Does anyone know or is a person in that area that enjoys;

• Anime
• Homestuck
• Cosplay
• Tea

If so, let me know. And to my followers, could you reblog this so I can find friends please?

Thank you all!

What makes a family? Love, respect, and honesty.

When it comes to a fandom it’s a group of people together that love the same thing.

With Homestuck, that isn’t the case.

We all love each other.

Despite the stupidity and annoyances, we’re all just one big psychotic family.

And honestly;

I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I’ve never been confronted with my own thoughts.

The ground is painted in crimson. Your mind is screaming at you even though it’s meant to be your sanctuary.   You’re looking at the sky. You’re looking into the fate and the life you’ve just shattered and splintered into the eternal abyss. And why is it written all over your face that you just don’t give a fuck? You’ve only got one thought on your mind.

Can you come over? Save me because he won’t stop.

He’s knocking at your door. He’s waiting. Waiting.Waiting.He’s just standing there with his Converse digging into the carpet as he waits for you. Those hues are covered by the respected lids and his lips are pursed before he can start to let his tears stream down his cheeks. He’s holding this all in because he’s afraid of being considered more worthless than he already believes he is. You can’t see it from behind the door but he’s shaking. He’s in utter pain and sorrow and you’re supposed to be there for him. You two where matesprits. He’s clenching his fists so tight you can hear his nails scraping his skin.

Caution the floors wet in here, been crying.

You’re standing there with the door half cracked and he looks up with those pleading eyes and you stare daggers back down. They become obscene and secluded through black disks but you refuse to remove them. It’s not cool. It’s your epitome and you can’t fucking break that.

Please love me. Please need me.

Without any sort of warning nor hesitation he’s flinging his body against you and his torso catches against yours. Those now bleeding hands wrap around you and he’s clutching you so hard you think you might suffocate. He won’t let you go. Those Raven tresses are burying into your shoulder and he’s whimpering and sniveling beneath your chin.

There’s no one out there who could love me better.

He’s rubbing those crimson droplets into your pure white shirt and you can feel it. Every single drop coursing through the fabric and staining your flesh. With a snarl you shove the smaller trollian and send him flying into the door handle.

I don’t know what he’s capable of doing.

It’s burning. It’s stinging and his lips twist and unravel as he screams in pain from his newest bruise. You know it’s just an addition to the dozens of others you’ve left at your own hands and quite frankly you smile and let the corners of your lips turn upwards. He’s on his knees. Whether it’s from pain or he’s begging, you could really fucking care less and your hand extends, placing the cool underside against his forehead. He smiles momentarily and you quickly change that, slamming him down into the floor. 

But, he’s hurting me.

The atmosphere grows silent. The only thing you can hear is the air conditioner flicking  in the background with few momentary clicks signaling it’s next cycle. Finally you see those eyes raise and meet you again, this time in fury as he grits his teeth. The site’s new, he’s normally begging for you to forgive him for whatever the fuck his previous crime was. This is ironic.

Now get him off his fucking throne.

Here he comes, fists clenched and swinging. You know this will turn out the same way as last as you turn and step away from his assault. Tripping over an un-kempt shoe lace, he falls into your glass intable. And there it goes, shattering. Fuck, this is going to stain the carpet and leave a mess. That’s all you think as you see the crimson one more time as it trails a rapid river down the grey flesh and to the floor. The smell is making you sick.

It’s not his fault I made him loose his temper.

He takes his stance once more after recovering from that tumble, and he’s staggering towards you. This time he’s weak and worn out. He’s loosing his determination to bring you down a notch and here he is. A step away as he swings. It takes a light shove and there he goes. He stumbles back. ZCCRIIPPP. The cloth on the bottom of his jeans catches a piece of metal in your sliding door which leads to the porch. But he’s not stopping. It’s making it worse. There he goes. You get one last look and he reaches out. His eyes are watering in the same shade as his blood. It’s slow motion for you both as his eyes flip open widely, mouth in the same position. He’s trying to scream but he makes no sound. Hands outstretched as his face sinks from your view from the threshold of the door, his feet are the last things you see as he stumbles over. He’s gone. And all you can see are slight glimmers of red liquid hovering where his face once was.

Don’t leave me, please believe me.

Your strides are slow and long as you take a step to the railing. Dipping your head over the rail, you see the remains. It’s sprawled into some fucked up toddlers drawing. The ever cool facade stays on that flawless porcelain and freckled flesh of yours. Moments pass as your lips twist upwards into this disgusting Cheshire grin.

—

Now you have to go clean up the fucking carpet.