#a mess

honestly how do people do tinder. not sure if it’s me being a demisexual neurodivergent mess but like… how do people choose?! it’s just a bunch of pictures (which here where i live look almost the exact same person to person, it’s as if people were following a template) with like a one-liner of bio (if anything at all). like ok the ones that are just a guy/girl showing off abs/bootie are easy for me to filter out, but what about the rest. it just feels like going through netflix and deciding what to watch or going through the foodora app deciding what to eat, but with actual human beings. like i feel my soul goes down the drain every time i spend half an hour just swipping left because no one seems appealing enough from just a few pictures and almost no info. and then i see people that are in meaningful cool relationships who met in tinder and i’m again like… how?!?!? i also cannot just swipe right for every person that i could find potentially appealing (in theory) because in the eventuality we’d match, i cannot maintain convos with so many people at once. heck it’s taking me over 4 months to finally meet for a drink with someone with whom i started talking in october (and he was ok with me disappearing for days or weeks at a time). it’s just… i’m starting to think there’s no hope here for me, really. being bisexual? my chances seem theoretically high wrt meeting someone. being bisexual *and* demisexual? my chances have been suddenly reduced to 0.000001%. good luck with that.

i take such pleasure in destroying things which remind me of my past, like pictures or pieces of writing, yet i feel miserable because i can’t remember anything about my past selves(what was i like?what were my thoughts?) 

Onlookers urged police to charge into Texas school

Why are children more prepared for school shootings -due to regular drills- than the cops are? Border Patrol had to come to the scene to take the shooter out. And they can’t settle on whether the shooter barricaded himself in the classroom or if they did….

*dates you and spends literally every moment of my free time hyping you up to other people*

Unplanned doodling the other night turned into. Well. Whatever this is. Unedited sketchbook images are unedited x'p

The morning after the reunion, Zolf wheeled himself out of his room in the back of the inn next to The Soggy Captain, attempting to open and close the door as quietly as possible.  He knew it was early.  Not like he’d been having much luck sleeping since, well, everything started, and even before then.  He wanted to get some time to himself and roll around the city a bit before the ominous looking rain clouds decided to drench them.

However, he rolled out of his room and immediately saw Wilde, stepping out of his own room a few doors down the hall.

“Oh, good morning, Zolf,” he said with a smile.  A sincere smile, though his eyes betrayed the myriad of emotions fluctuating beneath the surface.

“Yeah, ‘morning. Didn’t realize you were staying here.”

“Well, I figured it was best to find a room close by in case the festivities got bit toofestive.”

Zolf nodded. “Fair.”  He paused for a moment, during which time he and Wilde could only look over the other, really taking them in for the first time in years.

“We didn’t get to talk too much last night,” Zolf continued, looking at his lap.  “And there’s a lot I want to say.  You know I’m not good with words, but-”

“It’s okay, Zolf.”

“No, it’s not, I left.  Leaving is all I seem to be good at.”

Wilde moved toward him, hand outstretched as if to comfort him, but he stopped a few steps short. He still held out his hand, as if unsure of what to do.

“The short version is: I’m sorry,” Zolf said.  He made sure to meet Wilde’s gaze this time, even as tears began to roll down his cheeks. “The long version is-”

“We don’t have to do that now if you don’t want,” Wilde interjected.  “We’ll have time for that later.  I forgive you.  And, like I said, the door is always open for you.”

“I don’t want you to have to wait for me.”

“I don’t know how much choice either of us have in that.”

Zolf looked over Wilde again, grateful at least that the man seemed to be taking better care of himself now. And this was without Zolf making use of his kitchen and crafting him a variety of meals.

“There is one thing for right now.  Can I… We didn’t… Can I hug you?”  Zolf felt so small as he asked that, and he hated the way his voice quivered with the question.

Wilde smiled wide, his own tears starting to fall.  He knelt down next to Zolf’s chair and pulled him into a tight embrace.  Zolf hugged him back, burying his face in Wilde’s neck and letting the tears fall freely.

After what could only barely begin to make up for the embraces they missed in their years apart, they separated, though Wilde still remained on his knees as he wiped Zolf’s tear-stained cheeks.

“It really is good to see you again,” Zolf whispered, holding onto Wilde’s arm as if it was the only thing keeping him from being rolled away and never coming back.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Before they could say anything more, a loud “Hello!” erupted from the main area of the inn, followed quickly by a scream and the hasty movement of some furniture.

“You don’t think… is Einstein staying here too?”  Zolf asked.

Wilde shook his head. “How long do you think he was hiding in thatcupboard?”

“Do you think he slept there?”

With a faint chuckle, Wilde stood.  “Shall we go see what he’s done now?”

“Yeah, let’s go.  And, Wilde?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.  For everything.  You’re… You’re better than I deserve.”

“I don’t care about ‘deserve.’  I want you around, I want you in my life.  And that’s more than good enough for me.”

A Jon Snow sequel? Really?