god, itâs been hard. I know it has. it has hurt like hell and some days have felt like youâre pulling yourself through one second after another by your broken fingernails in the dirt. youâre tired. itâs a bone-deep kind of tired that settles in somewhere behind your ribcage and makes breathing feel like dying half the time and it never really seems to go away. but youâre still here. youâre beaten and bruised but youâre still kickinâ, trudging one foot in front of the other no matter how heavy those footsteps are. you decided at some point that, goddamn it, if this is rock bottom then things can only get better from here, and you decided to see better for yourself. and so youâve been clinging onto yourself for dear life and itâs been the hardest thing youâve ever done but you are one tough motherfucker and youâve done it. and god, Iâm glad you did. Iâm so glad youâre here. I know sometimes it feels like no one appreciates how hard it is to just be here, but I do. I know. and it is absolutely amazing how far youâve come and Iâm so grateful youâve made it. you are so important and your life is so beautiful and it would be such a shame for you to miss it. so keep on pulling forward. I promise itâs worth it.
from whosmoraless ..
tagging
@peterbsideparker @nan0-sp1der @lyrate-lifeform-approximation @ice-cold-parental-figure ... n you.đŤľ...
"These little roof-top talks have slowly become more common - a com-call away, occasionally with a shared patrol, almost always ending on top of a building, gazing out at the cityscape of either of their dimensions."
PJ likes to bring Miles a few things from his dimension, particularly, art supplies and tech. Often, it's the gizmos and gadgets that would be considered common, or it's a color swatch of the newest pigment.
Miles probably knows what PJ stands for, and they've probably had a good laugh about it.
PJ always carries umbrellas and raincoats for people, and often than not he's sharing them with Miles whenever they hang out in his Earth. The artificial rain seems to be perpetual sometimes.
The two exchange music tastes and listen to each others playlists.
PJ shows Miles some graffiti spots in his city, and lets him draw art for his album colors
The mutual vulnerability and lack of judgement is .. oddly nice, for both of them.
PJ likes talking to Miles because he provides more perspective on things that aren't really common to talk about in his world.
PJ specific
PJ brings Miles a lot of stuff in general.
Talking to Miles gives him a nice positive-chemical boost.
"You remind me of him. That's nice. Thanks for being here, Miles." he said one time while drunk and refuses to elaborate
but I can elaborate! Miles reminds PJ of Daryl. Huge heartache, but he's so glad to see his old friend's smile on someone else.
Miles specific
Miles likes yapping to PJ on certain topics from school, and PJ sometimes helps with work
"You have so much music!?" Miles probably loves how diverse the music is in PJ's world.
tw (graphic?) description of suicide, (graphic?) depiction of organ consumption
Have you ever wanted to..
crawl somewhere?
Like, just...
âŚcrawl into a hole, and let the Earth slowly reclaim the wasted resources from you?
âŚcrawl into a crevice beneath the cities and wait for the collapse of society so you can be crushed?
How does it feel to be left alone to the shake of your body, it expending precious energy to rattle your skeleton from head to toe, the overstimulating pressure building up around and inside of you. The pressure making it feel like your skin would press thin and expose your nerves to less dampened stimuli, making you feel every atom crumble under the weight of everything?
How does it feel for your eyes to strain under the glaring light that's everywhere around you, the hissing of the world around you as it sings for your demise and for your blood to spill along the cracks and curves of the Earth - as if to cradle and apologize to the planet for being such a waste of space?
That's how it feels. The overwhelming urge to claw your chest open and crack every rib, tear them out and poke your claws into your heart and lungs. The overwhelming urge to poke holes in your throat and choke on your own blood to repent, because God could never and should never forgive you for anything until the blood on your hands is either cleansed by the waters of heaven or by your own.
Vinyl's hands fly to his throat, coughing up phlem and bits of saliva. Ejecting the mucus from his body, he was effectively drying out his mouth and throat. Every gasp of breath feeling like the air was trying to tear his throat out, and for a few seconds, You wish you would tear it out yourself to spare your own body the pain.
Watery eyes look up to Blizzard, the blur of shaky white agonizingly soft compared to the harsh and blinding everything else. Which, surprised Vinyl a little, he tenses and shrinks back, letting out a noise akin to the growl of a wounded animal. The boy only relaxes as he hears the voice of his friend.
"Bl-blu-Blizzard, I-" he choked out, gaze snapping towards a blur of red behind your friend.
A hand leaves his neck, and he straightens his back. Vinyl falls silent, watching the large red behind Blizzard grow closer. Brows furrowing, he rasps another short breath before reaching into his jacket.
He pulls out a gun.
why does he have a gun?
It's aimed behind Blizzard, but to any onlooker, he may as well be aiming right at the other spider.
Vinyl doesn't speak, the crushing pressure building up again as he tries to focus. Despite the painful burn at every breath, despite the raging migraine that makes him dizzier every passing minute.
Vinyl doesn't move, locking onto the figure.
" 'e's behind..y-you-" he coughs out, finally. His hand shakes with..
anxiety? fear? hesitance?
He doesn't want to shoot him. He doesn't want to- but god, he needs to. After witnessing what happened in that building. Fifty-seventh street, 94831 suite 44.
suite 44.
There were 44 people there.
And all of them were dead.
You weren't fast enough, weren't smart enough. The riddle took forever to decode and when you finally get there, your heart was as still as theirs. Canary's talons digging into his feast, the piles of corpses surrounding him as squelching echoed in the desolate store. Blood painted the walls and all you could see was red, red, red red red red. Canary looked to you, he felt your breath stop and how your eyes widened. There was an intestine hanging out of his mouth, pulled from a young woman, maybe in her early 20s.
He laughed at you for your incompetence. The way you froze up like an insect in a web at the sight. The guts and spilled hearts that lingered. He showed you a heart. It was small. It looked miniscule in his hand. But it was still small. His breath smelled like rotting flesh and he laughed at your fear before almost biting your arm off.
(( I may have sent this yesterday but forgot, if so I'm sorry ))
# â INTERWEBBED NET
> #-VINYL LIKES MILES, TRULY. HE ENJOYS THE BOND HE HAS WITH THE BOY, EVEN IF ITS SMALL. HE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND WHY HE GOT USED TO BEING NEAR THE OTHER SPIDER SO QUICKLY, THOUGH, CONSIDERING HIS DISTASTE FOR UNNEEDED COMMUNAL ACTIVITY.
> #-PJ THINKS MILES IS AMAZING AND HAS HIGH POTENTIAL. HE'S SCARED OF GETTING CLOSER TO HIM, THOUGH. IT'S NOT MILES FAULT.
you give and give. you are a gentle heart, broken but still standing... always lending a hand for those who need it, expecting nothing in return. you deserve someone taking your hand and kissing your open palm, the hands which have selflessly helped so many others.
"It really doesn't look like the right one, though." 'Vinyl' commented, huffing as he pinches the fur on his jacket, "I don't know if it matters at this point, though." he sighed while continuing.
'Vinyl' wasn't having fun. Maybe he wasâ he just asked Blizzard for help with christmas shopping for his sister and father since he horribly forgot and had absolutely no idea what to get them.
He also wanted to get some of the other spiders some gifts. Which. He sucked at, too. For every great thing thing man was good at, there was something he sucked at. Shopping is one of them.
No time for crafts. No time for music. He felt bad giving just cardsâ so here he is. shopping. with Blizzard.
"What if I just no show to both parties??"
He asks. Knowing fully well, he would complain about screwing himself over the opportunity for connections.
