“Fuck It, We Slay” (heavy Eye Bags, Dehydrated, On The Verge Of Insanity)

Whatever you do, don’t imagine todd the night after neil had passed, after the ceremony and all the days events, sitting alone in his room staring straight at neil’s bed.

the messy bed with the blankets thrown back and the pillow still creased after neil had woken up and left for the play. and how none of the poets had dared to touch it.

how todd became so distraught while staring at it he climbed into it and curled up under the covers and started to cry as the blankets still smelled like neil.

how todd spent all night in the bed sobbing his eyes out and holding onto the blankets for dear life, until the morning came and mr nolan came to collect all of neil’s stuff.

don’t imagine how todd fought to stay in the bed and keep neil’s stuff; sobbing and reaching for neil’s belongings as they were carted away like they were nothing but a collection of disappointments.

don’t imagine how todd stole one of neils sweaters without mr. nolan looking, along with one of neils books and kept them for himself.

don’t imagine how when mr nolan had left, and todd was left with nothing but the sweater and book, he curled up on the empty bed, devoid of all blankets, and read.

and how todd had found a poem neil had written, jotted down in messy scrawl on a piece of ripped paper, shoved in between two chapters. and how multiple lines were crossed out and rewritten with the intention of getting it perfect.

And how the poem was addressed to todd,

and how it was a love poem.

don’t imagine it.

The way our souls lingered for each other – as if they had been separated and sent through the universe in eternal search for their lost part, in constant connection with each other, so that they can find each other again and again. They met under the covers of countless masks, unmasked each other with such intimacy that the pure act of unveiling was a revelation itself. With each collision fragments of long-buried memories became visible, everything that was hidden came to the surface and became decipherable and finally, our two souls merged into one.

— Arthur Miller, The Crucible

The intimacy of answering the phone “Hey you.” The intimacy of stopping to wait when someone needs to tie their shoe. The intimacy of knowing when someone’s voice is thick with worry or sleep. The intimacy of singing (badly) with someone in the car. The intimacy of huddling together under a shelter/umbrella. The intimacy of instantly recognising someone’s handwriting. The intimacy of trying to make plans and, “Oh no we can’t, you’re working that day.” The intimacy of matching your pace to theirs as you walk. The intimacy of being there for someone as they cry. The intimacy of “How did you know that?” “Because I know you.” The intimacy of feeling someone’s warmth through their clothes when you hug. The intimacy of being given change that’s warm from the heat of someone else’s hand. The intimacy of shared, comfortable silence. The intimacy of knowing how someone would react. The intimacy of keeping the radio off when someone falls asleep on a long car journey. The intimacy of sharing one earbud each. The intimacy of noticing someone’s nervous habits. The intimacy of “I had a dream about you.” The intimacy of inside jokes. The intimacy of feeding someone food as they drive (or really any other time). The intimacy of knowing just how someone likes their tea/coffee. The intimacy of trying something new together and having no idea what you’re doing; the shared hesitancy. The intimacy of someone saying “Text me when you’re home safe.” The intimacy of someone falling asleep next to you. On your shoulder. In your company. The intimacy of sharing secrets in the nighttime, because 3am will never tell. The intimacy of someone’s pet recognising you and coming over to say hello. The intimacy of “This made me think of you.” The intimacy of borrowing a jacket still warm from their body heat.  The intimacy of seeing someone’s unfocused eyes when they first wake up. The intimacy of ordering food and “shall we share it?” The intimacy of someone sharing the meaning behind their tattoos. The intimacy of just looking at someone and dissolving into laughter together.

Letters I write to myself from fiction characters part 1, Azriel Shadowsinger, ACOTAR

Dear my beloved, 

                                   My shadows have told me that you are struggling with your mental and physical health more than usual. I wish I could be there to help you feel better, but alas, I cannot. Rhysand has sent you on a dangerous mission, and prohibited anyone helping you. I told him it was a mistake, that it wouldn’t benefit you, but he disregarded me. I apologize that I cannot be of much help, especially since it is my fault your last mission failed. Hopefully I can convince Rhysand to let me help you soon. 

Cassian and Elain miss you. Not as much as I, of course, but they miss you. Elain says the garden is dying without you, and that the smell of baked goods that fills the townhouse is not as...fragrant as it once was. And I have to agree. Especially the garden. The flowers do seem to be wilting without your beauty and grace to strengthen them. The once delicious chocolate muffins have lost their flavour and warmth. When you return, when not if, it will be like the first spring all over again, believe me. The sun will shine brighter, the flowers bloom once again. The flavour and warmth will return to food; the days will be longer, laughter filling the streets. It will be beautiful when you return home. 

Cassian says the rooftop feels emptier when it’s just him up there without you to brighten his world. Because that’s what you do. You brighten up everyone’s world. You make everyone happy, even when you feel like giving up like you do now. Maybe that can be your reason to stay. Not for me or Elain or Cassian, but because you help people. 

I hope this helped. I will be contacting you again via letter as often as I can. I don’t expect you to reply. 

Just remember, the darkness is here to help you discover the sun inside you. 

          Your beloved, 

                                Azriel

zlibrary gone... FUCK TIKTOK FUCK BOOKTOK I hope that app burns in hell

No it's not that I don't appreciate the flirting, I just wish you wouldn't do it while I'm in the middle of vivisecting you. Yes I know that it's really hot when I'm covered in your blood elbow deep in your chest cavity that's why I keep vivisecting you. But I keep getting flustered and dropping your liver and its really slippery so I keep dropping it over and over again leading to very comedic slapstick comedy where I slip on your blood and fall over really funny

I run after him in the cold winter, my laboured breaths creating clouds of steam in the air. A smoke threatening to choke me and blind me and eat me alive. “Don’t walk away from me!” I shout at his back, my voice cracking at the end. He freezes. His fists clench and he stands there, turned away from me. “Don’t walk away from me. Please” I whimper again. He suddenly spins around, eyes red and tears streaming down his cheeks. My heart cracks. “you don’t get to ask that of me” he finally mutters brokenly “you. Do not. Get to ask anything of me!” he repeats louder now, getting in my face. I stand there, sinking and sinking until I wonder if the concrete below me is sucking me in or if his presence is a tornado itself. “You are breaking me. No, you are absolutely annihilating my heart” he whispers with so much emotion that I can see the cracks in his eyes. His hands hold my shoulders desperately and all I want to do is sink in them but all I can do is frantically shake my head while sobbing.  “You crashed into my life,” he goes on “you flipped my world upside down. I gave you my heart. I GAVE YOU MY HEART” he laughs, sounding nothing lie the boy I used to know. “the best part is, I never knew I could have something like what we had. I never knew it existed.” A scoff, he suddenly sneers. “you should have never come into my life. You can’t miss what you never had. But now. Now you have destroyed me. And I will never be the same again” still shaking my head I beg, “please. I-I can’t tell you,” I stop to stifle a sob. “I can’t tell you why I shut you out but you have to trust me. You mean everything to me. You mean the world to me and I can’t I can’t I can’t see you like this. It is killing me please stop please stop feeling like this I can’t breathe and you’re standing there and it hurts it hurts so god damn much because your pain is my pain so stop!” taking in a deep breath, I finally look him in the eye and tell him the truth.