pure poison

pure poison
frankie cosmos
pure poison

life is a road// every town is a home// i just wanna be self maintaining// i just wanna stop complaining// i only exist by comparison// i only matter with context// drivin up to garrison// sad is not that complex// outside and inside are the same// you got me feeling soft like rain// i thought there was only// one kind of boring// but some people are pure poison

2

just a character that was wandering in my head by some day now,

he’s Abel the Angel: his aspect is around 20 years old,
it’s not clear what are his love preferences,
angelic at sight but a real motherf**** in the attitude and temper;
he’s in the same toon universe of Bendy, Mickey, Cuphead, Betty Boop and others.
No long in cartoon business, he took a lonely path to stay away from the humans he despise,
he gets angered by being treated as a sissy angel with harp and will show his sadistic part towards his offender, he can use his wings to fly and punch, his pure aspect to fool.
he doesn’t show much of his feelings, but he’s capable to show pure hatred and poison towards who wants him to be “good”,
he doesn’t melt like Bendy, being more detached and stable with his ink, but can transfer some of his ink to other fellow toons if they’re in need (he eventyally will mask the moments of tenderness for mere cold mercy),
still not sure if his life will be long or not
(probably he will be heartbroken for a failed love declaration)

Mattle’s ideas

Mattle: Let’s put Apple White and Raven Queen in the same room! totaly cool!

Mattle: let’s for now Apple to be a fanatic for a fucking pathetic destiny and push Raven to be bad, so very fanatic hug her whenever she does something bad.

Matle: now we make them hold hands! It is totally friendly!

Matle: and now what about  Raven  telling to Apple that she is not being the Apple White that Raven loves and knows? Friends do that!

Mattle: And now let’s make them look to each other like cute thing!

Mattle: Wait! even better! now they paint their hair the color of each other? for school spirit! good idea! best enemies! And take a picture together! holding hands! and in the end they decide to do it together and take a picture to put in frames!

Mattle: NO! much better !!! we climb the scenes! a film where Apple releases the evil queen, almost kills herself, cries holding her picture whit Raven holding hands with warm smiles and does not sleep, and just think in Raven! Where she go to the enchanted forest and melts all looking at Raven! So cute and friendly! And Raven cries and confess that she really likes Apple and she wants ravenge against her mother! HER FUKING MOTHER (Okay she is evil, but stills Raven’s mother)

Mattle: And still, we always like! where they now begin to do more scenes together! Even take Briar of the new opening and put Apple down one funking   bean, style heroic and  Raven in the window with a charmingly beautiful to look at her!

Mattle’s ideas are so not gay!

If you still taste the acid in his name when it leaves your lips, then you are not over him, and you should be, because he does not deserve any such honour nor the right to poison your pure heart.
—  Nikita Gill
we get it, you’re gay.
my sexuality is not a shirt that I take off at the end of each day, it is not dirty. I do not dress myself in lesbianism just for the fashion perks; homophobia is not in style. i am not a living light switch, I do not turn myself off to solve all your problems, my light will not go out because it’s too bright for you.
we get it, you’re gay.
if I stop talking about it, it will not go away. I would say I am sorry to disappoint but I am not sorry, I am gay, I am very gay and I am not sorry for who I am, I am only sorry that you have a problem with self-liberation and confidence.
we get it, you’re gay.
I can tell when someone is uncomfortable and my sexuality is making you uncomfortable, you are upset that I am comfortable in my own skin, you are upset that I am comfortable with the fact that I love girls and you are uncomfortable about the fact that I won’t shut up. you can’t silence my sexuality, actions speak louder than words.
we get it, you’re gay.
you don’t mind that I’m gay you just don’t want me to be too gay, because being too gay is distracting. you want me to be quiet gay, nice gay, understanding gay, your-gay-friend gay, let-you-get-away-with-everything gay. I can like girls but I’m supposed to whisper that kind of thing, not shout it. the neighbors aren’t supposed to hear.
we get it, you’re gay.
you say you understand, but you’d rather just push it under the rug. it’s okay if I’m gay, but I shouldn’t rub it in your face. you don’t mind, you say, but you can’t help but notice how many people are gay these days and you assume it must be some kind of practical joke. I am not a joke, my life is not some riddle, do you see me laughing? this is not funny.
we get it, you’re gay.
oh, I’m just rebellious, I’ve been told. a rebellious teen confused by the media, so tell me, where is my army? where are my hundreds of thousands of lgbt soldiers, ready to fight this war on love? we stand united but we are not armed, because if we bring the weapons we have guaranteed ourselves a two-minute five o'clock news slot, tragic tragedy, one-more-gay-gone, let’s save the world, let’s save the gays.
we get it, you’re gay.
“lesbians have ruined flannels for me” because the community was supposed to ask for a style after you denied us basic human rights? I’m sorry gay girls have ruined plaid for you, but it never looked too great on you anyway. maybe you should stick to solid colors; if you put too many shades on one shirt, it might look like a rainbow and someone might accidentally think you’re gay. can’t have that.
we get it, you’re gay.
don’t annoy the straights! eyes wide open, avoiding ticking bombs of discrimination, it happens all the time but there’s no way to prepare yourself for hate speech coming from the mouth of your mother or your teacher or your best friend. I bite my tongue to keep from coming out but you’re just so sure that you can trust me, I’ll get it, no offense, no hard feelings, I will understand.
we get it, you’re gay.
I am not going to hit on you, just because I like girls does not mean that I like you, I love myself and I love being gay. do not make my sexuality about you, my life does not revolve around you. I’ve undressed in front of you my entire life but now you insist on changing in the next room. you don’t say it, but I know. I’m not a friend, I’m a predator.
we get it, you’re gay.
you can ramble all day about how that kid in your physics class is just to die for, but the second I mention that a girl in my history class is cute then all eyes are burning holes into my skin. you don’t have to bring your gay with you everywhere, leave it at home most days, it’s too embarrassing to share.
we get it, you’re gay.
I don’t look gay enough, I’ve heard. do I need to carry a sign with me everywhere to broadcast that I Am Not Straight, I am g-a-y gay, rainbows all over my body and in my back pocket, just so you can see?
we get it, you’re gay.
oh, but you tell me that I am not gay I am not gay because I am a girl that likes girls, I can only use the word lesbian. I didn’t know that I erased my name tag and handed it to you, I didn’t know that you were in charge of what I called myself, I didn’t know you were allowed to police my labels; I never asked for your opinions but that never stopped you anyway, do you understand?
we get it, you’re gay.
so, by gay, do you mean really gay or just a little gay? lipstick lesbian, three-way fantasy, am I right? what stereotype would you like to claim, or would you prefer that I choose?
we get it, you’re gay.
truth or dare has always been a death sentence for me, and anyone that says that party games aren’t lethal doesn’t know pure poison, I grew up drinking venom from vodka bottles because alcohol was nothing to a child on the run. so explain to me why I would stop now.
we get it, you’re gay.
in every wedding aisle there’s a “mr.” and a “mrs.” who’s the man in the relationship, they’ll ask us, nothing about us is traditional but they’ll insist we wear white anyway. marriage equality, what else are you fighting for?
I get it, you’re straight.
you’re the cool straight friend. you’re the best straight friend any gay person could ever have, asking for fashion advice and introducing me as your “gay friend.” you say that you have a pretty great gaydar, and you knew all along. do you also know that I want you to shut the fuck up?
I get it, you’re straight.
capital s “Straight,” straight as a telephone pole, straighter than a ruler. so straight and everyone knows without you saying a word because you people are everywhere. you’re on cereal boxes and billboards and in every television show. you’re the main character but we’re just there for a little drama, an episode or two, and then we’re gone.
I get it, you’re straight.
you have never had to come out of the closet because you were never in one to begin with, you own the entire house and didn’t even give us enough room to be. has anyone ever told you how dark and crowded a closet is? it is so hard to breathe with so little space to exist, I’m surprised my thoughts didn’t suffocate me over the years, would you have even noticed?
I get it, you’re straight.
you’re a girl and you like boys, only boys. I mean, everyone experiments in college, right? everyone loves that song, I kissed a girl, because everyone loves just to give being gay a try without the weight of what it really means. it’s not cheating if it’s with a girl, right? right?
I get it, you’re straight.
no homo, bro! holding hands, sharing drinks, making eye contact, it’s not gay, no homo. just two pals being gals, no homo, don’t worry, we’re straight!
I get it, you’re straight.
you have learned how to hate since the moment you were born. no worries, I have been too, but I unlearned heteronormativity so I could fall in love with myself. you preach it every sunday in church and every weekday at work, you learn that serving me is optional, that you can turn me away because you don’t like who I love.
I get it, you’re straight.
lets talk about me as a topic of class discussion, I am the focus of today’s debate, go. argue your stance. do you think this girl at table three should have the right to get married, the right to adopt, the right to buy milk, the right to exist? do you think this girl at table three is just trying to fit in? do you think the girl at table three should be allowed to go to prom? tell me, let’s talk about the girl at table three, no harm done.
I get it, you’re straight.
you are in every book I’ve ever read. the love stories are always about you, how can you expect me to grow up and not feel flawed? these novels teach me to hate who I am, it’s a miracle in and of itself that I’m still here.
I get it, you’re straight.
“there’s a war on straight people,” excuse me? we are just beginning to come out of the shadows because the earth is only now a little less haunted and you have the audacity to say that you are the ones under attack?
I get it, you’re straight.
every step we take is monitored and broadcast for the world to see. you are just a person allowed to make your own decisions but everything I do respresents my entire community and there is no space for me to make mistakes. I am not perfect but I am trying.
I get it, you’re straight.
you say that me being gay is not a big deal to you, it could be anyone, no big deal, not at all. but it’s a big deal to me, this wasn’t an easy thing to say. why should I silence myself, am I overreacting?
I get it, you’re straight.
there’s no rule book for being an ally and sometimes the borders become a little blurred, it’s easy to cross a line. I will help guide you but I will not hold your hand. I cannot always be there to watch the words that trickle out of your mouth, you have to remember that I am a secret.
I get it, you’re straight.
please stop talking about me like I am the latest news story, I am not a headline in big bold font, sometimes I just need a moment to breathe. I have these words printed into my skin just like a newspaper and I’ve never been more black and white.
I get it, you’re straight.
what’s it like to be gay? oh, you know what I mean, so when did you know? which girl turned you gay? why did you lie to us, how many times have you done it with a girl, what about with a guy? how can you be gay if you’ve never done anything? can you ever really know? what if it’s all a phase?
I get it, you’re straight.
the words we identify ourselves by are your insults. they lock us up for holding hands, they criminalize and sexualize our daily activities because they don’t want us corrupting the children. I’ve spent my entire life in an invisible prison with see-through shackles, this is on my permanent record.
I get it, you’re straight.
have you ever considered that my backpack is heavy because I have to carry the weight of your judgment to and from school every day, I have to carry a fire extinguisher in my lunch box because these toxic words are flammable. I might break my back but at least you don’t know.
I get it, you’re straight.
what’s it like to be “normal”? to never have to deal with the undercover I’m-sorry-for-you stares from the kids in the hallway, the I’ll-pray-for you promises spoken by nice ladies in their sunday best?
we get it, you’re gay.
when I’m telling my love story I do not want to lie. I will not censor the pronouns to protect the innocent because my happiness is not guilt-ridden. I am leaving this book open.
—  we get it.
An Introduction to Growing Poisonous Plants

As a blog focused mostly on Witchcraft, I usually get asks and messages from people interested in that area of my knowledge. However I’m also a herbalist and a moderately keen gardener, and so I occasionally get people asking for that. In this instance, a user messaged me asking for advice on how to start growing plants, and she specified that she’s most interested in poisonous species. So here’s a post for you, and for all of the other beginner herbalists, Witches, gardeners or simply people who like poisonous things!


1) The key word is plants

All vascular plants, irrespective of their toxicity, habitat or traits, share between them traits that are common to all plants everywhere. These are mostly:

  1. They need sunlight.
  2. They need water.
  3. They need food.
  4. They need carbon dioxide and oxygen from the air
  5. They need to breed

The quantities of each, the proportion of each, and the types of each may vary wildly, but ALL plants need ALL five of them. Some plants have evolved some rather interesting mechanisms to obtain them, but if you don’t provide them with at least the first four (the last one is, in captivity, less important for most plants) they will not survive. Learn what requirements your chosen species require. Do they need dappled sun or full sun? Is tapwater acceptable or must they only be given rainwater? What foods do they need in their soil? Make sure you provide them!


2) Poisonous plants are poisonous!

I know, I know, it seems obvious but then again so did “don’t smoke in the fireworks factory” and some bright spark still went and did that. Remember that if you are specifically growing a species that is poisonous, it may well require specialist treatments to safely grow and tend. Oleander is a common ornamental species, but all parts of it are potentially very poisonous and so it should only be pruned wearing long sleeves and gloves. Foxgloves are beautiful biennials but they also contain the lethal poison digitalis, used as a heart medicine in very, VERY precise dosages, and so they must be kept away from fires of any kind. 

Research CAREFULLY what kind of poisons your plants produce and make very certain to familiarise yourself with:

  • Preventative methods to avoid exposure
  • Symptoms of accidental poisoning
  • Your local poisons hotline number
  • The first aid procedures for exposure
  • Methods to avoid pets or young children being exposed

Most poisonous plants are not lethal, but even non-lethal levels of poisoning can be potentially devastating to those with liver or kidney issues, or to young children or small animals. 


3) Practice on nontoxic plants first

Your first plants should never be any species that are potentially poisonous, purely because you’re unfamiliar with the care of potentially delicate plant species and you’re likely to make mistakes. Think of it like working in a chemistry lab - we don’t give beginners arsenic to work with in their first experiments, because we know they’re not aware of all the safety protocols and correct treatment of arsenic. Similarly, your first plants should never be belladonna or hemlock - instead, stick to plants that are well-known to be non-toxic. 

It may be a good idea to practice on plants related to your target species first, and then move on to more toxic examples later. For instance, instead of starting with belladonna, start out with tomatoes (a kind of nightshade), then move up to non-poisonous nightshades, and then try a more mildly toxic nightshade like woody nightshade, before finally planting deadly nightshade. Since many toxic plants are connected to the nightshade family, this is a good way to get used to that family before planting hensbane, deadly nightshade, and similar plants. 

Mandrakes (Mandragora officinalis) often grow in the same environments as wild beetroot and chicory, so these plants would be excellent starters although they’re not really related. 

Basically, look up plants that grow around your intended species, and practice on those before moving up to the more dangerous examples.


4) Prevent cross-pollination

All gardeners know the pain of growing two species together that are just a little TOO closely related, and ending up with weird hybrids all over the place. Plants are very big on “cross-pollination” - when one species pollinates a different species, causing the growth of an entirely new variety of plant. This is often beneficial: water-mint and spearmint hybridise to form the delicious but sterile peppermint, for example. However, with poisonous plants, cross-pollination could result in new varieties of poisonous plants being produced that could escape into the wild and become dangerous or invasive. So, manage cross-pollination!


5) Keep them away from bees

Many poisonous chemicals can be passed into honey through bees’ collection of nectar and pollen, or alternatively will simply kill bees who attempt to eat the nectar outright. For instance, the popular ornamental plant “Angel’s Trumpet” will cause brood-death in bees, and oleander poisons will concentrate in honey and potentially harm both bees and humans. However, not all plants are so dangerous - foxgloves are extremely toxic to humans, but bees adore them and the honey produced from foxgloves is pleasant and safe. As a general rule though, keep toxic plants away from anywhere with an interest in promoting bee health! 

Rhododendrons are apparently especially harmful to bees, and honey made from bog-rosemary (Andromeda polifolia, unrelated to true rosemary Rosmarinus officinalis) is very poisonous to humans who consume it, potentially causing paralysis, dizziness, nerve damage, diarrhoea and vomiting. Not fun!


6) Work out how you’re going to store the products

It’s always good to know how you’re going to keep your products safe and secure after production to prevent people getting them confused for more innocent substances. Also, remember that you should never burn poisonous plant matter!


I hope that helps you all!

– Juniper Wildwalk

Pure Headcanon #1

During particularly cold nights out in the zones, Poison is a godsend. He’s warm and soft and almost always willing to cuddle, and occasionally, when he’s especially tired, he’ll curl up to one of the others like a puppy without being asked.
The others have an unspoken rule of not waking him when he’s in this position, since Poison scarcely ever gets enough sleep.

Loneliness - Tom Wilson

A/N: This wasn’t requested. I’ve just been having a really stressful weeks and needed to write something that nobody had requested in case I wrote something really shitty. It is long, but I hope you like it xx.

Word count: 3333

Warnings: Anger. Swearing. Sadness.

Master list

Originally posted by hail-to-the-goalies


I turn around in bed, trying my best to get comfortable. The room isn’t cold, but my bones are freezing. The bed is huge, but I’m lying on the edge. I have everything I’ll ever need, and yet again I feel helpless. It is always the same; it is the same loneliness that hunts me every time Tom is away… And I’m not sure if it is worth it anymore.  There are days when I just want to run away, go back to my home and never look back,; but this is Tom’s dream, and if I love Tom, I need to learn to love his dreams just as much as I do him.

Jack jumps onto the bed and lies against my back, melting part of the ice inside of me. Getting Jack had been Tom’s idea so I wasn’t alone every time he was on a trip with the team, but the Australian Shepherd could not replace Tom. He was a good boy nevertheless.

“Hi, buddy.” I whisper, turning around to pet his fluffy head.

Jack has learnt to sense my mood, because he lifts his head and licks my hand, making me smile for the first time today.

“You are the best boy in Washington DC.” I say to him and he picks up his ears, turning his head and looking overall adorable.

I’m whispering, even though that I’m alone in the apartment and no one would care if I scream, but after spending the whole day quiet I don’t think that I can make myself to speak any louder. I spend another hour turning around and petting Jack until I fall into a tormented sleep where I’m alone and I can’t escape my own demons.

Waking up in an empty bed is just as bad as going to sleep alone, so I roll off of it as soon as I open my eyes. I walk towards to the kitchen, the wooden floor cold against my bare feet, and start making coffee when I hear the front door opening.

“Hello?” Tom’s voice is loud and I wish I could just cover my ears.

“Hey.” I answer him, my voice much calmer than his while I keep working on making coffees for both of us now.

“Hello, beautiful.” His voice is about to burst my eardrums when he walks in the kitchen.

I don’t say anything and I keep working on the coffees, pouring almond milk and hazelnut syrup on mine, and a sugar in his black coffee. I hand him the mug and turn around to face him. He is as handsome as always; his hair is messy and his blue eyes are bright.

“Hi.” I just say, and I try to give him a small smile, but it comes like more of a grimace than a smile.

He doesn’t seem to notice, because he leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth softly. I don’t know why this time is different, but I can’t pretend that I’ve been okay this time, so I just look down and wrap my hands around my cup seeking the warmth of the beverage.

“Where is Jack?” He wonders, looking around for our little rascal.

“He was still sleeping when I woke up.” I explain to him and he huffs. “Jack, dad is home!” I call out for him and seconds later we hear the four paws running through the hall. Jack jumps around Tom, excitement clear in his pretty eyes.

I’ve always thought that Tom chose Jack because their eyes look the same; they go from icy blue to the color of a stormy sky, hitting every color in between. One of my favorite games is to name every color I see on Tom’s eyes; he finds it hilarious when I tell him that his eyes are ‘the color of the sky on a summer day when it is too hot to go out’ or ‘the color of a smurf’s butt”.

“Hello buddy, I’ve missed you.” Tom throws himself to the ground, not caring about the suit he is wearing.

I look at the way they play on the floor, Tom getting on his four and grunting and for a second I feel happy, but the feeling washes away when I remember that this is temporary, he is going to leave again.

“I’m taking a shower.” I say, walking to the bathroom and shutting the door.

I lean on the door, feeling my eyes sting for the first time in months. I stopped crying about this a long time ago, but today is an odd day and I let myself roll with it. I turn on the shower and undress myself, shivering when I step in, the water still a little cold. The more time I spend in the shower, the more my crying becomes sobbing and I end up struggling to breathe while I cry under the shower. I don’t even hear Tom coming in until I feel his hands around my wrists.

“Ey, ey, ey, what’s wrong?” He asks, using his finger to make me raise my head.

“Nothing.” I say, stepping away from him, hitting my back against the wall.

“Baby, you are sobbing.” He says, a hurt expression in his face and his shirt sticking to his body.

“I said that I’m fine.” I yell and I choke on my own screams.

“Then why are you crying?” He sounds mad now and I turn around, facing the wall and not him, resting my head on the tiles.

“Because I goddamn want to.” I fist my hands in frustration, punching the wall slowly.

“You know what, sweetheart, I can’t read your mind.” His voice is harsh now and I shiver. “So, you either tell me what’s wrong or you stop acting like your fish has died.”

“Or what?” I challenge him, turning around to look at him.

We hold each other’s gaze for what seems like centuries, neither of us wanting to give it up to the other, until Tom sighs and lifts his hand to punch the wall, just as I was doing, but with all his strength.

“For fuck sake, (y/n), talk to me.” He screams, but I don’t even flinch at his bloody knuckles or his cursing.

“I don’t want to talk, Tom.” I simply answer, turning off the shower, wrapping myself with a fluffy towel and walking out of the bathroom.

“Too bad, I do want to talk.” He follows me, leaning on the wall and looking at me getting dressed.

I ignore him, picking a pair of clean underwear, a pair of leggings and a cozy sweater from my wardrobe and putting them on. I take a deep breath, my eyes still stinging, and turn around to face him.

“Talk to me, please.” He begs and I break down.

I sit on the bed, burying my head on my hands. I’m crying again, but this time it isn’t sobbing, they are just quiet tears. The bed shifts next to me under Tom’s weight and I want to jerk away when he rubs circles onto my back.

“I can’t do this anymore.” I say in between hiccups. “I can’t pretend that I’m fine.”

“What is ‘this’?” He asks and I sigh, lifting my head up, my eyes red and my face soaked in tears.

“The loneliness.” I try to explain. “I can’t handle the distance. I can’t handle being alone. I stay awake at night, not being able to sleep because the bed is too big and too cold without you. I make two cups of coffee every morning, just to find yours on the counter realizing that you are not going to drink it. I don’t wash your shirts until the day before you are back because they smell like you. I see more of you on TV that actual real life.”

“Baby, you are not alone.” He tries to cut me off.

“Tom, I am alone all the time.” I wave my hands in front of me. “Yeah, I hang out with the girls, I go to work… but at the end of the day I’m alone here.”

“(y/n), I know that me being on the road sucks, but you have to understand that this is my job.” He states his case. “This has been everything I’ve ever wanted. This is my dre…”

“Your dream.” I finish the sentence for him. “And I understand that this is what you want.”

“Then what’s the problem?” He asks and I bury my hands in my hair, pulling from the roots.

“The problem is that I can’t do this anymore.” I whisper and he looks at me like I have just poured a bucket of icy water on his head. “But because I understand it is your dream I don’t want to make it difficult for you.”

“What does that mean?” He gets on his feet. “WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?”

“What I want to say is that I won’t make it hard for you.” I tell him and I can see the rage showing in his face. “I’ll be gone by the time to get back from practice tonight.”

“So you are giving up on us?” His shirt is still wet and his hair is more of a mess while he runs his hands through his hair. “YOU ARE GIVING UP ON US, JUST LIKE THAT. WITHOUT TALKING. WITHOUT FIGHTING. DO YOU EVEN LOVE ME?”

“This isn’t about love. This isn’t about fighting. It is about both of us being happy.” I say. “You are happy playing hockey and I need to find what makes me happy.”

“You know what? Fuck it. Leave. Today. Now.” His voice is pure poison. “Get the fuck out of my house.” He spits, leaving the room and a few seconds later the house, slamming the front door.


The worst thing about the last week is that I don’t feel any worse than I did before. I’m still hurting, but nothing has really changed; Tom and I don’t see each other, and the only difference is that we don’t talk or text.

After Tom left I packed up as much stuff as I could fit in my car and left the apartment, leaving Jack behind. That’s probably what hurts the most; I’m completely on my own now. But it has taken me a couple days to find a nice apartment to move in and start moving on.

My day has been okay so far; that’s the thing, everyday was just okay. I just want to go to bed one day and feel like it hasn’t been a waste of twenty-four hours, so when my coworkers asked if I wanted to go out for drinks I said yes. The night has been fun, and my coworkers made me smile for the first time in what it seems like forever, so the idea of going back to my apartment wasn’t really appealing.

“C’mon girl, you can do this.” I encourage myself. I need to stop wiping and start moving on.

The doors of the elevator open and I take my heels off, stepping on the soft carpet of the hallway. I turn right and walk down the hall to my apartment when I see it, a figure sitting next to my door. This is Washington after all, so I hold my shoes so I can use the heel to defend myself if necessary and I start walking as quietly as I can towards the unknown figure.

“Tom?” I drop my shoes in disbelief, kneeling down so I can shake him awake. “Tom, what are you doing here?”

It takes him a moment to open his eyes, and when he does I wish he hadn’t; his normally bright and blue eyes are now puffy, bloodshot and grey, with no spark on them. My heart breaks in a thousand billion pieces just because how helpless he looks; Tom Wilson, who could punch his way out of every situation, looks helpless. He opens his mouth for a second but closes it as fast as he has opened it, not sure of what to say. I take that time to straight up, picking my shoes up and opening my bag, looking for my keys. If he isn’t going to talk I might as well just get inside and try to forget how grey his eyes are.

“(y/n), wait.” He says when I insert the key in the keyhole and unlock the door.

I lean on the door, trying to figure out if I want to open the door and get inside and leave Tom outside, both from my apartment of my life, or I want to listen what he has to say. Curiosity wins over common sense because, as my mom says to me all the time, common sense is the least common of the senses.

“Want a drink?” I ask, opening the door and pushing it wide open, inviting him in.

He gets on his feet fast, stumble and hitting the door frame with his shoulder and hissing. I shut the door when we are both in and I stand there, trying to figure out what to do next; what do you do when your boyfri… ex-boyfriend shows up on your door?

“I don’t really have that much to drink.” I confess, walking towards the kitchen and looking inside the fridge. “Beer, orange juice, milk and diet cok…”

“I can’t believe you don’t have diet coke.” Our voices overlap and we both chuckle. “Water is fine.”

I nod, taking a cup from the cupboard and filling it up with chilled water, neither cold nor warm, just as he likes it.

“Thank you.” He says, grabbing it from my hands, our fingers touching for a second.

We both walk around the couch and sit as far from the other as possible. The air is heavy, changed with electricity as both of us look everywhere but the other, neither of us wanting to break the silence. Tom drinks from his cup and I play with my own fingers, picking on a small piece of skin.

“Stop doing that.” He scolds me, giving me a warning look before realizing what he’s done and sinking even deeper in the couch. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay. You are right.” I say, putting my hands under my thighs so I can’t pick on my fingers anymore.

“So…” He starts and I look at him, seeing him struggle. “How have you been?”

“It’s been a busy week.” I don’t lie, my week has been busy as hell, but I don’t tell him how shitty it has been as well. “You?” I casually ask.

“Definitely busy.” He agrees, grabbing a coaster from the middle of the coffee table and puts it down so he can rest his drink on the table. “It’s a nice place.”

“It is. It was fully furnished, so moving it has been easy.” The conversation is light, just to fill up the empty space between us.

Tom nods, but doesn’t say anything else. He seems deep in thought and I don’t do anything to snap him off of it, so silence is the king of the room once more.

“I get it now.” I hear Tom’s voice from what it seems far away and I realize that I have spaced out as well.

“What do you get?” I ask, confused.

“What you said.” I raise an eyebrow, not understanding what he is saying and he sighs, frustrated. “The loneliness, feeling alone.”

“Oh, that.” I answer, not really knowing what to say. “It wasn’t that big of a de…”

“But it was, and I’m sorry.” It’s the first time that he is actually looking at me. “I’m sorry that I didn’t understand. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen. I’m sorry that I didn’t notice. I’ve spend a week by myself, just a week, and I felt like I was drowning the whole time.”

Words get stuck in my throat and tears are burning in my eyes, so the only thing I can do I look at his cloudy eyes and hope that he keeps talking.

“I know that I was a jerk, and I know that it is unfair of me to even ask, but I would love to have you back, baby.” He says, and he really looks like he’s taken a huge weight out of his shoulders.

I chew my bottom lip, my mind racing at a thousand miles per hour. I’ve missed him, I’d be lying to myself if I said I haven’t, but I’m not sure that love is enough to heal my shattered heart. I can’t go back to the way the things were before.

“I can’t…” My voice comes out as a whisper. “I can’t go back to the way things were before. I can’t go back to your place. I can’t go back to missing you, having everything reminding me of you.”

“But baby, I love you…” He starts, but I cut him off.

“And I love you too, so much it hurts.” I tell him. “That’s why I can’t do it anymore. Love isn’t supposed to hurt. Love is supposed to make my heart flutter, not break every time you aren’t around.”

Tom’s eyes are glossy and he covers his face with his hands to hide it.

“Come with me then. You won’t be alone.” He says, sounding defeated.

“That’s not how it works. We need to be okay when we are apart, and I’m not okay when you are gone.” I explain to him and he looks at me, tears falling down his cheek.

“I don’t know what to do or say to help you, (y/n).” He looks helpless again.

“I can’t miss you and see you everywhere.” I say, my voice breaking in the middle of the sentence. “I see you everywhere in your apartment.”

“Then don’t be in my apartment. Live here or there or wherever makes you happy. Find a way to miss me with your own terms. Take your time to try to figure out how you want to love me.” He sounds both passionate and defeated. “But don’t leave me.”

I look down at my hands and I feel the couch shift besides me, where Tom has moved. He grabs my hands from my lap and brings them to his lips, kissing my knuckles and my palms and my fingertips.

“Don’t leave me.” He repeats and I break down, sobbing onto his shoulder as he picks me up and puts me carefully on his lap, hugging me like I was a glass doll.

“I feel like I’m so selfish.” I say in between breaths.

“You are not selfish, princess.” He whispers, rubbing circles on my lower back. “You were lonely, and that’s my fault and my fault only.”

“Are you okay with me having my own place?” I ask, looking at his eyes so he can’t lie to me. “Not living together during the season… just until I can figure it out. I need a space that it’s just mine, where you aren’t everywhere.”

“I only see one problem…” I look at him, trying to figure out what’s wrong. “Jack.”

“He’ll go where I go.” I tell him, making it clear that I won’t accept no as an answer.

“But…” He starts complaining but stops when he sees my face expression. “Sure thing, baby. But make sure I see him at least once a week.”

“Of course, pretty eyes.” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his neck, looking at his now bright blue eyes. “We wouldn’t want your kid to forget your face.”

Tom runs a finger down my cheek, collecting the leftover tears.

“I love you.” He says, his forehead pressed against mine.

“I love you too.”

“I want you to feel like we are the couple your poetry books talk about.” He whispers, his lips getting closer to mine.

“We already are.” And our lips crash.

If I Could Do It All Over Again

Masterpost: {x}

Part: 7/16

Pairing: Hamliza

Inspiration: this drawing

Summary: After Alexander died, he realized the existence of reincarnation. While most didn’t believe in the possibility, Alexander was one of those special few who remembered everything in their past lives. Because of this, he spent almost all of his lives searching for his dear Eliza. As his lives went on, things began to seem hopeless, all until he runs into her one day in the most unexpected place.

Warning: unhealthy relationship, abusive tendencies, cussing

Word Count: 3,567

Dedication: @xfallingsnowx , I really enjoyed your insights!!

Tags: @bunny-yams , @ufo-pearl , @sullkid700 , @aswimmerlife , @nefarism , @mishaisakitten, @embershine0521, @tellchickfilaimqueer , @woahtherebuddyfriend , @gum-and-chips , @tinymugs , @waitwhat-24601 , @hell-yes-puns-and-ships , @jeffersonwiki , @burr-ito , @xfallingsnowx , @aswimmerlife , @bad-l-ands , @firejearthm ,  @cutebridge , @hamil-fandom , @pipindaae , @beafayette , @karmana-stevens-569 , @starfreckledlaurens , @thedisneyderp, @aleciamagic , @genericusernameblahblahblah

A/N: Tell me what you guys think! I really enjoyed the feedback from last chapter!


Eliza never expected Tench to be so intrusive. Only six years before, he was the nicest guy she’d met, and several people had said the same. Eliza didn’t know if she should’ve blamed his actions on them strictly being “fight or flight” or something else.

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Oh shit, who wants to see a photo of me as a fairy princess?

My friends wanted to do a photo shoot of me as a fairy princess in a field close to their house. I just wore a corset and skirt thing and they photoshopped some stuff in later. This isn’t the final shot, but one of the results of the shoot. 

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