i'll be able to not be a mess

WIP

Last night I had a dream about you. When I woke up, I was exhausted and still able to feel the burn of your fingertips on my skin. Then I remembered you’re probably curled next to her and that’s okay because the other side of my bed isn’t empty neither
—  sometimes you still mess with my mind

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Hermione, that’s not how you put books away.

tfw your sis and your bf make fun of you :(

(Things I enjoy greatly in this fandom : Raven and Erik being BFFs, puns, Charles being bad at cooking, Charles being outraged. (Also I can’t seem to be able to draw charles looking older than 14 years old lol, you’re a highlander charles))

So. Funny story. When I got my new laptop, I was finally able to get Paint Tool SAI. And one friend tried to give me HIS version. It ended up being a trial version with HIS brushes that I got used to using. 

Sooo after that expired I had to get the full thing for myself. And I did. But I didn’t have his brushes anymore. After an almost full month of messing with settings I finally got my brush settings back to the way I had them. So small celebration for me. Yiiiis.

a friend of mine is kind enough to lend me her tablet for the week, until my new one arrives!  it’s the same model as the one that got drowned on sunday, so i’m able to do all of the same work in the same way, which is really nice. i really didn’t want to fall behind on the almost-daily twitter sketches, so here’s a rob benedict sketch study from last night that i kinda liked!!

Imagine fixing badboy!Woozi’s school uniform when it gets all crooked.

BONUS: He really likes having you close to him when you’re fixing his school uniform so he messes it up on purpose.

More often than not I’ll end up asking myself what went wrong, where I messed up, what life could be like now. But then sometimes, when I’m least expecting it, I’ll respond to those questions in a random thought of clarity: nothing went wrong, I didn’t mess up but let myself realize I wasn’t ready, there’s no way of knowing what life could be like right now so don’t worry about it. The answers never stick and I’m never able to call it a turning point because the next day I’ll see you again and be reminded of the fact that even though I broke up with you I’m here loving you.
—  c.t.//I guess I’m ready now

I really wish I could keep that blog all happy and fun but I’m really not okay and I’m very sorry for the few depressing personal posts and reblogs. I should make a side blog or something. I know it’s my blog and I do what I want but y’all followed me for a reason and it’s certainly not to hear about my mental illnesses 5 times a day; so I’ll always feel bad about my mental breakdowns, and not being able to draw for days, and not answering my messages etc. I’m very sorry.

I know I haven’t been the best, but the way those clouds spilled into my veins… I remember when we were light. I know I haven’t been able to speak to you without feeling like a mess. I cracked open a vase and let the flowers wither, I cracked open my heart and let the blood take a crack at my smile. I know I haven’t been nothing but trouble for you, but if I had one more chance; I would do it all the same to learn from my mistakes.

Hope is the four breaths holding the window open in case the night gets cold. I wrote your name inside my palm to know what it felt like to hold you, but this air is as bitter as the us we never were. I am a series of maybe’s, waiting on a definition long enough to pierce my list of sorry’s. I filled these pages with stories I’ve heard the stars sing, and left your promises out to dry. I’ve borrowed the oceans tears. I’ve written letters to future lovers, praying this swallow wouldn’t have you climbing back up. I want to tell you I’m better and that tomorrow will be different. But all that comes out of me these days is a bunch of different ways to say I miss you.

I dropped my heart inside the ashtray and I hope my shortness of breath reminds you of the way I used to kiss you. I read that the eyes were the windows to our souls, but they’re more lighter fluid and bridges to me. At night when I squeeze my palm, I can still remember the way you held us. Sweet, sweet; the calming of the sea travels somewhere in the airy stares between us falling down the stairs and into love versus being on crutches and being afraid to love. Maybe, I still love you because I could never stop. Maybe, I still want you because I see your rights more than your wrongs lately. Maybe, I still need you because there’s more to you than how you can’t sleep at night. I’m sorry that it ended this way, but I still think about us even if the trust isn’t there. I damp my eyes to let you know, that if snow fell between us, melting gives our flowers room to grow. I placed the galaxy back into your smile, but I left no stars inside of my own. I returned the hugs back to the ocean and I see your tears, maybe… maybe, that’s why I still write for you, to you and about you. I know we don’t have a future together, but that won’t stop me from missing you. I’d miss you even if I never get the chance to say I love you again. I’d miss you even if we haven’t met before. I miss you even when I convince myself that I don’t because I do.

How temporary has forever been for you in the past? We build entire cities on the premise of a thought. You were the dream that became my nightmare before these chains had faces. I number days to count how many sentences I can finish that don’t hold your name. Maybe the seasons change because no two loves are the same. Maybe doors have locks because hearts are tired of being stolen. You made a blanket out of my fears to warm days the world was colder than the songs I find you in. You can rip pages out of our story, but we will always have the spine. And I know some nights sadness is too heavy to be put into words. Your scars carve more names than road maps home. Night lasts longer than light. But, darling, every morning I only wake up to fall in love with you all over again.

—  The book that we read backwards, but I’m hoping we could find a whole picture of us.
// The Ate & The Bunso

title: from now on (look at me)

pairing: jisoo/jeonghan

“It’s 11:46PM. Jeonghan’s birthday is almost over, and he’s spent the majority of the day being comforted and fawned over by people that he barely knows. He’s been given more presents than he knows what to do with, and received more ‘happy birthdays’ than he has in his entire lifetime thus far, but nothing has been able to lift the weight off his chest that’s been built up over the time that’s passed since the confession.” [ crossposted to AO3 ]

a/n: this is shameless birthday!fic (even though i wrote it when jeonghan’s birthday was technically finished already otl). it’s also the first time i’ve ever posted one of my fics on here, so hopefully u enjoy ehehe

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anonymous asked:

question, did you ever make that text based batfam game?

i messed up with the intro code because there was supposed to be an algorithm that would be able to accept your name/dob/gender/hometown so the whole adventure could be personalized, and for some reason it overwrote the wrong changes and wouldn’t let me erase a mistake i made in the code, so i gave up temporarily. which is a shame because

the best way to introduce jason

i keep telling myself that i must write it down, because it’ll fly away, it’ll walk away and i can’t live with that on my chest. i keep telling myself that as long as you’re around, i’ll be able to breathe. my lungs are messed up from bad habits, my heart is still puking on the carpet, a shot too many, but if i asked about yours and how many times the window was left open and how you managed to seal it shut before the hurricanes came by, i wonder if you know about your wonders, i wander into your wandering eyes and i’ve seen the poetry being written, a lady in white chained to her pen, a lady with a hole in her chest trying to sew her heart back together, stitch by stitch your intricacies are woven with precision, but some days you still crack. but some days you can’t find peace. but some days you’re in pieces. i know i’m sweet for your lungs, i know i won’t always be sad, but for you to see past my flaws and accept my tiny smile as nothing more and nothing less than beautiful, i still question the way our souls still search for locked doors and how many times we dropped the key in the sewage to realize we left the spare in those dried tears on that white tee, but i’m sure our arms are tired of the burden of holding onto dead people, but i know it sucks to love such death. how the people we used to live with, they know how to open us up and they always loved to close us forever. the sadness in your voice, can everyone hear it too? there’s a little girl still finding out why they left her on that bench, there’s still a little girl reading books and poetry to fill the void on her smile as if words could string together those little thin linings they couldn’t provide and i know the little girl still sees the little boy strapped to a magnet and it pulls people and it pushes them away; they say opposites attract, but if that’s the case; i think we’re like seasons. summer heat stretching down our palms and searching for answers in ink we can’t answer, but rather bleed. winter cold shoulders bearing all of our pain, the weight of the world and their inconsistencies will always remain, we’re atlas and he loves us. spring cleaning skeleton closets, i know your joints are weary and your florals are damaged, but if people were flowers, i’d like to think we’re the rare ones that grow on mountaintops once every decade at that same spot, we won’t move, we won’t budge, we won’t die. forever waiting for mother nature’s final kiss. autumn, please. be gentle to the sea and never ask about me. i know it’s the end of times and sometimes the poetry is your phone falling on your face, that text message was a boulder and you’re a bit drowsy, sleep is what we need. i know it hurts.

i know it hurts to be you, but i love you.

i will love every bit of your seasonal changes.