#promptadv6

[isaacbeta-laheys]

Significance

"I am not significant." 

I am not significant.

Not anymore.

I am no longer a son. Or a brother. Or a best friend. Or anyone worth remembering.

I had a taste of being needed by someone, by her, even if it was for a little while. But she can't even look at me anymore. She's been through too much.

And now?

It feels like I hold no significance to anyone at all.

And I am happy for it.

I used to be sad. I am sad. I will always be sad. I don't know how to turn it off or act not sad. I think I gave up so long ago on trying to act like I wasn't and maybe people didn't want to feel sad to. Maybe that's why I didn't have friends for for the first sixteen years of my miserable excuse of a life.

I've gotten used to that too. It's a lot easier to be the negative prick than to try to be something different. It repels people from me. Pushes people away before they do it first.

I used to want to be significant. I wanted it so bad. That’s part of the reason I got the bite, to be something useful. But even then, after my father had died, the emptiness only got worse.

At least when he was alive I still had a purpose. To be his scapegoat when all the white-hot anger inside him and the hate he had for God and the world became too much to bare on his shoulders,

so he'd quite literally put them in mine.

At least we still had eachother, right?

Then I realized that those who loved me like that are all dead. Every last one of them.

Everything I touch dies. Some people are just bad omens. I am one of those people.

I’ve accepted that now. I know it deep, deep inside of me. I know that's the reason my father did what he did to me. I know the reason and he did too.

I’m poisonous.

[screamqueenmartin]

Resentment

Lydia sat on the edge of her couch in the living room, watching the fireplace begin to crackle. The sound of hot splinters cracking as the embers danced around the air. She sat there with a piece of paper, writing words carefully as she listened to each crack split wood...and her heart.

Dear Allison,

Even as I write this, I find myself struggling to find words to say to you. I want to say that I hate you. That I never want to see you again. That I wish you were gone. But I'd be lying. Despite everything that's transpired, I still find myself wondering about you; worrying about you. I wonder if you're okay. If you're alive. If you've found your way out of the dark. But I know you haven't because if you have then you would be coming back to me now.

But you're not.

I should hate you. I should want to kill you. I mean, you did the only thing worse than killing me. You broke me. Shooting me wasn't even the bad part. It's the fact that you betrayed me. You might as well have ripped my heart out because that would have been more merciful. That's how it felt, Allison. It was supposed to be you and me against the world. The Hunter and the Banshee. Of all the friends I've had in my life, you meant the most to me, and even now I wish that you would come back. That you would do your best to make it right and I would forgive you with open arms. 

The worst part is that you're never going to know how I feel because all you've done is push me away. I wish I could I know where we stand, but it's hard to stand when you've been shot. Through all of this though, Alli, I still love you.

I miss you.

I love you

But I resent you.

Finishing the un-addressed letter, Lydia held it between her fingers, soft tears beginning to stain her face. Biting her lip and staring back at the fire, she pondered what would happen if she sent it. If she did tell the huntress how she felt. Could she do it?

As if the world around her made the decision, an open window behind her picked up a small gust that blew the curls of her hair as well as the letter when her fingers began to lift from its side. Gently, it was carried into the fireplace, the edges catching embers and burning softly as it laid itself into ashes around the wood.

[omegahalewithamission-blog]

Ever Forgiven | Self-para

Derek Hale, a devoted friend? No, that couldn't be right. A friend wouldn't destroy the faith of his friends the way he had, that had been the one thing he had realized when he had stood there waiting for Scott and seen his face when he could not believe what stood there in front of him. He had lied to him, he had made him through that exact same thing as he had been through when the Alpha Pack had been in town and he had fallen off that storey with Ennis, when they had all thought he had died in that battle. But he had survived, just like he had survived through this battle too, but for what cause? No, he didn't regret to have staged his death, but he did regret for letting Scott to be one of those people to take the hit and the fall. And maybe he had been the best scene of act to have everyone believe that his death had been nothing but the truth, but what he had been put through, he was not sure even himself if he should have ever been forgiven.

The loft was empty, and dark, and most of all lonely. He had eased himself to sit on his couch, his back tight against the backrest, his eyes just as tightly staring out into the emptiness. Derek listened to the nothingness, yet he could hear the cars passing by the far away highway that was miles away from the building, he could hear a little girl crying, a couple fighting somewhere down the street and the footsteps that lead from the street through the doorway all the way to the elevator that lifted the occupant creaking up towards the top floor. He didn't need to caught a scent of the familiar after shave nor see the face of the only person who would have the guts to come and congratulate him of the job well done. He returned back to the present, an exhale relaxing his lungs before he stood up from the couch and led his way to the middle of the wide floor. To wait upon his uncle's arrival.

[s-abrinarossi]

Diary entries make me sound like a kid.

Deary Diary (I sound like a little kid again) 

there's one thing I've noticed about people in this town     they all have a person. A person they can go to for help, for laughs, just to chill. They have a person that knows they're important. 

Every. Single. Person. 

Diary, I wish I was kidding. There's also another thing I've noticed: 

I don't have a person. I'm not a person. 

My stomach feels weird. Is it because I don't have a person? A best friend? 

No one to tell my secrets to, no one to watch movies with. 

It's not like I care. Because what if that person dies? I'm sure it would destroy me, completely shatter the person I am. That's what loss does to people, I watched my mom go through the same thing when dad died. 

But, I'm just. I kinda want someone??? Andrew seemed like a good person, but I wouldn't be able to tell him half of the stuff that I'd want to tell him. That, and my mind would be filled with the idea of attacking his lips with mine. 

Ugh. 

I hate people and their happiness with their best friends. 

Maybe I'll get a stuffed animal.

[manyfacesofrussell]

Precious Moments - Self Para

“Real friendship, like real poetry, is extremely rare - and precious as a pearl.”

— Tahar Ben Jelloun

When: the present Where: Charlie's apartment Summary: Russell thinks about Charlie and their friendship

He found the picture not long after he arrived here. It was a picture of them when they were young. Both had bright smiles on their faces, the innocence of childhood and a world yet to be corrupted only made them brighter. Not long after that, Russell shifted into Charlie and was whisked away. His life was never the same after that. He never had an innocent moment again. 

When Russell first met Charlie, he of course knew about the world. How did he not? His mother left the house more often with a false face than her real face, his father rarely left the house, and Russell was told to be careful. But he didn't know what was really going on. He was still innocent, he was still a child with a bright future ahead of him.

And then he met Charlie. Charlie was one of the first true friends he made. They met in the classroom when some boys were bullying Charlie. Russell saw that the other boy could have stood up if he really wanted to, but there was something or other blocking him. Russell marched over and managed to drive them away. That day, they became inseparable.

The friendship had developed quickly and the two were joined at the hip. They always played together on the playground sat next to each other in school and were two, boys growing up. But that all changed when Russell shifted into Charlie that day. Soon after he was taken away, he was trained to be able to shift multiple times, he was taught to shift in a moment when it was most needed and not get noticed and he was taught to get items to use to shift. 

There were few times when he saw Charlie again. Before his parents' funeral, he missed Charlie and he did keep in slight contact with him. But then afterwards, after the night in the cabin, he tried to protect Charlie. He ran away and never looked back so that he could keep Charlie safe. 

Charlie wasn't just his best friend, he was his family, his brother. He had to keep the only family he had safe. Now, both of them were here, together. As much as he wanted to push Charlie away, as much as he wanted to keep him away, he couldn't. Charlie convinced him to stop that. And now they were in this together. 

But Charlie was the most important person to him. When he was around, Russell he was actually happy. He could smile, he could laugh, and he could be real. It was a rare thing for Russell, he was always pretending. But with Charlie, he was happy and he was Russell.

Setting the picture down, Russell sat down on the couch and stared at the closed window. He would do anything to keep Charlie safe. He would do anything to keep his best friend, his brother - his family - safe.