kneel down and lick my shoes

Azriel | he/him | probably a raging homosexual | intp and type 5w4

[lonely-nihilist]

im still down so bad for you ngl

[thetransmascbadass]

Nobody:

Absolutely no one:

Not a soul:

Companies at 12 am on June 1st:

[unbotheredmuse]

[justaconfusedgoblin]

I've ingested too much..

Lately..

[lightaphorism]

[gotitforcheap-deactivated201611]

*has sex to grindcore*

girl: that was quick

me: lasted 8 songs stfu 

[godlikedawn]

Science aesthetics

[radical-eve]

[agk42]

Dark Seoul // Korea

[overthink]

Tom Kondrat

[lonely-nihilist]

i am very sick; i hate it

Foreword: Drabble challenge created by @xfactorera Prompt 12: things you said when you thought i was asleep with Valentin/Aislinn as per requested by @my-lazy-genius. 

Valentin hated three. It was a horrible time to be awake in the morning. Yet, here he was, as wide awake as he possibly could have been. He was in a mood to talk and talk, and to write. More than anything, he wanted to paint. It was probably just going to be nonsense again.

Valentin hated his illness more than three. An illness he was too ashamed of to utter a word to Aislinn. Hundreds of years taught you how to hide things, and he’d mastered this. It was another form of art, he decided. Nobody knew. His eccentric nature had been explained by his ability. His paranoia better expressed by the visions he had.

“Ich bin sehr krank,” he moaned into the pillows, curling them around his head, as if they’d protect him from the outside world. “Ich hasse es.”

He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream out the windows and let the world know how much he hated himself. He wanted to tell Aislinn how much he was hurting so she could reassure him in her beautiful voice that he was fine, even if that was an ignorant lie.

He could already see the possibilities of his actions shooting through his head. Maybe he hated his ability the most. It told him everything, but it was all useless. At least a clairvoyant could do something with the information. He was completely out of his element. It just overwhelmed him, every new piece weighing more heavily on his shoulders. Unless Aislinn was there. She made it all go away. Her presence washed everything out of his mind and calmed him down.

It was why she was the first person he’d go to with nightmares. She never asked what happened in them, she just asked if he was okay. She wasn’t nosy, she didn’t prod, and Valentin enjoyed that. He appreciated the quiet, comforting silence that would spread between him.

He glanced over at her sleeping form, half-tempted to awaken her. He couldn’t bring himself to, however. She was an angel on a cloud of pillows. He couldn’t touch her. Besides, she didn’t deserve to hear his complaints at three in the morning. She didn’t deserve to get sucked into his cold art room for hours while he painted portraits to clear his mind. He asked too much of her.

He slipped on his shoes and headed to the place he called home. The one place in the room that accepted him whole-heartedly. The room that Lukas had kept for him after he put in his resignation to the academy. He missed Lukas sometimes. Even if he was a horrible man, he had brought thousands of people together.

Valentin dipped a brush in paint, beginning to splash color across a blank canvas. It took shape as Concord Academy, orange and red flames shooting out of the windows. He remembered his nightmares of the moment, which had haunted him weeks before. He shook off the possibility constantly, trying to deny that it could happen. But it did, and he knew the mastermind.

“Aislinn… how do you put up with somebody so broken?” he mumbled, not expecting to receive an answer.

But in the dim of night, it came, like it always did, “Because you’re my three in the morning, Valentin.”

[lonely-nihilist]

you saved me from my own death

Foreword: Drabble challenge created by @alwaysbellamyblake. Prompt 36:  “ I wish I could hate you” with Stebony as per requested by @my-lazy-genius.

       Stefan was pushing Ebony’s buttons and he knew it. But he couldn’t stop. It was a bad day. Mentally. He needed somebody to talk to, somebody to annoy, somebody to make fester. Stefan wanted to lie and say he hadn’t always been like this, but he had. If he wasn’t stuck on Ebony, it was that damn girl he had saved at the lake.

           Sometimes, selfishly, he wished she had died. Then she’d be out of his fucking head. Instead, she remained in his thoughts, almost taunting him.

           “You’re not even doing anything Ebony, why can’t you just talk to me?” Stefan practically begged her, starting to get a little annoyed at this point, not that he showed it. He never showed it.

           She huffed, sucking on her bottom lip, “I don’t want to talk, especially not to you.”

           “I didn’t even do anything today,” he said, a sharpness encroaching on his words.

           “You don’t have to be so demanding,” she muttered, turning her back to him, looking out the dumb window. Stefan hated that window. It meant she was ignoring him, going back into her own world again.

           And suddenly he felt something wet and hot splash his cheeks. Unexpected. He frowned.

           Ebony glanced back over at him, the same time he looked up. She scowled, “Stefan, are you actually crying? I told you already, it’s NOT you, I just don’t want to talk.”

           “I’m not trying to cry,” Stefan wiped his eyes, but the tears just kept coming.

           He knew why, though. He was angry and upset and Ebony, and he was damn tired of trying to fake nice and pretend like he didn’t have any feelings. More than anything, he was missing that girl he saved. Her beautiful eyes, her silky black hair, her face, reminding him too much of the girl he was sitting with now, as if they were one of the same.

           She softened, only a little, “You never tell me anything. What you’re thinking, the kinds of things that bother you. I’m not a mind reader, so just tell me what’s on your mind so I can stop feeling bad for you.”

           “I don’t want to burden you,” he laughed, it was an empty laugh, but Ebony rarely realized. Or maybe she did and this was her way of letting him know she did. “I was just remembering somebody.”

           She rolled her eyes, looking away again, “You’re so weird.”

           “Don’t you want to know about them? Or do you hate me that much?” he asked, half-curious.

           “I wish I could hate you,” she hissed, turning around, full circle again. She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms, “What about them? Is it some dead girl you used to love, because I’m not really a listener of romance stories.”

           Stefan’s heart leaped and he hated to admit it. He felt sometimes like he was betraying the girl he saved. But he was falling deep. Ebony had him in her grasp and she didn’t even realize it. She didn’t realize that Stefan wanted to do everything to make her happy, to just see her smile, once, please.

           “She was a lot like you,” he paused, “and I saved her.”

           “I thought you said you killed everyone you touched,” she said, not missing a beat.

           “She was special. Like you are. I remember her eyes, they were so dark. It was as if I could see her soul through them. They were so damaged and it was only after I saved her that I realized that she was just like me,” he laughed, coldly, “I should have talked to her. I bet she was just like how I used to be. I remember the sting of solitary.”

           “You should have,” Ebony said unexpectedly, her gaze away, “Because I remember being saved from death and feeling like I was the only person left in the world.”

           His eyes widened, “The lake is such a lonely place, isn’t it?”

[lonely-nihilist]

feeling like an idol for a million little assholes

A little drabble about some Nikolai/Kage feels. Inspired by @my-lazy-genius ‘s character. 

Anzhela loved roses. She hated the rain, because it ruined her hair. She loved hairclips and bows, and Nikolai was always buying them for her. She loved dogs, and she didn’t understand why they Nikolai was terrified of them. Anzhela was human perfection.

Nikolai loved her to death. Not figuratively.

She was his first love. Tentative and hesitant. Delicate, not to be broken. Nikolai couldn’t put into words her feelings for her, and even now, looking back at photographs he kept under his pillows at Concord, he couldn’t explain his love for her.

They never kissed. Anzhela always wanted to, but it intimidated Nikolai.

She had angelic lips, petal soft, like the roses she adored.

But every rose one day loses its petals. Anzhela did suddenly. She took a harsh tumble, Nikolai heard, and they put her on bedrest. She grew sicker and sicker, and it was only on the sixth day of her illness that they let Nikolai see her. She had an infection, they said, and Nikolai could have sworn he had one of his own. It ravaged his heart.

Part of him died the same day that she did.

He enlisted in the military the first chance he had and he went to lands that were as cold and barren as his heart was. He came back, traumatized from the horrors he saw in war, but he pushed those away, just like he had the memory of Anzhela. Nikolai was convinced that nothing had the right to hurt him. That he wasn’t allowed to be damaged.

But he met Kage and those things changed.

She was a lot like his previous lover, and he never wanted to admit it. It was only when she found the photographs on his bed that he crumpled into tears. And it came pouring out: his girl, his horrors, his murderous hands. Why he could never truly smile. Why he was so fucking angry. Why he was so mad at the goddamn world. It all came out and he couldn’t stop it.

“Why does my life have to be so fucking horrible?” he mumbled, hardly audible.

“Life is horrible and so are we Nikky, but that’s what makes us human,” Kage warned him, holding his shaking body as he sobbed into her arms, every pent up emotion pouring out. “We aren’t human perfection. Human perfection is what kills us.”

And she was right.

[lonely-nihilist]

you make me love you more than i hate you

Foreword: Drabble challenge created by @alwaysbellamyblake. Prompt 14:  “ Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always.” with Lonnie/Karodin as per requested by @pissantopolous.

           Lonnie hated when Karodin had those nightmares. His eyes went blank and he threw a fit and then he treated Lonnie strangely. He treated him like he was looking at Alvah. Sometimes that meant he was terrified and he’d hunch into a ball, cowering under the covers. Other times it meant that he acted overtly sexual, running his hand up and down his legs, or even coming onto him.

           He called Lonnie “Alvah”, sometimes. He hated it.

           Yet… he honestly deserved it. Lonnie was such an imperfect, damaged child. His father was horrible, his mother didn’t even want him. Karodin was all he had, so he had to accept the behavior. If he didn’t, he was going to push the crimson-haired boy away. He was going to be alone and all he’d have again would be those damn earbuds to keep him company. It didn’t even matter when Karodin tried to rape him sometimes. He had to bear his father’s sins.

           “Do you feel better, Karodin?” Lonnie asked him, running his hands comfortingly along Karodin’s back, knowing the treatment that soon awaited him. He was already dreading it.

           Karodin frowned, “What just happened?”

           Was he going to shrink away from Lonnie’s touch or force him to succumb to his actions? Either one left a sour taste in Lonnie’s mouth. He could never really win. It was his fault for triggering his nightmares. It was his fault for wanting affection and sex. It was his fault for being a normal teenage boy. It was his fault for looking so much like fucking Alvah. His fault.

           Sometimes he wanted to go into the bathroom after Karodin’s episodes and chop off his long white hair, but when he voiced those concerns to Karodin, he’d wrap his fingers around his waist and beg him not to. Maybe a few hours later, he’d start trying to pull it out of his head, angrily accusing him of doing all the things that Alvah used to. Lonnie couldn’t win. Yet he stayed.

           He loved Karodin. He wanted to protect him and provide for him. He wanted to be there for him at his worst moments and see his smile during the best ones.

           “You had a nightmare…” he said, already inwardly wincing.

           Karodin, instead, suddenly caught him off-guard with an embrace. He wrapped his arms around Lonnie, pulling his face close and burying it in his chest. He squeaked, “I was so scared.”

           “You were?” Lonnie asked, surprised at the outcome of the situation.

           “Alvah was hurting me and I thought I was back there again,” he admitted, squeezing him tight. Lonnie was just happy to be touched by him. “And then I saw you again, and you left me.”

           Lonnie rose an eyebrow, “I left you?”

           “You disappeared and all I had left was Lina. I felt so lonely…” he said and Lonnie was drawn back in again. The doubts were gone, and so were the fears. Maybe it was some sort of abusive entanglement, but Lonnie let himself fall victim. It was fine. Everything was fine.

           “Hey…” he pulled away, looking into Karodin’s eyes, “I’m with you, okay?”

           Karodin’s eyes flickered, afraid, scared, like he was a child again, “Promise?”

           “Always,” Lonnie told him, and he knew he was already in too deep.

[lonely-nihilist]

your angry and happy face look the same

Foreword: Drabble challenge created by @xfactorera. Prompt 6: “Things you said under the stars and grass” with Nikolai/Kage as per requested by @my-lazy-genius. 

Nikolai would never understand Kage. He couldn’t. Yet, here he was, his legs touching hers. It was a perfect night, seventy degrees, maybe, and they sat beneath a wrinkled picnic blanket, staring up at the night time sky. Nikolai couldn’t remember if his was her idea or his. 

He hated how she changed him, yet he craved it. He loved when she chastised him for his grumpy frowns, yet hated turning them around. He enjoyed how she towered over him, yet it emasculated him. Kage made him feel weird, but he liked weird, weird was good. 

“Is that the little dipper?” he found himself asking in a tiny voice, feeling like a child again. Who was he kidding? The only thing he looked up and saw as a kid was death, or his older brother cursing him up and down. Anzhela. God, she would have had him looking up at the stars, too, back when he was young and dumb. 

He glanced at Kage, taking her in. Perfectly focused crimson eyes, black hair, and dark clothes was what he saw. She was nothing like Anzhela. Anzhela couldn’t speak a lick of English and she wore only pink, crying when she couldn’t. She had blue eyes and perfect blonde hair. But, she teased him, too. And she didn’t give up on him. Just like Kage.

Maybe, maybe that was why he found himself falling in love. As creepy and as convoluted as it sounded to be comparing Kage to some dead eleven-year-old girl it was the damn truth. That was easier to accept, at least. It was easier to say there was a reason than admit that Kage had stolen his heart. He didn’t want to stoop to that level, to admit with a heavy blush on his face that he had feelings for her. He didn’t want to deal with Ryuu, his enemy, her friend. He didn’t want to face reality, to admit that he had a weakness to the girl that made him go outside every week at midnight, just to stare up at the stars in silence.

Yet, here he was. 

“That’s the big dipper, Nikky,” she took his hand, and his heart stopped, and she guided him over towards another constellation, “That’s the little dipper. See the difference?”

He turned his head, hiding a blush, “They look the same to me.”

“That’s the thing with you. A lot of things look the same, such as your happy and angry face. See? Point proven. You’re totally making that weird in between face right now,” Kage grinned.

“It’s because I hate smiling,” he huffed, “You know that.”

“Funny,” Kage said, looking away from him, “Because you were smiling at me just a minute ago.”

[brundleflyforawhiteguy]

[naive-personality]