#he is writhing in my wips rn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seelestia · 1 year

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lbrh lia zhongli is probably a fellow caffeine addict bc he drinks so much tea on regular hdkfjsfj

i've actually never really used carrd, but i've seen really nice ones like dust's masterlist so yea definitely an option there!

at first i wasn't too fond of the fact that he was kinda able to 'delete' himself in the new reality but seeing his attitude about the whole thing made it up to me... like, ok fine maybe you deserve that chance to atone... /grumble /j

what are my hands for if not for headpatting zhongli hehehe

al haitham with his third eye lmao-

i actually haven't seen the livestream eep i was out when it went live... i did check the banner tho. devastated. i wanted kaveh on nahida's banner bc i want them both ;w;

BOTH OF YOU ON TIMEOUT. i'm surrounded by caffeine addicts. (/j) squinting at ayato and heizou who most likely stay up late for work reasons.... wanderer could've been my savior from all this but then again, he likes bitter stuff, so coffee being smth he fancies isn't off the table at all— i do think he'd prefer bitter tea over coffee tho! so, you'll probably see me dragging him along whenever i come to visit your teahouse <3 he likes the atmosphere in your teahouse but he won't say it out loud. (/lh)

mmm, i think ms. dust's carrd is super neat with the way she arranges her info! <3 carrd is a vv flexible site; as long as you know how to tinker with the settings, you can make it look however you want! although i just follow helpful tuts on yt, hehe. i also have my own carrd which is a bit diff from ms. dust's just to show the range of the site! thank you for the notion tips tho, rin jie, i think i'll stick to using notion for personal reasons >:3c what am i, a salesperson. sponsored by carrd™ (/j) speaking of wips, rin jie... just a fancy question, but how many do you have rn? hehehe. 👀

MHMMM, understandable!! the moment i saw that scaramouche wanted to 'purge' himself so that his old friends could have a second chance at life (the little found family in tatarasuna will forever have my heart. niwa <//3), it clicked for me and i was like: OH. SO THAT'S WHY YOU HAD A REDESIGN. and 'amnesiac' wanderer, even if he only got screentime for a split minute, was so cute with his gentle and polite demeanor (because it's so unlike the one we know LMAOOO) <3

i find it so fascinating that he wasn't able to change anything, that everything associated to him in terms of memories and knowledge were gone but he, as in his existence, was still there — in a way, it reaffirmed the inner workings of irminsul to me?? it was confusing with greater lord rukkhadevata so when this was demonstrated the second time with wanderer, i think i got a teeny tiny better understanding of it. i also love how his desire to 'delete himself' aligns with a line he said in his story trailer ("ashes") which was "i wish i'd never been born at all" <//3 SORRY I THINK I LOVE THIS LITTLE GUY TOO MUCH.

noooo, i still hope you'll be able to get kav! it's such a shame that it couldn't be a 2-in-1 for nahida and kaveh wanters 😞 i still writhe in pain because wanderer doesn't have a rerun next patch BUT THEY MADE HIM LOOK SO GOOD IN THE TRAILER?? aaaaaaaaa. on my way to steal rin jie's wanderer and abduct him like he's a pretty princess (/j)

#i am suddenly reminded of the alhaitham deshret reincarnation theory when you said third eye—#rin jie keeps giving grandpa zhongli headpats but what about me (/j)#ask box! 📬#visitor: dearest rin! 💠#cw: selfships

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greenfinches · 5 years

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I noticed you mentioning somewhere you mentioned a 5+1 fic of therapy sessions? Did that ever go up somewhere?

it’s stuck in wip purgatory rn :( i’d love to finish it someday tbh bc i’m rlly attached to the idea but in the meantime this is what i have so far

[cw for brief mention of suicidal ideation and dennis being a bastard man]

Being awake in the Grand Forks suburbs before daybreak feels a lot like a lucid dream, and also feels nothing like one at all.

Around three decades before, in the middle of summer break, Dennis had picked the lock on the caretaker’s entrance to the languages block just to prove he could. The deserted hallways had been different, somehow: still and quiet, lit only by moonlight, the scuffed linoleum echoing his footsteps into empty space. Certain places are transformed by darkness - St Joe’s, that night, had been one of them. Dennis can remember being struck by an itch at the back of his neck that told him he was peeking into forbidden territory. Not so much abandon all hope, ye who enter here; but more the feeling you get at an airport when it’s quiet. A feeling that says, this place isn’t real, and neither are you. The same feeling is creeping up on him now as he sits on the rooftop of Mandy’s rented condo, watching the faint pink of dawn wash over the horizon like a bruise.

It’s 4am, or it was last time he checked. He doesn’t know when that was. He’s perched on a generator that doesn’t seem to have been replaced since the early 70’s, considering how much it wheezes whenever he moves. It’s loud and guttural and a welcome respite from the unsettling stillness of suburbia in the early hours, so he doesn’t mind it all that much.

Four in the morning, last time he checked. Brian’s usually awake by six. And Mandy’s coming down off the tail end of night shift, which means this morning is his turn.

Dennis hates his kid. Not intentionally, and not willingly, but he does. He’s loud and needy and he has Dennis’ eyes, he shouts when all Dennis wants is quiet and clings when all Dennis wants is space. Sometimes he’ll sit on Mandy’s lap and sleep his way through Goodnight Moon, and sometimes he’ll spend a day screaming and sobbing and writhing on the floor because his socks don’t match. Dennis loves him - or wants to, at least, which for him is more than a lot of people get - but he also, increasingly, has times like this, where he doesn’t sleep and sits out in the cold instead, his hands shaking at the idea of going back inside.

Sunlight has begun to slowly spread across the rooftop, faint pink giving way to fainter gold. It’s nice. Maybe. If you’re into that kind of thing. Dennis rummages in his pocket for his phone and opens the camera.

He opens a new text message, uploads the photo, and types ‘good morning’. His thumb hovers the delete button and then he thinks, fuck it, and sends it anyway.

He’s not expecting a reply for a few hours - or even at all, for that matter - but seconds later his phone screen lights up in his hand.

It’s the view from his bedroom window - his old bedroom window. The glass is spattered with water droplets and the rain looks so heavy that Dennis can barely make out the hazy shape of the building across the street.

‘for you, maybe’

Dennis rolls his eyes. Leave it to Mac to be a dramatic bitch over text.

Before he can type out a reply, his phone vibrates again.

‘how are you?’

Dennis frowns down at the screen. This is another particularly Mac-like thing to do - ask a loaded gun question like it’s nothing at all and have the gall to expect an actual answer.

‘fine,” Dennis says, hoping to god he isn’t going to push. ‘how’s the bar?’

Mac’s typing bubble appears, then disappears. A few seconds later, it pops back up.

‘same old.’

Then, a split-second after that:

‘charlie set himself on fire a little bit trying to fix the juke box.’

Dennis snorts, despite himself.

‘how much hair did he lose?’

‘none. wrecked my shirt when i tried to put him out tho.’

Once again, Dennis’ phone vibrates in his hand before he can type anything else - except it’s not Mac, not this time, just his morning alarm.

5:30, then. Later then he’d thought. He should probably head back downstairs. He gets to his feet reluctantly, hopping off the generator and stretching his legs out.

‘gotta go. call later?’

‘can’t,’ is the text he receives in return. ‘sorry bro.’

Something in Dennis’ chest drops, then freezes still. He stares down blankly at the screen as another message arrives.

‘got a date after work!!’

Dennis rereads the text five times over, clenches his hand into a tight fist around his phone, and then shoves it into his pocket before he can give into the urge to throw it off the roof.

He isn’t even sure what part of that message offends him the most: the content or the exclamation points. It’s one thing for Mac to drop that on him - that Dennis is being blown off not for an emergency, not even for a scheme, but purely so Mac can hang out with a complete stranger - and another thing entirely for Mac to practically demand his happiness regarding the matter.

“So,” she says. “Tell me about your week.”

Dennis raises his eyebrows.

“Really?” he says. “You’re starting with that? Not what I would’ve done but, sure, okay. Let’s start there. Get this whole goddamned show on the road.”

Doctor Lane smiles at him. She’s older than he is; he can tell by the faint crows feet at the corner of her eyes and the way her hair is greying at the temples. It’s disgusting, really, the way people let themselves go.

“Excellent.” She sounds so genuine that he wants to punch her. “Why don’t you get me up to speed?”

Dennis forces a smile.

“Can I tell you the truth? I’m only doing this to humour a concerned party. I don’t need to be here - I should be sitting where you are, really, I have a psych degree.”

“It says here,” Doctor Lane points out, flipping through her notebook, “that you punched a hole in the wall of your partner’s house a week or so ago.”

“That was a misunderstanding,” Dennis insists, waving a flippant hand. “Complete misunderstanding, I was -“

“‘So intoxicated that he couldn’t walk straight, verbally aggressive, physically intimidating, and threatening suicide,” Doctor Lane reads out. she doesn’t sound angry, which is frustrating as all hell, because if she were angry Dennis would have an actual excuse to be angry back. As it is all he can do is glare at her in heavy, mutinous silence, and clench his fists to keep them still.

“We don’t have to talk about that,” she says, not unkindly. “Or talk at all. But I think this session would be more beneficial for both of us if we had some form of conversation.”

Dennis leans back in his chair. He closes his eyes and breathes out through his nose, and then he stares at Doctor Lane with the cold, dead eyed gaze that usually guarantees him the luxury of being left alone, and has occasionally guaranteed him a restraining order.

Dr Lane doesn’t look away.

“Mandy and I aren’t together,” Dennis mutters. “First of all.”

“What do you do for work, Dennis?”

“I’m a bartender,” Dennis says, before he can stop himself. The words turn acrid in his throat as he adds, stumbling, “was. I was a bartender.”

“Your friend told me you lived out of state until recently.”

“South Philly,” Dennis says. “Yeah.”

“Did you live there long?”

“Forty years. Give or take.”

Doctor Lane raises her eyebrows.

“That’s a big change.”

“Oh, stellar observation work,” Dennis drawls.

There’s a brief silence. As it stretches out further it feels like something is crawling up the back of his neck.

“I - it is. I guess. It is a change.”

“How does it feel?”

Dennis snorts.

“How do you think it feels?”

“You swapped bartending for fatherhood over the course of a weekend,” Doctor Lane says mildly. “I think that a little fear or panic wouldn’t be unreasonable.”

“I’m not panicking,” Dennis snaps.

“Come home,” Mac says quietly over the phoneline - Dennis just stands there for a minute, his eyes shut, as he listens to Mac’s breathing.

#the plot ended up getting way longer/more intense than i anticipated so i put it on hold..........@ me control urself mayhaps #anonymous #fic tag #ask tag #long post //

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