I Think I Do Not Love Anyone, For I Am Sick (sick Because Nobody Loved Me Nor Loves Me).

I think I do not love anyone, for I am sick (sick because nobody loved me nor loves me).

Alejandra Pizarnik, from Diarios (via virginiewoolf)

the things i feel for this man, the things i feel for him slash pos and slash neg

“I didn’t come this far to only come this far.”

— Unknown

@is-itself-a-deviant​:  ❝ you’re the reason i drink at night. ❞ (Gavin to Nines Connor)

There was a light flicker in the androids’ LED as he processed this information. A slight tilt of his head as Connor observed the detective, “I am? Detective, it’s not fair to blame me for your own vices,” the android’s voice was plain, straightforward. Their arrangement was not one either seemed to be handling well. Gavin made his opinions on the android very clear with every word spat at him. And Connor’s lack of respect for his human partner shone through in his own speech.

The memories of the way this particular detective treated his predecessor burned clear in his mind. Unkind, rude, to the point of actually picking a fight. The fact that this man retained his position at the department was remarkable, but Connor was not going to try to bring that up again to the captain. Captain Fowler seemed bitter enough to have to continue to have this machine in his precinct. Perhaps when he is in a better mood, Connor thought, making a note of this once more to bring up later. Retribution does not need to be rushed, after all. 

“Perhaps you should seek out counselling,” the suggestion on the outside might have sounded innocent, like a friend trying to help another, but there was a particular inflection to his tone that Connor saved just for Gavin, “Therapy, even. It has proven to be very successful in helping cops who seek to drown their sorrows in liquor instead of facing the world as an adult would. Is your placing blame on me just a simple deflection or are you attempting to garner pity from me?” his eyebrows scrunched slightly in mock concern as his head tilted a hair further, “I really hate to burst your bubble, detective... But I am incapable of holding pity for you.”

louisa may alcott — little women

How am I still alive? Simple: I refuse to die.