@chaosthxory you know how to reply as soon as i have to go to bed you little shit
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@viritias-archive
@chaosthxory you know how to reply as soon as i have to go to bed you little shit
( chaosthxory ) -- -- 93:20:13:04:02
The fact he was awake was a feat all of it's own. He can feel the device curled in his grasp, but he can't bring his fingers to move, to use it. He could do it, he could of always did it, but he didn't. That was his problem. He couldn't just do anything lately... not for months. And the basement was cold. He rolled over and looked at the phone in his hand, hazel eyes narrowing at the cracked screen, his reflection staring back at him. And he hated it. Much more then twenty minutes ago when he checked to make sure he was still real.
The darkish blue settled under his eyes were like indentations, permanently marked into his already pale skin. There were veins running from his neck, to his arms, to his wrists... pulsing in a disgusting rhythm. His hair hadn't of been washed in what seemed like weeks, maybe even months,--time was no longer valuable--and it was thick around the nape of his neck, curling at odd ends, caressing his jaw carelessly. He hadn't of bothered to do anything with himself, just lay there, hearing the life he once had over top of him, and curling in to himself when he heard laughter.
He had been asleep three times in the past couple of months, which was a feat to maintain, but he had this nagging buzz in the back of his skull telling him that he should be wise not to close his eyes. He finally listened to that coo. He knew it would be safer here--far away from everything he loved, but he was still a masochist and pretended he was part of the life he ran away from. He was still pretending he was sitting there, laughing, like he was normal. It was a way to cope.
But it wasn't enough.
It hadn't of been enough for so long. His body was thirsty for it, his mind was a Sahara he couldn't cross quickly enough. Thoughts plagued him like mirages, hopeful gleams in the distance he wouldn't reach. And now, as he laid there, invisible to everyone he ever known, ever loved, it was devastating. And he couldn't reach the fountain to at least quench his thirst.
Or... he could of, but he always tripped himself up purposefully before he could reach it. Why? He was terrified. Nothing new for one lowly Vanile Jean. And he really was dying without the cool feeling trickling from his mind, to his throat, to his chest, and past his heart. And he knew he could solve it... should solve said problem... with one click of the button. But he kept stopping.
Because... what if she forgotten him? He had made no contact, no effort, no moves, and no plans. He just laid there and cried until his eyes were red and puffy. Sniffled until he was so weak it was hard to breathe. So why would she care now? Why would he even matter now? He didn't know, and he wanted to pretend he didn't care, but he had realized a month and thirteen days gone he loved her, and a month and fifteen to admit he needed her in his life.
So he couldn't figure out why he was struggling now, fumbling to make coherent decisions that could, really, alter his life. Or what was left of it. He clutched the phone tighter in his hands and wondered for another hour, listening to his slow, rhythmic heartbeat and his sleepy, dragging thoughts. He could feel his fingers slide over the screen with ease, it lighting up in his palm, questioning himself. It's all he ever did. Question and wonder.
He could even turn is head like so, slightly to the side, and peek through blurry eyes and flick his thumb up over the screen, know exactly where they were to go--like a habit he knew was always hard to break. He could even tap once, then twice, and watch he screen flicker from a blinding florescent to the friendly green, and he could listen to it ring.
Ring. Ring.
And then--
"I'm sorry, but the person you are trying to reach has a voice mail box that is currently full--"
And then there was a twitch of fingers as it slipped from his hands and he closed his eyes and knew he would pretend he was simply satisfied with hearing it crack as it fell to the floor.
❝ » o n l i n e.
guess who rose from the dead? this asshole. i am not totally off hiatus, but hello, anyway.
i really need to go to bed but if you want, like this post for a starter. like, a small starter, and i'll make it when i'm not dying of sleep!
whispers i'm a serious roleplayer while i do a crack roleplay and nothing else
〝hm? what was that? well, shit, i’m sure we can work out sex on the kitchen counter while simultaneously making breakfast while i talk shit about people. it’s called multi-tasking.〞
" --------------- holyfuckingshityou'renotserious."
(ignore your dick for three seconds, homeboy.)
"a-as gr---eat as y-you make that sund... n-no, elis. bad elis. i-i'll... uhm. uhhh. oh! i'll revoke your nugget privileges! and, and... and van time will be cut down to t-two times a week. h-how about that?”
〝part of me wants to make a sex joke but another part of me still wants to bash someone’s face in. i’m conflicted.〞
“e-elis... it's too early for... actually -- u-uhm. if your libido keeps t-the anger at b-bay, t-then--
wait. no. nevermind.
i'----m just g-gonna... m-make some eggs... a-and you can rant to me about punching faces in. okay?"
〝so are you suggesting i eat breakfast and then beat down their ass?〞
“i'm suggesting greasy breakfast foods before uh... strenuous activity. or... s-something. also, no. i am not condoning violence against others.... -- openly.”
[ viritias ]
〝you’re going to have to stop me before i throw hands on this bitch.〞
"uh----m. as... interesting as that s-sounds, violence before breakfast is not t-the answer."
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ashesofblackfyre:
I can rp with whoever I want. I can say no to a rp. I can drop a thread. I can take my time to reply. I can turn down a ship. I can rp with multiples of the same character.
I don’t ever need to feel bad about any of those things. I don’t owe anyone explanations if I don’t want to provide them.
So if you think passive aggressive posts will change any of that, it won’t.
well, this situation could of turned out a lot better, but, hey! -- it didn't. and now poor dumbass is stuck with a body at his feet. fun times. even more fun now that someone is watching him kneel over said body. oh. fuck.
"t-this is not what i-it looks like, uhm--- h-he was unconscious w-when i found him."
silverfinger + stiles
i used to be afraid of the monsters living under my bed. but then i grew up, and found out they were in my head.
i thought sating them would help them go far a w a y. instead, they use it as their favorite place to p l a y.
and then i got OLDER, and they got WISER. and then i got weaker, and they became stronger. and then i was shaking, and they were just laughing. so then i surrendered, and we ended up dying.
elis was situated on her couch, flipping through some homework that she probably have done before. whatever. she heard the door open and the familiar rustle of a bag of food— then vanile’s voice. elis didn’t bother looking up. it wasn’t like this was the first time he had shown up at her house after all. though, she did wonder if she should knick him a few sleeping meds.
"Hey— You okay? If your roommate is being a shitlord again and you can’t sleep, you’re free to stay here for a bit, you know that right?"
it was an open invitation, and sure she didn’t really have any more free space but elis had fallen asleep in the den before. she wouldn’t mind doing it again if it meant her friend could get in a bit of sleep for once.
if elis voicing her concern for another human being was anything, it was a testament to how many shits she gave about this kid. the only other people she shared the same sentiment for happened to live under the same roof, so it wasn’t like she needed to worry about them— but van had a completely different lifestyle; a normal one, actually. but still, even if he wasn’t a criminal or a drug addict, elisabeth was still inclined to worry.
as cold fingers pushed the door open, he was presented with the sight of his best friend, wide awake and comfortable; he looked to his feet and closed the door behind him, albeit too carefully, listening to the soft click as it shut behind him. he strode closer, measured steps against the plush carpet, before depositing the bag onto the table. he gave a smile, seemingly genuine, before flopping onto the opposing couch.
”I'm... great, actually. I th--ink I could be better if he stopped screwing around with my laptop, though. I need you to fix it again.”
with that he humored himself with drumming his fingers against the upholstery of the couch, shifting his gaze from her to the bag, nod adding anything else for the moment, instead relaxing for the moment. a simple calm before a hurricane. he blankly stared at the high ceiling, feeling time slow mentally around him. wetting his lips, he could feel the vibration of his voice in his ears as he spoke up again.
”I don't think I need anymore sleep, to be honest. I feel more awake then I have in a long time. Wide awake.”
he drew out the final letter of the word, wondering when he should make a move. he wanted to hear the shift of her voice, first. hear the concerned confusion there. to try and coax a response out of him-- something familiar besides the face of the one before her. ultimately, he wanted to hear that same voice b r o k e n.
”I brought McDonald's. Got like, three boxes of chicken nuggets. You might wanna eat them before they get cold..”
finally finished my wolfy so i’ll be over therreeeee