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winter-soldier-vibes · 3 years

Note

Can I request HSP + depression reader (who thinks they are just weak and being crybaby) x Bucky, please? I understand you are super busy right now and I didn’t mean to rush you or anything but I'm just struggling with both HSP and depression and couldn’t help but send it right now. No need to hurry, just when you are free and maybe when you had nothing to write. Thank you and I love you!

Thank you for the request, I’m sorry it’s been a difficult time for you! I’m here if you need me and I hope that this helps!!!

It’s called empathy

Bucky x reader

Word count: 1981

Warnings: depression, HSP (highly sensitive person), low self worth, negative self talk, swearing (that’s normal for me but this one’s a little extra), angst (more so internal idk if that needs a warning), fluff/comfort

Taglist: @buckys2thicc @babydaddy-buckybarnes @barnesplums @peggycarter-steverogers @mardema @abitgryffindorky @buckys-blue-eyes @strawberrimae @thatfangirl42 @freigeistundanderes @bucks-bunny @broadwaybabe18 @im-sick-of-failing

Taglist Masterlist

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Breathe in

Breathe out

Out

...in…

You felt a tear escape your eyes

Goddamn it

You didn’t want to cry, you couldn’t let yourself. It was stupid, it was just some shitty remark from someone when they were in a shitty mood, it wasn’t your fault, all that bullshit you tried to tell yourself. It never worked.

You were trying to control your breathing, looking up at the ceiling trying to will the tears away, biting your lip. You would not cry, not over this. Not over something that wasn’t worth your tears

Not when you didn’t even know what exactly you were crying over.

Yet here you were, gripping the edge of the bathroom sink with white knuckles, looking up at the ceiling trying to keep the tears at bay. And it wasn’t working.

Weak sensitive piece of shit.

What good were you to the team if you cry in the bathroom like a baby every time something remotely stressful happens? People usually cry when they're in pain or when they’re grieving - the only excuse you had was you were stressed or sad.

You felt another few tears escape and you angrily swiped them away, cursing yourself for being so weak.

You hated this, you hated yourself. You were so numb most of the time, especially when you were alone. You found yourself alone in your room with racing thoughts feeling like you were falling apart. Yet when you were alone you could only stare at the ceiling wondering if it would get any worse.

The answer was usually yes.

Whenever you would go on missions with the team, you were able to push aside your stress. You had a job to do and you would do it. But when the mission was over and you were walking back through the rubble - seeing all the blood, destruction, fear - then it would start to get to you. You would panic, you would feel tears cloud your vision. Tears for those you were leaving behind, and those who had nowhere to go, those who lost someone. That was understandable.

It seemed to affect you more than the others though. It was understandable to be moved by so much destruction. But for you everyone felt like someone you had known and loved.

You could feel the grief in those left behind, feel the sadness and pain that they were going through.

The same was true when you weren’t on missions. When those who were on them would come back. Whether they were injured or their eyes were saddened - you knew when a mission was rough. You would listen, you would be there for people. It was easy to talk to you, and you were very wise.

But it still overwhelmed you. You couldn’t say no, you didn’t want to. You wanted to help but it would be so emotionally taxing for you. So behind closed doors, you would break. Be there for others, listen when they need to talk, others come first - you took their emotional pain onto yourself.

You were grateful that you could help - but in the process it was hurting you.

You allowed yourself to feel sad when you were alone in your room. No one could see you be weak in the dark of your room. But you never cried much just from the pure exhaustion of your thoughts. Sometimes you wanted to, just feeling so incredibly empty that you just wanted to have an ugly crying session curled up in bed.

But you didn’t get to make that choice.

The crying wouldn’t come until the absolute worst times. If you had messed up on a mission, if Tony said something a little too harshly because to him everything was a joke, seeing something gruesome on a mission- whenever it came to someone else getting involved, the tears would come. Hell sometimes even being overwhelmed in public would be enough to start the waterworks.

You always felt so fucking weak for it. The slightest environmental stressor could stress you out too much and move you to tears. You had no reason to be upset most of the time. But you would get angry at yourself for being upset, which would make you more upset that you couldn’t control it, making it harder to control.

It was a vicious cycle.

Lately it had been popping up more and more recently. Smaller things were upsetting you more than usual. You were becoming more sensitive to external stimuli and as a result, you spent as much time as you could in your room. You were embarrassed by yourself. Both by your emotions and by your inability to control them.

This time you were just upset that you were upset. It had been a long night the day prior, just a lot of paperwork to do. There had been a mission earlier this week that you hadn’t been assigned to, but it had been brutal for everyone who had gone. So far today had been a normal day by anyone’s terms, an emotionally exhausting one for you. One of those where you woke up tired and the thoughts of another day were enough to draw you to tears. Nothing had even happened, but apparently nothing needed to happen.

Your emotions came and went without your consent.

You knew deep down it was probably some sort of emotional build up - that whole quote about bottling things up until they got to be too much - it happened every time but you still thought you could handle yourself better than that. You didn’t want to vent or be a problem to anyone. But when you are the emotional support for most of the team and you haven’t been able to get enough sleep or take time for yourself - you didn’t have much of a say as to when the bottle overflows.

A few more tears fell and you slammed your hand on the counter, wiping your tears angrily once more. “God fucking damn it why can’t you just stop fucking crying!” you exclaimed, feeling a few more tears falling “Weak piece of shit!”

There was knocking on the door, pulling you out of your self deprecating thoughts. You gasped lightly, wiping your face again.

Knock knock

You jumped a little, gasping slightly. No one was supposed to be here, it was the middle of the night.

“Y/n? What’s going on in there? Are you alright?”

You took a shaky breath. Of course it would be Bucky who heard you. Why would it be anyone else?

“I’m fine Bucky, it’s late, you should go to sleep.”

“Then why are you still awake?” Bucky responded. You heard him sigh a little outside the door. “Come out here and tell me you’re okay.”

“Really Bucky?”

“Unless you want me to come in there, but I don’t think Stark would appreciate me breaking your door.”

You took a small breath and walked over to the door, opening it. You crossed your arms and met Bucky’s concerned eyes. “I’m fine, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed, taking in your appearance. Red eyes, flushed face, your hair was messy - you were definitely crying. He hated when you wouldn’t admit that you weren’t ok. “You know you don’t have to be, right?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep fresh tears from clouding your vision. “What?”

“You say you’re fine, you always say that you’re fine until you break. I heard you crying, I can see that you’re not feeling okay yet still you try to keep a brave face. And I just want you to know that you don’t have to always be okay.”

You let out a breath. “I - i…” you looked down and shook your head, lost for words.

“Y/n, I’m not here to judge you. Can you try to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” you said looking up at him “It’s literally so stupid, Bucky.”

“Y/n, nothing you say right now is going to sound stupid.

You shrugged your shoulders, still not quite meeting his eyes. “I don’t know, I just get so worked up sometimes, but it’s stupid. I tell myself I’m not going to be bothered and then I freak out again. The smallest things bother me and I get stressed out and then I cry like some stupid weak bitch. People have it worse than me, God, you have it worse than me. Everyone here has some sort of traumatic awful thing happen to them and then there’s me and I get sad because I see other people sad,” you were crying again and you wiped at your face, covering your eyes. “God Im so fucking stupid I -”

Bucky pulled you into his chest as you let out a sob. “You’re not stupid, y/n.”

“YES I AM. I get worked up over the smallest shit, I don’t listen when people tell me to take breaks, I take everything too personally and I can’t stop fucking crying when I don’t even know what the fuck is wrong!” you exclaimed, trying to push yourself away, ashamed.

Bucky held you tightly, not letting you go. “That’s not your fault. It’s not up to you how your feelings show up.”

“But I cry at the most stupid shit and I can’t control it.”

“You’re not supposed to know how to control it,” he said, pulling back to look at you. “Emotions can’t be controlled. They just happen and it’s rarely convenient.”

“Then why do I feel so weak? If this,” you gestured to yourself “is so goddamn normal then why isn’t everyone else breaking down every other day?”

Bucky brushed some hair out of your face. “Your emotions are yours, no one else’s. No one has the right to tell you how to feel. Think of it this way - you can’t expect everyone to have the same amount of strength or stamina - no one has the same emotional response either. And that doesn’t make you weak, it makes you you.”

You shook your head. “I just feel so weak all the time.”

“And I’m here to remind you that crying isn’t weak. You are not a weak person, you are not a bad person, you’re not any of those things your mind tells you. You’re a kind and thoughtful person. You put your heart into everything you do. You help everyone you can. Mourning someone else’s loss isn’t weakness. It’s called empathy.”

You took a small breath. “Then why does it hurt so goddamn much?”

“”I don’t know. And I can’t say for certain that you won’t always feel that way. But I know I can tell you that you aren’t weak, and I’ll be here every time you feel that you are.”

You nodded your head slightly. “You don’t think I’m weak?” you asked quietly.

He pulled you back into a hug. “Not in the slightest, y/n.”

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somecunttookmyurl · 3 years

Note

If It is okay to ask, how to tell when a kid is adhd or just being a kid? Looking back I can see a few signs like constant daydreaming, restlesness fidgeting etc but that wasnt much different from the other kids. As a teenager it became more clear I think because most of girls my age were not behaving like tomboys anymore and the symptoms mentioned above did not go away plus i think I had/have rsd. But only now as an adult i feel like these things are actually getting on the way. I daydream a lot, the restfulness didn't go anywhere, rsd still anoying as fuck (i think this is related with being a people pleaser? I got that too) and i notice more and more this horrible thing you usually call executive dysfunction. I cant really get a diagnosis and while I relate to a lot of symptoms and posts adhd people share, I'm really scared Im just procrastinating and trying to use adhd as an excuse for not getting things done. And I feel really bad about that. So back to my original question, if the signs were there since childhood but did not trouble me until like 4 years ago, how can i tell If It was adhd or Just kid stuff?

i mean the fact it didn't go away is a pretty good tell, honestly.

redmore to save the dash

as an adhd kid you may, with other children

-had difficulty making/keeping friends or socialising and felt "weird" or "different"

-were not invited to parties, made excuses to not go, or acted inapproptiately when there (and were never invited back)

-easily gave in to peer pressure from a desire to "fit in"

-were probably called "gullible"

-found it difficult to "wait your turn" in any activity

-frequently picked last for games and team sports

-found it difficult to "share" things with others

-caused fights/arguments with siblings/other children over trivial things

-may have been called "spiteful" or "vindictive"

-not realised when you were "taking things too far" with joke or play

-tried to annoy people on purpose

_________________________________

as an ADHD child in school you may

-consistently not done school/homework until the last minute. not by choice, but because you could never seem to "just get started on it" until it was immediately pressing

-not known where to start with longer-term projects / never really "got" how to study or revise for exams. could not organise notes.

-made careless mistakes in schoolwork

-had report cards littered with "intelligent but could try harder" "needs to apply themselves" "has potential but lazy" etc

-parents/teachers said you had an "attitude" / you had a tendency to "talk back"

-often seemed to forget things you had already learned until you were reminded of them, or had difficultly linking knowledge together

-doodled a lot in class, and found doing so made it easier to listen

-easily distracted by external stimuli ie things happening outside the classroom window, or a conversation in the next room

________________________________

as an ADHD child at home you may

-had trouble getting up in the mornings (your parents had trouble dragging you up, and you felt groggy/sleepy "just 5 more minutes")

-had issues going to bed. did not seem "tired" at bedtime. stayed up late reading frequently. refused to get ready for bed.

-always been rushed to get ready for things

-being forgetful or "a ditz"

-being called "lazy"

-forgetful with daily activities such as brushing your teeth and would need to be reminded

-found it hard if not impossible to keep your room clean and organised. not "knowing where to start" with it

-walking past things without seeing them. eg my parents would leave my laundry on the stairs to take up and then berate me because "you've walked past it six times today". not really seeing mess in general bc it became "background noise"

-not following through on instructions/not finishing what you were asked to do. like doing half of the dishes

-you were over-sensitive to criticism

-would often lie to get out of obligations, maybe even compulsively (ie you couldn't help it)

-you answer to "why did you do/say x" or "why didnt you do x" was frequently "i don't know" and you genuinely didn't know

-liked to do things the same way every time and got upset if the structure or plan changed

-would become frustrated if your demands were not immediately met. could not "wait until later"

-somebody would ask you to do something and you wouldn't do it for several hours, without realising it had been that long

_________________________________________

as an ADHD child in your leisure time / emotionans you may

-people saying "are you even listening to me?" a lot

-talking excessively, being "a chatterbox"

-despite being a "chatterbox" around familiar people, you were very shy/withdrawn around others. your two modes are "verbal diarrhea" and "mute"

-answering questions before the person even finished asking, interrupting others a lot

-you had a lot of interests but didn't keep up with any of them for very long

-were "emotional" or "overdramatic" ie crying or getting angry easily

-identified as a "perfectionist" and would either hyperfocus on unimportant details, or gave up on new pursuits you were not "immediately good" at

-people said you have a "selective memory" because you can eg name all 151 pokemon in order but not remember to pick up milk on the way home

-your moods seemed to change quickly and drastically

-had difficulty "behaving yourself" in public ie when out shopping

-broke/smashed things when angry

-got injured by doing reckless/stupid things

-complained of "being bored" often

-watched TV or played video games excessively and could lose hours at a time without noticing

#all of this obv in addition to the general #daydreaming/fidgeting/inabiliy to sit still/excess physical energy #you can look up child ADHD rating scales #that would have been completed by a parent or teacher #and look back and score yourself

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444piscesprincess · 3 years

Text

musings of a girl who knows nothing

is it exhausting to ...

to feel like my life is a constant performance and im the lead actress who cant even act right in her own production.

to get so used to the routine of putting on a mask of sorts and showcasing this intricate dance to everyone who has ever looked at me.

to be so tired yet desperately cling to what i know and have always done because without the performance i'm not sure about who i am

to doubt that do i even like the things i like or am i just doing it because i learned it early on and now do them because i dont know how to do much else

to feel that does anyone even know the real me ,who is the real me am i too young to know or have i simply wasted my youth not knowing anything and fumbling my way through it all with the pressure of all the expectations on me

to be told that im supposed to have it all figured out and make decisions that impact the rest of my life

but i wonder aimlessly

looking back will i regret it all

will i be the same person ive always been but hated

will i ever be able to be an authentic version of me ( will i ever even find out what that means for me )

will i be able to look back fondly at this and laugh at how trivial it was

will i even be alive long enough to reminisce at this fit of teenage angst

or will i be the same stupid child pretending to be an adult like a little girl dressed up in her mothers clothes and makeup and desperately prove that i have it all together when i really never have had a semblance of that feeling

to know that

im constantly falling apart but the only one i allow to pickup the pieces is myself even though i wish i had someone to help me

to know that although seventeen is just a scratch in the surface of time and life itself but yet feel like i wasted a lot of time

to know that my life hasn't truly taken off yet but i feel as though it has begun to end

to feel that the i seem to be the only one i know who feels this way am i doing it all wrong? why am i the only one not living the "teenage dream" to feel that time is passing too fast and soon enough ill be stuffed into an "adults" shoes and be expected to act like one when im just a scared little girl who's good at hiding it all...

burnt out but do i just keep going because i dont know how they'll take it if i stop

if they see through the cracks of my persona that i dont know what im doing will they question if they ever knew me at all

am i stupid and naive for hoping that it'll all change am i holding on to that overly bright optimism because i dont know if things will ever get better or change

will i be forced to keep toiling this way till i die , full of missed chances , regrets and a familiar routine of things i hate but still do because i punish myself for the sweet but fleeting ambrosia of external approval...

#writing #thoughts #existential musings #who am i #teenage angst #daily life #what is my meaning

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sugarchains · 5 years

Text

Title: 12 Months

Chapters: 1/1

Pairing: Kepcobi

Rating: Explicit!

Notes: HI HELLO My friend made me listen to this podcast and it killed me very slowly and very publicly for weeks. Also when I’m obsessed with a thing, I either cosplay it or write fanfic of it. Have a fanfic. Also I fudged timelines because I love Maxwell and I need her present always.

LMAO BONES IM SO SORRY BECAUSE THIS WAS FOR YOU LIKE 2 YEARS AGO I LOVE YOU!!! forgive me ok

There are numerous ways that he has fucked Daniel Jacobi within the past year. Fucked up, fucked over, mind fucked-he’s been fucking Jacobi since they first met.

Technically.

It starts with what could be called a mind fuck because, let’s be real. Daniel’s not stupid. Impulsive, brash, and every bit as loud as his job requires him to be. But he lets himself be eased into it- blows up an office for an appraising look the first month, demolishes a city block for a wink and a smile month two, murders for a hand cupping the back of his neck and good boy stated fondly into the air around them.

SI-5 training was different than other set ups. They’re not military and they’re not Black Ops technically- nor are they spies. Also technically, they’re all three and it’s better to not ask questions and just do as you’re told. (Rule number 3).

They need to be ready for anything, and that’s the excuse Kepler gives when he calls Jacobi in to spar, just the two of them. He wipes the floor with him, more than once. It’s 4 months since he picked Daniel up at the bar and in this month he lets Warren press him hard, throw him harder into the mats.

The fifth month, Warren fucks him over lets Daniel get shot and it runs like this: He took a risk and it backfired and he didn’t even realize it until almost too late.

The rest of the fifth month is eventful, from an objective perspective.

(“Promise me you won’t fall in love with him.”

“What?"

”Promise me, Daniel. You know how you are.“

"I have no idea what you could be hinting at.”

“Needy, desperate for approval, hanging on his every word like a-”

“OK, ok! …I promise."

"You promise what?”

“Are you really gonna make me say this?”

“I’m going to record you so I can play it back when you make a bad decision later on."

"Fucking….I promise not to fall in love with the Major. Happy?”

“Yeah. I don’t believe you, by the way.”

“That’s fair."

Warren watches this scene play out from afar, watches Alana curl up on a hospital bed next to Daniel (Maxwell and Jacobi, he reminds himself-there’s no reason to get so comfortable when it’s only been five months and even less for Ala-Maxwell. No reason to be so comfortable right now either) from a small screen on a tablet in Cutter’s office. Internally, he’s a combination of swirling emotions, but externally? Perfect mask of the perfect soldier.

"Well! Serious stuff there; wouldn’t you agree, Warren?”

“….Yes sir.”

“Do you have any ideas about ~who~ they could be talking about? Hmm?”

“As far as I know, sir…they don’t work for anyone else."

"And Warren,” Cutter states, taking the momentary pause to use his thumb and forefinger to gently force eye contact between the two of them. “Do you make a habit of falling in love with your employees?”

“…..No sir.”

“Excellent! Keep it that way. I know you can and will do everything in your power to stop something silly from happening."

"Of course, sir."

He doesn’t immediately go and warn/remind them that they are being watched. What he does do is visit Jacobi in the hospital the next day (sans flowers), lets Maxwell guilt-glare him into leaving while Jacobi is still sleeping to go pick up flowers, visits again in the same day so that Maxwell can yell at him-

("We were here a week, Major!"

"There were matters that needed to be attended to."

"More important matters than Jacobi nearly dying?"

"Calm down, Doctor. I never said that.”)

-gives Jacobi the flowers and smiles back when Jacobi beams at him.

He also takes them out to eat when Jacobi’s healed, lets him pick the place, and waits until they’re all eating before he drops the surveillance bomb on them. Can tell from the way Maxwell won’t look at him and the way Jacobi is only looking at him that they know exactly what conversation was heard and how they feel about that he doesn’t know and he may have just found the one thing he can’t read his team on-)

Six months in and the mind fucks turning into something beyond his carefully set up control. They had just completed a beautiful mission that had involved blowing up a building and a high speed chase. He could feel adrenaline still buzzing under his skin, and he can feel Daniel’s eyes on his arms on the wheel, so he presses harder on the gas to hear the breathless laugh from the passenger seat. The ride to the safe house is uneventful otherwise, but inside sees Daniel pushing him against the door and kissing him breathlessly. Warren can tell Daniel didn’t think this through clearly (of course he didn’t)-he clearly thought that it might get him punched in the face, or worse, get him a polite and distant reprimand, but at this point life is good and Warren is tired of denying himself so he. He kisses Daniel back, changes their positions against the door so Daniel is pressed up against it. They kiss until they’re both hard, until both their hands are pulling and pushing at each others’ shirts to get at skin and they’re pulling away to ask “Shower?” and “Please” respectively.

Daniel lets himself be manhandled into a shower where the water runs hot pressure down his side as Warren presses him hard against the wall, tangles a hand in his hair to pull his head to the side, trails a line of biting kisses across his neck while his other hand is jacking them both off frantically.

Warren swears he can hear Cutter’s “~stop something silly from happening~” playing in his head, warring with the way Daniel moans out please and oh fuck each time he twists his hand around just right, but he chooses to ignore it in favor of feeling the way Daniel’s nails drag lines down his back when he comes between them seconds before Warren.

He’s fucked.

The seventh month has Warren teaching Daniel the color system and they spend all the free time they have that month pushing their limits. Warren’s trying to be mindful of the limits but there’s only so much he can take of Daniel looking up at him, eyes wide and blurry with tears of frustration, mouth slick and bruised and begging, telling him please please green the color is green don’t stop again fuck, while he grips bruises into his thigh with one hand and fingers him deep, stretches him wide with the other.

The eighth month reminds him that he’s not a romantic, except that he is. Because in the same month he’s discovering that Daniel likes to be choked when he’s sitting in Warren’s lap, grinding against his cock, he’s also lining up the missions for the upcoming months and taking care to avoid anything at the end of four months out from now.

He purposely doesn’t think about the way Daniel smiles when he chokes him harder for digging his nails into Warren’s back.

The ninth month finds Warren fucking Daniel’s mouth in the office. He didn’t mean to, of course. But it had been weeks since they had last touched, the amount and intensity of the missions beginning to pile up as the trio’s notoriety grew. There were no machines who didn’t love Maxwell and Jacobi’s explosive version of delicate destruction left more than a few people in awe. And the fact that they would only listen and work for Kepler? Icing on the cake.

But of course that doesn’t go unnoticed and of course Cutter calls Kepler and Jacobi into his office one day in early in the month. Jacobi has a terrible poker face when he’s expecting the bluff, but his ability to lie is almost catastrophic when he’s caught off guard. So that’s how he flushes pink when Cutter asks if he knows how to make something obvious, if he knows how to make something so people can see it from afar.

“There’s up and coming companies, Daniel. We don’t want to let them get the idea into their heads that they can compete with Goddard, right?”

“Of course, sir."

"So I need you to make it a statement. Let them know who runs this. Can you do that for me?"

"Absolutely sir."

"Good!” And he’s turning his attention to Kepler now. “What a good boy you’ve got there, Warren. I can see why one might do something silly."

Kepler glances at Jacobi quickly, internally proud of the fact that Daniel didn’t have a reaction to that beyond his eyes widening.

–It’s weeks later when Jacobi gets the bomb right, runs a test run of the bomb at a location that Cutter set up personally for this, a location that Kepler almost didn’t see if Cutter is to be believed.

"He asked for you personally, Warren. Can you believe that? Seems I wasn’t enough company for him. Shame really."

And internally, Kepler is smug as all fuck. Even though that means Jacobi showed his hand, even though that means whatever Cutter guessed about them is now solidified in his mind, it also means-something.

He’s not sure yet.

"I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, sir,” Kepler says mildly, gaze carefully directed outside the car they’re traveling in.

He’s fine when they pull up to the area where Jacobi has everything set up. He’s fine when Jacobi sets of a series of explosions, all triggering a bigger bomb down the line. He’s fine when Cutter congratulates Jacobi on a job well done, but it cuts out when Cutter plants a quick kiss to the side of Jacobi’s head in continued celebration. Cutter catches his eye and the intent is clear-

You can have your plaything, but whats yours is mine and I get what I want when I want.

It’s a message he hears loud and clear, but it doesn’t mean Kepler won’t still claim what’s his. Which is how he ends up back in his office, one hand bracing himself against the door, while the other hand is cupping the back of Jacobi’s head so it doesn’t hit the door when he fucks his cock into Jacobi’ s mouth.

Jacobi’s hands are behind his back, not tied just behind his back because he’s not allowed to touch right now he just has to take it as Warren fucks his cock deeper into his throat, take it as he presses deep enough to stop him from breathing oncetwice, before he’s pulling his cock out to slide across Daniel’s cheek. The hand against the door balls into a fist when Daniel runs his lips up the side of Warren’s cock, the fist in his hair tightens when he slides his lips over the head, and Daniel moans long and muffled when Warren starts fucking back into his mouth in earnest.

He let’s himself get lost in the motions of fucking into Daniel’s mouth, lets himself get lost in watching the sight of his cock stretching Daniel’s lips before it becomes too much and he’s fucking forward onetwothree times and pulling back just enough that his cock slips out of Daniel’s mouth and he comes across his face. Pulse after pulse of come leaves him and arcs across Daniel’s cheeks and bruised lips, marking him as he pants openly on his knees.

Warren braces himself heavily against the door while he catches his breath, caging Daniel in, walling the world out, and maybe it’s a little symbolic but his thighs are still shaking too much to move and Daniel’s expression is too fucking open, he wouldn’t move even if he could walk. He takes the moment to slide his fingers across Daniel’s cheek, before pushing come covered fingers into Daniel’s mouth. They hold eye contact while he sucks them clean.

They’re fucked.

The next two months are filled with missions, surveillance, and destruction, so much to the point that before Kepler realizes it, he hasn’t touched Jacobi in nearly eight weeks. Ten months, eleven months fly by with minimal contact and even less down time and suddenly it’s been a year since Jacobi has started working for him. So when he gets a mission thrown at him to vet a candidate for Goddard that is due by Tuesday, the 24th, it’s all he can do to not punch his desk in frustration and throw the file back at Rachel.

“Maybe you should take Jacobi with you on this one, Warren.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, I just mean I mentioned this mission in passing to him earlier today and he looked ready to blow something up.”

“Ah. Well-”

“It could be because your one year anniversary is coming up, isn’t it?”

“…Anniversary?

“Of him coming to work under you here? Surely you haven’t forgotten. He’s really worked up over it.”

He didn’t forget, (of course he didn’t forget who does she take him for he’s been steady stockpiling fireworks both illegally and legally for the past two weeks) but he doesn’t want to give her the benefit of having something to tell him about his own employees, so he just stares blankly at her until she rolls her eyes in disgust and leaves.

It ends up not being a big deal to accomplish surveillance on the prospect and return his findings before the 24th. He does it without the team, figuring there’s no reason to pull their efforts into this. Instead, he focuses on studiously ignoring the hints about the upcoming anniversary commemoration from Jacobi as he tells him about the “upcoming assignment” they have.

In all honestly, it doesn’t occur to him that Daniel would be hurt by this. They’re special operatives for an agency that has their hands in everything. This isn’t the type of thing that should upset people like them.

Still though, they’re fucked. He’s fucked. So when Daniel eloquently starts complaining about Warren ignoring the date, he realizes that oh.

Oh, they’re on the same page about this. Which is.

That’s good.

He forgot how stupidly easy it is to loose himself in Daniel, how quickly he gives into need and want, and he looses time somewhere between Daniel setting the first firework off with a brilliant smile and crowding him against the side of the truck with a hand on his throat and one tight on his hip.

Looking up at Jacobi while he’s riding him feels a little too intimate A Little Too Much like this is a love thing, A Little Too Much like they would already die for each other, so Warren buries his face in Daniel’s neck, works bruises into the skin there while Daniel’s fingers tangle in his hair.

He keeps his hands on Daniel’s hips, holding him steady while he leans back and he listens to the way Daniel’s breathing speeds up, listens to the way Warren falls from his lips- not desperate and needy, but wanting-

It’s on a particularly good stroke where Warren twists his hips when he’s in Daniel and he slips up, a desperate oh fuck Sir, falls from his lips. And.

And he has control over himself, he really does, but something about hearing Daniel say sir in that context has him moving quicker than he thought to pin Daniel underneath him and fuck into him hard. Daniel looks up at him in shock for a moment before melting into the motions, fucking himself back when Warren fucks himself in and he’s truly relieved that Daniel closed his eyes because his face is too open and too expressive to be getting fucked by his boss under some fireworks like it’s this big romantic fucking gesture-

He can feel his orgasm building in the base of his spine, feel the heat settling in the pit of his stomach, and he can tell Daniel is close too-from the nails that are digging into his shoulders, to the way that Daniel’s moans are turning into a louder, steady chant of fuckfuckfuck sir please sir please, to the tightening of his thighs around Warren’s waist.

Warren is close, he’s so close, he feels like he’s fighting it off and loosing as he pulls one hand away from where he is gripping Daniel’s hip tight enough to bruise and moves it to press against Daniel’s throat. His whines choke off almost immediately and Daniel tenses up, eyes rolling back, his mouth, slick and red and bruised, falling open as he tries to gasp for air before Warren’s pulling his hand away, and Daniel comes gasping, stroking himself off to work the come out, grinding back against Warren as he fucks into him twothree more times before coming inside him.

Warren knows they have to clean up and head out, there’s no way they actually get enough downtime to lay back and enjoy the afterglow-they may have certain immunities, but they are in public, they just set off a fuckload of explosives, and there’s only a matter of time before they have to report back. But for right now, he leans over Daniel (while he’s still in him, savoring the low moan he gives) and kisses him slow and deep, and acknowledges that this is absolutely fucked, but they’ll deal with it.

It’s what they do.

#kepcobi #wolf 359 #wolf 359 fanfic #warren kepler #daniel jacobi #LMAOOO REMEMBER LIKE ONE TIME #2 FUCKING YEARS AGO #I SAID I WOULD WRITE FIC #IM SO SORRY BONES #my writing

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angrylizardjacket · 6 years

Text

ask your destiny to dance [16] {Roger Taylor}

[masterpost]

“I can’t speak to her.” Roger’s got his head on a bar in a pub that’s not Ash’s.

“Can I go back to pretending I don’t know what was going on?” Brian asks, taking a long sip of his drink and gazing out at the crowd. It’s been over a week since Ash had stayed over, and they hadn’t seen her since. It’s not like she’d even asked about him, or made a move to contact him; sometimes they go a full fortnight before seeing one another, but Roger’s been fretting for almost eight days internally, and for the past twenty minutes externally, since he’d finished his first drink.

“She said she loves me.” Roger groaned, lifting his head to weakly order another pint.

“From what you’ve told me, she wasn’t even fully conscious; it’s not like it counts.” Brian had never seen Roger downright distressed like this, it would be funny if it wasn’t bordering on annoying.

“No, that means she was extra honest,” Roger groaned, downing half his beer in on go, to which Brian could only roll his eyes.

“Or she was still asleep and thought you were Jack Nicholson.” After a beat, Brian goes back to watching Roger brood over his glass. “Boo hoo, Rog,” he shoved the blonde lightly, to which Roger just leveled a glare at him, “a girl you’ve been seeing for months maybe has feelings for you. It’s not like it’s the end of the world.”

“It’s only been since I broke up with Kristin,” he’s adamant about that and Brian lets him have it, for now. In retrospect, he feels like an idiot for not seeing it sooner; Brian’s not sure when it started, but it’s definitely a lot longer than Roger’s willing to admit. “And it doesn’t mean nothing, but it also... it’s never meant something. Like it’s something but it’s not something. It’s just fucking around and having fun.” And Roger swivels on the bar stool, joining Brian in looking out over the crowd, before they spot Freddie crashing through the door, making a beeline for them once he’d spotted them.

“Alright, what did I miss?” Freddie asked, though the other two were quiet as he ordered a beer. Before either could get a word in edgewise, Freddie props his chin on his hand on the bar, and announces; “Roger you look like shit, what’s wrong?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s in love with Ash, and he thinks she’s in love with him.” Brian says blithely, and Freddie nods with understanding as Roger tells them to both sod off, and he stalks through to join the crowd on the dance floor. “She said she loved him in her sleep.” Brian explains, taking the chair Roger just freed, sliding into place beside Freddie.

“I’ve never seen him this worked up about someone before.” Freddie admitted, and Brian nodded in agreement, the two of them barely able to see his blonde hair for the crowd, and they lost sight of him soon enough.

“What do you think? Has Ash said anything?” Brian’s gaze slides to Freddie’s who just rolls his eyes.

“I think my dear Ash has never in her life loved a man who’s deserved it,” Freddie mused, though his lips twisted into a smirk, “that’s not to say she’s a saint, far from it, but compared to the others, Roger is a breath of fresh air.”

“Isn’t that a sad thought.” Brian said faintly, before heaving a sigh. “Well, I know we haven’t been here long,” he got to his feet, finishing off his drink and looking around for his housemate, “but if I don’t drag him home he’s going to do something stupid in his current state.”

“Like that pretty, brunette thing over there?” Freddie asks, pointing to where Roger’s already got his lips on a wavy-haired brunette at the side of the room. Freddie’s pretty sure he sees Brian’s soul leave his body for a moment, and watches everything play out like a terrible Shakespearean comedy for which he was the only audience member.

“He’s a danger to himself.” Brian takes Freddie’s drink from his hands and takes a long gulp before passing it back, though Freddie doesn’t seem likely to complain.

“He seems rather fine,” Freddie watches Roger go in for a hickey on the girl with a morbid, voyeuristic interest, taking another sip of his drink, “and you know he and Ash aren’t technically exclusive.”

“Yeah but there’s three options here; Ash finds out and gets pissed and I have to hear about it because apparently now that I know I’m all in on this disaster,” Brian lists on his fingers with a theatricality Freddie had rarely seen from him before, though he’d rarely seen Brian this exasperated before, so perhaps it was merely that, “two, Ash isn’t pissed, sleeps with someone else, and Roger gets pissed because he’s in love with her-”

“Which is unfair, what a tremendous double standard.”

“Yes, we all know Roger’s a hypocrite.” Brian sighed, casting a glance over his shoulder at Roger, before turning back to Freddie.

“And three?” The other man prompted, and Brian picked up his empty pint glass.

“I kill him with this glass because I’m sick of his sulking.” He says bluntly, and Freddie’s all for the third option, but he begrudgingly helps pull Roger away, to which the drummer complains the whole time.

“Where are we going?” Roger demands to know when they head in the opposite direction of his apartment, a sentiment that Brian mirrors, though he doesn’t seem inclined to question Freddie’s direction outright. Freddie always had a plan. The man in question wrapped an arm around Roger’s shoulders.

“You’re going to confront your problems, Rog.” He sounds so decisive, as if it wasn’t a plan he’d come up with as they were leaving the bar, and Roger tries to scramble his way out of it, but Brian’s fed up enough with Roger’s complete inability to do anything but run from his problems that he’s willing to take Roger’s arm in an almost iron grip.

“It’ll do both of us a world of good.” Brian tells him as Roger glowers at his housemate.

“You don’t get to decide what’s good for me; what’s good for me was that girl at the bar, she smelled nice and was about three minutes away from banging me in that bathroom.” Roger snarled, wrenching himself out of their grips, though he didn’t run this time, crossing his arms over his chest as he walked with them.

“Rog, we’re not gonna let you ruin a good-” But Brian’s gentle sigh was cut off by more of the blonde blustering.

“That’s so presumptuous!” He stopped in his tracks, scowling between both of his band-mates. “You’re both wankers, selfish fucking wankers. This is kidnapping.” He snaps.

“Fine; if you want to leave, we’re not stopping you.” Freddie offers, gesturing freely at the path behind them. “We’re just trying to help.”

Roger stomped the entire walk to Ash’s apartment.

“What the fuck, guys.” She opens the door with her hair in a messy bun, wearing a pair of sweat pants and a ratty, oversized Beatles shirt. “How did you get in?”

“Your RA let us in; sorry for the interruption, just had to deliver this idiot.” Brian gave Roger’s shoulder a nudge. Roger is looking at anything but Ash. His latest drink had hit him about the same time as he got to her block, and now that he can smell the vanilla candle she likes to burn in her room just beyond her, he just wants to curl up and go to sleep under her duvet. Or fuck her. He’s not quite sure.

“Can I return to sender?” She asks without hesitation, and Roger rolls his eyes. Freddie shoves him forward.

“No.”

Ash doesn’t move, just frowns as Roger stumbles into her space, and she’s automatically got a hand on his chest to steady him. Roger doesn’t seem like he’s there completely of his own free will, but he doesn’t move away from her, even as both Brian and Freddie leave, muttering something about him being ‘her problem now’.

“Care to explain?” She asked, gently walking him backwards and closing her door behind herself. The two of them make their way to the common area, and Roger sits up on the kitchen counter as Ash pours him a glass of water.

“Not really.” He said, sipping the water loudly and swinging his legs so his heels kick the cupboards below. Ash looks like the very sight of him exhausts her, but she rests her hands on her thighs, pressing herself against his legs to still them. “We can fuck whoever we want, Ash.” He says, seriously, and he sees the exact moment she realised the reason for his forced meeting, and he watched her expression fall.

“Yeah of course.” She agrees, crestfallen expression turning quickly to faux apathy. “Did you have fun?” But her heart wasn’t in it.

“They pulled me away, brought me here before anything really happened.” He huffed, taking another long sip. Ash stepped away, yawning loudly and sinking into a chair at the dining table. After a beat, Roger hums thoughtfully. “Ash, what do I mean to you?” And it’s so nonchalant it actually hurts Ash a little.

“I think that’s a really shitty thing to ask right now.” Her answer is automatic, she can’t look at him. “And I think you’re drunk.”

“Ash...” It does register in his mind that he’s said the wrong thing, and it breaks his heart to see her too tired to repress her emotions like she usually would in this situation. Perhaps she assumes he won’t even remember this tomorrow. “Ash, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah, I know.” She says softly. “You’re always sorry, and I’m always sorry, and there’s always someone else that feels like a mistake, even though we don’t technically need to apologise.” Shaking her head, she sighs deeply. “This isn’t the time for this conversation.” She admits, and standing, she takes his hand. “Come to bed, Rog.”

When they’re back in her room, she pulls off her sweat pants and offers them to him without even thinking about it, and he’s quiet, forlorn when he takes them, changing into the borrowed pyjamas. Ash is already tucked into bed when he turns back, back to him, pressed as close to the wall as she can get with her head pillowed on her hand, not even attempting to co-opt some of the pillow for herself. There’s sewing equipment out, obviously still in use in the corner of her room, a blouse half sewn and still in the machine where it was left when it’s creation had been interrupted by a knock at the door.

When he slides into bed beside her, reaches out to rest a hand on her shoulder - an apology? a reassurance? just a need for human contact? - she shrugs him off, murmurs a quiet ‘don’t’.

“I panicked.” They’re back to back, and the bedside lamp has been turned off. Roger isn’t even sure if Ash is still awake. He speaks into the silence, made honest by the hour and his inebriation. “You told me you loved me and I panicked.”

“Roger... I never said that.” Ash’s voice was confused in the darkness, and Roger feels like his whole world has fallen out from under him. He’s spent over a week considering whether or not she’d remember; if it had been real, whether she’d really meant it, but he’s never quite sure which answer would hurt more.

“You... were mostly asleep.” He admits, and he can feel the way Ash sighs heavily, the shift of her back against his as she tries not to hear it.

“Wow, imagine what kinky shit you and the girl from the bar would have gotten up to if I’d meant it.” She just sounds tired, as though she was trying to end the conversation, as though she hadn’t just shattered Roger’s heart. After a beat, she laughed humorlessly. “What are we doing, Roger?”

“I think Brian’s right.” And his words are enough to startle a weak laugh from Ash. “I want this to be about more than sex, I think.”

“You’re drunk and panicking; don’t worry, I’ll still work with the band if this goes south.” Ash says. Roger won’t take that, can’t let himself fall into the trap of panicking like he’d already fallen into that night. Turning, Roger presses his lips to the back of her neck, and Ash doesn’t like to think about how good it makes her feel.

“I’m sorry-” He tries, but she cuts him off.

“I heard you the first time.” Voice terse, she crosses her arms awkwardly over her chest. “Roger the idea of being with you fucking terrifies me.” She admits, raw and honest, glad he can’t see how conflicted she was. “You were so worried that I was in love with you that you almost slept with someone else, and for what? Were you worried you were losing control of your life? Didn’t want to be tied down?” Roger’s got an arm on her shoulder, rubbing comfortingly as she speaks, and he can feel her shaking.

“I know I’m not a saint, okay, love?” Roger admits, and Ash takes a long moment to consider his words, leaning back a little into his touch, before answering.

“Neither of us are, Roger, and that’s why what we have is so good right now.” Her voice has softened, and Roger stays quiet. “We can talk about it tomorrow.” She says gently, before reaching to link her fingers with his where he’s got his hand on her shoulder. She pulls him closer, and Roger makes a low hum, pressing a quick kiss to her shoulder.

When the morning comes, things are quiet and golden. Neither one knows what to say to the other, but Ash still gets him a cup of tea in the morning, and when he sees the cup with the little cat face on it, Roger feels something tighten in his chest.

“Let’s try this, please.” He asks, expression sincere when he looks at where Ash is tucking herself back into bed, pressing herself against his side. The look she gives him is confused, and then it blooms into something hopeful. “I’m not fucking around here, I mean it.”

When she kisses him, her hand is warm where it had been holding her teacup, and she’s smiling against her lips. There’s a tension in her shoulders, and he can’t stop playing her words back over again in his head, ‘the idea of being with you fucking terrifies me’ and it’s clear that feeling hasn’t vanished over night.

But she’s willing to try.

the ususal suspects: @deakydickfanpage @hollyissuchahoe @laueecakee @smittyjaws @crystalshines2909 @i-am-sarah @legendsaresooftenwarnings @2ptonpt @benhardy24-7 @maiilovely @mickey-yr-a-goner @butter-times @heyyouitskay @tired-eyes-fairy-lights @yepimthatperson @missieluvsmurder @ironqueen98 @ceruleanrainblues @banhbao329@fantasticchaoticwho @ko-kitty @seven-seas-of-hi @mimisfangirlfantasy @aadjuric @rogmobile @cardybenhardy @snacfu @perriwiinkle @the-strange-fan-girl @finite-incantatem-7 @tapetayloe @florencewelchmybiggod

#roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor x oc #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #ask your destiny to dance fic #bo rhap #queen #queen imagines #queen imagine #freddie mercury #brian may #borhap imagine #bohemian rhapsody imagine #the angry lizard writes

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nofoodclub · 2 years

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Here's to manefesting good vibes and a future where i get to feel that level of sexual/romantic/platonic generalized bliss with J again, normally experiences like that esp first time are quite awkward at least from my perspective, but all of that felt like it happened exactly as the universe intended l. Nothing was rushed nothing was pushed it just happened. And really, the way he held me initially....i felt so safe. Everything just felt right. That moment confirmed what I had already suspected, that it was more than just sex, but i knew there wouldn't be any more confirmation than the connection i knew we both felt. Hes had his time doing risky shit and unfortunately i fit solidly into the category of extremely risky shit for him. I wish it wasnt this way, but this is the hand i was dealt and i gotta figure out how to make it work for me somehow. Massive depression most likely will ensue. Fuck its already starting. I need to stop. All i want is to sabotage. I want to text j and let myself get more into the place of wanting to destroy everything good, every chance i could possibly have at being better than this because why? Why should i have to carenso much? My life is supposed to be so great then why do i feel like the walls are caving in on me? Why do i feel like i cant or at least really dont want to exist without the external validation or people who i assign false importance to. I miss no one knowing. I miss my shit show of my own creation only catered to my own enjoyments. I miss drugs, i miss my friends, i miss stupidity, i miss near death so so so very much. I miss having the excuse of oh no no one knew shes just gone in an instant... that's all over now. Why did i ever give someone else so much power in my life? He took the first sign that i could figure out how to be ok without him and went and caved in my false sense of security. He took away a relationship that i improperly valued, but it still had a lot of significance to me and threatened his safety. I miss my friend so much. I miss the shitty parts of him, i miss his smell, his voice, the stupid way he plays with the kitties, i miss him. Relationships that evolve that quickly for me usualy come crashing down violently...i had no warning, no closure, it was just over. Done and gone like my addiction was something thats so easy to leave behind and never look back at all the the social lubrication it did, at all the times it made the loneliness not feel quite so bad, at all the times it stopped the big violent crashing wave of depression that is hitting home right about now from taking hold so many times previously. Thats all i want in life, is to get rid of this wave thats constantly over me pushing me down...or at least learn how to not care about it so much. Im already as low as can go, theres no depression limbo lower than this right here without being flat on my back, so i might as well try it right? Whats the harm in an i miss you text? Whats the worst that could happen anyways? I would get confirmation on my ground level status, or best case i would get to not be alone tonight. I am so tired of being alone. Fuck why cant i just hit send. Im already so low how much more could the sting of one tiny rejection really hurt? Probably enough to make me draw blood. Thats whats getting triggered rn. Its always just replacing one addiction with the other. These are pretty evenly matched. Scars or drugs....at least the drugs make me feel good longer. But blood is much cheaper, easier to come by, easier to conceal. Decisions, decisions....i guess that text will decide my fate....ill send it when i get home. Or maybe in the car. Or maybe never. Idk how low im feeeling yet. Its all still too numb. Dont want to feel it yet, or really ever. Itll be too much, itll consume me. Maybe thats what ive been waiting for? Still 25, still within my threshold of acceptance for the decision to end all other decisions. I want to. Im sonl tired of feeling like this all the time shit is exhausting. Thats why i miss j. He helped me see the light literally in the dark

Blood it is.

#sidebar in the tags mid ulta...i need to either not do this to this extent or get better at the anxious feelings #theres over $100 of shit in my jacket lmao hitting here 2 days in a row is v messy but like i know nothings gonna happen to me from this so #going for it with my $8 purchase to possibly ease suspicions lmao

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lex-thinks · 3 years

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here we go again. its like one sick cycle. i’m running out of brain capacity for it all. i just hate myself. i can’t communicate. i can’t even think about it without my mind getting scrambled. i feel so alone. i feel pathetic. i feel like my 12 year old self again. and as dramatic as it sounds i wholly and genuinely feel like i am in the sunken place. like this hole never ends. like i should just be more positive i shouldn’t be the way i am. i shouldn’t think the way i think. i shouldn’t feel the way i feel. but i do. i feel it all to whole other levels. i never know what’s happening to me anymore. what all these feelings are and where they come from. i am so scared of being abandoned, left behind. so scared people will see me how i see myself: boring, stupid, useless, a burden. i find myself wishing for nothing more than love. wishing someone would come in and see me. accept me. try for me. then i remember how i am, that i am not ready and i find myself believing i’m undeserving, ugly, unlovable. i feel constantly rejected, like a little kid hurt because things didn’t go my way. i see myself and just tsk at it all. like why am i like this. why can’t i just be rational. why does nothing ever go smoothly. opening up never makes me feel any better. people see me vulnerable and it’s like they don’t like what they see. like it’s too much. i find myself dramatic, all my emotions blown out of proportion. but on the other hand i just want to die, i want to cry, i want to yell, i feel in real genuine pain emotionally on a regular basis. i feel like i’m hurtling towards death life flying past me all while i’m just too fucked to get back up. and that i find pathetic. why can’t i just do it. why can’t i just let it all go. why do things affect me. and why don’t i ever affect others. i feel unnoticed. i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i don’t know how i am. i just crave nothingness. i’m so so tired. i want companionship. i want real love. real connection. i want to feel cared for and cherished. i want someone to want me the way i want them. to read me the way i read them. to try for me emotionally even though i’m so hard. i want to believe that’s out there. i want to love myself. i want to be better for myself and others around me. i want so much more. i feel like a divided person. absolutely insane. questioning my own reality. on one hand completely suicidal and on another craving so much more from life. wanting to make it for myself. i am so tired of being insecure. of living a life of mental torment. i want peace. happiness. prosperity. but i just find myself so tired and so paralyzed by myself. my relationships suffering, not taking care of myself, not doing what needs to be done, wanting to die. all of this inner turmoil and self hatred leads me to believing everyone around me is gonna leave me because it’s too much. i feel bad that she’s even around me. i get so angry over nothing because i’m so deeply insecure. and it’s like not an excuse i just like don’t know how to change that. i just don’t even know what to say i feel like shutting completely down just thinking about it. i feel like i never say anything right. like nothing ever comes out right. i never know if i’m being toxic or manipulative and i constantly worry about it. i worry about everything. it’s all just like too much. i just want to go to bed. i just want it all to end. i want to get better and i don’t want to have to do the work to get there. it all feels so scary that i’d rather keep running or die. facing it is almost too much. i don’t even know what i’m looking at. why i am the way i am. who i am. what i am. if i’m even real. if any of this is even real. if any of it even matters if i’m just crazy. if im just dramatic. if im a narcissist. if im toxic. if im abusive. annoying. dumb. fat. ugly. stupid. worthless. no maybe im none of those things maybe im beautiful and worthy and human and allowed to make mistakes no im none of those things. yes you are. no your not. shut up. boss up. be better. you never will be. and on and on and on and on it goes.

absolute hell. and any time anything externally happens i just don’t know what to do. i go into panic mode. i say things i don’t mean or don’t want to say. i start worrying people are going to leave me that this is gonna be it. that it’ll never go back to normal. that i’ve ruined it. that they hate me. i can’t think straight. i almost want to say sorry to the blog that’s how shitty even talking about it all makes me feel. i hate that on the other hand i’m scared to be better i’m scared to do anything other than just freeze and hope life just somehow gets better. i feel like i’ve been frozen for years. i don’t know what happened. i don’t know what’s wrong with me. i’m just so tired. so sick of it. over and over the cycle goes. i don’t know why i don’t get help. i think i’m convinced it won’t work. that even my therapist will reject me. will hate me. will go home and laugh about what i told them. think i’m pathetic. that they only get payed to sit there and listen but they have no personal feelings , no connection. i just want someone to see me. and love me even after that. and i worry that will never happen. i am always holding back my affections and my feelings. always feeling like i say it at the wrong time and say things i didn’t mean. i feel like i come across like i’m attacking people i don’t know. i wish i had someone to actually talk to that didn’t make me feel shitty after. i want someone to hear me and just tell me maybe i’m not like completely crazy and maybe i can get better. idk. i’m tired. my mind is always such mush. idk. ready for the long nap and at the same time not. idk. wish it was not so complicated. wish i could think straight. wish i didn’t feel in the sunken place.

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nocancer · 4 years

Text

Why It Rains

~~~~ an excerpt from a working novel by Cancer moon. ~~~~~**

Lately I’ve been channeling from a higher source. And it’s not something I have to keep up with. It feels like, natural almost. Like im always at the same level of it, or at least very close. I’m not gonna lie, I was scared at first. Scared that I would fail. Scared that I wouldn’t live up to the expectations I set for myself while meditating. But so far things are looking up. I even got that new computer I wanted. Who knows, for now I’m just gonna keep writing and go from there. I’m not too concerned with the trivial things that life likes to bother us with, seemingly always at the worst times imaginable. I might check out this internet thing too. It’s promoted as this fun happy place and if I didn’t know any better, I’d of taken that for face value, right off the bat like a sucker. Next thing you know the internet turns out to be a cold and lonely place, and I’m left to wallow in my own self-pity, clutching my knees in the fetal position, mad at myself for failing to see the internet for what it is, a stupid marketing scheme. The point is, I have to see for myself. That’s just the type of person I am. You can ask my mom that. She’ll tell you. Ask her about the time I told the guy who was fixing my alternator to shove it when he was trying to charge me a thousand. Mind you, I had the money. But you’re not supposed to be dishonest to me just ‘cause I’m a millenial. The guy pretty much called me that. He said, hey kid, try to be more polite next time. But I never listened. I don’t need advice from a deadbeat greasemonkey. Anyway, apparently everyone’s connected to the cloud via sites like facebook and instagram. And when people log on to jump in on the action, usually the first thing they do is say hi to their friends, and maybe even drop a smile or two to show them they care. And if they drop a heart then you know they already had a chance to settle in, and are just trying to take it to the next level, now that the internet, in all its digital, impermanent page swiping glory, is owned, unabashedly theirs.

Conscious apples of languid rotundity creep along countless borders of a pale grey sky.

The pears are unwavering in the efforts of embassy, initiating calls backs when the time calls for it, and deceit when grape factions step in and intervene.

“What are these meddling affairs, young pear?” asked the grape.

“I don’t know. It’s the apples control our every move. How we live. Our daily lives.”

“Hush with that nonsense. You are nothing but a pear, a young one at that, how could you possibly know who’s behind it all?”

“I don’t know.”

The grape and the young pear sat on a brook and wondered who was behind it all.

-------

You see this all-seeing-eye mural in Atlanta? On the side of Ravine across the street from the federal reserve building? Yeah. I could strip down naked and run to the middle of that intersection there and scream my lungs out until i started coughing up blood and act violent to anyone who approached me and i still wouldnt match the frequency of that demonic shit. People walk by it everyday going to work, going to lunch, going to walk their dog, and nobody bats an eye. An eye for the government, an eye for the media, an eye for world hunger. Not a single raised eyebrow goes towards whats in control of every aspect of their daily lives. Oh the president controls my life. But I voted for him, so its okay. Is what they would say, as they munched on Mcdonalds with vaccines in their arms and got mad at traffic because they were going to miss their favorite show. A show that retroactively fed into a never ending problem and response feedback loop that activates the reptilian part of the brain by broadcasting images of rape and pedophilia via techniques that the producers learned at Harvard’s school of broadcasting, which also used a system of coercion, this time in the blind trust the students had for their professors just because they dressed nice and said big words. You’re going places. This kid’s gonna be a star.

-----

I’m only half of what I am without your other half to complete me. Only kids ask rhetorical questions. But why should I be any different?

I live by the way side. Wherever the wind takes me. I notice things that most don’t. I’m not sure if what I think is valid or not. I don’t believe anything is valid. Likewise I dont believe anything is invalid. One things for sure. If there’s one thing I know to be true. Is that I’m not an adult. No, Definitely not.

-----------

Hiksos lamented blast fully daring the credence of all his undoing. Unjust and bashful forwritten to layers upong layers of drug smitten landscapes.

“Youre good/” Said Jamie.

I see why she likes so much to hate on anyone she can get her hands on. And im not talking about physical hands. No, these are claws of misfortune. --The bad falls into a category still undefined by our human grasp.--

Apples on seminoles. Berries on amazing places we strove for.

The graveyard was pure and unassuming as a place for the dead should very well be. And with that we took our ritual to newer, more fulfilling levels. Levels of which determine our outlook as shades between optimistic and cautiously realistic. With our futures in the balance,

“Whatchu think dawg?” said Jerry. He was on his 2nd beer and 5th shot of vodka sprite. and I was on my mind long enough for nothing to be worth a damn. The vibe was dull, and the smoke gone. I lit a cigarette.

“I feel like shit.”

“You good?” J

“Yeah but I’m just tired like overall.” About life.

“Why not be happy about life? It’s all in your head. Just flip the switch. Like a light. On and off. Boom. No more stress.” J

“If only if it were that easy.”

“It is that easy. That’s the thing.”

Sipping heroically, going farther and phasing out all menial contrivances. Searching for myself like the lost land of atlantis. Humanity will get what it deserves.

“In due time” said Thomas.

I look at orion and wonder if those faint stars below its belt are actually indicative of a warrior kneeling on one knee with his shield raised or if its a flaccid penis that hangs all the way down to his knee. Im a pervert, always have been. Theres no stopping how much i will crash thoughtforms together in a heinous way until they stick together and form a common truth. I’m on the last life cycle of a cat’s 9 lives. Theres really nothing to lose by being a pervert. I had a friend in high school who said we’re all gay. I dont remember when. He said it more than once. I dont know if he was gay. I didnt think like that back then, but I wouldn’t to be anything other than who I am today. But again, there’s no stopping a mind so spiritual that it can hold each and every possibility at once and consider them valid. Then an external force canceling out my infinity. And I’m left to deal with people as if playing some sick little game thats suppose to teach me a lesson or something. So that I can ascend to the next plane of existence. At least thats what I’ve heard. But when the night hits and everyone finally shuts up for once it seems much simpler than that. Like im watching myself through a lens bestowed on me by a god with no intelligence. And during the day he becomes intelligent, and I’m left trying to keep up with, on his terms. “Fuck you bitch” I tell it often. “Youre not real” I’d say over and over. “What the fuck” is the saying that gives closure to it all. The only reason God looks good on paper is because it’s a testament to the author being strong enough to have it in his mind and make sense of it. It’s a mark people wear like aushwitz that make their beliefs somehow something you should pay attention to because I’m physical and God’s not but I speak of God so therefore God’s physical so you should listen to me. But then thatd make the speaker God.

By and by I’ve messed up hastily my dreams and aspirations. Tattooed on a building as ink drips down like an inner angst perceiving things as they are, and not what society says they should be. The happy medium an ephemeral code that could shift and shake into any causality one deems it to. The rulers of the world have taken domain over the one thing every human on earth has in common. I call this desire. They call it money. A body that begets greed and turns hatred to lust. Actions which motivate our inhibitions to phantasmagoria. Until we accept our place as lesser than the pettiness of our common folk. Shy and afraid, contingent upon basement dwelling lab rats who fane logic to reasonable bell curves while sucking nature dry of her own resources. The very nature that sunlight reflects upon his incessant rays which batter and tumble the distance. If only they knew she was her and he was them. But it doesn’t go like that here. Because if it did, then all karmas coming to a head would get their just due, and we’d be in purgatory. While heaven remained for the gods and earth for the mortals. And nothing can be God except authority to mortals when they’ve been tricked into accepting the state and thus have become it..

What a lovely home indeed. No one could bother me here. Except for the only one’s I knew. Because nobody knows I exist except for those who know me. I’d rather keep it that way. For a streak of doubt can enter me at any time and cause worry for my future. A future still so far away because I lack the initiative to care. Maybe that will change now that I have room to breathe. Just when I thought I was going downhill for good, my dad came around for me. And now I have a responsibility to get me up in the morning. No more waiting in line for luck to befall me in my yoga. The truth is, when reality caved in itself, and I could see the dying whispers in the eyes of those around me, I accepted my estrangement from the happy things in life. My avoidance of the dastardly grotesque was keeping me back this whole time. I like darkness and pitiful efforts of circumstance that vibrate low enough to stay hidden from others, but high enough so that it is detectable by my astral receiver. Two of which is an outward expression of another. The extension of material that is necessary for movement to take place. Before this realization I endured through pain of my own doing.

“How are you?” people would say.

And I never had a response.

Telepathic centrifuges would scan my mind. Taking flight off far off reaches of iniquity. All facets calling upon a microverse for an answer. I an I. Then they’d be gone without hesitation.

“Jerry’s calling” said Thomas.

“for what?” This guy wont leave me alone, I thought.

“I don’t know answer it.”

“Why are you bored?” I said.

“Yes, maybe he has weed.” Said Thomas.

“Ay whatsup man. Me and Thomas we’re just talking about you.”

“Oh word?”

“Yeah and then you call its like divine intervention or something?”

“Yeah thomas was tryna find some weed and you the first person he thought of so you must be doing something right.”

“Yo Thomas.”

“Oh hold up let me put you on speaker.” I said quickly.

“Is Thomas there? Yo Thomas.”

“Jerry, whats good?”

“I got the pack man, I heard you was lookin for a come up. I got the pack man.”

“Aight bet cus im bored as a motherfucka right now ya feel me?”

“It aint my fault.”

“Yo he do gotta big ass house tho I aint gone lie but like shit aint got nothin in it.”

“I just moved here a week ago.”

“So for a whole week- Yo is today Friday?”

“Yeah its Friday.” Who cares? I thought.

“So that’s last Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and now Friday, and you still aint got nothin in here but a fridge.”

“You aint even seen the whole house.”

“Nah you know you just in the middle of the carpet with no pillow no blankets or nothin.

And you wake up and go open the fridge and aint nothin in it. Then you go back to sleep.”

“Ay what he dream about?” Jerry said through the phone.

He aint dream about much ‘cept for one occurring dream. Of a fridge, but this time it’s a mini fridge. And its pink and he’s able to move it around, so he takes it up to his room and opens the freezer door just a little so it’s a little crack and he starts beatin it up till he has a wet dream and wakes up.”

“Alright you took it too far. It was kinda funny before but you killed it.”

“Wait, Where’s the fridge now? It’s not in the kitchen?” Jerry said.

“Bruh that’s the thing its just in the middle of the living room not even plugged in or nothin.”

“Jerry I know you so concerned about my god damn fridge but this time dude is lying over here.”

haha

“It’s in my kitchen like a normal person. Like I don’t know I guess you think this shit is funny or something but whatever come through and you can see for yourself.” Don’t talk to him he’s a loser was the attitude I was picking up. I thought they we’re beyond all that and capable of extraneous thought. Oh well, I guess I’m done with these idiots.

No more sitting around all day.

If I can see them for who I want, and not who they really are, it’d make no difference.

It’s a best of both worlds type situation. I just hate that I have to resort to this.

Its a sporadic and unpredictable endeavor that can detach you from life’s depiction. Seemingly framing a purpose in cosmetics among layer-caked mine field of mind clouds. I want to be a positive addition to those around me. And for them to be honest to me in return. Honest because everything around me is a nuisance. And dishonest It’s not necessary to have car insurance, police, governments. This realm is alive. 3 dimensions respective of splashes and 3rd parties. Because of this fact, I must be able to flow freely, grounded in freedom, estranged to control. Last summer when I jumped into the alleghany i felt freer than i have in a long ass time. Jerry asked me if he thought we’d still be here next year. I told him I didn’t want to think about it. That I was enjoying the moment.

“Man fuck that bitch.” T

“What? Who you callin’ a bitch?” J

“You know what I mean.” Thomas smacked his lips.

“I really don’t but whatever.” J

“Yo Jerry did you leave yet?”

“How far away is it? Not too bad right?”

“Nah it’s not too bad you’re like 30 minutes away. You’re in a nice area. Lots of rich people.” J

“Yeah I came up on it. It kinda just happened.”

“Whatchu mean it fell out of the sky?” Jerry asked.

“It’s been in my family for a while and I was lucky enough to be gifted it.” I said.

“That’s dope, you’ll get some good use out of it.”

“Yeah I’ma take advantage of what I got ya know? Make it so anyone can pull up as long as I fuck with them.” I said.

“Thats why I’m comin’ through.

Just say its the spot and I’m there.”

“For sure. But yo, if youre bringing your girl over then bring some pillows and blankets to sleep on cus I only got mine.”

“I need some too.” Thomas joined in.”

“We’ll stop then.” I said reluctantly.

“

“And where are we gonna chill? We can’t just sit on the floor.” Thomas took his eyes off the road.

“Alright, theres a home depot near the chinese place we’ll go their while we wait.” I said.

“Does Home Depot have blankets?” Thomas said like he was so concerned.

“No but they got that outdoor patio section for furniture and shit, So I don’t know we’ll find something.”

“They got mad carhartt jackets for the low low there. You should check them out.”

“Alright I’ll check them out.” The streetlights suspended time in space.

“Yo spicy egg rolls, add it to the list.” Jerry said finally.

“Sounds good.” Thomas replied. There was a pause.

“You headin’ out?” T

“Yeah. I am. Right now.” Jerry responded.

“A’ight I’ll see you when I see you.” T

I interrupted.

“I was gonna get spring rolls instead and we don’t want too many rolls so you want dumplings instead?” The thought popped into my head and I had to get it out.

“I dont really care either way” Jerry said.

“So yes on the dumplings? Pork, Chicken or beef?” I said.

“Dude I really dont give a fuck.”

“A’ight peace.”

“Wait actually get some extra spring rolls. I don’t want my breath to stink.” Jerry was a quick thinker.

“Okay. Peace.”

I ordered the chinese while Thomas turned the radio down.

It was 7:30 on a Friday. Traffic was still out and slow except on the highway. The plaza where Home Depot was sat on an indent so that a perimeter around us denied the sun a chance of bringing light to the inevitable darkness. Highway barricades exalted the east coast away from our position. I closed my eyes and listened to newly formed divinations stemming from a horizontal after-glow. What was AM was now PM. And just as I would prepare for a weekend of contract work, I too was going to do the same for the night. Because Friday was in the air, telling me I was the cause of it.

Thomas pulled into the lot and flicked his cigarette a stop-sign to an array of F150s and pug-faced express vans that sat high enough to deem his reliable, good on gas mileage, crusty seated hand-me-down first-car shit-box a worthy proponent of wu-wei. It was the type of car that doesn’t speak for anything or reflect an image onto its owner other than its being there.

At least this one had a little personality though, fashioned by who was behind the wheel, and the fact that I knew him through drive-ways of careless faces, drive-thrus, and drunken waffle house binges where we kept to ourselves and almost forgot it wouldn’t last. And even though the universe proved its worth to me, I cant help but feel theres in imbalance in my past.

That these were just moments. And days would go by. Blunts would get passed. Pets would die. We’d hope to not hear of our relatives dying, but that would happen to. Cause of death? Old age. It wouldn’t say that on the obituary. It was say something safe like stage 4 cancer or hodgekins lymphona. But everyone knows about the cap put on as at birth. That there’s a limit to how long we get to stay here. Sometimes we’d hear of our friends dying too. But those were rare cases. Few and far between. Unless of course you were the type of kid to attract that sort of stuff. Then you probably deserved it anyway. That pain. Irregardless of the pain it takes to die. You imagine how it must have felt in the body of your friend. Like they we’re on the otherside begging you to come with them. I’m free. They’d say. It only hurts a little. And unlike the old people, their obituary would read suicide. Basically an off-hand way of saying they needed jesus. Because in the end, nobody truly knows what would drive someone to do that to themselves. We can speculate all we want. They we’re bipolar. They wore funny clothes to school and we’re bullied as a result. But only someone with special access could consult them on that. To ask them why they denied life and chose death instead. Only someone who could be objective about the whole thing and not get caught up in their emotions could ask them this. In America that’s Jesus, God of funeral homes, shepherd of lost souls. The frustrating part, at least to me, is that all he can come up with is it was Satan’s fault. But that doesn’t do it for me. No. I need more than that. After all, Jesus, you faked your own death and ran away to the pyrynees. Did you not? You we’re too afraid to commit suicide. You half-assed your commitment. Maybe you knew what awaited you resembled a sleepless dream? Certainly you knew another part of you was fit for ascension. But then wouldn’t be the center of attention like you we’re on earth. You’d be around people who knew a light language and we’re just as smart as you, if not smarter. The applied principles of the sun was common knowledge there. That was like basic shit. Nobody was looking for preachers there. What they we’re looking for was way more advanced than your little yoga techniques. Stop hiding and tell us what’s really going on out here. Something tells me it has something to do with Satan, just not in the way you’re telling us. I have a feeling he holds the keys to a piece of knowledge we never even knew existed. If that’s the case, and I find out we’ve been duped, then I might just take it upon myself and offer you the same fate you offered my friend when he was down bad on that fateful Spring night mad at the world and pissed off at the hypocrisy you created for him. But this time when I get to you I’ll make sure you won’t be down bad. There will be nothing to numb the pain. No. You’re gonna feel this. Then things will come full circle. Order. I like when things happen that way.

“Yo I need paint. “

“ Paint?”

“I just remembered. For the walls.” I said in a descending volume.

We walked through the doors in the purgatory between store and street. I grabbed a cart.

“Is that what we’re gonna do for fun? Man I might regret this whole night if we end up hanging dry-wall and shit.”

“I hear you bro but we can play poker, I got a speaker so we can bump some music, and we’ll just kick it.”

Thomas strayed passed the check-out lines and almost ran into a stack of wood hanging from a guy’s trolley.

“Where are you going?” I said.

“Where’s the paint?” He said turning around.

We looked like we should be in the city rather than the hardware store. Everyone was looking and I know I’m not paranoid when I say that. We we’re foreigners visiting a small scale metropolis under construction. A place for bandits to face their acrophobia and not make it across to the next tower without getting grime on their gats ort hope they liked our style.

"They got krylons?" I said. The aisle opened up where the rafters stretched through the ceiling leaving ground level two by fours in their dust. If I focused I could hear an echo reverberate off my skull, taking its merry time and judging me before I could hold my breath. “We used to be so into this.” Thomas said.

“I don’t know why we stopped.” I said. He took it as a valid question.

“We got older I guess. Fuck.”

“Remember the overpass on Holcomb Bridge? I wonder if our shits still there.”

“We need to go back there.”

Gum soles in an unfinished basement. This was the most people I’ve ever seen. a’ve ever seen. The fire marshall could’ve came knocking any moment. Though I don’t think anybody would hear him. Lil Pump was 3 doors down. To the fire marshall, is that everyone was moving as one. To the fire marshal, this could be a good or bad thing in the lens of a fire marshall. Good because if someone started popping shots off with an uzi or something and everyone tried to run out the house through the basement side-door, the main one through the hall at the back by the bathroom, or if they went up stairs and found the wrong door and had to jump off the balcony or something, if shit really started to pop off like this, of shit really hit the fan, then it’d be good to have 1 body instead of a hundred. There we’re straddlers of course, but all they’d have to do is hide in its belly folds and hope to not get lost while the body was hauling ass down the street resorting to the dreaded question, “Can I get a ride?” And simply put it’d be bad because human flesh burns quite well when laced with alcohol. That was a risk we were willing to take and that brought us that much closer together.

When I came in with Katie I noticed the crystalline qualities of blonde hair captivated the vibe and were on display in the trim lining. When you looked across it was like some secret edition of the yearbook where everyone didn’t have to pretend they liked each other.

Only this time there were no profiles, only shadows. And instead of signatures there were tattoos on skin that said things like “im too good for you” and “the sky is watching.”

What collected at the corners were pushed outside to observe that ways a part equidistant to the cups on the table to the enthusiasm among them. This was inside. Everyone needed to make sense and not be meta. You couldn’t point out how we were all here by chance like Tommy did, “xxxxxxx” What an idiot. You couldn’t speculate as to why Rhea spent the whole month showing out for sympathy on twitter and crying at school over her breakup with Nick but is now falling on top of him, grabbing his arm and shit and Nick’s just going with it like he doesn’t care his best friend got sucked off by yours truly in front of everyone at last weeks party and he was there and she was there and it was all fine like nothing happened. “Well Nick got with Mercedes, and her and Rhea ignore each other now. It’s really awkward.” Despite the fakeness, there was an heir of trust unlike any ive ever seen here unlike back at school where we’d be leaning into our cheeks thinking about how to score more brownie points with the cliques we were in.

At least that’s what others were thinking about. The teacher’d be talking about solving for y for the millionth time, you know, moving things around by reverse operations to make sure they maintained the same relationship with one another. I never had to study because when it came time to test it’d be like the answers’d just come to me and I’d end up acing the damn thing. I became known as a smart person who didn’t care so everything canceled out and I was able to stay neutral and move between the punks to get drugs, the nerds to get power, and the popular kids to get access to parties like the one I was at now. I know this all sounds vain, but I guess that’s how it works when you’re a teenager still trying to find yourself when everyone else was doing the same but would rather die then admit it. Now that I look back I realize the whole thing was meaningless. There was no substance, no fulfillment. High School was mostly waiting with small pockets of being thrust into the limelight. Just a series of empty promises leading nowhere. You could of met your better half completely in the midst of knowing each other at a soul level but all indications were that it wouldn’t last so you made excuses and broke it off before it was too late so that your future could be at least bearable when you we’re laying in your cheeks mad at the world wondering why you were the only thing you could think about. You could rest your heart on your decision. The sex flashbacks at the most random times like talking to your grandma or waiting in line at the grocery store didn’t matter anymore. You could put it all on that. Your decision.

“Daniel, I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Likewise Sharlene, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Oh how sweet of you to say that to me.”

“Wait, why are you guys being so formal?” Katie said like she overheard.

“We should stop.” Sharlene said. Daniel was taller than all of them.

“How was your day?” His eyes got bigger. Crazy.

“Did you have a good day?” Leaning forward with his back against the counter.

“I did have a good day.” Sharlene said. “Did you?” She put her hand up and when she realized this she snapped them across her face and into his.

“Mr. Sassy?”

“Mr. Sassy!” Some dude in a hat with lettuce coming out said.

These we’re the types of exchanges that went on inside. Loud but cold. All in the vain of attention seeking like some sort of competition or test of brilliance. Only that this time unlike in normal society, where everyone’s trying to get their point across as clear and concise as possible because focus is king over style, this time brilliance was a stage of show. And whoever could hold onto it the longest was most certainly king or queen and surely the apple of their eye. Their being the cult that was the inside.

The 5 of us ended up by an air conditioning unit. We were staring at the moon thinking about what do next because we were already exhausted. Not because we weren’t faded enough. It was quite the opposite. There was too much judgment. And that was as bad of a high you could get when you were on the other end of it. We were over it. We were desperately passing a blunt I’d been eager to light since I rolled it in the car.

“I needed this.” Jerry said.

“Yeah? Me too.” I looked at Katie. She’s the one I rolled it with earlier in the day when 4 different people we’re blowing up my phone asking if I was coming and telling me who I could bring or not.

“I don’t know it’s just like the vibe or something. Like something’s off.” Tom said.

Katie was mostly quiet and sipping the blunt with her cute little hands and was gravitating towards Miranda in a nonverbal display of boredom.

“We don’t need to talk about it.” Jerry said.

“We really don’t.” I agreed.

“Talk about what?” I’m just saying.” Thomas said after a pause.

“Yeah I know but I’m not about to go behind their backs and gossip like we’re not fuckin’ with it thats cool we can do our own shit.”

“So what are we gonna do?”

“Is there anything close?”

“You tryna go to waffle house?”

Katie and Miranda laughed. First Katie snorted then Miranda bent over and held her knees.

“What are y’all tryna do?”

“Uhh can we just get out of here?” Katie said towards the street.

“Yeah. Let’s walk.” I said.

You left your memories with me.

So you could live without you.

You left your past in the dark, and

it was something you did for the hell of it because life

was too easy for you.

"What's wrong?" I said.

"Leave with me." You said.

"Is something bothering you?" I said.

"No." You were always in the dark.

"Where?"

"I don't know. Anywhere but here."

"I can't tell if you're being serious." You threw a rock

down the train tracks, and pointed where I was looking.

"That way's North to Chattanooga." You turned around.

I leaned to the side as if I was peeking down a narrow

hallway.

"South to Miami. Hmm. It depends." You said rubbing your chin.

"It depends on you finding a girlfriend so you can get back to reality is what it depends on." I said.

I dont think a single car

drove by since we got here. Moving trucks could be seen on the overpass where the crossing signals were, but were inaudible. The only thing audible was the large-scale kithen across the street which would hiss occasionally over its constant hum. It also had steam coming out of it. We walked towards the red-light on stones half the size of our trainers and went to balancing on the rail half to avoid twisting our ankles and half to ammuse ourselves.

"I was gonna say it depends on what's better, a good ol' country bitch who'll cook you catfish till you cant eat no more, or a bad spanish mommy who may or may not be there for you when you really need it."

"Oh, si senorita Hot like tamales. Muy bueno.

Como te amos rapido rapido mucho Miami me gusto."

"Bro we're hopping trains not borders

you fucking wetback."

"Whoa, hold up ese, you're hopping trains, not me.

Besides, we'll be hopping on a lot more than trains

if we keep this up." I said.

"Trains not borders, puto."

"Man watch your mouth."

"Here comes one now."

ijijiijjiiji

We hid in the bushes. It seemed like the right thing to do.

Me fist then the girls and Jerry while Thomas was last in..

"We should of put a coin on their,:

*End graveyard party and go into chapter about family* BONES laden arrows

----

Just say its the spot and I’m there.

“Jerry just texted me.” I said to Thomas.

“What’d he say?”

“He’s bringing Erica.”

“Why was it even a question?” Thomas said. He was flipping his head back and forth at me. Zig-zagging from hinges to nails to glue guns and floor tiles, biding his time, sulking like i was gonna feel sorry for him.

“I don’t know man. I’m sure it had something to do with his roommates not being out.” I said.

“Well if his initial reaction was him being scared then what that tell you about what he think of us?”

“Nah. You’re thinking too far into it. He’s tryna get her to let him hit.”

So much was out of context. There was disharmony. I continued.

“Maybe there’s something about two dudes without girlfriends that isn’t exactly the most potent

“

Smoke stacks comply and hesitate partaking in sport. Indulging in an aptitude that continues to see how it feels when you say such simple words as “hello, and, thats cool.” That continues to touch a nonverbal membrane when you move in such a way that broke the color barrier between black and white. So I’ll appreciate you like all the others do. Because I, completely and utterly, should know to carry you with me into infinity. And I should know, for a fact, that distance is dependant on its terminal velocity at the moment of impact. Gorgeous you are when tulips gather around cow pastures only to wither away upon the changing of the guard. Tip toes, necromancy, ice skates, all these make sense to me now, that ever since the day of my christening, good beings struck witherto my intelligence and rendered them useless. These knots, the qualities of which we’re twisted, utterly finagled to a degree that crystallized under pressure. I feel like I was born so I could come into people’s live when they needed someone to blame their problems on. That’s why I always get those stupid looks. Sometimes I just wanna ask them like “what the fuck are you on?” I guess all those diamonds couldnt teleport you out of here huh? Too bad. I ain’t judgin’.

knotted in purpose.

Oh how I looked on in brevity the callus threads that stretched for miles upon miles into causeways of blindness which overtook me in haste. Very painstaken I was in the trials before then. But now I see the reason for them. For nothing could have felt better than to be relieved of all that built up stress which churned and churned until a mechanism of ventricles let go in common translation. Like ruminating gats and dust swipers caged so discreetly so as to fixate on unto sizzling barge-heads. Almost as if silly esquires of desperately manifold doldrums exist solely to highlight the difference of deceit and merry. the difference of you, a you, and I, an I.

“Man I need blankets.” Thomas said.

“Pillows too.” I said tracing the outer perimeter of Home Depot.

Them Carharrts nice too. Our eyes met at the rack.

“I bet you could fit a gun inside this.” Thomas said feeling the durability of a canvas hoodie in brown.

“No I don’t have a gun.”

“You should get one.”

“They got em here?”

We fell out of the portal.

____________

Vicious bar flies and scarcities falsify the other-half.

“It is settled” said Chief Wallitzer

“Then buy more plankton from the Chief” A creature said. Decrepit. Monsteral. Lectivicious. The creature continued.

“And as soon as I stray a lochness is when the fortifications manifest wholly and without contempt.” I must ignore him.

“What am I to do?” I said on the levy.

“Take a boat from the garter over thine gully there.” Said the Chief.

And I summoned a boat from his power.

“I’m crossing.” I said under my breathe. I said aloud.

“Bless you Chief! Aye. May good fortune amass in your possession!” Because realization finally hit me, that I was to join my comrades in battle, once and for all.

“Aye, and to not flee as well.” This was the last I ever heard of the Chief.

--------

Today I’m going to buy a car.

Anxiety is a MK Ultra Mind Control Tactic (designed to keep humans subordinate to the matrix) ((which is ran by the 10%))

(((who answer to archonic entities from the 4th dimension)))

Logical reasoning is when an internal problem is identified as separate from the self so that it may not be subject to the whims of ego, which is fleeting and irregular, and stems from an evolutionary need for man to keep desiring more and more mates to reproduce offspring with so that his tribe grows strong in number as opposed to getting complacent with having one or few mates, retiring from the world, and letting him and/or his offspring die without a big enough tribe to defend them from bigger tribes with more man-power. Humans have advanced beyond the need to reproduce. In fact, Over-population is an existential threat to the continuation of humans on Earth. Because of this there should be no desire to reproduce. However, there is still a desire to reproduce. This is because the consequences of over-population like famine, disease, and global warming have yet to be internalized by most humans. Once it does, there will be no desire to reproduce, and all remaining sub-strata will go too. These remaining sub-strata include love, greed, and status all begotten from the main desire of humans, which is to reproduce. The reason that is

The main desire of humans is that humans want to survive. If humans didn’t want to survive they’d be dead. If humans we’re dead they wouldn’t be living. And if humans weren’t living they wouldn’t exist. Additionally, If humans didn’t exist they’d be nothing. And If humans were nothing they wouldn’t be something. Finally, if humans wouldn’t be something, as in, they we’re in a state of denial towards the very notion of being something

with the very notion of that word and all the associations it comes with,

Finally, if humans wouldn’t be something, as in, they we’re in a state of denial towards being something,

knowing full-well the associations it comes with, then humans would be refusing their ego, which is fleeting and irregular.

Once this desire (to reproduce) is gone, then allser forms of this desire like

and not get his needs are met

be processed in an objective manner, and not subject to whims of ego

solutions can be formulated in an objective context, and the solutions necessary to overcoming that problem, may not be weighed against emotion, which is fleeting and irregular.

and it’s existential

consequences, both good and bad, can be weighed objectively against

solutions that are based in reality

The distinction between needs and desires is a matter of time. Needs are immediate. Desires are built up over time.

The distinction between needs and desires is, in fact, only a matter of time

Anxiety needs to be alleviated when there’s not enough time, but it should anxiety will be alleviated because their is time. .

^^^^^^^^^cap*********

*********************

Anxiety is when an internal problem needs to be alleviated. Its just that the actions required to alleviate said problem seem far off and distant. So much that you begin doubting your abilities as a measly human and turn to a god instead. When this god doesnt fix your problems your anxiety is compounded heavily. Because you have one more problem than you started with. If you couldnt hold a candle to your first problem, being as their solutions were so far out and demanded too much in a short amount of time, then now you got a doozy on your hands. All we can ask for is perfection, and hope we come up short.

********************

************

//All God can ask for is perfection. That’s why he doesn’t relate to us.// If you had a bag that led to another bag you wouldn’t keep the first bag cus it’d already be in the second one. These are the ancestors working behind the scenes.

then what makes you think

Our teachers taught us proper sentence structure in the third grade. A subject followed by a predicate. The subject is invoked and the predicate carries the burden like a hag witch carries it and thus justifying the subject so that it is not floating in space, susceptible to being bothered by minds whose job it is to question things that float in space for no other reason other than to not have a purpose, and stand as a monument against all these grammar nazis stand for. So viciously chaotic, free in its lightness, completely unencumbered by menial contrivances of formality, it seems, are these subjects without predicates stand unapologetically in the vast concourses of space as monuments against all they stand for. The problem is that words can only do so much when describing a subject. Whether it is a noun or pronoun, abstract or not, a person, place, thing, or idea, it could even be an interjection, the problem is words can only do so much for describing the essence of a thing, the unseen force which discerns certain vibrations as unalike from one another and neatly packages them into a frequency at which the brain can perceive.

certain things as unalike from one another and neatly packages them into a frequency that vibrates at a rate at which the human brain can process through its hypothalamus and perceive them as things in the 3rd dimension.

apart from the rest is limitless when not bound by words, which can only be deduced as a lesser form of magic.

Thomas and I see the same things. Ever since our childhoods we were never separated. And even if we we’re, or it appeared as if we we’re, we always had the same eyes. Not just the same view, but the same eyes. I don’t mean that these eyes were like detachable lenses, that could be passed around to and fro like a can on a string, I mean that we’ve had the same experiences, just in different forms. And if we ever shared a difference of opinion, which happened a lot, like with this Erica thing, I never had to worry about things getting heated. Because no matter what, I could always fall back on us letting things calm down for a while, alone in our rooms leaning into our cheeks trying not to think about it. until both of us realized we were coming.from the same place, and that where, and to what degree we took it to, was ultimately meaningless.

I must be going now. It’s getting late. What time is it? 2:30? Jesus. Fuck. That’s later than I thought. Already? Oh well. It’s not like I can do anything about it. Anyway. What I wanna talk about is how fucked up you look to me, and I don’t know if you see that. I mean, if you can see what I see. Dread, angst, all of mine and your miseries seem to have burdened you. I want you to know that I’m here. I’m a man. I can fix my own problems. Really. I can. I may not look it but I’m grown. You don’t have to worry about them. Here, look at this picture I took last year. It’s of you and me. Don’t we look so happy? Happy. Is that the right word? Or maybe we’re crumbing for our last breathe of smile in us. Fuck. I’m beginning to think that’s true the more and more I think about it. Because you we’re never happy. Neither was I. But that wasn’t the goal for us like it is for so many others. No. We just wanted to get by. And that’s all we could ever ask for.

--jgcjgcjgcjgcgjc

I wanted to keep this sacred so it’d come across a more genuine when the right person came across it. but now the urge is too strong and the resonance too concentrated for me to dismiss the trailblazing force of circular momentum. And its nice out too. The grass is still damp from yesterday’s rain but not so you couldn’t lie in it. That’s what I did today. That along with thinking. Moving on. I won’t talk about personal experience in this article. The truth is I’m not important. What matters is my guidance. So from now on take my “I’s” as placeholders for something greater. Make it what you want. A parakeet, a landing pad, veganism, law and order, anything. It could even be the universe itself with you and me included. Whatever it is just don’t miss the point that follows this inconspicuous “i” because there is no truth, only different paths to getting there.

The truth is I haven’t been out the house in a few years. Sure there were gaps in between like parties here and there. But even then I was inside myself, leaving people to wonder if I was as social as I looked. Sometimes I was normal, others I was a wallflower. Only rarely did I meet their expectations and become the center of attention. I still remember those moments because I’m preparing for the next time it happens so I can maintain a sense of self better so that I can let it go and channel what comes out of me more freely. Some call this going into the world. I call it getting out the house. Leaving the nest. All those times i was still at home within myself. I never left my shell. There’s no point when that shell is filled with angels.

Language can be tricky. It can be used for yin and yang. It can be used for contuation or stagnation when concerning the path of self and how one wants to judge said self through language so that it may have something ethereal to manifest from. Before I continue I must say that there is a self because any indication of there not being a self relies on the suppusition there there is a self. Perception plays a role too, as in, agreeing or not to accept the definitions of the words you lay on yourself as true or not. The pessimist sees the world as signs and symbols and interprets stimuli af a higher level then the optimist, who is often naieve to the hidden world where everything comes from. This is why pessimists are often dualists. To the optimist it appears they are one-sided because they take them at face-value. Again, they are unable to see the hidden world where everything comes from. Those who fly under the radar appear that way because they are in direct contact with this world so as to filter their thoughts before speaking them. This world is a place pessimists visit often within themselves and rarely show out of. They show out only in dire situations, and that makes their actions that much stronger because they have kept sacred the hidden world where everything comes from so that it is pure and cutting-edge when it comes time to release it upon the known world. Like an endless stream does their wrath come out of them because they’ve been holding it in so long.

Anytime you insert the I into a situation is when a princible of measurement can be applied to you as infinite potential to fail or succeed relative to the third party as the perfect amount of what you needed to be faced with.

with chakra wheels that exist so we can find ourselves in a better light.

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a-panda-reads-act-omega · 7 years

Text

ACT OMEGA PART 24

THE 04/02/17 UPDATE

Hey look at that, I’m bored and I can’t urge myself to close that act omega tab. You know what that means. I’m doing another part today, w o o o o o

Alrighty, last time. Aranea showed up, and I reacted in a perfectly calm and orderly fashion. Let’s see where this goes!

Yup. Nobody’s happy. Put that grin away Aranea.

MEENAH: serket?? MEENAH: HOLD the GLUB up MEENAH: i thought you like MEENAH: got owned or w/e

She did indeed get owned or w/e. By you, in fact. You from another universe in which you became a giant hot troll wearing a goddamn skintight outfit.

Oh yeah, and she is currently destroying the hell out of the kiddo’s back at the lily pad.

ARANEA: ... Nice to see you too, Meenah.

Pssst.. it’s not nice to see you aranea...

ARANEA: Just as anxious to get to the point as ever. 8ut as per usual, I encourage you to exercise a 8it more p8tience. ARANEA: All your questions and concerns will be addressed eventually, I assure you. MEENAH: UUUGH MEENAH: i cannot B-ELI-EV-E this MEENAH: you go all crazy and try n pull off some ridiculous timeline divine intervention stunt MEENAH: prolly kelped actin like a hotshot all the way up to getting fuckin WAST-ED MEENAH: im out here thinkin i aint never gonna sea you again cause you got it in your head you had ta be the ultimate magnanimous blowhard just like your STUPID ALT S)(-ELLF MEENAH: AND T)(-EN MEENAH: you reappier outta NOW)(-ER-E MEENAH: lookin just as smug as you got no business bein MEENAH: and you tell me i gotta put up with whatever sanctimonious salmon youve prepared before i get any answers?!

LET ‘ER HAVE IT MEENAH. Can Aranea get the idea out of her head that SHE has got to be the one everybody looks up to? Because everytime she’s had an effect on this story, it’s made everything completely horrible. Honestly, she just tries too hard to be worthy of admiration. If she were like Vriska, she’d care more about doing what needs to be done instead of being admired by all. Merely because Vriska isn’t so dependent on the approval of others, and is happy with doing what needs to be done just so she can brag to herself and others. Alright, I kinda feel like getting deeper into this. How Vriska and Aranea differ and parallel eachother, because it’s a pretty thin line that doesn’t feel obvious. But here’s a very simple way of putting it:

Vriska wants to be the hero Aranea wants to be seen as the hero

Vriska wants to force dead weight to carry itself Aranea wants useful people to depend on her

I feel like that sums it up fairly well, really. Maybe I’ll start making sideposts of character analysis if I feel like getting deeper into these topics.

ARANEA: Sanctimonious what? MEENAH: OH MY COD I M-EANT S-ERMON

GET MAD MEENAH. IMPALE HER WITH YOUR POKEY FORK.

And here we find Porrim, in her natural state of “tired of everybodys shit”

PORRIM: Meenah. Yo+u might want to+ reel yo+urself in for a mo+ment.

S)(-ELL NO

MEENAH: >38( PORRIM: Maybe try to+ avo+id making the same mistakes as the yo+unger Serket.

DONT BRING VRISKA INTO THIS

VRISKA: Excuse me???????? PORRIM: O+h, hush. Yo+u’ve spent far mo+re energy externalizing yo+ur frustratio+n than you+ have do+ing anything pro+ductive. PORRIM: We can o+nly take so+ much o+f this. We're here to+ try and do+ so+mething with o+ur afterlife o+ther than willfully subject o+urselves to+ its infinite echo+ chamber o+f teenage drama.

Porrim

porrim, baby

i love you, i do

but this is n o T JUST TEENAGE DRAMA? I mean, Aranea killed EVERYBODY.

PORRIM: I myself have had eno+ugh o+f that fo+r at least two+ lifetimes. PORRIM: So+ if either o+f yo+u are ultimately o+nly go+ing to co+ntribute to+ the endless caco+phany, rather than fo+cus o+n getting results, I suggest yo+u mo+ve it to+ so+me o+ther bubble. PORRIM: If no+t, then co+nsider jo+ining the rest o+f us in seeing what Aranea might have to+ o+ffer to+ o+ur cause. ARANEA: Why, thank you, Porrim. That was very eloquently put. I promise you won’t 8e disappointed. ::::)

Goddammit Porrim, you gave her a reason to be smug. Just because Porrim is tired of the arguing, doesn’t mean you’re somehow at all justified in anything you’ve ever done ever.

ok im salty

PORRIM: Hmmm. We’ll see. ARANEA: Really, I was well prepared for my reappearance to cause something of a stir. It’s completely understanda8le to want an explan8tion.

UUUUUGHHhfadjnkms SHuuut uppp

ARANEA: I’ve 8een lying low for quite a while now. Gathering inform8tion, drawing conclusions, revising and perfecting plans... All of which will certainly prove invalua8le for you all in your current predicament! ARANEA: It really is a shame you’ve landed yourselves in such a 8ind! It was ultim8ly inevita8le, 8ut unfortun8 all the same. ARANEA: Isn’t it lucky, then, that I’m here to put this tr8n 8ack on its tracks?

Im gonna die from salt poisoning help

PORRIM: SIGH...

SIGH...

PORRIM: If yo+u have any interest in keeping that pro+mise o+f yo+urs, I suggest yo+u skip the preamble.

Thank you Porrim. I’m trying to find somebody to latch onto here, but everybody is starting problem’s n s t uf f .

Everybody looks so

VRISKA: Hold the fucking phone! Why should we listen to ANYTHING you have to say?

YOU sHOULDN’T

VRISKA: Your track record isn’t exactly stellar! And from what I’m seeing right now, you haven’t learned from your colossal fuckup one iota!

WOAH, VASKA... who the hell says iota????

VRISKA: I have a8solutely ZERO interest in letting the same washed up has-8een whose mess *I* had to clean up waltz up here and act like she’s my goddamn s8vior!!!!!!!

YEAH TELL HER VRISKA! EVEN THOUGH IM PREEETTY SURE YOU DID NOTHING AND TEREZI DID EVERYTHING...

And, oh god my memory of the timelines and stuff are getting me confused. I’m sure I’m probably wrong about this, but y’know what I’m gonna talk about it anyways. Would this Vriska really even know about Aranea? I mean, she didn’t die, so... maybe just in her dreams or something. or. gdi im confused.

ARANEA: Come now, Vriska. You of all people should know that there are 8etter times to choose for throwing hissyfits!

This isn’t a HISSYFITS. This is clear and rational thought. And I don’t get w hY NOBODY ELSE IS QUESTIONING THESE THINGS.

ARANEA: And 8esides, what a8out your little plan? We can all pl8nly see how well that turned out. You were smacked down just as unceremoniously as I was, so don’t act as if you’re suddenly the only person who can pull their own w8 around here.

Yeah, but you know what? Her plan didn’t revolve around dooming EVERYBODY. Her plan had essence of COMPETENCE.

ARANEA: You may 8e incredibly stu88orn, 8ut you can’t 8e so foolish as to dismiss common sense purely for the s8ke of your ego. I’m your 8est shot at m8king it out of this alive. While your army was 8eing eradic8ed, I was 8usy uncovering the truth. ARANEA: If you would just allow me to expl8n, perhaps you could finally reg8n your wits and 8e a8le to focus on what TRULY matters.

oh god i hate her h e l p.

pLEASE.. DOUBle DEATh HER.

VRISKA: I already HAVE my wits! And I was just a8out to use them to whip this 8unch of losers into sh8pe 8efore YOU and your 8loated delusions of grandeur showed up! ARANEA: Is that what you were a8out to do? I never would have guessed. Considering from my perspective, you were in the middle of some sort of mental 8reakdown 8rought on 8y 8eing utterly incapa8le of comprehending the magnitude of your own failure!

At least she DAMAGED HIM. SHE INFLICTED SOME FORM OF HARM TO THE UNKILLABLE GOD TRYING TO FUCK THEM OVER. You literally just got everybody killed with no positive result, you cannot claim that you are A N Y better than her.

ARANEA: If you had been p8ying attention, you might have t8ken note of when I mentioned that this outcome was inevita8le. There was hardly anything I could have done to prevent it. YOU, on the other hand... ARANEA: The mishap with your dice could easily have 8een avoided if you had simply realized how thoroughly outmatched you were. Did you actually try your little luck-stealing trick on LORD ENGLISH?

FIRST THE F U C K OF ALL... If this outcome was inevitable, then that literally makes EVERYBODY IN PARADOX SPACE JUST AS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS DISASTER. NNGH YOU CANNOT PIN THIS ON VRISKA JUST TO MAKE YOURSELF LOOK BETTER

VRISKA: Yeah! I did!!!!!!!! That’s kind of what I DO? VRISKA: 8ut... it didn’t WORK. ARANEA: Tsk, tsk. Of course it didn’t. Lord English is hardly on the same level as the 8lack king, or the myriad low-level imps, hapless trolls, and pitiful ghosts from which you’d previously acquired your ill-gotten fortune. Your a8ilities aren’t even close to developed enough to stand a chance against such an opponent! ARANEA: 8ut say, I think that perhaps we can strike a deal. We all know that time has 8een kinder to me in that I’ve had enough of it to refine my powers considera8ly. 8etween the two of us, I am clearly the superior Hero of Light.

. . . . . . . . F U C K Y O U .

Can’t deal with this. Can’t TAKE this girl’s superiority complex.

God im turning into the human equivallent of a salt shaker.

VRISKA: Oh, yeah. Sure. 8ecause I’m totally interested in whatever 8ogus “deal” you have to offer. Especially when you phrase it like THAT! ARANEA: And yet you don’t deny truth of my words. A smart choice. VRISKA: Are you going to w8ste time gloating, or actually get to the point?! ARANEA: My point is that I would 8e more than happy to lend you my services. Allow you to maximize your potential in a more... expedient fashion, given the sizea8le constraints we are currently under. ARANEA: All you would have to do is ask nicely. May8e even apologize for raising your voice? A little more respect and deference would 8e appreci8ed as well. ARANEA: What do you say? A deal is a deal? ::::)

GOD. DAMN IT I CANNOT DEAL WITH THIS. I REALLY REALLY R E A L L Y HATE HER. NOBODY WANTS YOUR HELP. Oh god this is turning into the worst liveblog ever, B U T SERIOUSLY I HATE HER AND THAT IS LITERALLY ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT RIGHT NOW.

VRISKA: How a8out this: I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!!!!!!!!

YEs. PRECISELY

OHFUCKHIKANKRI

KANKRI: *PHWEEEEEEEET!!!*

...

O k you know what. For once, I’m actually happy about Kankri existing. That fuckfest needed to end.

And jesus. I need to calm myself down.

Oh god poor Mituna is freaking out.

KANKRI: I think that is QUITE en9ugh 9f that f9r n9w. While I n9rmally endeav9r t9 enc9urage c9nstructive de6ate in the interest 9f inf9rming the ign9rant masses, this argument has 6ec9me far t99 pr96lematic f9r me t9 all9w it t9 c9ntinue!

Gdi I haven’t even read it yet, but it already hurts to look at.

Alright. So yeah, this is getting out of hand and he’s putting a stop to it with his space jesus powers.

KANKRI: There isn’t nearly en9ugh time f9r me t9 g9 9ver all 9f the deeply distur6ing c9mments disparaging n9t 9nly the magically disadvantaged, 6ut the mentally challenged, which I have just 69re witness t9. S9 I will settle with 6riefly chastising y9u 69th f9r y9ur cavalier disregard 9f y9ur inherent privilege, and enc9urage y9u to 6e m9re aware 9f h9w the nature 9f y9ur w9rds might affect the very imp9rtant feelings 9f pe9ple that aren’t here.

And people that ARE here. Like, you know. The mentally challenged Mituna right behind you. Though I’m pretty sure you’re speech his having a worse affect on him than they are. Also, how the hell did they even offend any mentally challenged people??

LATULA: ummmmmm, l1k3, not to b3 UN-r4d or wh4t3v3r, b3c4us3 th4t 1s TOT3S not my styl3, LATULA: but m1tun4 1s l1k3, R1GHT h3r3??

Thank you Latula, the poor guy is dying at all these words.

KANKRI: He is?

Oh my god Kankri, seriously? Were you too busy ogling at Latula to realize that their were handicapped people who needed defending in the area?

MITUNA: 1 H4T3 Y0UR FUCK1NG W157L3 KANKRI: 9h. Right, 9f c9urse. My mistake. Ap9l9gies, Mituna. I h9pe y9u d9n’t mind that I have taken it up9n myself t9 help speak 9n y9ur behalf, c9nsidering y9ur vari9us issues with speaking at all.

kANKRI. that is not how you speak to handicapped people. Is he just salty that he’s dating Latula? Yeah. he’s totally salty about latula.

MITUNA: UM KANKRI: Exactly. Y9u’ve 6een rendered n9n-ver6al 6y the sens9ry 9verl9ad caused 6y all this unnecessary sh9uting. Which makes the wh9le thing w9rse, really. Right, Mituna? MITUNA: WHY 4R3 7HR33 S0 M4NY W0RD5 MITUNA: 175 4LL MITUNA: 8UZZ1NG LATULA: dont worry 4bout 1t b4b3! 1ts 4lmost ov3r. MITUNA: 5H0U71NG 4ND MITUNA: 5TUP1D 8ULG3 WH1FF1NG WH157L35 MITUNA: FUCK

Latula is literally the best supportive girlfriend. Is she gonna cover his ears for him next?

KANKRI: Even m9re sincere ap9l9gies, Mituna. Even if the use 9f the whistle was vital in the c9nstructi9n 9f y9ur safe space, I understand that it did upset y9u and that y9ur feelings 9n the matter are valid. KANKRI: 6ut thankfully, and despite the unf9rtunate side effects, it did its j96 9f helping 6ring every9ne t9 their senses. KANKRI: Really, this wh9le thing c9uld have 6een av9ided if y9u 69th had just listened t9 P9rrim's advice. PORRIM: O+h. PORRIM: Kanny, did yo+u just... AGREE with me fo+r o+nce? KANKRI: ... KANKRI: I 6elieve I have asked y9u several times n9w n9t t9 call me that!

what has this devolved into? What is this BICKERING. Can anybody remain on the same page for more than two sentences? Honestly, I’m surprised Lord English hasn’t just killed them all yet.

AND HERE THESE TWO ARE, indifferent as always.

SOLLUX: (well.) SOLLUX: (this is pr0bably the worst clusterfuck i have ever had the f0rtune 0f n0t seeing.) SOLLUX: (are y0u sure we can’t just leave?) SOLLUX: (as if whichever smug fuck that ends up running the idi0t brigade is g0ing to s0lve 0ur impending d00m. it’s alm0st starting t0 feel like the wh0le pirate crew bullshit all 0ver again.) SOLLUX: (except s0meh0w even m0re 0f a catastr0phe.)

Sollux, there’s one thing you’re forgetting. The pirate ship was a disaster, yes. but now you have one KEY FACTOR that will lead you all to victory. The power of F R I E N D S H I P. Can’t you just feel all the good vibes radiating off of these assholes?

ARADIA: (we cant go yet sollux!) ARADIA: (i have no intention of leaving) ARADIA: (and while i understand why you may want to this time it really is somewhat imperative that you stay) ARADIA: (we all have a part to play in the preservation of reality) ARADIA: (a mission which is even more critical now than it has ever been!)

Alright, so this team’s objective “SAVE REALITY” Team lilypad’s objective “DONT.. DIE” Team Lowas’s objective “THERAPIZE ERISOL”

SIMPLE ENOUGH.

oh god i just remembered Calliope already died and that’s s A D ...

SOLLUX: (ugh. really?) ARADIA: (yes!) SOLLUX: (s0 i’m like. imp0rtant s0meh0w?) ARADIA: (does it help you feel better to think about it like that?) SOLLUX: (... kind 0f? bizarrely en0ugh.) SOLLUX: (where did that c0me fr0m all 0f a sudden?) ARADIA: (i couldnt possibly tell you) ARADIA: (but what i can tell you is that i think this brief setback will be over soon) SOLLUX: (fine, if y0u say s0.)

All setbacks can be overcome with enough TIME. HAHA.... TIME JOKE. The hell am i doing with my life.

Oh shit is Davepeta here to drop some calm bombs on the group?

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < man this is just getting sad DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < but guess i oughta toss my two cents into this clusterfuck DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < beclaws honestly i KIND of agr33 with vwiskers a little? DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < my subconscious is clawing at me that we totally cant trust aranea at all ever

THANK, you.

DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < cause shes seriously bad news DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i dont have any real concrete memories or anything to support it but DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < i dunno! thats just how i f33l DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < meow on the other paw DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < we kind of are in some purrty hot water DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < and i ALSO have the conflicting f33ling that whatever info she has fur us will be impurrtant DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < so if anything we should just hear her out DAVEPETASPRITE^2: B33 < so long as you dont try to pull anything fishy!!

SIGH... I G U E S S. It still feels horrible to even let her get a word in, just because she’s literally gonna act like every useful information she gives is worth everything, and they have no right to blame her for anything.

ARANEA: Er... ARANEA: Thank you for the endorsement. And the warning, I suppose. ARANEA: If there won’t 8e any further interruptions? MEENAH: yeah sure fine whatever MEENAH: but u beta believe im gonna be gilling you later ARANEA: I look forward to it.

I’m gonna hope that was a fish pun, and what she meant was ‘killing’

TAVROS: i THINK VRISKA LOOKS LIKE, sHE IS READY TO STOP SHOUTING, TAVROS: sO WE CAN BEGIN LISTENING, TAVROS: wHICH IS GOOD, bECAUSE I AM VERY CURIOUS, TAVROS: eSPECIALLY SINCE, i SORT OF, aLWAYS LIKED YOUR STORIES, aRANEA, TAVROS: wHEN THEY DIDN’T RUN TOO LONG, aNYWAY,,,

N O B O D Y A S K E D Y O U T A V R O S

putthatfuckingsmileaway

ARANEA: Don’t worry, Tavros. I will try and keep this as 8rief as possible. ARANEA: While also ensuring all vital inform8tion and context is provided, of course. ARANEA: Now, allow me to 8egin...

...gjdkgfignjfij

conflicting feelings about everything here. Alright. WELL, that is the end of this update. you can listen to my whine a bunch on the next part. SO. yeah.

#homestuck #homestuck liveblog #Act Omega #hs act omega #act omega liveblog #hs act omega liveblog

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