Does Anyone Else Have A Drink That U Just Go Crazy When U Have It ? Like I Pour Myself Apple Juice And

I can't believe this, guys. 😭

I need all the luck I can get for my exams this week 💚

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

You know what, fuck it, art time

The Portal

There's a depressed person that lives across from me.

Their window curtains are always open, and various-luscious-plants lie in front of the portal.

Every morning, I see them lay in bed. They hope that they can sleep all day, but they always wake up and soulessly wonder about.

It's 11:57a.m.

It's a sad sight to see, it's only a kid.

The melancholy in each sigh, and waning step.

The tears that stream down their face everyday grow heavier and louder as the weeks progress.

One afternoon, I could hear them crying.

I still saw them through that damn window.

Just laying in bed. Face red, swolen, and lost.

They looked like they were already dead.

Sometimes I swear they'd see me staring back through the portal, but they never really seemed to care.

Then, the third week of April came around. Their cries were silent, sinking deep into themself, forever leaving prints on their skin (in the wrinkles of their face and in the scars that they bore)

They repeated, over and over, "I'm okay. I'm okay. It's okay. I'm fine. I'm fine."

They lied to themself. Everyday.

Sometimes, when I'd catch a glance

They're full of horrible rage; cursing, yelling, punching walls, pushing others away, pulling out their own hair.

Regret.

Apathy.

Guilt.

Emptiness.

Words escape with toxic venom and force, without a second thought.

The storm that followed them would always fall apart and sink once the door to their bedroom closed.

They, too, would always fall apart and sink.

It was like the door cut off the gasoline that fueled the fire.

And instead--settled the fog and ashes into the cold hardwood floor. Staining the once whole shattered glass.

They pleaded with a higher being that they did not believe in.

But nobody came. No one could clear the cinders or the ash or glass or dust that lay on the floor or their silvery, charred skin.

Then they'd stare into the portal--at me.

And I'd stare back--at myself.

I JUST GOT OUT OF THE DECLAN MCKENNA CONCERT RAAAAAAAHHH!!!!

Holy-- I can die happy, now

Workaholic Pt.2

--Check out Pt.1 first; It means a lot :)--

It was early-ish and the house smelled of coffee and cinnamon. The crackling of oil in a pan occasionally rose to be a loud sizzle. The sounds of popping from the skillet mixed with that of thunder and rain outside the window.

You rose from the bed and picked up the dusty bag at the bedside. It was heavy and smelled of coal. You wiped your eyes as if it'd wake you up faster-it didn't- and walked toward the house door.

"Hey. No no no. You didn't even have breakfast." Your husband sped walked over to you and held you by the waist. You felt butterflies rise in your stomach.

"I just need to put this in the shipping crate outside." You tried to negotiate with the man.

"You have all day to do that. Right now you need to sit down and eat." He dropped the bag on the floor and spun you around, guiding you to the table. It had one chair. It always did, even before Sebastian moved in.

This was the first time you pulled it out from the table and sat in it. He set a cup of coffee and a plate of complete breakfast down. He stood at the other end of the table and ate, holding his plate. You looked at him, regret washing over you.

"I should have bought us another chair." You said. He looked at you.

"Don't worry about that right now." He said softly.

You shut up and ate your breakfast, but while eating some of the hashbrowns you'd come to realize that you never bought anything as decoration for the house.

The wallpaper was still a leafy green color and the TV still set on the floor. Your room was empty, just a bed, and the only reason you bought the extension of the kitchen was to convince the mariner to give you the mermaid pendant.

'What was it he said?' You can't remember what the guy said. It was raining and you were too frustrated to make a mental note of it.

You finished your plate of food and stood up. You mindlessly began doing the dishes. Sebastian gently nudged you aside and assisted you. You smiled.

"I remember when we still just barely knew eachother." He said. You leaned your head on him.

"You would come out of the mines, covered in snow and ice, wander around the town for ages, and find me at the dock. "

"You gave me a frozen tear. I had no clue how you'd known my affinity toward them, but you'd return and bring me gifts. Every week." He held onto your hand.

"Everytime you'd find me, I'd know it was you behind me. Your footsteps were so familiar. You even started visiting me. The moment my mom opened the shop, you'd come straight to my room, wake me up, and give me sashimi." He chuckled at the warm memories.

"You care so much, and I love you for that. But there's a time when you need to take a breath and stop working so hard." He faced you head on.

"Lately you've been scaring me. You wake up at 6:00 and work for 18 hours straight. You've been getting reckless in the mines too. You've been bringing more and more elixirs and bombs. " He held onto your shoulders tightly.

"I'm sorry. " You tried to say more but you couldn't.

"Sometimes, I feel like I still barely know you." He frowned and avoided eye contact.

"I'm sorry." You repeated. He hugged you.

"Stop saying sorry. I'm not mad, and you don't need to ask for forgiveness. You've just-" He couldn't find the words, but you understood what he wanted to say.

You closed your eyes and hugged him. It was exausting staying on auto pilot for so long.

"Remember when I found you on your bike late at night after we first got together? You let me hop on the back and you drove me to see the edge of the city?" You asked. The memory replaying in your mind.

"Yes. Of course!" He smiled as the memory replayed for him as well.

"When you asked me what I thought of the city, at first I wanted to say:

"It's beautiful!"

But I stopped. I took a moment to think and grasp that feeling I had. I felt strangely sad. It was like a heavy pit in my stomach. It scared me. I wanted to change the subject, but I didn't want to be obvious. So instead I just turned to you and smiled." You said to him not sure where this was going.

"I just thought it was a nice memory." You admitted.

"The city was beautiful." You added before going quiet.

"Do you want to see it again?" He asked.

"That would be nice." You said.

Name him 👇

Isn't this wonderful? You're almost 1/4 of the way there 🙃

i wanna read walter x reader fics

like, look at this fucking bitch, i wanna kiss his bald head

i fucking love this specific type of expression rick does whenever he’s sincerely super caught off guard by something and just stops in his tracks