#the sentence was longer but i dont have the energy to type all that fuck off

[ahaura]

death to live action remakes and adaptions make something new and inspired and don't leave 2d and 3d animation behind. bitc.h

[erable-writes]

Prucan Week Day #3: Moonlight Date

Day Three: Unconscious, Illusions, Intuition

    Honestly, Today was a good day for Gilbert. He got to sleep in as it was his day off, his little brother didn't yell at him for God-knows-what, he got to take the dogs to the park and play with them for a good hour, and as he was picking up lunch from his favourite cafe, an adorable little blond approached him shyly and asked him if he’d be interested in going out that night. Really, his day couldn't get much better. As Gilbert sat in front of the Television, watching football (Germany vs Switzerland, no contest) his phone suddenly buzzed. He grabbed at the couch a few times, trying to locate the device without actually turning to look (because he was so awesome he didn't need things like sight to get his phone. Suck it, Ludwig). After a full minute of useless grabbing, his hand connects with his phone, and he smirks in victory (which Ludwig doesn't see, but Gilbert makes sure to anyway, just in case Ludwig can sense it). Turning it on, he sees a message from the cute blond.

Hey, I got off work a little early. If you want, we can meet for coffee before we go out?

    Gilberts smirk widens by a noticeable fraction. Oh, tonight is going to be good. He's off the couch in a heartbeat, shrugging on his deep blue coat and pulling on his black gloves.

“Yo, Luddy, I’m goin’ out. Dunno when I’ll be back. Hold down the fort for me, ‘kay?”

    And before Ludwig can actually respond, he's out the door.

--------------------

The cute blond, who is actually named Matthew, is somehow even cuter in prolonged dosages. He’s a nervous type, eager to please and horrified by even the slightest of inconveniences he may commit, making him the perfect type for friendly teasing. He likes sweets and animals and nature, and as he gets more and more nervous he slips into a light french accent, hiding behind his wavy flax-coloured hair, gazing through the tangles with enchanting violet eyes. Gilbert laughs at his partner's shyness, causing him to blush deep red and try to back further away.

In short, Matthew is condensed joy.

Gilbert takes satisfaction in every moment he spends with Matthew. Every smile is a prize, every laugh a treasure, and Gilbert realizes hes falling hard for someone he met only a few hours ago, but hey, love is blind, or something stupid and sappy like that. So Gilbert works to make Matthew just as happy as he is. He compliments his accent, which causes Matthew to balk slightly and blush, stuttering out some apology: apparently he didn't notice he’d changed accents. Gilbert tactfully covered Matthews unintentional slip up by using his limited knowledge of french to tell him how cute he was.

Matthews' small, surprised smile made having to swallow his pride worth it.

They spent an unknown amount of hours like that: sipping hot drinks and chatting with each other. It was bliss; Gilbert could talk, and Matthew would listen. Matthew laughed, and Gilbert felt warmth fill his heart. 

It was a good night.

-----------------------------

“So, um,” Matthew starts, hesitates immediately, then steels himself with a long breath and ventures bravely on, “Would you, maybe, um, like to go… out?”

Gilbert blinks thoughtfully at this. Sure, they'd been out for the better part of the day already, with the sun dipping low under the horizon and the moon shining far overhead, but Matthew had been eluding to some greater plan all night. Even now, Matthew fidgeted back and forth, eager and nervous for an answer.

Gilbert smiled. God, he was too cute for this world. “Alright, lead the way, schatzi.”

Matthew instantly brightens, standing and ushering Gilbert closer. Gilbert pays the tab (because he can be a gentleman, suck it, Ludwig) and they're off. Matthew grabs Gilbert by the wrist, excitedly tugging him forward, and Gilbert is enamoured by his sudden energy. Matthew laughs airily as they walk.

“I’ve been waiting for this all night. You’re really gonna love this.”

They walk for at least twenty minutes. When Matthew finally slows, they stand on the edge of town, only a set of old, decommissioned train tracks stopping them from truly being out of city bounds. Gilbert looks around, trying to identify what's so great about this. An old trainyard doesn't really scream First Date Material to him, but maybe he's just old fashioned. Matthew turns to smile brightly at him, his eyes gleaming in the muted moonlight. Another insistent tug pulls Gilbert into a train car, where Matthew pats the ground with about as much force as his small frame can offer. Gilbert makes himself comfortable as Matthew himself sits by the door, peering out every few minutes and scanning the area. The train car is dusty, dark, desolate, and overall unpleasant, but Matthew still seems excited so Gilbert humours him. They wait like this for only ten minutes, chatting idly, before Matthew suddenly shushes him, peering out into the darkness once more. Now that their voices have died, Gilbert hears the crunch, crunch, crunch of someone approaching. Now his interest has truly peaked. What is happening now? Did Matthew enlist someone's help for this date? His question is answered when Matthew suddenly leans out of the train car, hands latching around whoever is outside. A startled yelp rings out before Matthew reels back in with his catch; Gilbert cannot see much, but the figure appears to be a young woman, who looks thoroughly confused and frazzled.

“What is-”

Is all she manages before there's a loud crack. Gilbert stares in horrible, wide-eyed disbelief. Matthew cradles the woman's head in his arms, acting like everything is fine and he didn't just snap her neck right in front of Gilbert's face. Matthew leans down, completely blocking her head from view, and Gilbert hears another snap as more bones break.

Somehow, Gilbert doesn’t vomit.

“What the fuck.” is the best he can manage, and honestly, its a miracle hes speaking in sentences and not screaming, and/or running as far way as he can get. Matthew looks back up at him, except it's not Mathew at all. It's a bestial figure, with long antlers akin to an elk, and skin the colour of the moon. His eyes are still purple, but there's no visible sclera, only glinting irises. 

“Is something wrong?”, Matthew asks, somehow managing to sound genuinely worried about Gilbert but not the dead women in his arms, “Do you not eat women?” 

“I- What the fuck, no, I dont eat-- what the fuck?” forget that thought about sentences. Gilbert is still impressed his lunch is in his stomach.

“Oh… would you rather her mind? I thought you’d eat flesh, but… we can share?”

    “What the fuck are you on? You can’t… eat people, thats fucking… you’re, you’re fucking sick, kid. What the fuck?”  

Matthew frowns. “Are you not… a demon?”

        “What? No, I'm not… you can't, why would you, demons aren't even real.”

“..Oh. Oh. I thought… with your eyes, and your… uh…”

Matthew trails off, looking almost guilty. Gilbert continues to stare at the dead body between them. Several tense seconds pass.

“Well”, Matthew finally begins, and Gilbert's eyes snap up to him, widening as he sees the displeased look plastered across Matthews face, “If you’re not supernatural, then I can’t allow you to know about this anymore.”

Gilbert doesn't have time to scream before Matthew descends upon him.

-------------------------

“...ert, Gilbert, wake up, you useless moron!”

    Gilbert groans as he slowly opens his eyes. He’s draped across the couch with his brother looming over him, looking about as angry as usual.

“I have work today, so you're in charge of the dogs. Do not forget to feed them, Aster needs to be given medication at 11 a.m, and Feliciano-”

“Did something happen last night?” Gilbert mumbles out, much to his brothers chagrin. He never did like being cut off.

“Your friend Matthew brought you home. Apparently you got so drunk you passed out and made a complete fool of yourself in front of everyone.”

Ludwig glanced at the clock, sighed, and turned towards the door.

“I have to leave now. Do not forget to feed my dogs.”

    Gilbert grunts in affirmation as the door slams. He tries very hard to remember anything about last night, but he's drawing blanks. The only thing he remembers is bright violet eyes against the pale moonlit sky. His phone suddenly vibrates in his pocket. Gilbert quickly pulls it out, turning on the little device. There's a new message from Matthew. 

Last night was really fun. Maybe we can go out again sometime?

Gilbert smiles a little. A night out with Matthew sounds harmless enough. ------------------- (reposted, now edited) A little longer than my last one. Really, I just wanted to write Canada as a demon. I also couldn't resist using ‘Misinterpretation’ from the reverse prompt.

[inviictas]

⌜   CIS MALE, HE / HIM   |   heavydirtysoul by twenty one pilots, slytherin, entp   ⌟   ⏤   meet CRISTIAN RAMIRO DE LA CRUZ ; a THIRTY year old who kind of resembles MANNY MONTANA, don’t you think? they originally hailed from SAN FRANSOKYO where they lived with their adoptive parent, GOGO TOMAGO (   BIG HERO 6   ), but word is that they’ve been working a desk for much of this year. they’ve always been pretty STAUNCH & VALOROUS, but have gotten way more INJUDICIOUS & BELLICOSE since they woke up. maybe their power of N / A can help in taking down the dome. you can check out his stat page HERE and his pinterest board HERE.

ALL ALONE   /   whether you like it or not,                 alone will be ( something ) you’ll be quite a lot.

SECTION ONE OF THREE : BULLET POINT HISTORY trigger warnings for talk of chronic ill health, prison, sociopathy, serial killers

i dont have the energy to write a long bio. b glad.

anyone who knows cristian’s birth mother, mariana de la cruz, can agree on at least one thing - whether she SHOULD have or not, she always say the best in people. it probably had something to do with how little about people she actually knew. ana was born, it seemed, to suffer ; she spent her whole life sick, all of her time either in hospital, or at home. she was beyond sheltered, and she had very few friends because of it. her kindness could only get her so far in life when she was so separated from it. 

she started to write to PRISONERS in her late teens. it was a decision made out of loneliness, and she figured that was a feeling that the people she wrote to could relate to. as heinous as some of their crimes were, ana continued to feel empathy for them. if she had just a few more critical thinking skills, maybe she wouldn’t have fallen in LOVE. he was a sociopath, and a homicidal sadist. he was a serial killer. he was serving consecutive life sentences. and still, she got on his visitation list. STILL, five years after they initially began to exchange letters, she obtained a marriage license. and two years after that, cristian ramiro de la cruz, mariana and her locked up love’s child, came into the world.

back when he was just a baby, of course he visited the prison with his mother ; they would make the trek together once every six months, as this was about as much as she could MANAGE. his mother thought that he was their miracle, and at that, believed wholeheartedly that his father loved them both. when he got old enough for conscious thought, he’d REFUSE point blank. his mother was blind to the type of man that his father was, but cristian’s defining memory is from when he was six years old, and he was gazing back at his father through the bars of their visitation room. there was no love, in those eyes - eyes they SHARED, he would hate, later on. there was nothing in his expression, that even implied a hint of care. mariana was delusional, but cristian could see what she couldn’t. he would kick up a fuss ever after as his mother prepared to leave, and though it broke her heart - and her visions of a happy family - she would leave him with a relative.

outside of this delusion she had, however, mariana was the best mother that he could have ever wanted. she was the sweetest and most gentle soul ; she loved him with a real ferocity, this baby she had never thought she would have, and she was WICKEDLY over protective of him. mariana didn’t love that cristian had to grow up quickly, because of her health. it didn’t make her happy to have a son that could cook for them both when she was simply too weak, or that knew her exact medication dosages off the top of his head, or who had been taught how to place her into the recovery position should the worst ever happen. he should have gotten to be a KID, and he didn’t, because of her. it hurt, more than anything, and it was probably why the fact he wanted nothing to do with his father pained her so ; they shared EVERYTHING, in their home. they experienced everything, together. and the one thing that cristian couldn’t do was love the man he knew was a monster.

when he was ten years old, his mother collapsed the day before one such visitation. he found her at the bottom of the stairs, and he called 911 from her phone as he had been taught to. it wasn’t the first time that his mother had been to the hospital, over his childhood, but it was the first time that he didn’t leave with her. it was decided that mariana was no longer in position to take care of cristian, or herself. she was better off in assisted living, and he would do better in care.

it didn’t take long for him to be taken in by leiko tanaka, also known as go go tomago. and she was a good substitute, for a mother, though he told her many times that she would never REPLACE mariana. she didn’t want to, and she won his respect very early on for how she approached dealing with him. she was there, when he needed someone, and she never hesitated to help him, when it was required. but she brought him to visit his birth mother once a week, and when he was old enough, he was allowed to go and see mariana alone. she helped him buy presents for her, she didn’t STOP him from leaving school early, when his mother’s health seemed to have dipped. leiko didn’t control him or attempt to take a place she had no right to, and so, cristian didn’t form a grudge. it was as easy as that.

and what was more, as he got older and started to go through puberty - she stuck by him, even when he acted out. cristian had a huge capacity for anger - and when he lost his head, he would... break things, over yelling. she never lost her head with him. she always spoke calmly, even after he had punched a hole into his wall, or shattered his mirror. and when he asked, she didn’t HESITATE in sending him to counseling ; something he recognized he needed, all on his own, as he reached his sixteen birthday and realized that his BIGGEST fear was being his father, and he was very quickly turning into him.

cristian decided to become a DETECTIVE because he didn’t want to be the kind of hero that leiko was. he wanted to be law abiding in every way - almost to prove to himself, to his father, to everyone who had ever known him, that the blood that ran through his veins wasn’t EVIL. he started his youth group, recently, because he had been there. he had been angry. he had lashed out. he had made bad choices in his teens that he was lucky hadn’t come back to BITE him. but he’d gotten past it, for the most part, and he wanted to help others. that’s all he’s been trying to do.

SECTION TWO OF THREE : HEADCANONS trigger warning for mention of cancer

mariana is still alive today, and cris visits her once a fortnight. he still brings her a bouquet of flowers every time, though the gifts he gives are ever changing ; she goes through periods, and right now, she’s enjoying an embroidery hobby, so he brings her thread. 

his father, though he doesn’t think of him as such, is also still alive - though he TREATS him like he’s not. he was diagnosed a year ago with stomach cancer, and cristian’s mother has urged him almost every time he’s visited to do what she can’t, and visit. he’ll never want to upset her enough that he’ll tell her the only time he will is when he’s DEAD, but he certainly thinks it quite a bit.

the only reason cristian hasn’t taken on leiko’s surname, by now, is because there’s a part of him that thinks doing so would be hiding. he’s cristian de la cruz, and yes, he’s the son of a serial killer. it’s certainly something, and perhaps he would have had an easier time in life at certain points if he wasn’t who he had been BORN. but he’s pretty stubborn, so, here we are.

morals wise, cristian is a good guy. in every other sense of the words, he probably... wouldn’t be classed as so. he’s pretty arrogant, and he has a fairly bad reputation in the police department because of his tendency to kind of run with things, and charge ahead. they like to say he doesn’t THINK, and that’s why he makes ‘poor’ decisions - but cris is actually very conscious of everything that he does, and he’s very willing to... make the tough call, so to speak, so that no one else has to. 

he’s still very hot headed. he still goes to counseling. he still fucks up, from time to time. it’s all very human. 

he came to walt disney academy for school, and he never left. it’s not because he loves the town, cause he really DOESN’T, but he fell in love while he was at the university - and his heart may have gotten broken, but he had already sort of set himself up for life, here, so... what can u do. 

SECTION THREE OF THREE : WANTED CONNECTIONS 

you know the usual DRILL ! friends ( anything from best to passing ), enemies, hookups, exes, the very most. hit me up if you’re interested !

i’m going to send in wcs later but:

his enemy with benefits ! they’re just ... either, someone he’s booked multiple times, someone with villainous ties, someone who he’s just hated since he was a kid and who’s hated him right back. but they get p hot and heavy now and it’s just... fun ? can it b called that? prob not. should be 27+

cristian’s partner in the buena vista police dept ! they go way back to police academy, and they used to try and outdo one another at every turn before they realized they could work TOGETHER and be better than everyone. have become super tight friends even tho cris is def the bad cop in their good cop bad cop dynamic, and they get along.. real well.

work dynamics ! ppl he gets along with , people who think he’s horrible, people who love his methods, people that hate them. give me someone who hates him solely because one time he drank their whole carton of milk that they left in the work fridge

his ex fiancé ! they would have dated from when cris was about 20, up to when he was 23 ( so they shld be like... 28+ ). they were gross and in love and we can talk abt why they ended ! 

membeRS OF HIS GROUP FOR TROUBLE YOUTH . 

his oldest friend + current roommate. wld work really well for another older big hero 6 kid ! 

[skeletorific]

Could you please do the ask what they look in a s/o vs what they need in one but whit UT/UF/US/SF Grillby?

Some flamesmen to….spice things up. (I’m so sorry)

UT!Grillby: 

What he looks for: To be completely honest, Grillster isn’t exactly looking for anyone. He kind of sees himself as past his prime a little. I mean, he’s a single father with a full-time job and basically no free time for social hours.Not to mention he can’t go outside his bar’s front door without layers and layers of protection. His regulars are okay people, but there’s not really anyone he’s particularly interested in, not to mention he tends not to mix work and play. Sans is the rare exception, but everyone else he holds at a bit of an arms-length. If pressed, he prefers someone who’s okay with things being a little quieter. They don’t necessarily have to be the maternal type (given that Fuku is old enough to not really need a new mom/dad/second parent), but they’d have to at least get along with his daughter and be willing to take some responsibility for her, should the relationship get serious. Friendly, kind, generous. He’s also got a bit of a thing for musicians.

What he needs: Overall Grillby’s got a pretty good grasp on what he needs in a partner, but in addition to that you have to be at least somewhat outgoing. I mean, you don’t exactly have to be a social butterfly, but you have to be willing to bridge over some awkward silences, and take a lot of initiative in the relationship, at least at the start. Grillby is the kind of person who, if you don’t invite him over, assumes that you just don’t feel like talking. He’s hesitant to ever “force” his presence on other people and so tends to wait to be invited explicitly. Being a flirt is a bonus. He may not look it but the barman is very easily flustered and though he will die of embarassment if you do it in public, deep down he really enjoys it. 

UF!Grillby:

What he wants: Fellby’s a pretty hardcore flirt, but he’s first and foremost a businessman. Whatever rumors there might be about…alternative ways of paying off one’s tab, rest assured, he’ll get your gold or take it out of your flesh. And not in the sexy way either. Aside from Fuku and maybe Red he cares about his money more than any living person. For him, the occasional quick hookup with a snowbunny or two behind the counter (as long as they pay for their drink first) is enough to get some pent up energy, and beyond that he’s fine. He doesn’t need anyone. Its fine. He’s fine. 

What he needs: Don’t let the attitude fool you. This is one lonely pile of ashes. Not that he’d ever let anyone find it out, but it does get to you, not being able to see the one bright spot in your life most days, and the only person you kind of like in the area being the drunk skeleton who won’t pay his fuckin tab and seems to only play nice when he wants something. The trouble is, any offers of sincere friendship and kindness are likely to be greeted with mockery and a few threats to either hand over your wallet or GTFO. So weirdly enough, what Fellby needs is someone who will initially drive him crazy. Someone who takes his sarcastic barbs and tosses them right back. Someone who instead of just crying when he yells at them, yells right back. Who is honest, straightforward with people, but also doesn’t take shit. You need a thick skin to handle this heat, but the longer you prove you’re more than his match, the more you’ll spark his interest (and the more fire puns I can shove into this sentence). Dont be surprised if one day he goes from rude (but affectionate) comments to laying on the charm in BIG WAY, its all he knows. Eventually you’ll achieve some kind of equilibrium.

US!Grillby:

What he wants: Uh????? 

Yeah he’s….pretty changeable. One day he wants a badass who will fight for him. the next a seductive lover who will take charge and sweep him off his feet. Next an adorable sweetheart, too pure for this world. Swapby doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking about romance, but when he does he likes to play with a lot of different scenarios, imagining them all. One thing he’s firm on is someone with a good sense of fun. Given his general antics that is kind of necessary.

What he needs: SOMEONE WITH A MORAL COMPASS, HOLY FUCK. Listen, Swap has a generally good nature, but he also has almost no awareness of boundaries and will frequently trample over the line and has a hard time negotiating tense situations wihtout making it much much worse. You can’t be a total hardass, he loves making you laugh and taking you on adventures, but in the end someone has to put their foot down and tell him that enough is enough. He also tends to be drawn to people who are good with kids and animals

SF!Grillby:

What he wants: Hmmm….here circumstances are a really big factor. Underground he’s not much interested in a relationship. Given the laws of his world its unlikely he’ll want to form extra attachments. Hard enough keeping his gang afloat and his daughter provided for. Aboveground any relationship he forms is going to be largely politically motivated. Someone with money and connections to help him expand his burger empire. Of course, he won’t choose indiscriminately. Given his eccentric nature he likely chooses a partner with a lot of patience for tics and flare-ups in temper, otherwise the relationship wouldn’t last long. He also thinks he wants someone who won’t require too much of him emotionally and won’t be too needy. 

What he needs: Well, he got the patience thing right, but beyond that, dead wrong. True, you can’t exactly expect him to be Prince Charming. But deep down this guy really does like feeling needed. He needs someone he can trust and who trust him, not just as business partners, but emotionally. Someone who can be vulnerable and make him feel okay with being vulnerable too. It takes a lot of time, but as the months go on the two of you become formidable partners in every regard, with a strong bond of mutual understanding and fierce loyalty. 

[herohawks]

Five times Connor is forced to call Hank “dad”. They both suffer.

A/N: short little snippets im writing while my wrist is out of commission. dont know if im going to post them to ao3 since  kinda crack-ish lmao. feel free to send me prompts.

---

PART 1

“Remind me again why we agreed to this shit?”

Connor hefts a box onto his shoulder and balances another on his hip. Hank is struggling to carry one. The bottom of the cardboard is not taped adequately to withstand the current weight. Hank had been the one to tape this particular box, but Connor thinks it best not to point this out.

“We agreed to take the case because we are one of the few within the DPD who specialize in android-human crime. And, as Captain Fowler pointed out, our particular skill sets will allow us to infiltrate this group much easier than our other coworkers,” Connor says as he leads the way to the front door of their new home.

Hank snorts, uneven steps following not far behind. “Skill sets. Yeah. That what they’re calling it these days?”

“That’s what the captain called it, yes.” Connor deftly switches the box on his hip to his knee, balancing it between his leg and the wall so he can fish out the house key the captain had entrusted to him.

The key latches in easily and Connor swings the door open with little fanfare. He allows Hank to go first under the guise of trying to get a better grip on the box he’s currently holding over his knee. The structural integrity of Hank’s box is nearly at its limit.

“Well,” Hank huffs, dropping the box onto the living room floor with a muffled thump. Connor sets his down much more gently. “Jeffrey has always been too nice for his own good, so I’m gonna set it to you straight. You look like a goddamned twink and Jeffrey thinks your scrawny ass will fit in real well with these other skinny, starving college kids. I’m here to make sure you don’t screw it up.”

Connor looks to the ceiling and sighs. It’s a mannerism he’s picked up from Detective Reed that he quite likes. It accurately and efficiently sums up what he wishes to convey with little effort on his part.

“I am not ‘scrawny’,” Connor says, a tad defensive. “Second, the term ‘twink’ is widely outdated and carries negative conn—“

“Connor. Do me a favor and shut the fuck up.” Hank stretches his back, then groans loudly when it pops. “Jesus, I’m too old for this shit.”

“You only carried one box,” Connor points out helpfully, twirling the key ring on his finger for lack of anything better to do with his hands. He itches to go bring in the other nine boxes stacked in Hank’s car.

Hank rolls his eyes so hard Connor is briefly worried that they’ll fall out their sockets. “Jesus Christ. Just – go get the other boxes, would ya?”

Connor does, and makes good time. Hank grumbles while unpacking the boxes, throwing things in a haphazard manner that must have some sort of logic to it, though it’s not one that Connor can decipher at a glance.

With Hank’s back turned to him, Connor takes the chance to run a quick scan. The lieutenant’s blood sugar is low, and Connor detects a minor muscle strain in his lower back from poor posture and lack of adequate hydration.

They still need to go grocery shopping, but Connor had packed a few granola bars and water bottles just in case. He digs them out of one of the boxes and kneels down beside Hank to hand them over. “You need to eat, Lieutenant.”

“Thanks,” he says gruffly, snatching the water and energy bar from Connor. He sets it aside so Connor leaves him be and goes to unpack the other boxes.

They settle into an easy rhythm. An hour later, Connor hears the telltale crinkle of the protein bar being unwrapped and wisely says nothing when Hank’s mood significantly improves from that point after.

What probably felt like an eternity for Hank but was in actuality three hours and thirty-two minutes, they’re finally finished settling in. Connor is pleased to note everything is where it needs to be when he does a cursory scan of the rooms. Despite Hank’s grumbling, they make a great team.

“Great work, Lieutenant,” Connor says as he comes back into the living room where Hank is currently lounging on the couch. “It seems like everything is in order.”

Hank scoffs. “Don’t act so surprised.” A pause. “And it’s not ‘Lieutenant’ right now. Don’t blow our cover.”

“You’re right. Sorry, Dad.” The moment the sentence leaves his vocal unit, a heavy silence stretches between them. Connor has a peculiar urge to exit the room and not return for maybe forever.

“Okay. That was fucking weird,” Hank says finally, breaking the tense hush that had fallen over the room. He runs a hand over his beard, eyes flicking around but never settling on one thing for long.

Connor feels some of the tenseness in his shoulders melt away at the implication that Hank, too, may be feeling some measure of awkwardness. “I agree.”

“Shit. We need to get our shit together before we’re seen in public.”

“It’ll take some getting used to,” Connor admits, and runs a finger along the outer seam of his jeans. They’re not as comfortable nor as flexible as the pants CyberLife had issued him, but it’s currently the style preference of many young adults, and Connor has to blend in. He still misses his own pants, though.

“Want to go grab a bite and forget this ever happened?” Hank asks as he pulls himself up from the couch with a grunt.

Connor does. “Yes. I would like that.”

Hank makes a valiant effort to throw his crumpled wrapper into the small waste bin set along the floor separating the kitchen and living room. He misses. Connor quietly goes over and places the wrapper in the bin.

“Thanks. Hey, don’t forget your glasses,” Hank says and Connor can’t help but wrinkle his nose. Hank laughs. “What, not a fan?”

“You know I’m not,” Connor says, a little cross. Nevertheless, he unhooks it from his shirt and puts them on. They constantly slip down the bridge of his nose. “It’s impractical.”

Hank does not care about his suffering. “It’s your disguise so quit complaining. You’re not the only one who had to make some changes.”

The lieutenant scruffs a self-conscious hand over his freshly cut hair. It’s shorn short with the top a little longer – it looks good, Connor thinks. Makes him appear younger and highlighting the blues of his eyes.

Connor’s glasses, on the other hand, do not look good. They’re clunky and annoying, and Connor thinks they sit awkwardly on his face. The urge to snap them in half is strong.

“They look fine,” Hank says with the tone of someone who’s said this many, many times, which he has. Connor does not believe him any of those times. “Hurry up. I’m starving.”

“Fine.” Connor is getting better at expressing his displeasure through his tone, but Hank tends to ignore this new development as he does with anything he finds inconvenient.

They decide to walk. More accurately, Connor decides that if they’re going to order something unhealthy, they can, at the very least, walk there. Hank is not pleased. Connor doesn’t care.

  A mile and a half later, a small lot with a few food trucks parked in a messy half-circle comes into view. Hank makes a beeline for the hotdog truck so Connor trails behind him. Hank orders a hotdog with only one topping at Connor’s insistence, and Connor buys a small vanilla milkshake to maintain appearances.

  The lot is very crowded, but they manage to snag a table near the sidewalk and away from most of the congested foot-traffic. There’s a light drizzle so Connor pops open the umbrella attached to the table. The atmosphere reminds him of their meeting at the Chicken Feed all those months ago, when Hank had been skeptical and Connor had been apologetic and insistent.

  That had been one of their first, positive conversations. It’s a fond memory, one that Connor keeps tucked away in his memory files for safekeeping.

  “So,” Hank says, snapping Connor out of his musings. “Excited about your first day of school tomorrow?” Hank is grinning so Connor levels him with an unimpressed look. “What? A father can’t have a healthy interest in his son’s education?”

  Connor sets his plastic cup down firmly. “No.”

  “Don’t be like that,” Hank laughs and Connor shakes his head, rubbing his fingers along his temple in a gesture he’s seen Hank do many times.

  His fingers stutter over the place where his LED used to be, the synthetic skin smooth to the touch. He feels oddly naked without it. Vulnerable. He wouldn’t mind the glasses half as much if he could just have his LED back.

  Something must show on his face because Hank’s smile fades a few seconds later, replaced with a worried expression. “Hey, kid. You alright?”

  “Fine,” Connor says a touch too quickly. Hank’s eyebrows shoot up, clearly unconvinced. He runs a finger one more time over his temple before placing it back on the table. “Nervous, maybe.”

  “Hmm. About school?” The way he says it implies he is talking about something else. Connor believes he is inquiring about their current undercover case, so he nods. “Don’t sweat it. You’ll be fine. You’re smart, and a fast learner. You’ll fit right in.”

  Connor has his doubts. While he’s done extensive research into the university as well as updating his human integration program to include the most recent pop culture and dialect, Connor can’t help the uneasiness that settles in the pit of his stomach. Maybe Hank is right. Perhaps this is beyond their capabilities.

  Connor keeps silent and pretends to sip his milkshake.

College is…an experience.

Connor takes the automated bus despite Hank’s insistence he drive him there. The walkways are constantly flooded with harried students and Connor finds himself having to fight the crowd more often than not.

He observes that many of his peers carry some type of overly-caffeinated beverage on them at all times (there had been a memorable moment when Connor’s sensors had picked up vodka disguised as water in someone’s water bottle, but he’d kept the information to himself). After this observation, Connor stopped by the local coffee shop on campus to purchase a small, black coffee. It reminds him of Hank.

His classes had been fairly boring, but Connor supposes that is to be expected. Hank had told him university was probably going to be uninteresting to an android that could calculate over a thousand possible scenarios in two seconds. Connor had promptly told him it actually takes him an average of 0.53 seconds to compute those scenarios, which had resulted in Hank scuffing him across the head.

Connor, despite his reservations, slots into college life seamlessly. Finding the group responsible for the android hate crimes disguised as hazing is almost too simple. They arrest the group three months later once he’s obtained the proper amount of evidence, plus some. Connor wishes they’d at least make it a challenge.

Overall, a success.

“Good job on your first undercover op,” Hank says over dinner.

Here, Connor doesn’t have to pretend to eat. He hadn’t realized how exhausting it is to pretend to be human. His LED is firmly reinstalled, and Connor brings his fingers up to brush it periodically, the familiar ridges soothing.

Sumo lies by their feet, tail thumping happily every time Connor or Hank looks his way. The Saint Bernard had missed them dearly in their four months apart.

“Thank you.” Connor is pleased with the results. His whole body feels warm, but jittery at the same time, like he has excess energy that can’t be contained. He bounces his leg, he twiddles his fingers, and shifts his posture every few seconds. “I’m glad we were able to bring them to justice.”

“Nah,” Hank says after swallowing a bite of his vegetarian stir-fry (Connor’s making, of course). “You’re just happy you don’t have to wear those dorky glasses anymore.”

“So you agree, then. That they looked bad.” Connor feels betrayed. Hank had told him they’d looked fine. Hank is a filthy liar.

Hank snorts and shovels more food into his mouth before replying. “What’d you do with them anyway?” Avoiding Connor’s sort-of question.

Connor rolls his shoulders in a self-satisfied way, and shoots Hank a sly grin. “On the record, I disposed of them in the appropriate recycling bin. Off the record, they may have ended up in a bonfire at the last party I attended as a college student.”

Hank barks a laugh and slaps the table. Connor smiles, too. “Shit,” Hank says, wiping his eyes. “You make me proud, kid.”

“Thank you.”

“Tell ya what, though. Having you call me ‘dad’ for four months was probably the most awkward four months of my life. As long as we don’t gotta do that shit again, I can die happy,” Hank says, taking a sip of his water.

Connor nods. “Agreed.”

[citanasworld]

I just realized I have never posted an original work so i guess i can now 😅, be gentle i haven't written in years (literally like 7/8 years) and this was the first thing i came back with

There they were sitting across a table avoiding eye contact as they separately counted down to what would be the most uncomfortable emotional situation either had been put in.

Their mutual friend Darron walked into the room to explain exactly why he brought both of them together in this awkwardly painful reunion.

"Alrightt, Lunaa.. Natee, I think it's about time you 2 talked. I don't care if you walk out of here friends or not but I've heard 2 very different stories and you need to explain how you feel to one another because your constant fighting and negative energy anytime you see each other is starting to affect not only me but everyone. So talk it out, RESPECTFULLY." He made immediate eye contact with Luna knowing she was they type in fights to go for the low blow. He walked out and closed the door slowly while Luna and Nate turned to make eye contact for the first time since they had been put into this room together.

"Luna i know we didn't end on super great terms last time we spo-" Nate was cut off mid sentence when Luna had burts out laughing

"When was that? Ohhh yeah when you disrespected my fiancé in an attempt to get me angry? Yeah i wouldn't say we ended on 'super great terms' Nathaniel." She said the last part sarcastically rolling her eyes and looking towards the door.

"Haa, well i meant more so the part where you threatened to 'knock everything last tooth and brain cell out of my skull' or do you not remember that part doll"

Her head snapped back immediately and she looked furious "Oh i remember that clearly and it was 'fucking skull' if you want to quote me at least quote me accurately. And NEVER... call me doll again" she leaned in close speaking the last part very articulatly to make her point clear.

"Alright, alright I'll back off; however i see you're still as fiesty as ever" he continued before she could interrupt with a comeback "look my version of this is pretty cut and dry so I'll tell you mine you tell me yours and if we can't see eachothers sides you can walk out that door and we never have to speak again. Deal? For Darrons sake?" He reached his hand out to shake on the terms with a smile

"For darron. And i will leave.." he reached out and grabbed her hand. "I hate you, just so you know." Luna spat at him while pulling her hand back to her side and making a face and Nate. To which he replied with a sincere smile, "oh, darling.. you break my heart" he said light heartedly to try to ease the tension

"You don't have a heart to break." She replied shortly showing absolutely no emotion whatsoever.

His smile grew back to the emotionless frown he always wore

"Alright have it your way."

"Always have, haven't I"

"Snarky as ever.. alright fine" Nate began glaring at Luna knowing she was an empath and that she could only have this emotional blockade up for a short time before it came tumbling down and she would feel all the pain and despair she caused him.

"The way i see it we were friends, and then all of a sudden Simon is the center of your universe and you could give a fuck less about me. Then i try to come to you because i miss you and you say there's some deeper problem. If there was a deeper problem why didnt you just come to me? I just wa-"

"WHY DIDNT I JUST COME TO YOU? NATHANIEL DO NOT START WITH ME." She exclaimed, surprised he even had the audacity to act like she was the villan of this story.

"Alright if I'm explaining this incorrectly maybe you should tell me how things 'reallly were' brat."

"Ohkay well let's start with where things actually went wrong you fucking ingrate. Lets start with the fact that I have loved you and wanted to do everything for you and that was apparently not enough. Lets star-"

"Alright doll, get on with it. Tell me what exactly it is i did to make you go from loving me as much as you did to hating my guts and seeing me as this evil narcissistic demon you paint me out to be."

"Nathaniel. Let me make one thing clear before i tell you exactly how i see things. I don't hate you, unfortunately no matter how much i try i cant bring myself to hate you or stop caring about you even though you strung me along for years and shattered my god damn heart, i still cant fucking hate you. And if you genuinely think i do then I'm sorry but you're just stupid."

"Pfftt could have fooled me. I think the cold shoulder you've been giving me these past few years gave me frostbite" Nate said with a smile hoping he could get Luna to crack even the faintest smile, he hadn't seen her smile in 3 years and he missed it so much.

"I'm not in the mood for jokes.. look i loved you so fucking much i would do anything to make you happy. We had constant bickering of who loved who more and things were great. Then i move 10 hours away and its the most painful, heartbreaking, gut wrenching thing i ever experienced and you just disappear, you stop talking to me everyday and I'm lucky if i got a response once every other week and maybe a video call with you and Darron once a month and that's being generous to you. And then while being heartbroken that the person i loved basically just disappeared on me then Elaine had to tell me her sister saw you out with NOT ONE. BUT TWO DIFFERENT FUCKING GIRLS ON DATES. WHat the actual fuck was that shit Nathani-"

"Look i dont know what tale you're spinning but we were never dating and i-"

"I KNOW AND THAT'S THE WORST PART OF IT ALL. I LET YOU LEAD ME ON IN HOPES ONE DAY YOU'D STOP FUCKING EVERYTHING WITH A FUCKING HOLE AND WOULD ACTUALLY SETTLE DOWN AND LOVE ME BECAUSE 'YoU lOvEd Me MoRe TiMeS iNfInItY aNd YoU aLwAyS wIlL' you fucking ungrateful son of a bitch you made me fall for you. And dont start with the i meant it as friends thing because i did not treat you like a friend and you know it. I never cuddled and kissed my other friends. I never made plans to move across the country alone with one of them and spend the rest of our lives together and you knew exactly what you were doing you FUCKING NARCISSISTIC ASSHOLE"

"STOP CALLING ME THAT" Nate snapped yelling as loud as he could; as he leaned in closer to Luna. They both just stared at each other in silence, Nate was waiting for the waterworks to start, anytime he yelled at her before she'd cry and he could comfort her and things got better but not a single tear fell.

"Nathaniel. I'm sorry I've been raising my voice but i swear to whatever the fuck god you wanna believe in that if you EVER raise your voice at me again i will fucking kill you without the slightest hesitation, do I make myself clear?"

They sat in silence as they had a stare down waiting for the other to break, but Luna grew tired of this game so she continued her point "Regardless if you meant it or not, knew what you were doing or not, you lead me on, For years, point fucking blank ohkay? I loved you and waited for you for years just to have my heart shattered. I genuinely cant tell you how many people i slept with to get over you."

This took Nate off guard and he couldn't hide the glint of jealousy that flashed across his face at the thought of her touching someone else the way she used to touch him, god just the thought of it made his stomach turn

"And after doing that and not succeeding in fucking you out of my system i was even more upset and broken" her voice broke and she had to take a second to compose herself so she wouldn't start to cry once she calmed down she continued

"Simon was the best friend that was there for me after you destroyed me. He picked up the pieces and put me back together, and didn't expect anything in return, he did it as a friend. He makes me happy and makes me feel loved-"

"Uuugghhhhh skip this part. You know how i feel about Simon." Nate groaned

"I just wanted to make it clear that he's the reason I'm back to myself and didn't end up destroying my life or overdosing to kill myself you dickhead. And i was content pretending like you never broke my heart and destroyed me. I was fine pretending like we were friends for Darrons sake. And then you saw how happy i was with Simon and decided you didnt like me loving someone other than you and made it very apparent how much you hated him. You got pissy anytime i showed him affection AND HE AND I WERE IN AN ACTUAL DEFINED RELATIONSHIP. And then when i stopped being around you because of how you were acting about simon and i you decided to drunk text me some god damn apology about how you were treating Simon and like thanks but how fucking dare you act like that's where our problems started. It was way before that. And to add fuel to the fire when i didnt accept your shitty apology you decided to misgender and deadname my boyfriend to try and what? hit a nerve and get me to talk to you? Like fuck off you egotistical self centered prick. But whatever at this point I've come to expect nothing less of you."

Tears were welling up and she couldn't hold them back any longer. Nathaniel took a moment and watched her, studied her face to see if there was any feeling towards him that wasnt hurt or anger that was salvageable

"..I'm sorry I made you feel that way about me. But i still love you and care about you Luna. I never stopped, even when we didn't talk for weeks i was always thinking about yo-"

"I tried to talk to you every single day Nathaniel. If you miss someone you talk to them not ignore them and fuck anything with a pulse"

"okay.. that's fair i deserve that. But please stop rebutting everything i say its not progressing this conversation..unless your plan is to spend the rest of our lives in this room arguing which with you doesn't sound to bad, doll" he threw in a wink and reached for Lunas hands. She pulled them back before he could even reach her hands "what the fuck did i say about that name" "awhh come on Luna i know that's your favorite nickname"

"YOU DON'T GET TO CALL ME THAT."

"Does Simon call you that now? Or is it still my special nickname"

"Simon knows that being called Doll makes my stomach turn amd my skin crawl." she looked Nate up and down to emphasize her point "for obvious reasons." Nate simply smiled "Luna keep up this tough girl act i like the look of it on you. But we both know underneath that tough shielded exterior is my soft babydoll that just wants love and acceptance from everyone that lays their eyes on her no-" "You think you know me but you know who i used to be. That 'soft doll' you love so much? You killed her, a long time ago and I've changed"

"Show me the new you then. I can promise I'll love any version of you as long as its you"

"STOP..saying you love me Nate you're trying to get in my head." She looked away from him and tried to pretend like she didnt still care. Nate reached out and turned her to face him "you and i both know i mean it Lunabel, i will always love and care for you. Thats why darron wanted us to talk things out. Please believe me I've changed, i go to therapy, i haven't touched any drugs or alcohol in a year, and im working on my problems. I know you dont want me in that way but i need to be part of your life Lun, i cant stop thinking about you. You were my best friend, the person i went to for anything without fear of judgment please don't take the only light in my life away from me."

"Nathaniel.. you know I'll never stop loving you but we're toxic to each other and only make one another spiral down. We just bring out the worst in eachother, and frankly, I don't like who you turn me into." He looked down defeated knowing where this was going to lead, but she pulled his face up to meet his eyes to hers "..i am.. so proud of you for getting sober Nate, words cant explain how happy i am you're getting help and bettering yourself. And I'll always care about you but i can't see a future for us where we can be close friends anymore, its not in the cards for us" he rested his head against her hand not wanting this moment to end, he missed her touch, how she could calm every ache and pain both mental and physical by just touching him. He hadn't felt a moment of peace like this since she left his life. She started to pull her hand away and instinctually he grabbed her hand and held it back to his face, tears starting to build

"fuck the cards, Luna please give me another chance as a friend please i miss you in my life and healing cant progress if i dont have you by my side"

Luna pulled her hand back to her side realizing she had made a mistake touching him like that, she felt the hair on her arms stand up and the anxiety rush up her fingertips and into her whole body, Her heart started to race and tears started to well in her eyes "Nate you and I both know you can't rely on someone else when you're trying to heal, it's not healthy on either end of the relationship; If you truly need someone to rely on that person should be Darron or a family member, not your ex-whatever I am."

Luna stood up to head for the door when Nate grabbed her hand to ask one final question, "Do you still love me Lunabel?"

There was a moment of silence as she pondered on this question, "Nate, you know the answer is yes but no amount of love can erase the past. Keep doing good and being sober, im proud of you." she pulled her hand back to herself and continued towards the door as Nate stared at her and watched her walk out of his life for the last time "I'll always love you Lunabel..." she stopped for a second to turn slightly, "I know Nathaniel.. I know." she continued out the door and walked away with the weight of a thousand tons rolling off her shoulders as she closed that chapter of her life and moved on with Simon to her happy life.

[thebrightestringaroundthemoon]

anyway time to use this blog for what i created it for i guess and type out a big long thing about how im a worthless piece of shit and should pour myself a nice big glass of creamer, sugar, and clorox. i literally serve like? no purpose? in life? at all? im a completely directionless failure that operates with about the complexity of a fucking roomba, running into the same goddamn couch over and over again and slightly redirecting. if i get lucky, i run into a different couch, but nothing fucking changes. i do the exact same thing over and over again: surround myself with wonderful, fantastic people, fuck it up and make them hate me, and then spiral into a pit of my own pointless fucking despair until i realize im such a fucking failure of a person i cant even muster the energy it takes to fucking die so i just get up again in the morning and go again. rinse and fucking repeat. and its not like i have some horrible life or anything, im just profoundly unfit to exist on this planet. i have wonderful friends who actually, honest to god care about me and its evidently not good enough for me?? so i just respond to everything by assuming the worst, spiralling, and being too much of a dumb bitch to fucking talk to A N Y B O D Y about A N Y T H I N G cuz i guess i’d rather make a dumb edgy tumblr blog named after the lyrics to a fucking asia song than actually solve any of my problems. i guess its too much to solve a problem when the fundamental core of who you are as a person is the fucking problem. i mean, there is a solution, but ive already covered why nobody needs to be worried about me doing that! bnobody needs to be worried about me doing anytuhing! accomplishing anything! ever becoming anything! ever managing to do much more than drag myself out of bed in the morning and inspire a profoundly sad mixture of pity and annoyance in everyone iv’e ever come into fucking contact with! im sitting here debating fixing the fucking apostrophe in the last sentence and its driving me fucking mad while real people have real fucking problems and my cardboard cutout ass bad edgy teen novel stupid bitch excuse for a person ass is sitting here doing THIS with my fucking time. I have things i shuold be doing, could be doing, but this is legitimately all i can bring myself to fucking contribute to society at this point. the surest sign that the people around me are fucking saints is that theyve stuck around this fucking long but honestly i dont fucking undeerstand. i guess thats the whole point of shit like saints, you arent supposed to be able to understand, its superhuman compassion, even for those who dont fucking deserve it. or maybe its just because i fundamentally dont work. i dont have any sort of actual power when it comes to my life. these are the idle musings of a bewildered spectator, the one person who comes to the party, stays sober, and sits on the sidelines and watches the fucking idiocy unfold. except instead of drunkenly stumbling around and telling my friends how much i love them, im stone cold sober and sitting on the sidelines watching myself fail to take even the most basic fucking steps towards fixing literally any problem that im dealing with. broken. non functional. i dunno if i was born a failure, though. i think that might be giving myself a little too much credit. other people were dealt infinitely worse hands than i was and they turned out fucking wonderful. i know a couple of them. no, i think im the way i am because of me. i probably had all the chances i needed to become something resembling a human being, and instead im whatever i am now. how can i be excited about some sort of future for myself when i can barely manage a relatively privliged day to day existance? i have friends, im not starving, im in college, i have an apartment. im far from rich but im able to afford to go to college. that should be enough. why the fuck isnt that enmough. why cant i just be fucking satisfied why cant i muster some sort of positive fucking emotions why does joy last a few moments why can i do this so much easier than writing anything positive about my life why does this flow like it does like a fucking river why cant i stop my hands why why what the fuck why why am i like this why was i born why am i who i am it flows so easily it just comes out but i cant tell anyone and i cant rely on anyone because im not anyone in noone im the fucking nobody that people keep around them to make themselves feel better and the only reason i have the slightest bit of doubt about that is that i love my friends too much to ever accuse them of something like that but then again does it fucking count when its someone like me do i qualify as a fucking person does it count as hurting someone’s feelings or using them when that someone isn’t a someone is just an empty fucking shell that was only gifted with the capacity to retain HURT thats all i can fucking remember thats all that sticks with me HURT i cant fucking be rid of it and its not some sort of innate inherent biological failing its who i am as a person i did this to myself i do this to myself i dont know that i will ever stop doing this to myself. all i can hope for is that one day i gain the strrength the fucking self esteem and self respect to kill myself. maybe it isnt self respect i need for that but respect for my friends. its selfish to put them through me. the pain they’d feel from my death would last a short time if at all. it would be so much better than forcing them to know me for however long this failing fucking body will carry my empty shell of a spirit onwards thjrough a world that i dont deserve to fucking inhabit. my inner monologyue put on paper sounds like a fucking evanescence song and i hate myself for it so much jesus fucking christ. i fundamentally do not like myself. as a person. on any level. i do not like myself. i wouldnt be friends with me, and ironically i hate myself for that too. but who would? who the fuck would? why does anyone? do they? maybe thats my one fucking talent. convincing people im likable. worming my way into their fucking lives until they trust me only to realize that i am not a human being. im an empty shell, a fucking roomba of a person. i can tell when ive run into something and back up so i can run into it again. i cannot solve my own problems. i cannot even conceptualize them. im something below a human cursed with the fucking ability to think at the level of one. my ocd is really really desperately trying to get me to scroll up and fix all the spelling and grammar errors but i dont know if itll hurt more to ignore them or to have to read the dumb ashit i just wrote. earlier i said that i wanted this to flow less easily and here we are i guess. though earlier i meant it in the context of only being able to properly conceptualize negative feelings and never being abkle to hold onto anything piositive i feel, and that hasn’t been magically fixed or anything, im just having trouble feeling anything at all now. im a completely blank slate. i havent even cried once troday. i cant. i cant care about my own fucking inadequacy and failure as a very basic human being enough to even fucking cry. i cried about an anime a couple nuights ago. i can muster emotion for that. but as soon as i look inwards i dont see ahyuthing thEres NOTHING FUICKING THERE THERE IS NOTHING FUCKING THERE THERE IS NOTHING FUCKING THERE I AM NOT A HUMAN BEING I AM NOT A HUMAN BEING I AM BROKEN I AM EMPTY I AM A {PLAGUE ON WHOEVER HAS THE PURE FUCKING MISFORTUNE TO BE A GOOD ENOUGH PERSON TO TAKE PITY ON ME i dont want to die, even. too many steps, too much feeling, too much. i just want to stop. to end. i want to no longer be. ill lock tghat away with all the other things id love to happen but know never will. that ones at the forefront though. it always will be. until i grow the fucking compassion to put others out of my misery. my roomate just texted me an innocuous questiona nd i texte d bacjk normally emojis and all im normal dont you see everyone im normal nothings wrong with me. oh sure sometimes i have a bad day but im fine everybody IM FINE you aren’t you have to put up with me ill fucking worm my way into your life and convince you im a real human being you can hold a congersation with only to snatch the fucking rug out from under you as soon as you actually attempt to engage with me on any level and i just end up eiother hurting you or revealing accidently that there is no such thing as luna thats not a fucking person its a name assigned to a loose collections of disorders, bad habits, and a gaping emotional black hoile from which nothing can fucking escape, jammed into an ugly broken body thats going to kill me early and doesnt even compensate by making me hot. wHEE. and of course, unable to be happy with anything, i will simultaneously complain about my own impending death due to horrific nutrition, subastance abuse (just the fun kinds so people dont realize anything is wrong WHEEEE) and some fucky illness that ive now gone and stopped medicating because im a stupid worthless bitch, AND I WILL COMPLAIN ABOUT THIS WHILE SIMULATENOUSLY WANTING TO DIE what do i want? who the fuck knows! not me! that’s a redundant statement, of course “me” doing know bercause thats not a thing im not a person! id love to blame it on my complete and total internal faliure as a person that i always end up hurting people, but honestly its probably because i dont put enough fucking effort in. even right now,. literally hours after a good friend of mine ostaroted feeling like shit in a way that is almost for sure my fucking fault, im doing THIS instead of trying to right the situation (to b fair she made a point of not inviting me but inviting the rest of the group?) or did she am i just reading into this? who knows! who the fuck knows! everyone but “me”! ejveryone else knows! becayuse its probably REALALLY FUCKING SIMPLE BUT NOOOOO I CANT EVEN MANAGE THAT CAN I I CANNNOT EVEN FUCKING MANMAGE TO MANAGE THAT CAN I thats too much for lil ol me! i am aggressively pointless! i am the single least important collection of fucking atoms on this planet! every last fucking rock i stepped on walking to and from the class that i skipped half of today is more important and has contribtued more to the grand scheme of things than i ever have or ever will, and thats jkust the inanimate fucking objects on the ground. lets not even get started on all the actual people whose time my existance waste, who i am a fucking affront to  by sheer virtue of being in any way associated with them at any point in time ever. i guess this is it, this is what i get when my entire personlaity is a loosely cobbled together collection of self deprecating jokes and a fake ego, desperately attempting to patch over an interior that has holes in it less than it just is one giant fucking hole. i was, am, and will be nothing, not even enough to earn the use of “I” at the beginning of the sentence. dinner is in 15 minutes. my friends will be there. im paralyzed. i belive every word i wrote above so why

would i inflict myself upon them but i 

i cant not

i so deeply want to

to go sit in uncharacteristic silence and hope somebnody notices and asks me whats up so i can give them a dumb, abridged, mostly fake version and get the sad pity looks and then feel bad about exploiting them and then

rinse

repeat

because i am not a person