

He tries to hide a snicker and lightly shoves you.

Going back to school the following Monday felt weird after everything that happened over the weekend.

You tried asking Steve what was up with all the drawings in Will's house, but he wouldn't budge.

Of course you tried asking Nancy and Jonathan too, but they acted like they didn't know anything.

The next few weeks were full of practice tests and prep assignments for finals.

You saw Billy less and less because you were hitting the books.

Sure he knew you were probably in the library, but after that weekend he wasn't sure how to go about interacting with you, or if he should do so anymore at all.

He kinda feels like you picked Steve over him.

He pops buy on Wednesday and almost gives you a heart attack. He's not surprised that you've been working yourself ragged, and your not surprised he hasn't even touched a text book (let's be honest, Billy doesn't strike me at the type of person to take notes in class, just pull out a pencil and paper to look like he's interested and go about his day).

Your freaking out, because finals but he doesn't flinch because you're like the smartest person he knows.

"Oh c'mon," he's managed to take your precious notes away, "You'll be fine, you're only stressing yourself out."

"Billy, I need those!"

"No you don't," He starts acting like he's reading the notes outloud, but he's getting the facts and formulas all wrong.

You correct him several times, and have actually started to chase him around the library.

Finally he closes the book after your sure you must have chased him around at least twice, "See, I told you. You don't need to study, you know this shit."

You both got kicked out of the library, again.

Billy is banned, but the librarian gives you one last chance...starting tomorrow.

You sigh in defeat, "Alright you proved your point, now give me my notebook back."

You reach for it.

"Nah," He raises it above his head so you can't reach it. Asshole.

Tommy and Carol show up and they think he's picking on you.

Neither of you sees them.

Tommy manages to snag the notebook, gives you an obnoxious laugh when you reach for it, and tosses it to Carol

"Give it back, shit face," Your mood went from playful to pissed in point zero seconds.

"What are you going to do about it, Heinz?"

Lord help you, you're about to throw hands again.

Billy snatches the book back and hands it to you, before looking at Tommy and Carol with a very stern expression.

"You idiots got anything better to do, huh?" He takes a few steps towards Tommy and for every step he takes, Tommy backs away.

Carol is distracted, which allows you to snatch your notebook back. She reaches for it again but you slap her hand away.

The message was very clear for them, so they take their leave and retreat back to wherever they came from.

Billy has lunch with you and manages to get you to skip the rest of school with him.

You don't want to miss during dead week, but the whole fiasco during your study period in the Library got you thinking- you need a break.

You also don't want the absent strike.

"You're such a goodie-two-shoes."

Peer pressure sucks.

You convince him to give you 30 minutes after the late bell rings to show up.

You go to class, set up your desk, the late bell rings, teacher calls role and marks you present. 7 minutes have passed.

You feign being ill.

It really wasn't hard. You just acted more tired than normal, threw in a couple "I have to stop what I'm doing because I have a headache," gestures. You even put your head down for a minute. You sit in the front so your body language is easy to pick up on and the teacher allows you to go to the nurses office when you ask. 12 minutes have passed.

When you get to the nurses office you throw the pass on the desk and storm into the private bathroom - closing the door behind you, before forcing yourself to dry heave. 27 minutes have passed.

You convince the nurse that it must be something you ate that's making you sick.

She gives you a pass and let's your teachers know you're sick and have gone home.

You meet Billy outside the school 30 minutes on the dot, he's surprised you actually came, and even more surprised that you lied well enough to get the teachers to excuse you for the rest of the day.

Of course you're upset when you see Tommy and Carol in the back seat, but you just roll your eyes and brush it off before climbing in shot gun.

Tommy and Carol are mocking you before you even get in.

"We didn't know the, mutt was coming along."

"How nice of you to bring something to entertain us, Billy."

Your looking at Billy through the corner of your eyes as he starts the car.

He waves you off, "Dont mind them."

You have no idea where you're going, or how long it will take so you pull out a book to read.

Before you can even open it, Carol snatches it from you, "What's the Nerd reading?!"

You roll your eyes again.

Tommy snatches it from the red head, "Stephan King. Christine."

"What's it?" Carol pipes up again, "Sappy romance novel?!"

"Wow, you both are actually uncultured, " you snatch the book away from Tommmy, "I'm impressed," and keep it out of his reach by out stretching your arm towards the dash, "Did it take all three of your brain cells to read that?"

Tommy tries to get his hands on you now, but you smack them away.

"Alright, alright!"

The three of you look surprised at Billy, "If you two don't quit your shit," he looks to the rearview mirror, "I'm kicking you out."

The rest of your ride was uneventful.

You arrive at Tommy's house.

His parents are also out of town.

But he lives in a large house with a pool and bar.

They're having an end of the year party and whoops you got dragged along.

You hadn't planned to be doing this with your time so you resort to studying more, much to Billy's behest, and Tommy and Carol's attempts to distract you.

You sit outside on a lawn chair next to the pool while they get everything prepped for the night.

Not much happens till it starts turning dark out, Billy calls you for help with something and when you leave you don't notice Carol and Tommy going for your stuff.

You can imagine your suprise when you find you stuff had been emptied into the pool.

Notebooks, text books, pencils, pens, erasers, even the book you were trying to read on the way.

You look up when you hear Carol laughing as she rounds the pool in your direction, and you see Tommy throw your bag in the pool.

"Are you fucking serious? What are you twelve?!"

Before you can react, Carol shoves you into the pool.

"And that's how you get a book worm to swim!"

You somehow manage to keep your cool, gathering your stuff and putting them on the edge of the pool away from Tommy and Carol. Though you didn't know why you bother, you can tell the ink is smeared and the pencil is faded now, only thing possibly salvageable was your pencils and your reading book, but even that was debatable.

You climb out and sit at the edge.

You feel physically uncomfortable

Your clothing is sticking to you.

And it's basically summer already so the air is hot and a little damp. You look up to see Billy storming out of the house.

"What the hell is going on?!"

"Relax, Billy, we were all just having a little fun, right?" Tommy looks at you like you're afraid of him so you're going to agree with him.

Yeah, no.

"Fuck off," you chuck your biggest text book at him.

None of them knew how well a text book could fly till it hits Tommy in the gut.

Go you! Bonus points for nailing him with the corner.

Your trying to wring the bottom of your clothes out when Tommy comes up from behind you and tries to grab you by the back of your head.

"Hey!" Billy is quickly making his way over to the both of you.

Carol tries to stop him, but she is poetically shoved to the side and subsequently falls into the pool.

You manage to elbow Tommy in the balls but the pain only makes him hold on harder.

"You little-"

He doesn't get to finish because he's promptly punched in the side of the face. You quickly back away from the edge incase Carol gets anymore funny ideas.

Billy helps you up and ushers you into the house.

"Sorry..." He sounds awkward, "About them."

You look at him with a deadpan expression, "Billy Hargrove, apologizing," you sigh with attitude, "pinch me. I must be dreaming."

He grits his jaw, "Don't you start being a smart ass with me- it's them who keep giving you crap!" He started raising his voice.

"Yeah, yet you still keep them around," you make your way over to the sink to keep wringing out your shirt and shoulder check him on the way, "Honestly, I don't even know why you keep them around- at least you have your reasons for being an asshole." You take off your shirt -much to Billy's suprise- so you can properly get rid of the water. Let's face it, a soaked shirt sticking to you like a second skin doesn't leave much to the imagination anyways, "Reasons," you turn to look at him for emphasis, "Not excuses," you turn back to the sink, "but understandable reasons nonetheless." You lay your shirt out flat on the kitchen's large counter to air dry (it's too dark and humid outside for it to dry any better outside anyways), "But they're just assholes because....because...." You sputter and shake your head, "I don't know, probably because they know they won't ever amount to anything better in their lives, so they figure they might as well tear down as many people as they can on their way to fucking nowhere."

You turn and look at him with an aggravated huff and cross your arms. Unfortunately Carol and Tommy walk in at that moment.

"You trashy mutt!"

"Stupid whore!"

"You really think, Billy's that desprit?!"

For a second you were confused. Then you remembered you didn't have a shirt on.

You roll your eyes again before throwing your still wet shirt back on.

"And what the hell Billy?! You really gonna' side with this half-breed?!"

Fuck this.

Fuck Carol.

Fuck Tommy.

And you know what? If this doesn't change, fuck Billy too. You dont need or deserve this.

You storm out the back door, gathering your things and shoving them in your dripping bag before walking around the side towards the front. Billy quickly runs out the front door to meet you outside.

"I'll take you home."

"No."

Billy calls your name and he almost sounds tired.

His tone is what makes you pause and turn around.

"Please."

You raise a brow and swallow your pride as well as your snarky comments, "Fine."

The party commences and goes on without the both of you.

Billy isn't quite sure what he enjoys more, being out and partying or enjoying a relaxing evening indoors, heavens knows he can't relax at home.

Max surprises the both of you by stopping by to visit.

The three of you hang out in your living room flipping through channels and eating popcorn.

Billy eats the least pop corn out off the three of you and opted to have some carrots and grapes less than half way through the first movie.

Billy is totally a health buff.

"Are Carol and Tommy really that bad?" Max mistakenly asked about your day.

"They have absolutely no redeeming qualities."

Max doesn't hide how she shoots a glance at her brother, 'And that fool does?' Is basically what her expression asked.

Billy glares at her from the couch opposite to hers and bites a carrot like it's her head.

You're covering your laughter with your hand.

From now on all my Imagines will be tagged by their titles, series, and parts! Hopefully this will make it easier to find a specific imagine if your looking for it. For example, anything relating to this series is tagged with "impossible", the series itself is tagged as "impossible series" and each individual part is tagged as "impossible pt.[1/2/3/etc.]"

Another example: part one is tagged as "impossible pt.1"

[imagine-darksiders]

Sorry to bother you,but I'm gonna be stuck in the hospital overnight with a super swollen face :( could I get Draven trying to cheer up a sick friend?

Oh no! That sucks! Well, I hope this makes you feel a little better. But if it doesn’t, treat yourself to some ice cream. Good for swollen faces, or so I’m told x

—

It had been Ostegoth that told Draven of your condition, one uneventful day in the Eternal Throne. The old goat didn’t seem too urgent though, which set Draven’s mind at rest, though he was still anxious to see you after hearing the news. 

When he took his request to the Lord of Bones, the king was so taken aback by it’s nature, he actually considered granting it. 

“In all the years you’ve served me,” he wheezes suspiciously, tapping his long, claw-like nails against the throne’s armrests, “you’ve never once expressed a desire to return to Earth….So, why now?” 

Impatiently gritting his teeth, the Blademaster crosses his arms and gives a defensive sniff, swiping a hand quickly beneath his nasal bone. “Y/n’s sick,” he mutters. 

Almost immediately, the king’s cold, dead eyes light up with recognition. “Ahh! I see,” he chuckles darkly, stroking his thin, pale-green beard thoughtfully, “Then, perhaps desire does play a role here…” 

Draven stiffens and scowls deeply but he refuses to give the Lord of Bones any more ammunition - he gets enough grief from the other guards about his friendship with you - so he holds his tongue. For a long time, the throne room is perfectly silent, save for the stale desert wind that moans through the large, open archways set into the far wall. 

At long last, the Lord of Bones peels himself from the throne, dislodging centuries of dust with a sickening crackle of old, skeletal remains. He leans forward to level a long, gnarled finger at the Blademaster warningly. “You have one day,” he growls, “just one. So make it count. And don’t forget to whom you belong…..” 

Stiffly, Draven bows, backing towards the door. As he turns to stalk past the guards, he hears the king call after him. “Oh, and Blademaster?” 

With an elaborate roll of his pale eyes, Draven peers over his shoulder, half turning to face the undead ruler. “Yes, my Lord?”

Sneering, the Lord of Bones reclines back into his seat with a contented grunt. “Do give my best to Y/n, won’t you? And be sure to mention that, should this sickness prove……fatal-” Draven’s fists clench violently at the barely concealed hopefulness in his tone “- there is always room for one more soul in my Dead Court.” 

‘Over my rotting body,’ Draven wants to growl. Instead, he nods sharply, turns and throws the doors open a little too aggressively. Infuriated as he is with the king’s remark, he’s equally glad that he’d been given leave to visit Earth. A whole day to spend with you. He just hopes Ostegoth is right and whatever illness has afflicted you, it isn’t too serious. 

—

Draven stands in front of the enormous, concrete building, jaw slack and eyes wide in unashamed wonder. 

When Ostegoth described where and how to find you, he mentioned that this place was called a ‘hospital’, and as Draven walks hesitantly through the strange, glass doors that seem to have a mind of their own, he can’t help but to feel a little out of his element. 

Earth really has changed since he was alive. 

It’d been only a few years since humanity was resurrected and already the resourceful little species has rebuilt itself nearly to its former glory. It seemed that the eradication of their whole planet had put some things into perspective and people decided that restoration takes precedence. A lot of humans had become Wicked after their passing, leaving behind the far purer, ultimately good-hearted souls to populate the Earth. 

It soon becomes clear to Draven that despite humans now being both aware and used to other species walking around their planet - angels, makers, constructs and even the horsemen - something gives him the impression that Earth isn’t frequented by undead. Any human that’s seen him so far has either stopped in their tracks, mouths agape, whipped out a phone to take a picture of him, or they’ve simply turned around to scurry off in the opposite direction. One poor woman had turned a corner, took one look at his semi-exposed intestines and promptly dunked her head into a nearby bin and started heaving. 

That one stung a little…

He’s made painfully aware that his image is probably made even stranger by the bunch of flowers that Ostegoth had hastily stuffed into his hands, informing a clueless Blademaster that ‘one simply cannot visit a friend in hospital without bringing them a gift.’

Suddenly feeling very self conscious, he finds himself standing in the centre of a busy room filled with green chairs and sickly-looking humans until a young man who’s stood behind a stark-white counter clears his throat and beckons Draven over. 

“Can I help you?” he asks, eyeing the undead up and down suspiciously, though his face is the picture of exhaustion and his eyes keep flicking down to the flowers clenched in a large fist. 

Drawing himself up, Draven matches the other tired glare with a fierce one of his own. “Y/n,” he grunts, “I’m here to see Y/n L/n.” 

He’s surprised when the man sighs heavily, dropping his pen onto the desk and starts to furiously rub his temples. “Another one, wonderful,” he mutters to himself dismally before glancing back up at Draven and saying, more loudly, “Fine, why not? We’ve already let one of those horsemen and a maker in….I’m gonna go ahead and guess you’re not a relative?”

“N-no,” the blademaster stammers, put off by the man’s rather irritated reaction and informal way of speaking. In Draven’s time, a man as clean-cut and sharp as this one would have been almost insufferably prim and proper. “Just a friend.” 

“Your name?” 

 Proudly, he crosses his arms over each other and brings them up to his chest, announcing, “I am Draven. Master of blades. A warrior from the-”

“Just ‘Draven’ will do, thanks.”  

“…oh.” 

The undead stands there awkwardly, watching the man tap his fingers against an odd contraption he’d never seen before. Just as he’s about to lean further over the desk to get a better look, the man suddenly snatches up the discarded pen and points it down a long, crisp white hall. “Follow that red line on the wall to a ward called ‘Inpatients.’ Y/n’s in ward 51. I’ll go ahead and let them know you’re coming so nobody-” He gives Draven a quick once over, lips pursed “-freaks out.”

The warrior nods, grunting out a quick word of thanks as an afterthought before he turns to whisk off down the hallway, his green, hooded cape billowing behind him regally as he goes.

— 

“Remember that time I got to watch you get your ass handed to you by an old man?” 

“Ah, no. Eideard was an old man. Thane - despite what he says - is a maker who’s still in his prime. It was an honourable loss.” 

“It was a funny loss. My favourite part was when he dumped you in the water trough.” 

Death rolls his eyes, letting his head loll back against the uncomfortable, plastic chair by the side of your hospital bed. “I’m glad to see this illness hasn’t dampened your sense of humour.” 

A laugh catches in your throat, causing you to lurch forwards off the pillow and break into a fit of weak, painful coughs that sound haggard, wretched and rife with sickness. Death’s large hand finds your back and he gives it a few pats to clear your airway. You shoot him a grateful look, managing to chuckle softly,  “Nothing short of an apocalypse could ruin my hilarious repartee….Oh wait-”

Your conversation is abruptly interrupted by a soft knock on the door. 

Instantly, Death’s head snaps towards it and you stifle a snort when his hand twitches to Harvester’s hilt. 

“Really, Death? They’d have to be a pretty shitty bad guy to knock first.” 

The horseman grumbles at you but allows his hand to fall to his side as a doctor pokes her head around the door. “Y/n?” she sighs, “You’ve another guest. Honestly, I don’t want to know where you keep finding these…People. But listen, everyone’s getting nervous about Death being in the hospital.” Her exhausted gaze drags itself over to him and she shrugs apologetically, “I’m sorry Sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You can come back and see Y/n tomorrow, but somebody’s head is gonna roll if our Chief of Medicine finds out you’re still here today.”

Stretching, Death catches your eye, sending you a questioning look. When you make a shooing motion with your hand, he nods at the doctor. “Fine. I’ll take my leave then.” 

Her expression lifts into one of relief and she steps back, ushering in your next visitor before trotting off down the hall, the sound of her heels clicking classily against the rubber floor and disappearing down the corridor. 

Standing to leave, Death’s attention remains fixed on the doorway, in which looms a tall, decaying figure with haunting blue eyes and a permanent, skeletal grin to put even the jolliest of rogers to shame. 

“Draven?” Death blinks, astonished to see the large undead here, on Earth and not in the court of his king. 

At the sound of the Blademaster’s name, you perk up and push yourself upright in the bed, straining to see over Death’s shoulder. “Draven?” you echo excitedly as your old friend steps into the harsh light of the private room. 

What’s left of his stomach churns nervously when he sees you and he begins to knead the stems of the flowers between his large, sinewy hands. You look so different from when he last saw you six months ago. If it’s at all possible, you actually appear even smaller than you already were, laying in the hospital bed, surrounded by bizarre machines and beeping instruments. Your eyes look shattered, heavy-lidded and your skin is several shades paler than it usually is. But your smile is still the same as ever when you send it his way. Even without a heart beating in his chest, Draven feels the telltale rush of warmth spread through his corpse at the sight of you.  

“Y/n,” he breathes, “I…I heard you haven’t been yourself lately.” 

As if on cue, you grimace at an unseen pain that races up your spine and into your head and you moan, massaging your temples tenderly. “Ugh, yep. Just a bit under the weather, nothing major.” 

Raising a skeptical brow ridge, Draven glances over at the horseman, who nods his head at him, almost imperceptibly. “It’s nothing Y/n can’t handle,” he confirms, “Though, I would try not to cause too much….excitement.” The horseman raises himself from the chair, resting his hand on yours for the briefest moment whilst Draven hovers uncertainly. “I’ll be returning to Earth in a week or so.“ 

You take hold of his fingers and squeeze them amicably. “I’ll be out by then. Come by my house when you’re back?” 

He nods once then turns to the Blademaster. “Take care of our mutual friend,” he warns, angling his mask away from your line of sight so you don’t catch the challenging glare he’s boring into him.

The undead simply smirks and lifts a hand to put it on Death’s shoulder, revelling in the way the horseman bristles noticeably under the touch. “Now where’s the fun in that,” he winks. 

Obviously deciding that an argument in a hospital room is beneath him, Death scoffs, bids you a quiet farewell, then vanishes out of the door, leaving you both alone in each other’s company. 

The easy atmosphere in the room dissipates slowly, leaving it cloaked in a thick silence that you’re dying to break. Meanwhile, Draven continues to stare down at you, his bright eyes wide and unsure. Finally, roving your eyes up and down his sword-punctured body, you find a topic of conversation to focus on. Gesturing to the flowers hanging from his grasp, you ask, “So. Those for your mum? Or do you just like the smell?”

He almost drops them, embarrassed that he’s lost his suavity in your presence. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he berates himself, ‘you used to be good at courting.’

You wait patiently, smiling as the undead suddenly stumbles forwards to your bed, glancing several times between you and the flowers before he pushes them into your hands. “They’re for you,” he explains needlessly, frowning when you let out a bark of laughter. 

“Well I didn’t think you brought them for Death!” Grinning widely, you shove your face between the petals, mostly to hide the giddiness evident in your expression. Giving someone flowers is a regular enough occurrence amongst humans. And sure, Draven used to be a human himself, but for whatever reason, the act of your zombified friend giving you this bouquet sends your mind in a tizzy. 

“They smell lovely,” you say once you’ve taken a good whiff. 

Draven shrugs. “Ostegoth chose em.” 

“Oh come on,” you laugh gleefully, “You know, you could have just lied!”

Leaning across the bedside table next to your bed, you try to reach the empty vase sitting on the far side of it. 

“Oh! Let me.” Draven jumps forward and grabs the vase, nearly sloshing water all over himself in his haste to help you. You thank him, placing the flowers in the proffered vase and laying back whilst he puts it on the table again. 

Satisfied, he gathers his cloak under one arm and plonks himself down in the flimsy chair, wincing when it creaks in protest. He looks up at you then, startled to find you shuffling down the bed and leaning towards him, resulting in the Blademaster lifting his hands to steady you as you collapse heavily against him with a happy huff and snake your arms beneath the hood, looping them around his sturdy neck. In return, he allows himself to relax into the hug with a quiet sigh, bury his nasal ridge in your hair and nuzzle his face against the side of your head. 

“It’s so good to see you,” you chirp into his hood, “I’ve missed you.” 

Draven’s throat constricts at those words. He’d forgotten what it was like to have people care about him - to have friends who wouldn’t stab him in the back and who sends his spirit soaring with a phrase so simple as ‘I miss you.’ 

Hesitantly, the words feeling foreign and strange as they leave his tongue, he whispers, “I’ve missed you too,” and tightens his rawboned fingers into your hospital gown. 

You both remain like that for some time, just enjoying the physical contact, though something tells you Draven is garnering far more happiness from the simple hug than you are. Eventually, you have let go and pull back, letting his hands slide down your arms and land in his lap. 

“So, what are you doing here?” you ask, rubbing at the bags under your eyes self-consciously. 

“I came to see you.” 

“Well, yeah. But why are you on Earth? Are you on a mission?” 

Draven blinks, tilting his head to the side. “No? I’m on Earth to see you.”

“I……oh.” 

He sits forward in the chair, resting his forearms over his knees and quirks his brow bone at you, sharp teeth gleaming grotesquely in the bright light whilst you try to formulate a response. ‘He’s here. Just to see me?’ After a brief moment of uncomfortably trying to respond, you settle on taking a sip of water from the plastic cup on your night-stand and swallowing thickly. “How - uh - how did you get the king to agree to that?” 

Draven shrugs, “he likes you.” 

When you snort obnoxiously, he reaches onto the bed to give your knee a playful shove. “S’true! Y’know he wants you in his court.” 

“He’s still going on about that?” you gripe, “Why?” 

“Well….He likes you.” 

“Again. Why?” 

For a fraction of a second, Draven’s eyes glimmer and his voice dips low, husky and soft as he murmurs, “What’s not to like?”

When you don’t respond except to blink tiredly up at him, the undead ducks his head, shadowing his face beneath the green, tattered hood and scratches at a patch of rotting skin on his wrist. “Y/n…I-” 

Suddenly, there’s another knock on the door and the same doctor steps into the room. “Visiting hours are almost over, you have ten minutes.” 

“What?” you whine, clutching your chest, “But he just got here! We’ve barely had time to talk!” 

Suddenly, Draven scowls and stands up from his chair, towering easily over the doctor and rolling his shoulders in an unnecessary display of power. “M’not leavin’ if Y/n wants me to stay,” he states gruffly. 

To her credit, the doctor merely adjusts her grip on the clipboard and draws herself up to seem taller than she is, not that it makes much difference when she only reaches the top of Draven’s chest. “My patient needs rest, sir. Besides the fact that my superiors will have my head if I let you st-” 

“Then send your superiors to me,” he pounds a fist against his chest twice, “I’ll deal with them. I’ve got twenty four hours on Earth before I have to go back to my realm and I plan spending that time with the only friend I’ve got.” He indicates to you with a wild wave of his hand, although he quickly realises that he’s revealed too much weakness to this stranger. Distractedly, Draven begins to fiddle with one of the blades sticking out of his forearm, ignorant of the disgust that flashes across the doctor’s face at the sound of his paper-dry skin tearing slightly with the gentle back and forth pulling motion. He slinks backwards to the headboard and glances down at you, pulling his teeth into a soft smile before looking back at her. “Please Doc?” 

The doctor seems more than ready to put up a fight, but eventually she just peers around Draven’s broad shoulders to stare down at you in the bed. “Are you okay with this?” she asks. You nod, reaching out unconsciously to weakly wrap your small fingers around the Blademaster’s wrist, sending a jolt of electricity straight up his arm. 

Rubbing the bridge of her nose exasperatedly, she gives a breathless laugh and flaps her hands out to the side. “Why the Hell not. Screw it, right? I’ve already died in an apocalypse, what’s the worst those pencil-pushers up top could do?” Turning on her heel, she stalks to the door, swinging it open and shaking her head. Before she leaves though, she glances over her shoulder at the Blademaster and shoots him a cool stare. “Just….just don’t leave this room tonight, okay? I don’t want people in a panic because they’ve seen a ghost walking around the ward at night.” Her eyes dart to you. “Y/n, surgery tomorrow is at ten. A nurse’ll be by to give you breakfast around eight. Use the call button if you need anything.” She raises a trimmed eyebrow at Draven. “Although I doubt much could go wrong with tall, dark and ghoulish here watching over you.”  And with that, she’s gone. 

Draven deflates visibly and drops back down into the chair, studying your face worriedly. “Surgery?” he asks uncertainly. 

You wave your hand reassuringly, “S’nothing major, don’t worry about it.” 

His eyes bore into you, trying to sniff out any hint of deception. “You’d tell me if it was serious.” It’s not a question or a request, it’s a demand. 

Rolling your eyes, you laugh quietly at the sober look on his face. “Yes, Draven. I’d tell you if it was serious,” you promise, leaning back into the pillow and turning onto your side with a grunt of minor pain. You stare up at him underneath his hood, blowing air out through your nose as you scrutinise the way his jaw is shifting every so often, a clear sign that he’s thinking of something to say. Deciding to help him out, you voice the thought that had been on your mind since the doctor came in. 

“So.. you’re only here for a day?” you ask. 

Nodding, he returns to picking the loose skin on his wrist. “S’right.

“Seriously?” You abruptly prop your head up on one arm and give him an incredulous scoff. “You’ve only got one day on Earth and you want to spend it inside a hospital room?”

“What else would I be doing?” 

“Um! Anything? You could be exploring. Finding out what’s changed. You could visit the place you used to live! I bet someone would help you find it. Hey, you haven’t even discovered television yet, or had a glass of wine. You said how much you missed wine.” 

Draven,” you furrow your brow and gaze at him sincerely, “I don’t want you to stay if you’d rather spend your time out there.” 

“I want to spend it with you,” he mumbles, avoiding your eyes entirely now. 

You find yourself lost for words.. Again and again the master of blades does something heartfelt, reminding you that he wasn’t always an undead servant to the Lord of Bones. He may be a dead man, yet the spirit of humanity is still very much alive in him. It’s humbling when you get to see it. Draven, similarly, is grateful that you make him forget what he is - just a ghost. A ghost with a serious attachment to a living human. 

“Well,” you break the heavy silence in a reticent voice, “Thanks. I guess this means you’ll just have to ask the king for another day off, hmm? Maybe when I’m out of hospital.” 

Hopeful, he scratches behind his ear and has to stop himself from removing the hood altogether. He’s not sure you’re ready to see the grey matter showing through the large hole in the back of his skull. “Guess there’s no harm in tryin’.” He leans forward and taps a cold, sharp finger against your forehead. “But you need to get better first.” 

“Alright, alright,” you smirk, brushing his hand away. 

The light filtering in through the window diminishes slowly as the conversation turns to more jovial topics. He asks what you’ve been doing since the resurrection, you inquire after affairs in the Dead Plains. You fall into the conversation easily, as though you hadn’t been apart for six months. 

When you start to yawn, Draven asks if there’s a way to ‘extinguish that bloody, bright torch on the ceiling,’ which gets a hearty but weak chuckle out of you and you have to walk him through the proper use of a light-switch. He flicks it on and off several times, fascinated by his first interaction with technology before at last turning the light off as you reach over to switch on the lamp, casting the room in a much more pleasant, warm glow. You continue to talk softly well into the night, keeping laughs hushed and secretive so as not to draw any night orderlies to your room. 

Inevitably, your words trail off into a sleepy drawl and Draven’s wide, spectral grin softens at the sight of you fighting to stay awake. The last thing you feel before you fall asleep, is a large, ashen hand slipping beneath your fingers that rest on the bed and a cold thumb pressing gently into your palm. 

[theskygivesmelife]

"I am the master of my fate,"

How ironic that a poem about self control uses this very phrase, whilst ignoring the fact that fate, or destiny actually imply that there can never truly be any control, for all is predetermined from the beginning of time.

...

I'd say we don't. Nonexistence is a superior state of existence in my opinion.

...

First things first: you don't love me, so stop saying you do. Even if you genuinely believe you do, you'll understand what I mean.

With that said, for the love of God can you stop messaging me? Not on WhatsApp because I will have *deleted* it, and not on Android messages because I can't respond as I don't have any balance. I use my phone only for music or gaming mainly anyway. Speaking of which, I thought I did make it clear that I don't want to talk to you. When was the last time we did talk? Right, your birthday. I don't remember ever being that drained after talking to you. Honestly, it was a pain—was it for you too? I guess that's what happens as one becomes truly apathetic. Seriously, I don't know who you're still trying to contact, but that person's dead. Well, not literally unfortunately, but if you do want to talk to some tired, disillusioned soul I'm still here I guess. As I mentioned, your little I love yous at the end don't really hold, because, you know, you're really just refering to the wrong person. For the record, I've started to think that not only am I incapable of loving, but am also incapable of being loved.

Anyhow, lets just say that if I were Jekyll then I'm Hyde now. To be honest, I don't even know why I'm responding to you. The "fuck her, why give a damn?" voices have been quite loud for some time. Well, I don't think of you all the time, so "fuck the world" might seem more apt as a generalisation. Back to the point: some time ago I'd have actually cared, but I don't give a shit now about anything.

I'll say it now: I don't think it'll ever be a good enough reason for you. I don't think any reason ever will. You'll probably still try to convince me to maintain contact, even though it's so horribly one sided. Well, I just couldn't care less for the most part. It'd probably be good if you wouldn't waste your time on me though. I mean, let's be real. You're not going to get my number once out if this country. Even if you miraculously did, you'd certainly make some replacement friends in college without the downsides that I have, so it'd be pointless. I know you won't listen anyway, and I said that I don't care either. So why am I even trying? I don't know.

If you'll remember I've tried to shut you out multiple times. It's funny now, ~because I feel absolutely nothing now.~ Quite often in the past I'd feel quite regretful or guilty, but now? Heh, just an emotionless robot just moving along now. Going through the motions you know. Still, if there's one thing I should mention, it's that I never lied to you when I said some sentimental crap like caring about you and such. Whoever I was back then, he genuinely ment it. And now, it seems like my wick is shorter than I imagined. It's going to burn up quick. You know what that means? Garima, it means peace at last. So, let me have my time now. I still dream of that little cottage far away, secluded from society. No-one for company. Okay, a cat and a dog. They'll be nice. A drum kit. Video games maybe? What'll I do? Electrician perhaps? Mechanic? Just so long as it isn't a crappy 9-5 job, and actually pays my bills. No people. No friends—do I really have any? No girlfriend—I don't want one (not asexual, but I'm not as horny as you I guess), and I doubt I'm capable of forming a proper relationship anyway. No family—I never had one to begin with. Can you imagine it? All alone and blissful. Just let me be. Please. One way or another, I'm gone. I'm actually feeling sad now typing this, tears in my eyes and all (I haven't cried in forever) but you shouldn't be. You've got a long, long way to go; you'll do well anyway. I don't know what I really was to you, or what I've done to you. I know that I was a hard person to deal with. I can't really list out all the times I've failed you; I hope you will forgive me for them. Believe me when I say that if there was ever I person I really tried to keep happy as often as I could, it was you.

" *Bye, stay healthy and happy* "

I won't—I can't.

Bye.

PS. Nice songs. I still appreciate music I guess, unless it's a really bad day.

...

[8/18/2018, 12:03 AM] Prathik: It seems not. Oh well, I was hoping I could talk one last time. Silly of me; you're probably either sleeping or studying for tomorrow's — should I say today's? — test.

[8/18/2018, 12:57 AM] Prathik: You know, I've been thinking: what if I wanted to talk to you one day? Would you then be ready to hold conversation? I think you would, but that doesn't strike me as fair. I mean you say that you'll miss me, but that's something you'll just have to take in your stride. On the contrary, if I miss you, then I try contacting you, and in all likelihood you'll just respond. What do you think?

[8/18/2018, 1:44 AM] Prathik: Maybe you're free tonight? I just want to talk; I don't know what I'm even doing now. Ugh I can't even explain it without sounding like some self pitying shithead. Forget it. I'm sorry

[8/18/2018, 12:42 PM] Prathik: Seriously, the very dynamics of our interactions are messed up. Everything is based on my mood and how I'm feeling. Don't want to talk? No problem! I'll go silent. Depressive episode? No problem! I'll go silent. It's like I can literally choose what and when we get to converse. Tired of our conversations? No problem! I'll just stop talking to you. And all you say is that you'll miss me. Sure, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, but bloody hell — why didn't you ever call me out for my behaviour? Gee, we screwed up...so many flaws and nothing was even done about them.

Yes, I'm ranting. I'll say stupid things, and maybe hurtful things too. If I were completely aware of what it is that sounded like that, then I wouldn't be saying them. Not that it's an excuse for saying anything I shouldn't. You probably shouldn't take anything personally, because in all likelihood, I'll probably just be projecting.

[8/18/2018, 12:52 PM] Prathik: Oh shit, I really need psychological help don't I? Do you think that if I got better, I'd finally stop sabotaging all the relationships I have?

[8/19/2018, 12:19 AM] Prathik: Goodbye

[8/19/2018, 2:25 PM] Prathik: Okay, I'll just leave this here. Just one last thing. I honestly am doubting my mental stability: I'd wager that I'm fairly unstable in general and more so at this point. My mood seems to swing like a fucking pendulum, and for whatever reason, I have and possibly might keep spouting unnecessary shit. So please, just *IGNORE EVERYTHING* I say. *EVERYTHING.* Except this one last message. Please. It's all I ask.

[8/19/2018, 2:54 PM] Prathik: I'm also not going to be using WhatsApp anymore — no point now right? — so I guess you'll be spared if having to reply to anything.

...

[8/8/2018, 10:24 PM] Prathik: Bloody hell, always nice to me even though I don't deserve it. Can't just go study like you ought to or talk to anyone else? You've got tons of friends after all. Perhaps one day they'll give you a consolation prize saying "good effort; hard luck" and maybe then you'll see how you're just wasting your time. Whatever. It's not like I can control you or force you to behave in a certain manner. Stupid world. Just leave me be

[8/8/2018, 10:52 PM] Prathik: I don't even know why you don't give in. I mean, what am I to you? Some depressed idiot that makes you feel better about yourself? I don't think that's the narrative you've sold to me, so that's probably not the reason.

It's kinda like you're an ant running against the wind. Not any wind, though, just that which is being blown by some sadistic little kid. It keeps running into it. Over and over it tries and fails. The wind keeps pushing it back, but the ant doesn't see how futile it's attempts are. It doesn't see that despite the fact that it keeps trying, nothing's going to change. It has so many other avenues of exploration, ones that would certainly lead to a great reception from the colony, but oh no. The ant keeps running, hoping that the resistance will decrease. Eventually the boy just blows harder, and the ant flies away and lands on its back. (Good thing it has an exoskeleton.) Only then does it see how pointless its efforts were, and that they were better off invested somewhere else.

...

You know how people throw that fucking annoying platitude around? That things will get better? Doesn't happen. It's no different in its progression from a physical illness, and once you go beyond a certain stage you're only living on fumes at that point. Limited time. But it'll get better they say. Fucking hell, it can also get worse, but who's willing to actually concede that bleak truth?

...

Yeah, maybe. I don't know. I'm just getting worse mentally. I mean, I set the suicide date for when I'm 25. It's only kept dropping. I started considering pushing it to college years, and now I'm genuinely pondering whether I should just drop out of college like when I'm 19 or so and be done with it — at least I won't have to wonder about how you'll come meet me in USA lol. I'm also drawing more blanks in tests. It's not like I don't know, it's just making me more and more anxious. Like the psychology UT we had just some time ago. I left 12 marks because it seemed to easy to be true and I thought I was wrong. I got 17.5 . And meeting people, ugh. Worse than ever. Sure I'm introverted, but at this rate I'm practically going to become a hermit. My ability to function like a sane person is waning, and it's actually quite clear. It's makes me awe struck and horrified at the same time seeing how someone is so capable of self sabotage. Yeah, I don't think I was made for this world. Just one big mistake that hasn't been taken care of yet.

...

Oh, if you haven't listened to it already, you really should listen to Heroes by David Bowie. Please do, if you haven't yet. Just this one song.

...

[6/28/2018, 12:13 AM] Prathik: I love you.

[6/28/2018, 12:14 AM] Prathik: ^ I just felt like saying that.

...

You don't get it. I don't know for sure that you like talking to me. Yes, you've said so so many times that I've lost track. I'd be lying if I said that it were enough to convince me. It isn't; you can't do anything to change my perception of myself, and sometimes I'll project, being the idiot I am after all. There's never going to be a time when I can the voice that says you're you're just using me for some kicks or something to shut up. That doubt will never go, and every time you say something like that, I'll make sure to interpret it as evidence that even you don't care, that you just let your guard down. You can't ever really make me satisfied or happy, so don't throw away any more of your time actually trying to justify anything. If you know that what you've done is fine, then it's fine.

...

[6/12/2018, 8:51 PM] Prathik: Speaking of which, it's interesting that you brought up the fact that our relationship is dysfunctional. Not that I really addressed it well when you originally meantioned it. It does make me wonder, are the dynamics of the way we interact with each other actually healthy? Perhaps we're just fucking each other in the ass and not even realising it? While it's a possibility that I consider, you should know that I don't think the second one is too probable. All the same, it's bothersome enough to actually consider pondering over. Funny, though, how I've just turned a blind eye to it; best relationship you've had you say. Pretty much the same for me, I suppose that's why I've not considered anything that suggests contrary to that opinion.

You know, we never did our cliched apologies. I'm not sure what exactly to apologise for; however, I don't have any qualms admitting that I did fuck up. I'm not sure it makes any sense to apologise for going silent for a month. Honestly, while I did miss you, I'm not sure of how much I actually regret it. Heck, if I hadn't misunderstood your message and not responded... Moreover, what's the point of saying sorry for something I've done multiple times and might do again anyway? It probably does defeat the purpose of it. I do regret making you angry though. I'm not too proud of getting you pissed off, I honestly am sorry about that. That conversation just didn't go the way I'd have liked it to I guess...

[6/12/2018, 8:53 PM] Prathik: Also, is it just me or have things between us changed? I mean, the one month silence probably did more harm than good. It'd have probably been better had I never done anything, or had not stupidly misinterpreted what you said and stayed silent after all. I don't know, I'm not saying it has anything to do with you anyway. I know who's responsible if something is wrong after all.

[6/12/2018, 10:04 PM] Prathik: Oh, today I mixed NaOH with NH4Br, boiled it and inhaled it. I also had to do some speaking for a group activity in English, and I didn't really fuck it up at all or get shaky knees

Just saying. Anyway, which Tapasya acquaintances are you still in touch with?

[6/12/2018, 10:42 PM] Prathik: Oh look, they just killed off net neutrality in USA. Fucking Ajit Pai. As if he didn't have an incredibly punchable face to begin with.

...

[6/10/2018, 10:05 AM] Prathik: If you say so. Read at your own inconvenience.

Since I'm idiotic enough, I decided to read more of the dude's articles. Lost a ton of brain cells. Also, don't read the comments. Nutty, the lot of them.

[6/10/2018, 11:00 AM] Prathik: "The power of propaganda always surprises me. Only 30 years ago, homosexuality was almost universally condemned, and now it’s accepted in half the world and half the States. Clearly, the natural position worldwide is that homosexuality is a disorder, and should be condemned. The problem is, we lost the youth. Somehow, homosexual advocates were able to brainwash and indoctrinate them into accepting it. If you talk to anyone my age, they believe that homosexuality poses no health risks (homosexuals have a 5 times higher chance of getting HIV) and that they are born as homosexuals (despite no scientific evidence.) IMO this is a result of two things: homosexual propaganda (esp. through the internet) and the collapse of the traditional marriage model. The parents simply haven’t taught their children about Christianity and thus they are easy prey for the homosexual movement.

Honestly, I am very pessimistic and I feel that it’s only going to get worse as time goes on. More and more ‘Christians’ are accepting this behavior day by day and it’s heartbreaking."

Has to be the most ironic things I've ever read. Talks about propaganda and indoctrination, but completely turns a blind eye to how he's become what he is.

[6/10/2018, 6:29 PM] Prathik: And now, I've realised that I could have actually spent my time better by talking to you on the phone as you suggested. Not that I studied one bit as I planned to do.

...

[6/9/2018, 1:56 AM] Garima Joshi: Bye now, love you.

[6/9/2018, 1:57 AM] Prathik: Bye. Love you.

...

if I could really recover from the depressed, socially anxious, and suicidal person I am today, believe me I'd let you know immediately. I promise.

...

[3/20/2018, 3:01 AM] Garima Joshi: I know you said you were tired. Thanks for sticking around. Always great talking to you.

[3/20/2018, 3:02 AM] Prathik: It's always fun talking to you. So.. yeah. Do we say goodnight or goodmorning at this point?

[3/20/2018, 3:03 AM] Prathik: Yeah. Stay safe in Delhi will you? Bye.

[3/20/2018, 3:04 AM] Garima Joshi: I'll try, I'll try.

Have a good day (today)

Bye, love you.

[3/20/2018, 3:06 AM] Prathik: I thought you said cheesy stuff were grossing you out...

I'm sorry, did I sound a little overprotective?

[3/20/2018, 3:13 AM] Garima Joshi: Okay Patrick I love you v much but I'll find you a wife tomorrow, for now you need those 2 hours 58 minutes of beauty sleep to rope in all those women

[3/20/2018, 3:13 AM] Prathik: Lulz. Fine. Love you too.