unless my friends tell me

Joji: My friend was talking to me and he was about to cheat on his girl, and I was like, “I dunno, you can do it if you want.” 

Me: Why didn’t you advise him against it??? 

  • Sister: You should meet my friend! She's a writer, too.
  • Me: Oh, cool! Yeah!
  • Sister: This is my friend--she's writing a novel! Friend, this is my sister--she writes fanfiction.
  • Me, who is also writing a novel, which my sister damn well knows: ...
  • Me: ...
  • Me: ...hi.

thebedazzleddementor  asked:

Portland Row, Fittes Mausoleum, Marleybone Cemetery!

Portland Row: Tell us something about your family history.

Well, my family is a family of teachers. Both my parents are teachers. Both my Paternal Grandparents were teachers. Even my maternal Uncle and Aunts are teachers too.Some of my older cousins have actually started teaching at schools.

Fittes Mausoleum: How nosy are you?

I am not nosy at all. Really. I’m too shy to even pry out info from my friends, unless there are willing to tell me. Does not mean I’m not curious, but I try not to be nosy, it interferes with being awkward.

Marlyebone Cemetery: Do you think everything happens for a reason?

Yes, absolutely. Now I don’t mean that Floods and Earthquakes happen to punish humanity or something. But little things in life, the smaller stuff, you know. Not to be preachy or anything, but I believe God has a plan for everybody, and whatever happens might not feel good right now, but might be helpful later, like learning French.

Plagg (made by @tomato-rabbit) and I reading chapter 9 of @thelastpilot’s fic Won’t Tell A Soul

Therapy - Sequel to The Only Reason

Okay so this is a high demand sequel that I wrote for The Only Reason (x). Mickie hates me more than I do for it so please bear with me because this is fucking sad.

Also, this is the first oneshot in our So Wrong, It’s Write ATL inspired oneshot series. I hope you enjoy it and please don’t kill me. 

Luke’s POV

                I don’t know how long I’ve been laying in bed this time. I feels like days, but it must be only a matter of hours. It doesn’t really matter. I could be out doing things but it wouldn’t make any difference. Nothing fills the emptiness in my head or the weight that never seems to leave my chest. Not the constant begging of the guys to go out to the bar with them or the therapy sessions my mom drags me to. Nothing is going to fix me but [Y/N] coming back, and that couldn’t happen.

                I’d stopped calling after two weeks; she wasn’t going to answer and each forwarded call made me sink a little bit farther down. Couldn’t she see that she was the only thing I needed? Part of me had given up on her then; had started to let her go, and then she started calling back. I could never muster up the courage to answer, and the boys always deleted her messages before I could listen to them. She’s not good for you anymore, mate had become Calum’s signature phrase. And then Calum had answered the phone; none of them would tell me what was said. All I know is that it’s been a week since she last called.

                When the phone stopped ringing, I realized just how much I’d grown to depend on it. The chime of my iphone had become my anchor; the only thing convincing me that she’d ever really loved me at all. Our love had been the ship keeping me afloat, and my ship went down in a sea of sound the night she left.

                “I can’t do this anymore!” [Y/N] yells. I want to find some hint of sadness in her voice, but the only thing I can detect is anger. “I can’t drown with you anymore.”

                She softens slightly as I visibly flinch from the impact of her words. “I don’t know how to make it stop…” I whimper, pulling my legs into my chest and holding them securely against me. Doesn’t she know how hard I’m trying? I never wanted or asked to feel like this. Aside from the days when [Y/N] was especially sympathetic, sleep seems to be the only thing that makes me feel whole anymore; it pushes away some of the darkness that creeps into my thoughts during the day. “If I knew how to turn it off I would, [Y/N]. You know I would. I’m trying!”

                “Only you aren’t! You aren’t trying.” Her words are like a slap. The only reason I get out of bed in anymore is for her. “You can take back your misery, Luke. I don’t want to help you lug it around anymore.”

                “I’m not trying to give it to you!” I plead desperately. Scrambling, I fall off the bed and rush towards her. If I don’t move now, do something now, she’s going to flee. “I know I’m a walking travesty. But just give me time, give me therapy, give me anything that you think will make this go away. You’re the only thing that makes my life bearable anymore. Please, don’t leave.” My voice cracks on the last sentence. She can’t leave.

                “I don’t want to be the thing you use to buffer yourself from the world, Luke. I love you, but I won’t go down with you. Not like this.” Her eyes widen as the tears I’ve been forcing back begin to slide down my cheeks in steady streams. Her tongue is a nightmare that cuts like a blade as she delivers a final blow. “I need you to fight for me, Luke.”

                I fall to my knees in front of her as my sobs begin in full. “What do you think I’m trying to do?!” I choke.

                “That’s not what I meant….” She sighs, grabbing a bag I didn’t realize was sitting by our front door. “I guess – I guess this is goodbye.”

                I collapse into myself as the door swings closed behind her, the sturdy wood separating us in more ways than one. Everything in my body is screaming for me to run after her, to cause a scene like I’m supposed to and make her come back. Yet, my mind is telling me never to let this happen again. To love myself so no one has to.

                Calum finds me still in the doorway later that night, curled into a tight ball and still unable to control my sobs. “Luke, c’mon mate it’s almost one AM you need to go to sleep.”

                “No.” I shake my head, barely coherent enough to understand his words. “I have to wait for her to come back. [Y/N] can’t fall asleep unless I rub her back.”

                My best friends heavy sigh tells me I won’t like the words that are coming, but even my readiness doesn’t prepare me for the shock. “She’ll fall asleep without you, Luke. It’s time to go to bed.”

                I was catatonic by that point, completely unable to function in any way, shape or form. There is no memory in my brain of Calum helping me up the stairs and into bed. Our bed, the one we’d shared for the past three years. I don’t know when I stopped crying and mumbling to myself and finally fell asleep. All I knew was that when I woke up alone, I had everything and then reality set in.

                Even now, I’m still not sure what she meant.

                On stage last night, I’d looked for her in the sea of faces. My lungs gave out as I faced the crowd and didn’t find her among them. The boys apologized for my rough appearance and strained voice, but I could tell everyone knew something was up. Part of me thinks that keeping this up could be dangerous, that one day I will lose it on stage and everything will fall apart. My mother has taken me to so many “experts” and they all say the same thing: “You’re flesh and bone, Luke; still perfectly real and whole. And you have the potential to be a Rolling Stone level rockstar, but you’re incredibly delirious.”

When the phone rings, I don’t bother checking the caller ID. I just pull the phone to my ear and mutter a grumpy, “Hello?” I’m met only with silence. “Mate, if you’re calling at 2am it had better be important.” I couldn’t care less, in truth I don’t even know if that’s the time. I welcome the call; the ring of my phone reminds me of when she still cared.

                “Luke?” My body stiffens. 3 months, that’s how long it’s been since I heard her voice. It sounds darker, strained. It sounds like me, and somehow that hurts more than her leaving. “Luke, it’s me.” I don’t need her to tell me. I could never forget that voice.

                There is silence for a moment before I sigh in agony; I never thought it would hurt this much to hear her say my name again. “I thought Calum told you to stop calling?” Part of me regrets the harshness of my words, but another part of me wants her to feel the pain I felt. It physically hurts to push the words from my mouth, but it has to be done.

                She lets out a small whimper, the kind I used to associate with her migraines. I hate myself for knowing I’m the cause of it. “I – I’m so sorry.” She sniffles, and I can hear the pain in her voice. If I’d answered when she’d called before, would we be here right now? Or would I have spared us this level of heartache? “Please, just hear me out. I promise I’ll never call again after this if – if you just hear me out.”

                “Alright.” I sigh with the effort of pushing myself up in bed. Calum rolls over in his bed across our hotel room and for a terrible moment I think he might wake. I don’t want him to fight me to take the phone away. I don’t want her to stop calling again. “I’ll hear you out.”

            “Thank you.” Her voice is a breath of relief. I want her next to me, here in this bed where she belongs. ““I know – I know that I messed up.” That doesn’t even begin to cover the level of pain you caused.

            “I should have just been there for you. It’s no excuse, but I got so caught up in thinking you were only sad because I was there to help fix you. I was so wrong Luke.” You should be here now, I want to tell her. More than anything I want to take the tears and pain away from her and cuddle her into my side like I used to. It’s been three months, but I still know exactly the way her body fits against mine. “You needed me to be there for support, not to fix you. You just needed time. I was so selfish. I thought that if I left you would try harder and get better. God I was so fucking niave…”

                Calum sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes and looking up at me. He’s instantly awake when he sees the expression on my face, but I give him an almost imperceptible shake of the head to warn him not to come take away the phone. His face remains grim, but he nods in response, watching me closely as I continue to listen.

            “When you stopped calling… It clicked that you weren’t going to get better for me, because it doesn’t work that way. I researched depression and I know now that you just needed time and maybe some medication and that it wasn’t something you could just push away. I was asking a bird to fly when it had broken it’s wing…”

                Cal has his phone in his hand, and before I know it Michael and Ashton are pushing their way into our room. I know not why he didn’t intervene; he was sending for reinforcement. I ignore their voices; I need to hear what she has to say. I have to memorize every rhythm with which she speaks and tone of her voice.

            “And I just want you to know that I’m sorry.” Her voice cracks, and I can feel the tears building inside me. Please baby, please don’t cry. “I’m so sorry that I left you alone. I would do anything, anything in the world to be able to take it back. I just want – need­ to know if there’s anything I can do to fix this.”

                I don’t speak as the boys who have taken care of me so well start to speak in harsh whispers. They recycle the same sentences as they have every time I wanted to call her. She’s not good for you anymore, Luke and It’s time to let her go and You fucking asshole hang up the phone right now.

                I keep ignoring them as my breathing becomes heavy and I curl my knees into my chest, pressing my phone tightly against my ear as my tears begin to fall in earnest. If there was ever a need for a physical representation of broken, I am it. More so than a shattered mirror or cracked phone screen. More so than anything I can ever think of.

                And then it hits me. What if things can never go back to the way they were? What if I take her back and every time I look at her, I imagine her face twisted in contempt as she tells me she can’t drown with me anymore? What if this can never be fixed?

                “[Y/N]…” My voice cracks as I whimper her name. God, I’ve missed her so much. I still do. I miss the vanilla perfume she sprayed on our pillows every night and the way she reached for me in her sleep. But those are memories now; they aren’t real anymore. “How are we gonna fix this? How are we gonna undo all the pain?”

                 “I don’t know.” Her voice is a sob and I hate myself so much, but I need to hear it. I need to know that this has hurt her as much as it hurts me, so at the very least I can stop resenting her for what she’s done. “I don’t know but please think it over. Please tell me we can try to make this better because I can’t sleep without you here. I close my eyes and reach for you and you aren’t there and I fall apart all over again. I should have known it when you were here, that you’re the reason, the only reason,I had to wake up and crawl out of bed every day.

            “I miss you teasing me about how much coffee I drink and kissing the tip of my nose before we go to bed at night. Everything reminds me of you and no matter where I go I can feel you burning under my skin. Please, Luke. I’m so sorry, but please tell me we can just start over?”

                We can start over. We can go back to the way it was before. We can lay in bed with our fingers entwined and kiss all night like. We can watch movies and make pancakes on Sunday mornings and I’ll tease you about how much coffee you drink and wrap my arms around your waste when I find you on the balcony at night when you can’t sleep. We can start over. No we can’t.

 “I’m sorry, [Y/N].” I whispers, shaking my head and staring at the floor. I know the expression of pure defeat and regret she will wear, but I can’t do this.“I know that fight was just bitter words but everything broke after that. And I’m just starting to get myself back. I’m sorry but we can’t fix this.” It’s harder and harder to breathe as I force the words out, the boys watching me as I silently withstand lash after lash of agony.

            “No!” Her voice is a wail and I might throw up or faint because I can’t do this to her. I can’t make her feel the way I did. She doesn’t deserve it – she never meant any harm. “No, please Luke, please. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. Please let me fix this.”

            “I’m sorry too.” I sigh, forcing my voice to remain somewhat even. This is what’s best for both of us… “But you can’t. We can’t. I’ll always love you, you know that, but I think it would be best if you didn’t call again. I have to go…” My voice cracks slightly. “We have a show tomorrow. I’m sorry, [Y/N]; I really am.”

                I hang up the phone before she can say anything else, before she can convince me to ruin her all over again. My body is heavy up at the same time it is alight with pain. [Y/N] is the only thing that’s mattered, the only truly important thing in my life in the past three years and I let her go. I pushed her away because she made one mistake. The boys crowd around me as I lose myself.

                This is worse than the first time. I’m not numb anymore. These aren’t silent tears and a few harsh breaths. These are body wracking sobs and breaths so shallow I might as well not be taking in any air. Again and again I wail, no coherent words coming out. I don’t know what I would say if I could manage to speak properly. I want the numbness back. I want absolutely nothing to do with this feeling but I deserve it.

                But I did the right thing. I won’t take her down with me. Not [Y/N], not after everything. No, there is nothing anyone could do to get me to make her suffer with me any longer. And so I make myself a promise.

                No matter how long it takes, I will find a way to get better for her. I will smile at everything and everyone and I will be the boy she fell in love with. I will fix everything that is broken in this torn up shell of a body I wear over a soul the belongs only to her, and then I will come back. I will right every wrong we’ve made. “I’ll fix everything, [Y/N].” I whimper, knowing only the boys can hear me. “I’ll fix everything and then I’ll come back to you.”



18655) Everyone makes fun of me about how I don't eat. Especially my best friend. She keeps saying to me, "Unless you can tell me an actual reason for this "disorder," then it's all fake. What even are you? Anorexic, bulimic, or both?" Thanks, no wonder I didn't tell you for three years.