#telegram.

           he could play martyred and wounded and hurt, furrow his brow and tell him that after urilla, leaving people became the easy thing. burn through friends like lovers and the same again for lovers, a sickly trail of laudanum and common laws. let robert die. let doc rot. let sadie bear the brunt of getting older, the brunt of knowing that wyatt can’t die, that wyatt’s second curse - the one bulshar never knew he was placing - was to march on, timeless, watching his son grow from a distance, watching generations inherit his errors.

it would be so easy to act like there are reasons and explanations and justifications for everything wyatt has ever done. even his state of being, he has an excuse for that too; someone killed me first, robert, long before i killed you.

‘ — restive feet, i guess. ’ that’s the honest, ugly truth of it, that wyatt’s motivations for staying in one place are always thin and his mind is always racing. he left the triangle when robert died again. too hard in the jaw and too angry with his family of strangers for letting it get to this. came back as soon as he could, but — what if he’d never heard. what if whispers never came through it all to tell him of this revenant’s second coming. ‘ it enough that i’m here this time? that i came back for you? ’

Telegram alvo de ataques durante protestos de Hong Kong

Os responsáveis pela aplicação de mensagens encriptadas Telegram informou esta quinta-feira que foi alvo de um ataque cibernético oriundo da China. A investida foi lançada à medida que decorriam protestos em Hong Kong, contra a proposta de lei que permite extradições para o Continente.

A ‘app’ de mensagens instantâneas Telegram revelou ter sofrido na quarta-feira problemas de conectividade,…

warsan & melancholy — accepting — @thymocosm​.

somehow threading his fingers into robert’s hair becomes a tacit admission of guilt. no twisting, no twining, but fingers combing through gently, silently. all the violence collapsed his lungs and somehow, contrariwise, split his head open is the crack in his ribs that lets him breathe again: yes, i wanted to kill him, i wanted to look at the inside of him.

                there was a time when every breath wasn’t saturated with anger. but that was before, before the months where no one mourned you but me. ( and maybe waverly, in her own way, in some unknowing way, but that was a conversation they couldn’t have: i loved him and i wanted to love him and now i can’t feel that for anything, least of all my family, least of all myself, more cursed and damned by the day. )

                they are different now. they’re both different, now.

ask to kiss wyatt — accepting.

               all the long years and time between them and wyatt still finds himself surprised by hank. and by his own capability for affection for him. ( he remembers, a feeling out of time, their fight in albuquerque; some shitty words exchanged about something or other, but wyatt still rode out for doc when he heard about his arrest for the death of frank stillwell, still pulled what strings he could to make sure doc couldn’t be extradited for a murder that wyatt’d done. there’s no moral to the memory: only that he’s never been able to hate doc for long. never been able to crush the warmth he has for him. ) there ain’t a lick of wrongness in the idea of his john henry kissing him, only in the idea that he ever had to ask. shouldn’t it be a lot clearer that wyatt would — ?