walk for wellness

A walk down the memory lane

Sitting relaxed with back leaned backwards and eyes trained on the moon, being in peace with all the chaos and even with every new layer of weight around this heart, I tap my fingers in tune with the wind. Trying to come up with some rhyme for poem reminds me of my very first poem.

It was before a decade, I had hardly entered teenage and how excited I was to act as one. Oh, how I was so upset with everything that went on this world. I remember that rainy day, I had reached to a state where I could no longer wait for Santa to act upon my requests for it was unanswered for almost five years. I remember complaining to the father in our school church asking him to tell God to change the Santa as the current one wasn’t working properly. For some obvious reason he was amused with my complaint and had asked me to myself demand God to do the same. He had given me a short cut to reach God that day. The confession. I followed. I confessed about the prank I played, that being the only deed I thought should be counted as wrong. I remember burning my hand while lighting the candle ‘cause I was so nervous talking formally with God for the first time. I had written a formal letter for Him for all the tasks He had to perform as per my advice. After that first heartfelt conversation, I waited patiently for a week for God to act. And like always He took too long.

I had been super upset by the end of week and it had been raining and seeing the lightning I came up with the conclusion that it’s God peeping in earth to check on us. I hurriedly took a fresh page from my favorite book. With my favorite pen, I thought to be gentle with God this time. Instead of some formal letter, I wrote my first poem. Just to make sure that He likes it, I jumbled up the sentence just to make it “rhyme”. How rebellious my first poem had been, with lots of may be and if not, asking for changes in every single thing. How non content I was and how I thought my poem could change the world. Little did I know that day how poem was supposed to bring the change, not in this world, but in me.

Now after almost a decade of writing poems, I realize how this world is still the same place, too messed up to be alive here and still one of the most messily beautiful place we could have ever be in. And if anything, it’s me who has changed, changed for better.

The letters and poems no more intend to change the world. It’s more of an effort to make sure I am in peace with the way this world is, accept things as they are, of course the ones which couldn’t be changed as a human.

How utterly amazing this journey has been within myself. How unapologetically I have been in love with the pain and suffering on every road I took. How immensely proud I am of all the scars and this ruined armor. How terrifyingly I adore being a human right now, at this very moment. I am feeling everything I never knew I was capable of but at the same time, I am nothing but content with every moment, every single one which is yet to come…

Between the misplaced words of that first poem,
With every unanchored line I ever traveled thereafter,
And betwixt all uneven spaces of the words,
I know I am exactly where I am supposed to be.

misery and company • self-para

Stepping out onto the court is like walking straight into a dream. Well. More like a memory. A vision of the past.

Theo’s waiting for them at the starting mark. They lock eyes across the court, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The deafening noise of the crowd. The erratic thud of his own pulse reverberating in his ears. The nervous sweat slicking his palms, coating the back of his neck. Theo hasn’t changed. At least, not in any way that matters. His hair is shorter. He’s a little taller. His jersey is red and gold, instead of the familiar black and green he’d donned in high school. But… They’re still here, the two of them - facing off across a divide that feels insurmountable. A chasm that’s only grown since high school, morphed and warped beyond recognition by resentment and misguided blame and regret and hesitation.

They had been brothers, once (before they were friends, after they were rivals). Maybe. Even if only in name. But, regardless, they had undoubtedly understood each other. Theo had always known the right things to say. To motivate him or push him or anger him.

That, at least, hasn’t changed.

“I’m surprised you showed up.”

“Nice to see you again, too.” Arlo passes his racquet from one hand to the other, trying to channel all the patience he can muster.

Nonplussed at Arlo’s lack of reaction, Theo takes a step closer, tapping their racquets together in “greeting” with just a little more force than strictly necessary.

“How’s the season going? I’d love to hear an insiders perspective. From what I’ve heard, it’s been a predictable Palmetto train wreck. Fist fights, arrests. Typical behavior from the trailer trash Wymack manages to scrap off the bottom of whatever trash heap he find them in.” He laughs, but there’s no real mirth in it. When he speaks again, his voice is lower. Barely audible above the intense, excited hum of the stadium. “I still mean what I said, after graduation. After what happened.” He pauses - as if either of them had forgotten. “You don’t belong here Booth. Not even with a team like them. You had your few seconds of fame in high school, riding my coat tails. I let you do it then, because I felt sorry for you. I’m not going to be so forgiving, this time.”

As the rest of the players take their marks, Arlo tries to stem the tide of aggression rolling in his gut. This was what he was afraid of. And, in the same breath, what he had been craving. What he had been missing for the past few games. This fire. The kind that can only be built by a delicate mix of desperation and hatred and longing and determination.

Even if the future of his Exy career is uncertain, even if he’s not sure if he’ll be coming back to play again next year, this game? This game he’s going to win. Right now, this game is all that matters.

He’s going to prove, once and for all, that he can exist outside the reach of Theo’s shadow. Outside the influence of a past that, despite his best efforts, he still can’t seem to shake.

“Do your worst.” He invites, expression grim as he shoves his mouth guard and face mask into place.

Beside him, Theo tenses for a fight.


It’s not even half time yet, and already Arlo’s aching. Theo’s taken advantage of every tender spot. Every vulnerability. Every weak point. He’s been checked into walls and tripped and met at every turn with equal force. Of course, it’s USC. His checks are completely legal. Just…undeniably excessive.

Worse than the physical toll and the frustration at being utterly matched in his position are the taunts. Theo was always good at trash talk. Always knew the right buttons to push. Arlo had forgotten what it was like to be on the other side of that.

Arlo fumbles a pass, barely managing to keep it from Theo’s clutches. As he takes off down the court, the other striker is at his heels.

“You’ve gotten faster! Not surprising.” Theo huffs, still talking shit, even at an all-out sprint. “You’d have to have a good amount of speed to outrun all your problems.” Theo laughs, slightly winded but undeterred. “Speaking of which, how’s dear old dad doing these days? Still a deadbeat, druggie piece of shit enjoying mooching off the system? …Or, are the rumors true? Did he finally kick the bucket?”

Arlo turns on his heel and passes, taking advantage of Theo’s distraction. It’s all he can do to keep his aim straight. He’s seeing red, gasping for breath because his throat is so tight he can’t breathe. He hasn’t thought about his dad. Not seriously. Not since the funeral. He hasn’t allowed himself to. To dwell. To question. To drown himself in “What ifs?” He’d been doing so fine. Avoiding it. Getting by. But now…

Unburdened, he rounds on Theo.

“Do you need some help climbing off your goddamn high horse?“ Arlo skids to a full stop, almost tripping over his own feet. He grapples with his face mask. Unable to free himself due to his gloves, he settles for spitefully spitting out his mouth guard. His hands clench painfully tight around the handle of his racquet, knuckles turning white with the pressure before he abruptly lets go, tossing it to the ground. Theo’s eyes are a little wide, one brow raised in surprise. He’s suspicious. But not scared. Never scared. That, somehow, only manages to piss Arlo off more. He takes a few steps forward, crowding into the other striker’s personal space. He’s breathing hard, whole body trembling with the force of his anger. Regret. Confusion. Other players are beginning to take notice, gameplay slowing down in anticipation of some kind of fight. Arlo can’t see the refs yet, but he knows it’s only a matter of time.

Fuck. Theo’s had no problem dishing it out all night. If he’s going to get a yellow card anyway, so be it. He’s gonna speak his mind first. For once, he’s going to say exactly what’s he feels.

“Why can’t you just admit that you’re as miserable as I am?” He doesn’t give Theo time to answer, just barrels on, pushing up into the other man’s space, trying to make up for the slight height difference between them with sheer will power alone. “You may be fooling USC, and the media and everyone else, but you’re not fooling me.” Theo rolls his eyes, feigning nonchalance, but Arlo can see the heat in his gaze. The way the skin around his lips tighten as his jaw clenched in anger. “You’re a prick. A self-loathing, self-entitled, spoiled prick. You’re a fucking asshole because you just can’t cope with the fact that your parents would rather try and replace your dead brother with a fucking foster stray than spend more than five seconds alone with yo-”

He trails off suddenly, attention drawn to the inner glass where Joel is staring him down, animatedly banging on the court wall in warning, brow furrowed deeply in concern. Arlo can’t make out what he’s saying.

Out of the corner of his eye, he see’s that the refs have taken notice. They’re heading for the doors, wearing matching scowls of disapproval, and he’s not sure what he’s going to say when they approach-

He doesn’t even have time to react. One second he’s staring at Joel in confusion, and the next-

Nothing at all.

(( And the next page of this week~<3 this one was really fun to do since I had to feature the lovely ink in his doodle sphere~<3))

Start: Page 1

*Previous* - *Next* 

Art & Paper Crane© @little-noko

Ink© @comyet

  • Yoosung: Hey Seven, why does Zen look so depressed?
  • 707: Oh, he’s just heart broken because his other half left him.
  • Yoosung: Huh?? MC left him?! Why??
  • 707: No, the mirror in his room broke.
TWD - Negan Imagine ~ "the Well"

An imagine about the second episode of season 7

What happens when the reader arrives at the sancuntary after Negan has taken her with him after the line-up?

Because I am following the shows storyline I wrote parts to the other episodes as well that are connected
BUT they are all written the way that you can read them separate from each other! :)

part 1 is about the final scene of season 6
part 2 is about the first episode of season 7

(Well, unfortunately there was no Negan in this episode but this third part is for what happens in the meantime so that its no problem to stay true to the storyline that will await us in the next episode.)

Originally posted by dancing-at-the-funeralparty

“We’re there soon, Sweetheart”, you heard Negan amused say.
You were still sitting in the car that should bring you to the sanctuary.
And you still heard their screams in your head.
They just wouldn’t stop.
In this horrible night, the man that had killed two parts of your family, had taken you with him because he thought you had a better use than just working for him like the others. 
And exactly that man had his arm resting around your body, his hand on your waist while you were nothing else than disgusted by him.
By what he did last night.
And by what you thought he was else capable of doing.
Your head were full of thoughts, full of fear and full of grief.
You worried about your brother Daryl.
Was he already at the Sanctuary? 
And if yes, what would they do to him?
Before your thoughts and questions could torture you even more you saw how you were entering the sanctuary.
“Welcome to your fucking new home, Sweetheart”, said Negan chuckling.

That would never be your home.
You would never accept this place as your home.
Your home was Alexandria no matter what happened.
And some day you would return.
At least that was what you wished for.

You snuggled your head into the soft collar of your leather jacket.
It had been a gift of Daryl. He had found it on a run while you were still living in the prison and since then it was your favorite piece of clothing. Somehow it made you feel comfortable and safe. 

“Which room does she get?”, you heard the guy say that drove the car. You had heard how Negan called him Simon and he was exactly the guy, who had also tortured the man when the saviors were trying to stop you from getting to Hilltop with the RV. 
“The free room next to mine”, said Negan smirking, while you saw Simon laughing.
”Not the one of your wives?”, asked Simon.
Did this man own a damn harem or what?!
What the fucking hell was wrong with him?!
”Hell no Simon. She’s too good for that, you think I want her to fucking deprave?! Nah, she’s gonna be something fucking special”, said Negan with this weird undertone, so that you didn’t even want to know what he meant with special.
“Should I..” “Nah, Simon. I’ll bring her to her room”, interrupted Negan his right hand man while he winked at you.
“We’re gonna grow real fucking close”, he whispered in your ear while you felt your blood freeze. 
The car stopped and Negan pulled you out with him while you realized how weak your legs still were. Negan grabbed you by your waist as you entered the Sanctuary, The light in the floors was dimmed and cold, which made you feel even more uncomfortable.
But the light matched the picture you had of Negan, so cold as it was.
At the end of the floor you saw people that immediately knelt as they saw Negan.
What the heck was that again?
You saw Negan smirking as he saw the reaction of his followers as he pushed your body against his. 
The floor became a little bit nicer as he stopped before a door. It opened and you could see inside. It was light-flooded because of a window at the end of it and had a double bed inside. You couldn’t see more than that yet. 
“Well Sweetheart, unfortunately I have a whole lot of fucking stuff to do, but don’t worry my whole fucking evening is reserved for you only”, he said chuckling as you stepped inside the room. 
”We’re gonna have so much fun, Sweetheart”, he said capturing you again with his intense glance, as he smirked once more.
Then he left, still chuckling with his bat over his shoulder that had Glenns and Abrahams blood on it. 
You let yourself fall on the bed and looked around you. Cozy would be exaggerated but it could’ve been worse. 

Your room in Alexandria was the coziest room you ever slept and lived in.
It had this huge bed with uncountable pillows on it and the softest blanket you had ever slept in.
A thing like a bed, a simple bed that kept you warm and comfortable while sleeping had become something extreme luxurious and unrealistic before you came to Alexandria.
Of course you knew that it was nowhere safe.
You also always kept a knife under your pillow, just in case.
But no matter what, Alexandria was a home to you where you might have been not completely save but at least it gave you the opportunity to rest.
It gave you the opportunity to heal your wounds, the mental and physical ones. And only one night had ripped them all open and had given you new ones.

Your glance fell on a door, where you assumed a bathroom behind. You walked over, opened it and looked in a small room that had a shower, a sink with a mirror, a window and a toilet in it.
You decided to take a shower, maybe that would help to clear your head and at least get a little rid of the thoughts that tried to overwhelm you again and again. 

The water pelted down on you but your head just kept pounding.
A day ago everything were normal, everything were okay and everyone were alive.
It all seemed so unreal, so unbelievable. You had gone through a lot since this whole thing started, but the last night could compete with all of it.
The pictures of their smashed heads and your mentally destroyed friends just wouldn’t disappear, you felt your breath become heavier again and your heart pumped faster and louder.
Your head felt like it would explode any second.
You stopped the shower, quite contrary to what you were used to, the shower didn’t help this time, the loud down pelting water just made it worse.
You put your clothes back on and as you came into the bedroom again, you saw a basket with apples stand on a small table. For now you couldn’t eat a thing, but at least you had something if your hunger came back.

You laid down on the bed and looked out of the window that was pointing to the woods.
The trees behind the window swung slightly in the wind and somehow they began to calm you down.
You knew that you had to keep on fighting.
Thats also what Abraham and Glenn would want.
It was not in your nature to just give up and you also wouldn’t this time.

You jolted up as you heard heavy steps on the floor. For the last hours you just laid on the bed, looking outside the window, fighting your thoughts,  thinking about your friends and your brother and watching how the bright sunlight turned into the dimmed dusk light.
But now you were standing straight trying to prepare for something you couldnt prepare for.

The door hit open and you directly saw into Negans grinning face. He had bloods splatters on his cheek and you didn’t want to know if it was walker or human blood.
As he saw your shocked glance his grin became wider and he walked closer to you letting the bloody Lucille down on the ground.
You knew that this was going to happen, you knew it from the very beginning.
But you had forced yourself to not think about it.
Your problem was definitely not that he was unattractive, if you had to be honest he was actually really good-looking, but that didn’t change a thing on how disgusting you found him.

With every step he came closer your heart beated faster and your breath got heavier.
He stood finally before you and pulled you closer against his body, taking your chin with one hand and before you could even look at him he pressed his lips on yours. Before he could continue kissing you, you pulled shocked away and bumped into the wall behind you.
Shaking his head chuckling he came closer again. “Sweetheart, you’re making it fucking difficult for me and we haven’t even started yet”, he said with a big grin on his lips. He didn’t seem aggressive but you didn’t know how fast that could change. And that scared you.
His intense glance captured you again and you couldn’t let go of it. 

As he came again so close to you that not even a paper could fit between you, you had the urge to take a step back but you couldn’t.
The wall was directly behind you and there was no possibility for you to escape. You hated to have that kind of feeling and you felt panic coming up in you.
Your breath became even heavier as Negan took your head in his both hands. 
“Please don’t hurt me”, you blustered out with a slightly whimphering voice. You hadn’t  your voice under control anymore, you were trembling and you were afraid about what would happen in the next minutes.
“Listen Sweetheart, I’m neither gonna hurt nor rape you. Who do you fucking think I am?!”, he asked loud raising his eyebrows. 
Someone that laughs while he bashes peoples heads, was what you thought. You couldn’t get a word out of your mouth.
Your glance went over to the bat that was laying on the floor leaving it blood daubed. 
“I’m gonna treat you like the lady you fucking are. You’ll fucking enjoy it”, he said grinning. 
If you would do it, came through your head, maybe you’d lower the risk that he would hurt another one of your friends or your brother. And if you wouldn’t… who knew if his anger against them would rise.
And having one more of them hurt was the last thing you wanted.
“Alright..”, you stuttered quietly. He smirked brighter before he began kissing you rough again. 
Before you realized what else he was doing you found yourself laying in the bed, Negan hovering smirking above you. 

What the heck were you doing? 
Everything about this were absurd, that couldn’t be real.
It couldn’t be real that you were sleeping with the man that killed two of your friends just several hours ago.
Why was this world so fucked up?

As the feeling of some kind of pleasure came up in you, you tried to fight it back immediately. You shouldn’t feel joy or pleasure sleeping with him. It should feel everything else than joyful. What happened here were so wrong and you began to feel even disgusted by yourself. 

He finally rolled off of you, laid down next to you breathing heavy and pulling you closer to him before you heard his breath becoming really calm and slow.
You looked at him. He was asleep.
As soon as you were sure that he was sleeping deep enough you freed yourself from his arm and moved your body slightly away from him. You didn’t need him that close know.
Slowly you began to doze off.

Everywhere was blood. 
Screams made your head pound.
Your own scream echoed through the dark as you saw your friends on the ground.
Their lifeless bodies that were surrounded by their blood.
Not just Glenn and Abraham were laying there.
All of them.
Your heart cramped together.
The urge to gag was unbearable.
And your breath was uncontrollable.
You were a sobbing mess as you fell on your knees next to your brothers  corpse.
The screams in your head became louder and louder mixed with a dark laugh.
You wanted to escape this nightmare but you couldn’t.

You didn’t know how long you were trapped in this nightmare but at some point it stopped and you got drawn in your sleep again and the screams vanished.

When you woke up you found yourself laying in Negans arms.
He had somehow grabbed you while you were sleeping and now you were facing his chest that went calm up and down as he breathed.
How peaceful even someone who kills people with a baseball bat could seem when he was simply sleeping.
You remembered the last night.
You couldn’t deny that you had felt pleasure, as much as you wanted to.
If it would at least lower the risk that someone important to you would get hurt you could live with that.
You tried to create some space between your two bodies as you heard Negan drowsy chuckling.
You froze immediately.
“Oh Sweetheart, you should appreciate that a little more”,you heard him say chuckling as he pulled you closer.
You should what?
“You should have seen yourself. Sobbing like you did over the two fucking pricks. Had a nightmare you poor thing, huh?”, you heard him chuckle.
The nightmare.
You just muttered a quiet “Yes”. 
“That was fucking intense! And you know what? As soon as you laid in my arms you fucking stopped”, He called out obviously amused.
He raised your chin so you had to look at him.
“Seems like you like me more than you show”, he said chuckling. You glared at him which made him chuckle even more. “Sooner or later you won’t get enough of me", he said grinning with his deep voice while he kept staring into your eyes. 
His glance wandered to your throat and your collar bones.
You were about a hundred percent sure that he had left hickeys there, because it seemed like he was admiring his work right now.
You didn’t want them on your body, they disgusted you.
You didn’t need something that kept reminding you about what you had done with him. He licked over his bottom lip and switched between looking into your eyes that were filled with hatred and his work.
“Well Sweetheart, I guess I’ll have to freshen that up before we visit Alexandria”, he said smirking.

part four (all other parts)

on why the fuck teru is living on his own

(as well as a theory on his state of mind before mob)

so. i believe i remember dimple making a comment along the lines of “claw being after teru explains why he lives on his own” 

(i think. im really not sure if this is a real memory. anyway that’s not the point)

my point is : this doesn’t actually explain anything ? there’s nothing stopping claw from taking teru’s parents as hostages to get to him apart from, y’know, teru kicking their ass. (remember we’re dealing with a kid, so hostages make sense in that case. you can bet on an emotional reaction on the kid’s part)

it also doesn’t make sense if you’re thinking of protecting teru. a kid living on his own isn’t exactly safe, and he is clearly not in hiding, given how much he uses his powers

which leads me to this. claw is clearly not the thing that’s seen as a menace here. but then, what is ?

my bet is on teru. we know he isn’t one to hesitate when using his powers on people. hell, he is even shown to torture people, and he seems really calm about it

let’s say you have a kid. he’s always been able to do some strange things, but hey, bending some spoons has never hurt anyone… until it does and your child basically throws dozens of adults on the ground, adults who were attacking him with powers much like his own and you realize -

this kid is dangerous.

let’s say you have a kid and you love him, but now you’re also terribly afraid of him and what he could do. what do you do ? you can’t send him to live with your family - how would you explain that and what if he hurts them, you can’t put that responsibility on them, but you’re scared -

so you send him away. you provide for everything, food, clothes, all - you just don’t see him anymore because of how scared you are


let’s say you are a child and you’ve always known you were different, but suddenly adults like you show up and you wreck them.

let’s say you are a child and your normal parents are scared of you and what you can do.

let’s say you know you are strong, stronger than even people like you, but at the same time your parents decide to send you away and you see in their eyes that they’re scared.

how much do you want to bet that, in order to cope with knowing your parents don’t want you anymore, and because you know it’s not your fault, it CAN’T be your fault because you were always this way it’s not your fault it’s NOT -

if it’s not your fault, then it’s their fault. they can’t handle how powerful you are because they are weak, everyone but you is weak

you aren’t just different - you’re special


“The original novel [Dumb Witness] was dedicated to her [Agatha Christie’s] own wire-haired terrier - ‘To dear Peter,’ it read, 'most faithful of friends and dearest of companions. A dog in a thousand.’
I felt exactly the same way about the terrier in our film. He captivated me from the moment I set eyes on him. The little dog, whose real name was actually Snubby, became my dear friend. [..] My now ever-expanding fan club wrote to tell me how much they enjoyed it [the episode], so they also told me, the sales of wire-haired terriers shot up exponentially after it was shown for the first time in March 1996.”
- David Suchet, Poirot and Me