#now I'll go read the books again to give myself some peace
Text
I might hate the show ending more than I hate the book one.
#shadow and bone#no shade to the book ending at this point i LOVE IT.#just make the crows show at this point. leave shadow and bone be#shadow and bone spoilers#sab spoilers#Leigh how could you let this happen?#I don't think i have the strength to watch this again#now I'll go read the books again to give myself some peace#also Netflix you need to pay for my medical bills. not because of emotional damages but because you gave me an aneurysm.
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can i get an immortal villain×mortal hero please please please🥺
I'll give you my croissants 🥐🥐🥐
"How would you like to die?" the villain asked. Their eyes were closed where they sat upon a park bench, head tipped back to the cool breeze and the clear blue sky.
The hero stopped, a little uncertain, but not exactly startled.
"I've tried every kind of death," the villain said. "I can make a recommendation if you prefer."
"I'm not going to die."
The villain's lips twisted - a smile, of sorts. "All mortals die. It is the linchpin of their condition."
"I won't die because of you."
The villain's smile broadened. "Drowning, perhaps. Or maybe suffocation. I don't want to disturb the ducks."
"Why those in particular?"
The villain finally deigned to open their eyes at the question, considering the hero where they stood. The hero couldn't quite read the villain's expression, but their voice remained casual. "Everyone always thinks they can survive those ones. If they just thrash, just fight, hard enough. Then they go very still and very quiet when they realise they can't. You have time to realise what's going to happen to you, see."
"Nice to see you at least put thought into your craft."
"What can I say, I'm a sweetheart. You only get one death."
"But you don't."
"You've done some research. Not enough," the villain added, tipping their head, "seeing as you're still standing there talking to me. But some. Kudos. I guess we'll see if you're brave or stupid."
"I'm not trying to kill you."
"Contain me. Incapacitate me." The villain waved a dismissive hand. "You might save your generation, perhaps, if you get lucky. Are you feeling lucky?"
"I'm not trying to do that either."
"Oh?" The villain sat up a little, finally tuning in properly to the conversation. "Are you not a hero? You dress like one."
"I'm hoping to find a more peaceful, effective solution."
The villain slumped, bored, again. "Mm. This should be good."
"Because I have done my research," the hero said, taking another step closer. "You're immortal. You only kill people when they attack you or are in the way of you wanting something."
"As I said, I'm a sweetheart and a saint."
The hero's jaw tightened. The villain had slaughtered thousands across the decades after all. They were many things, and had lived many lives, but in none of them had they ever been a sweetheart or a saint.
"And what you want most," the hero ploughed on, "other than your comfortable life, is not to be bored. There's no end, after all. So you need distraction. Diversion. Something to make time a little less of of a prison."
The villain was silent for a long moment, watching the hero. "I take it back," they said, finally. "I'm going to drive a knife through your ribs. Nice and slow. You know it's much harder to die from a stab wound than people think? Often it's the blood loss that gets ya."
"And then what?"
The villain shrugged. "Feed the ducks. Go back to my book. Make Christmas lights out of your bones. The possibilities are endless!"
"Sounds lonely."
"You think you're the first to try this, don't you?"
"I think you haven't met me before."
"Maybe I will entertain myself with you," the villain said. "Maybe I'll destroy your life and the live of everyone you talk to from now on. That could be fun. It's been a while since I've been so personal a devil."
Despite themselves, the hero swallowed. Despite their resolve, they considered walking away. Just for a moment.
The villain pushed to their feet, tossing their paperback carelessly aside.
The hero squared their shoulders. They felt their suddenly-fragile feeling heart begin to race. They let the villain stop in front of them, they tried not to let out a desperate shudder as the villain's fingers wrapped around their throat.
"Pick an option," the villain said, caressing their pulse. "Lose air. Lose blood. Or lose everything, but get a few more years before you go. If you ask really nicely, I might even make it quick. "
The hero shifted. They passed through the villain's fingers as if it were nothing, as if the villain were nothing. A ghost. Untouchable.
When the villain turned, the hero sat on the bench the villain had vacated. They made a show of picking up the villain's book, willing their once-more solid fingers not to tremble.
The villain raised an eyebrow. "Phasing. Cute."
"I don't age when I'm in ghost mode. Any injuries I have heal. If someone kills me, I stay dead, presumably. I'm mortal, as you say, but..."
"Hard to kill."
"Hardest you'll find. Or does the challenge scare you?"
"Determined little martyr, aren't you?"
"Not like you have anything to lose experimenting. You have all the time in the world."
"You realise I don't have to honour any deal now that you've revealed your hand? I could just hunt you and continue hurting other people, especially now I know how much it bothers me."
"I'll disappear."
"I have all the time in the world. I'd find you eventually."
"I guess then I'd just vanish again, if you don't want to play ball."
"You really are just the cutest, aren't you?"
"Is that a yes?"
"Maybe." The villain held out a hand for their book. "I haven't decided. Buy me lunch. See if you can keep my interest for more than five minutes."
"Lunch."
"There's a new cafe I haven't tried. Apparently they make their own croissants."
"You want to go to lunch with me?"
"No, I want to go to lunch. All this talk of bloodshed is giving me the munchies! But I'm assuming you're currently planning to haunt me, so you may as well pay. Unless you want me to just...kill anyone who tries to charge me."
"No! No."
"That's what I thought. Great minds."
The hero pushed to their feet, as the villain had, tentatively offering them their book back. They weren't entirely sure if that encounter had gone well or not.
The villain smiled, full of teeth, eyes gleaming.
"For your sake, little hero, do try not to be boring."
And, so, they went for lunch.
#heroes and villains#villains and heroes#immortal villain#writing#villains#fiction#immortality#writing snippet#story snippet#writeblr
617 notes
·
View notes
Note
hello! i rlly love your blog and the way you explain things
how do i just apply? whenever i do i stress that i’m doing it wrong because i feel overwhelmed by the amount of info and things i have to make sure i’m doing right then i spiral and over consume again. i don’t want to rely on tumblr anymore.
what’s the simplest way to apply all of this and just “manifest” (i don’t rlly like this word bc it implies there’s a process or that i’m trying to get) my dream life? thank you
hi! ty!
it takes some courage! i also read a lot as a way to feel secure, but eventually i just got tired and just decided 'i have no more fears from this day on! done with this!' and i made it a practise to stop avoiding myself whenever something comes up
its all very natural, i can't say how you'll just finally decide that your over this lol
"whenever i do i stress that i’m doing it wrong because i feel overwhelmed by the amount of info"
well, learn how to stop yourself in the moment. you're putting too much pressure on your character! it only know what it knows now, it will not accept anything outside of what it already knows! thats why you leave it alone. read all you want to read, but stop when you feel like you have to. like you must. let yourself relax.
"i don’t want to rely on tumblr anymore."
good! keep going!
"what’s the simplest way to apply all of this"
just do it. try it and see. something that is a recurent theme in all the posts and book i read, is to try it. experiment. just for this one moment, let all the worries go. promise to never make problems for yourself again. you've given up troubles now, no more. just test it and see. surrender. let the mind cry and scream, for this moment, you won't allow it to deter you from freedom.
i'll give a list of stuff that helped me
theres only now -> stop bringing the past to now, learn to sit in the present moment
stop avoiding emotions, sit with the fear, discomfort etc
you already are Self! nothing can undo that!
be patient
non attachment (or detachment)
experiment - take something you already know and test it
question everything
find out what are the stories you want, what the desire will supposedly give you
it is not necessary to get rid of thoughts or images just stop deriving identity from them
"am i arguing for my limitations?"
soon more lovely thoughts and images will appear in your awareness and you can choose what you want
can you outgrow it? not you. observe it? not you. in the absense of it, you don't dissapear? not you.
be okay with not having it. get to a place where no one and no thing can disturb you (and your happiness and peace)
just see how absurd all this shit is. like i was born? what was it like before i was born? why is it normal to hear your voice in your head? no one knows what tomorrow is but we all worry abt it, where tf does the voice in your head come from? how can we actually identify feelings, what if the feeling pride isn't actually pride and you've been lied to? do you know how crazy this is for an infant?! we say we are an [x] person and that changes and so we say we are an [y] person, so who are we?? if we can change like that? being a human is confusing, seek the truth out and question all
just start to disidentify as the body-mind. when you disidentify as the body-mind you'll start to feel better as all the pressure you put on your character falls away. this will intice you to keep going as you feel freer!
have fun!! go and live life!! appriciate what you have now - this is all expressing the character, omnipr3sence, perfectly! you'll start to see "i barely thought abt x 2 days ago and now i see it here lol" "i was worrying about y and now i see it here too" "oh so this comes along with being the character too, maybe i should change that story"
you're in your own dream, see it as your dream and you'll start seeing the connections.
no need to convince the character, just move on. let yourself doubt this 'reality'
disclaimer: i'm still learning too! so please keep practising and have your own epiphanies!
reading
habit
no need to convince
behaviour
264 notes
·
View notes
Text
breaking / preventing bad booktok habits
no one asked my opinion, but i've been thinking about this a lot so i'm going to give it anyway.
consumerism on booktube is a tale as old as time, and it's just as bad if not worse on booktok (due to the norm on tikok being to post something new at least once a day), and that leads a lot of book influencers (both on youtube and tiktok, and even instagram to an extent) into some really bad spending and consumption habits
this is my very long opinion piece on some tips and changes to make if you've already developed these bad habits or feel like you're about to.
tldr: stop buying in to hype and by more mindful about what you buy, and REMEMBER THAT LIBRARIES EXIST.
go to the library
quite simple. allows you to read as many books as you want without spending money or cluttering your home. and if you argue back that your local library is small / doesn't have a large selection, that's all the more reason to support it!! it won't grow or improve if it doesn't have people behind it.
getting rid of books
don't feel like you have to get rid of books even if you enjoyed them. i myself have larger book collection than most people i know. but you do have to make peace with the idea of getting rid of books from time to time. stop treating it like the worst thing that ever happened to you.
next time your bookshelf is full, don't immediately jump to buying a new shelf. instead, go through your entire collection and see what you really want to keep. do the marie kondo thing and take everything off the shelf so you can go through each book one by one. go over it multiple times over a couple of days, so you can come at it with fresh eyes.
when you look at each individual book, really think about it. ask yourself: did i even like this book? if i did, will i ever reread it? was it important to me or was it just a book i enjoyed and will never think about again? if i can't remember my feelings on a book, am i willing to reread it to find out?
if you have books that you were neutral on, that you liked but not in any notable way, or that you straight up didn't enjoy, it might be time to move on from them. donate to your local library: if you didn't enjoy them, there might be someone out there who might, and if you did enjoy them, they're right there if you ever have the urge to read them again.
don't think about book purges as tearing apart your perfect collection, but instead think about it as making room for something new that you enjoy and appreciate a lot more.
if you've gone over your collection multiple times and you still have no room, then feel free to buy a new shelf and expand your collection. obviously, as you read more books you'll find more that meant a lot to you that you want to keep. again, it's not about mimimalism, it's about mindfulness.
unread books
some book influencers (and their fans) have a MASSIVE problem with unread books. as in, they have 100+ on their shelves and they keep buying more to add to the pile. if you have books in your collection that have remained unread for years... it might be time to get rid of some of them. sorry.
do the same thing with the unread books as you did with the read books: go over them one by one and really think about why you're keeping them.
how long have you had it? if you've had a book for 5+ years, and you haven't felt the urge to read it yet, do you really think you're ever going to? read the description: does it seem like something that actually interests you, or did you buy it on a whim? perhaps it interested you when you bought it, but time has passed and tastes change; does it interest you now?
if you haven't touched or even thought about a book in multiple years but you can't bring yourself to get rid of it because "well maybe someday i'll need it!!" consider how dangerously close to hoarder mentality you're getting.
if you're really convinced that you'll enjoy a certain book, set it aside. make the books you set aside your priority for the next 6 months / the next year and don't buy anymore in that timeframe. if by the end of that time you haven't read the books you set aside, it's time to accept that you are simply never going to read them, and its better that they get some use rather than collect dust.
once again: donate any you get rid of to the library. if you're worried that you're going to suddenly want to read them (even though you haven't for years) and won't have them anymore, remember that if you give them to library they will be right there for you to borrow whenever you like. except that, in the time between you donating them and reading them, they won't have simply been sitting on your shelf gathering dust. instead, other people will have gotten the chance to read them and perhaps enjoyed them more than you ever would.
buying books
quite simply, just be more mindful about the books you buy.
when a new book becomes trendy on booktok or booktube, don't buy it right away. a lot of book influencers' unread books tend to be ones that they bought because they were really popular online, but that they lost interest in when the trend died out. if you're worried about missing out, remember that the book will still be available when the trend dies, and if you're only interested in something so you can partake in the trend... you're not really interesting in the book. you're interested in the clout.
when a book trend catches your eye, takes some time to think about it instead. first of all, does the book actually seem like something you're interested in? yes, everyone on booktok is talking about this new historical romance, but do you even like historical romance? this new epic fantasy is filling your youtube recommendations, but do you even like epic fantasy? look at reviews. look at reviews from people you know have similar tastes to you. did they like it? were the things they liked about it things that you enjoy?
if after thinking it through you're still engaged, go ahead and buy it! once again, its not about mimimalism. it's not about having less books. it's about mindfulness.
if you're subscribed to a book subscription box (or, god forbid, multiple book subscription boxes) maybe take stock and see if you actually want to remain subscribed. in the past 12 months, how many books from them have you read, and how many have you actually enjoyed? in my opinion, unless you've read an enjoyed the majority of books you've recieved in the past year, it might be time to unsubscribe. also always know that if a particular month's selection really interests you, you can simply buy the non-subscription version of the book without paying for all the ones that don't interest you.
like many book lovers, i enjoy wandering aimlessly around the bookstore even if i don't get anything, but if impulse buying books is an issue for you don't go to bookstores for fun. stay away from book-specific online stores. if you're spending issue is really bad, it might be time to block book-related social media tags (aka abandon booktok).
if you have an issue with your unread books getting out of control, set aside a physical space for your physical to-be-read and always ensure that your unread books can fit inside that space. if it starts to overflow, thats your sign that you need to ban yourself from buying books and focus on the books you already have (and then actually stick to that!!).
i personally have a three-tiered utility cart that i use (they're really common, you can find them a lot of places, but mine is specifically from ikea). it has a little wooden table lid that goes on the top tier that prevents me from storing anything in that layer. my unread books go in the bottom two tiers. if they get to the point that, to store them all, i have to remove the lid and start putting them on the top tier, i know that i need to slow down in my book buying and stay away from the book store. if, after that, it gets to the point where the entire top tier is full, then i know that it's time for a full book-buying ban until they're all read.
other methods i've seen people use: keep a separate, much smaller bookshelf in another part of the house. keep them in stacks but use a ruler to measure how tall the stacks get, and go on a ban if they get above a certain height. limit unread books to how many can comfortably fit on the bedside table. etc.
in general, it's best to NOT store unread books on the shelf with your other books. if they're on your shelf next to all your read books, you may not really be able to comprehend how many unread books you have, which can lead to the number getting out of hand.
and if you're buying books less for the pleasure of reading them and more for the pleasure of buying them (aka you genuinely not as a joke say "buying books and reading books are two different hobbies")... babygirl you have a shopping addiction </3
special editions
a lot of book influencers have a lot of special editions of books, but rarely have they read all of them. a lot of people really like collecting special editions, which is why my advice to unsubscribe from book boxes might, perhaps, be difficult.
however, many people who own a lot of these special editions don't really care about what's inside the book. rather, they care about the clout that comes with having a lot of special editions. even if they aren't an influencer, if you consume a lot of book content, you might get a feeling of superiority knowing that you have this type of collection that your favorite creators have.
essentially, when you go through your special editions, treat them the same as your other books from earlier but also ask yourself:
(1) is there anything actually special about this special edition? some special editions have exclusive bonus content such as cut chapters, interviews with the author, special art on the inside, et cetera; is this one of those or is it just the trade version with a recolored cover?
(2) if i have multiple different special editions of the same book, is there anything to actually distinguish them? do they have different exclusive bonus conent? different exclusive covers made by different talented artists? or are they essentially the same, except this cover is a slightly different shade of red, and this one has gold foiling in a slightly different spot?
(3) assuming i've read it, did this book actually mean something to me? do i care enough about this book to want a special copy of it? if i thought it was just okay, or even disliked it, wouldn't it be better off in the hands of someone who has it down as one of their favorite books of all time?
if you're going over your book box subscriptions and you say that you wouldn't be interesting in reading a certain book if you don't get your hands on the special edition, remeber that your experience of reading will be exactly the same if you have the exclusive special edition hardback or the standard trade paperback. it's like the tiktok trend; if you're only interested in this book if you have a special edition, you're not really interested in the book. you're interested in the clout.
essentially, the base thing you have to consider is: do you want this rare, expensive copy because the book actually means something to you, or because you want the online social status that comes from having a rare, expensive copy?
conclusion
once again, the main point is: be more mindful about the books you buy.
actually think about if you're interested in reading something instead of buying books you'll never read on a whim. think about whether your buying something for yourself or for clout.
and remember that libraries exist!! donate books to your library, donate funds to your library, borrow books from your library, etc. if you like audiobooks or ebooks, download whatever app your library uses. if your library doesn't have a book that you'd like to read, put in a request and they might purchase. participate in your library's events and activities. get involved in your library. show your local library the love it deserves!!!
bye. if you have another tip about breaking or preventing bad book habits, feel free to reblog w/ your tip.
68 notes
·
View notes
Text
Every Breath You Take - oneshot.
Summary: Henry insists on helping his wife prepare for giving birth…
Pairings: AU!Henry Cavill x Wife!OC
Warnings: fluff, banter/British humour, language, dialogue heavy, nondescript OC body type/appearance, hastily written/lightly proofread.
WC: 1480
A/N: I know I’ve been posting like crazy lately but I reached a follower milestone yesterday and thought I’d post this little number from my drafts - enjoy!
My work must not be copied, reposted, or translated elsewhere. Likes, follows, reblogs and comments are thoroughly welcome and appreciated! Gifs/pics not my own. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for visiting!
Every Breath You Take - oneshot.
"What are you doing in here?" She opened her eyes and paused the app on her phone.
"I thought you might like some company--"
"No, out."
"What? Why?!"
"Cos the den is a Henry-free zone for the next hour. Now, go."
"But why? I only wanna come in here and read my book!"
"You can do that in the living room, go." Henry cast a curious eye over her cross-legged form on the floor.
"... What are you getting up to in here? I didn't disrupt anything important did I?" She sighed and got to her feet. It didn't matter what she had planned, it would be impossible with him in the same room.
"Darling, I want an hour's peace, please." Henry shot her a devious smirk.
"Fine - but first tell me why."
"No, now get out." He crossed his arms, determined to stay put. She pursed her lips but decided to give in and leave. When Henry was in those sorts of moods there was nothing else for it. "Hey, wait, don't go!" He only just caught her by the sleeve. "I promise not to be annoying, okay? Even though the den is my space and therefore you're technically the one who should be leaving." Her nostrils flared and Henry made a calming motion with both hands. "Take it easy! I'm just gunna sit on my chair and read, okay?" He waved the book in front of her face.
"Fine, but the minute you start playing up, I'm leaving - got it?" Again Henry nodded with a smirk and though she was hardly convinced, took a seat back on the floor. As agreed, he sauntered over to his Lazy Boy and opened his book. She took a deep breath and opened the app on her phone once more. Ten minutes into practising the techniques, she noticed Henry had stopped flicking the pages. If she had to hazard a guess, she'd say he was looking right at her. "Henry, find something else to do please."
"What? I was just looking at you for a few seconds! It's actually quite calming, like watching a fish tank." She gritted her teeth but immediately tried to relax. This was the whole point of her exercises. "... So what are you trying to do, levitate?" Her eyes snapped open and she jumped to her feet. She was in absolutely no mood to indulge Henry's silliness that day. "Wait, I'm sorry! I'll shut up, promise! I was just curious, that's all."
"Fine, but that's your last warning. Any more smart-arse remarks and I'll be locking myself in the bedroom for the rest of the day - understood?" He tried to suppress a grin and she rolled her eyes. But then it occurred to her that Henry's presence might actually be useful for once. If she could learn to tune him out, she could cope with pretty much anything. She had to take it in small steps though. After all, ignoring Henry was like trying to ignore a fire alarm. Luckily, she'd bought her Airpods and quickly turned them on. Moments later a gentle white noise filled her head. In the end, she didn't know how many minutes had passed, all she knew was that he was being unusually well behaved and she sneakily opened one eye. Henry was sitting right in front of her, grinning like a madman. "Right, that's the last straw. Have a nice day Henry, I'll see you at dinner - which you'll now be making." He shrugged.
"That's fine, I'll order takeout. And stop acting like such a baby, honestly, you can never take a joke! What did you expect me to do with you sitting there like a monk?!" She felt anger rising in her chest. But instead, she stopped herself and sat back down. If Henry wanted to be annoying, he could jolly well carry on. She was determined to outlast him and what better distraction to overcome than Henry himself? That's not to say he didn't rise to the challenge. "Hey, can I join in? What are you doing, breathing exercises? Ah, so you inhale to the point where the ball fills the circle. Got it. Mind if I keep my eyes open though? I'm not as advanced as you yet..." She ignored Henry's sarcasm and began counting the length of her breaths. No mean feat considering the noise he was making just breathing in. She tried to focus. Henry was not going to get the better of her that time. "Christ, this is hard. I need a pair of bellows up my arse..."
"WILL YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP?!"
"Well, that's not very zen-like! Here, watch the circle--" but she snatched the phone away and hurried to her feet. Again, he came between her and the door.
"Whoa, hang on, I'm sorry. I didn't realise we were meant to stay silent. Let's see if there's an exercise we can do together where it's fine to make noise... ooh I've got one." She kicked Henry in the shin. "Ow! That bloody hurt!"
"Then focus on your breathing, arsehole." He snickered.
"Mmmm, I love it when Mama gets feisty..."
"Take one more step towards me dickhead, and you really will need to breathe deep!"
"Fine! Honestly, there I was just trying to suggest a way for us to spend quality time together--"
"You bending me over the couch hardly qualifies as quality time--"
"Well, what about up against the wall?" But instead of blowing her top, she smiled serenely.
"That's just fine. You can stay in here with just your hand for company, cos I'm going back to the house. Have a pleasant afternoon." But Henry stepped in line with her change of direction.
"Okay, what if I promise to use earphones and sit here ignoring you for the rest of the day?"
"Could you do that for the rest of our lives?" He smiled.
"Now, now. Though you might want to try a different breathing exercise, the current one doesn't seem to be working..."
"No? Well, how about I kick your arse to the curb and you find a b&b for the night?" Henry swallowed, realising she was serious.
"There's no need for that! I promise that my lady shall not be vexed again until at least early this evening. Okay?" He then grabbed her Airpods, turned around, and plonked himself back on the recliner. She wanted to put his head through the nearest window but she had to be patient. Once he saw he couldn't get a rise out of her, eventually he'd get bored and vanish. She decided to rest on her knees and start the next method. If anything, it would certainly drown Henry out. But she closed her eyes again just in case. "... You know you don't need to practise, we've already got a balloon machine somewhere about." She ignored him and pushed out another breath. "Are you alright? You sound like you've got a slow puncture." She carried on and let her hand push her belly out as she exhaled. "Fine, ignore me then. I'll just listen to music." Henry scrolled through his Spotify and started singing loudly. "THAT'S GREAT IT STARTS WITH AN EARTHQUAKE! BIRDS AND SNAKES AND AEROPLANES! AND LENNY BRUCE IS NOT AFRAID!" In two three, out two three. Slowly it became easier for her to visualise a candle flame flickering on every breath out. At the next imagined contraction, she began with a sigh, relaxed, and breathed through the very real pain being caused by him, before ending with a sigh. Next, she started blowing gently, just enough to make the candle flame flicker in her head. "What are you doing now?! Practising for your next birthday?" Incredibly Henry's voice sounded further away that time. The technique was working. She could have jumped for joy. "Earth to Ollie? Oh no, has she achieved nirvana? Well, we can't be having that!" Suddenly she could hear him get up and start snapping his fingers. But she opened her eyes and sighed contentedly. "Oh God, it's worse than I thought, she's actually smiling!" She happily hopped to her feet and stretched followed by a yawn. "Ollie? Are you alright? Did I break your brain?" She smiled in Henry's direction but said nothing, and leisurely walked toward the door. "Oh no you don't! I want to know what the hell that was all about! Ollie? Ollie?!" She giggled to herself as she trotted back into the house. There were many things he could do to help her prepare for her pregnancy, but she was determined to keep her new mindfulness techniques to herself. Labour would be hard enough and besides, it would do Henry no good to learn that after all their years together, she finally had a better means of blocking out his nonsense. It wasn't perfect, but she'd take all the help she could get.
To be updated on when I post please follow @resowrites and turn on post notifications.
@elizabetharegina @fanfictionaddiction99 @luclittlepond @caffeinatedfestivalsheep @summersong69 @ushijimbo @geralts-yenn @livesinfantasyland
#henry cavill#henry cavill fandom#henry cavill fanfiction#henry cavill x reader#henry cavill imagine
148 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's crazy to think about how HRT has improved my life and outlook so early on. I finally feel at home in my own body, and I have not even started to see real visual results yet. I am slowly starting to bud, I actually feel emotions outside of just anger and contempt. My mind is at peace with just being me for the first time in a decade.
I still have a ways to go. I'm unlearning some male tendencies that are not as nice as they should be. Or at least I hope I am. A lot of things to unpack from there. I did not know I was such a misogynist until really sitting down and thinking about how I responded to certain people. I'm still mean! But I'm learning how to temper my words and think before I just crush people now...
I can sit down and focus on what made me who I am today. The art and music and computing skills that I enjoyed as a youth. Everything seems so fresh and brand new again. I'm even taking time to play video games again, which I have not done regularly since my TF2 clan disbanded back in 2016.
I renewed my passion for movies and film. Animation and cinematography. I'm behind on my reading but I'm slowly getting back into the swing of that. Have to catch up on a few Halo books and such 😅
I feel pretty and soft and flowering. I realized that my past experiences trying to cope with being a male left some scars on me that I need to heal, but I think I have found people in my life who have already jump started that for me.
At first, I thought I had lost a lot of time. Like a huge part of my life was just cut out from not transitioning sooner. Now I understand that it's not about the times I missed out on, that was important for who I was. The times ahead are what makes me who I am and who I want to be now.
I was worried people would like me less now that I'm transitioning, but honestly I don't care anymore. I don't care about any of it. I have my peace and self-esteem back. I have my ambition and drive back. I have hope and community again. I'll take that any day over someone finding me "masculine and handsome".
For now on, I'm placing myself in a box of my construction. Far outside of whatever society and whatever anyone else had built for me.
I'm hoping if anyone else is debating experimenting with their gender identity, going on HRT or just making some form of change for themselves to just take the dive and do it. I think it has honestly saved my life and given me so much more willingness not to give up. In fact, it has made me more of a fighter than I was beforehand. And I'm super super thankful for it. I really am.
I'm in love with life, I am in love with myself, and I'm in love with the times yet to pass and the present time moving forward.
#hrt journey#hrt estrogen#hrt progress#transgender#trans#lgbtq#lgbt#nonbinary#hrt#transfem#girl goals#Zezah Xiomara Citrine
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐘 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍, 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄.
All these quotes are taken from many materials from George R.R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire, from members of House Targaryen. You can change location, names and pronouns as you see fit. Some of these are little spicy as well might mention the typical topics of the book like inc*st.
I mounted him and took him for a ride, and I mean to do the same tonight. I love to ride.
Red maidens, the two of us, but now we've both been mounted.
You were made for battles, and I was made for this.
As soon as I am well, let's make another. I want to give you twenty sons. An army of your own!
But you are far braver than me. I would sooner fight a dozen battles than do what you've just done.
He's either brave or mad, that one.
You will be a great king, even greater than your father.
A ruler needs a good head and a true heart. A cock is not essential.
If your Grace truly believes that women lack the wit to rule, plainly you have no further need of me.
My uncle Maegor was cruel, but age is crueler.
No mother should ever have to burn her child.
I am old as well, but I am still younger than you.
She was his most trusted counselor and his right hand.
Dark Sister was made for nobler tasks than slaughtering sheep. She has a thirst for blood.
The war will end when the heads of the traitors are mounted on spikes above the King's Gate, and not before
Prince Daemon had been the wonder and the terror of his age.
The archmaesters call you the Conciliator, I have heard. It is time that you conciliated.
I have my own kingdom here.
Such a fierce little thing she is, they say, she has no need of comfort. They are wrong in that, I fear. All men need comfort.
She has no interest in kissing games, nor boys. She plays with them as she used to play with her puppies.
I have seen the way she preens and prances around Baelon. That is the husband she desires, and not for love of him.
She wants to be the queen.
How can he rule the Seven Kingdoms when he cannot rule his brother?
Your guards are slow and lazy.
If any man questions my son's right to the Iron Throne, let him prove his claim with his body.
When the sun sets, your line shall end.
A king should never sit easy.
Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice.
Do you think we would name him Aegon the Conqueror today if he had not had dragons?
But we will come again, Princess, and the next time we shall come with fire and blood.
I fed my last husband to my dragon. If you make me take another, I may eat him myself.
We can go back to the ends of the earth together. But I'll get there first, as I'll be flying.
Brother, if it please you, we have brought your new queen.
The sound of the queen's laughter was like music to this fool, so sweet that even the king was known to smile.
The whole realm knew that the girl loved Daeron's bastard brother Daemon Blackfyre, and was loved by him in turn.
Daemon Blackfyre loved the first Daenerys, and rose in rebellion when denied her.
A hundred years ago, Daenerys Targaryen came to Dorne to make a peace. Now another comes to make a war.
Too many dragons are as dangerous as too few.
I have done my duty by you, and given you an heir.
When Viserys sold their mother's crown, the last joy had gone from him, leaving only rage.
Whenever Aerys gave a man to the flames, Queen Rhaella would have a visitor in the night.
The queen your mother was always mindful of her duty.
I want to be with you, I want to sail the seas and have adventures.
Every knight needs a squire. You look as though you need one more than most.
omeday the dragons will return. My brother Daeron's dreamed of it, and King Aerys read it in a prophecy.
If you cannot manage a horse, fetch me some wine and a pretty wench.
Why did you throw your life away? For this whore? She's scarcely worth it. A traitor. The dragon ought never lose.
She bathes in blood to keep her beauty.
You've known queens and princesses. Did they dance with demons and practice the black arts?
Duels were fought over the right to sit beside her.
She gave him her bed, but never her hand. It amused her more to make him jealous.
I want him dead, the traitor. I want his head, you'll bring me his head, or you'll burn with all the rest. All the traitors.
But a man does not marry his heir to his servant's daughter.
Aerys was mad, the whole realm knew it.
There have always been Targaryens who dreamed of things to come, since long before the Conquest.
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Since I'm trying to share something every day to motivate myself to write again, here's the first chapter of one of my adult fantasy books. At one point I loved it but I had a critique partner read the whole thing and now it embarrasses me. So this is probably terrible but give it a chance maybe? Trigger warning: magical seizures.
Please tell me if you want to be removed from the taglist. Or added, I guess.
Stitches and Memories
(WHY DID I PICK SUCH A TERRIBLE TITLE?)
Chapter One
The 4th Day of Spring, 502 King's Rule
Antea didn't spend her thirtieth birthday celebrating with the few people who called her acquaintance. She spent it dying. Again.
A normal woman wouldn't be on the floor of her bathroom, occasionally spasming hard enough to slam her head into the wooden tub. All she was doing was reliving her first kiss at age seventeen. It was just a memory. It was just a memory, brain, get it together.
But her brain did not get it together. It flooded her with memories of the boy's pink lips -- too wet and too large -- at the same time as it slammed a pickax through her eyes over and over again. She'd blacked out too much to see the room around her, but she felt it when her legs spiked straight and slammed her into the wall. She came away with splinters in her arm and cheek.
"Shut up over there!" her neighbor bellowed from the next apartment over. "Keep pounding on the walls and I'll report this to the constables!"
He probably would, too, the bastard.
In her mind, the boy drew back and beamed at her. The memory ended there, but the pickax didn't stop for another twenty minutes.
When the agony died down, she dragged herself over to the chamber pot and threw up.
When she finally eased her eyes open, a partly digested pasty stared up at her. The pounding on her door registered then. Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound raised dread in her heart. Only one type of person knocked like that in Drazen. With that terrible implacability.
When she wrenched the door open, hinges squealing, a broad man in green stared down at her over his posh black mustache. Some seamstress had embroidered his doublet with the king's symbol, a golden lion biting its tail. The gold thread was real, which meant she'd gotten an up-city constable somehow, which was deeply unfair since she lived in the slums.
He frowned at her. She could guess what he was seeing: a barefoot, brown-skinned woman who had just grown out of being pretty, wearing a dress that had been mended too many times. Her golden hair was mashed in a nest on one side of her head. She smelled of a few days of sweat and dirt.
Her black hair had turned metallic gold when she was eighteen. No, she didn't know why. There was a lot about being eighteen that she didn't know.
She bowed deeply. "May I help you, sir?"
He said, "I've had a noise complaint here. Pounding on the walls. Disrupting the peace."
"I had a fit of convulsions in my bathroom."
He frowned at her, his whole face drooping. "We have had a lot of complaints about these convulsions."
Antea resisted the urge to wrap her hands around his fat neck. "Yes. That's because it's a medical condition." And it was true, even if they weren't the normal sort of fits, not normal at all. As far as she understood it, normal people with convulsions thrashed around less and passed out and sometimes forgot the whole thing. She wasn't normal. She was awake through the fire in her head and every twitch and spasm, and she remembered everything.
The constable leaned in close. "Have you been praying for healing?"
"Yes."
"If I go and check your records, will I find you tithing regularly to at least one of the gods?"
"Yes," she lied.
"Because if I check and you haven't, then you aren't really trying to be healed, and you will be held wholly responsible for remaining ill."
"Which entails?"
He sniffed. "After all this commotion, I would think eviction, at least."
Her rentals always ended in eviction, but she had hoped this one would last out the year. "Sir, the Stag God teaches mercy to the infirm and poor. Seeing as I'm both, I would be most grateful for your understanding."
"There are many such deserving citizens in Drazen. But with your extensive record--"
"Of what? Running into walls in the night? That's not even a crime."
The man straightened to his full height, towering over her like the Eagle God over his foes. "If a constable of the law says you have committed a crime, then you have. Gather your things if you have any. I will speak with your landlord, and it will go poorly for you if you are still here tonight."
Antea sagged against the doorframe. "Yes, sir."
He smiled at her, wide and smug. "Oh, and remember the curfew."
It took all her willpower not to punch him. She turned sharply instead and shut the door in his face.
She didn't have much to gather. Her ragged haversack weighed nothing when she slung it over her shoulder. Her leather shoes were hiding under the bed. Even though the seams on the sides were giving way, they covered her toes at least. One change of clothes and a wool blanket lay on the mattress. The blanket served as a blanket, but her extra dress was her only pillow. She wrapped one inside the other and tied them to the bottom of her haversack.
One last thing remained. A letter. When she'd moved in, she had shoved it under the mattress where she wouldn't have to look at it. She pulled it out now and thought about throwing it on the fire. It would burst into flames, burning fast and hot, the dry paper shrinking into black curls before they crumbled away into white ash. If she burnt the letter, she would never have to read those words again. The pain in her head might always be with her, but that pain she could leave behind.
She read the letter. It said:
"My beloved daughter, I write this for my own sake, for you will never read it. Forgive me. What I tore from your mind was necessary, but with that wound, I know that I have killed you. May the gods have mercy on my soul."
She ran her fingertips over his signature. Then she put the letter in her bag and walked out of the tenement never to return.
--
It was two hours before the doleful tones of the curfew bell would ring across the city, two hours for Antea to find shelter for the night. She didn't have the coin for an inn. She had just paid the damn landlord the next month's rent money, not that he would ever consider a refund. If she asked he would laugh in her face, and the law would be on his side, too, like it always was.
With no other option, she headed for the nice part of the city. Not the nicest because that was up near the royal castle and the queen's spire, and people like her weren't allowed there. No, she went to the parts frequented by merchants and the new rich, where no one would care that she was there.
In the dimming light, the nice quarter was all faded stone edges and empty streets. Even the rich had to follow curfew. But even in the twilight, the library stood out as the biggest building in the district. Pilgrims that followed the Crow God visited from all over Ritalia. Its marble facade was hidden under red leather prayer offerings. When it rained the entire building stank like a wet dog.
She slipped between the leaving patrons and headed for the front desk. Zoren, the head librarian, raised his eyebrows at her. He was a pleasantly overweight man in a long black robe, with large spectacles sitting on top of his bulbous nose. The blue mage light beside him shone off his bald head. "Antea? This is quite the departure from the norm. What's going on, then?"
She flushed and hiked her haversack higher on her shoulder. "I got evicted. I was wondering--
"If you can sleep in one of the back rooms tonight?"
She nodded.
The librarian's voice was gentle but unyielding. "If we were caught housing people in a building not zoned for it, we could get into a great deal of trouble with the constables."
"That's a no?"
"I'm sorry, Antea. Good luck finding shelter tonight."
She bowed to him and slumped out of the library. But she stopped on the front steps and straightened up. She wasn't giving up that easily. The constable who had evicted her thought he'd catch her for breaking curfew, and that he'd see her locked up and the key thrown away. But Antea had planned for this, even if she had hoped the day would never come.
All her worldly possessions on her shoulder, she walked half a mile to the Shrine of the Gods.
The Shrine of the Gods was not one shrine but many, all marked by white marble columns that thrust up from the city streets. At its base, each pillar bore the painted statue of one of the gods. When you approached a statue, you were isolated from the others by head-high circular walls around each column. They carved out a little bubble of space so that it was just you and whatever god you had chosen, and anyone else who wanted to pray had to wait in line. Those lines sometimes stretched out for miles, but at this time of night, every statue she passed was alone.
An overnight vigil was the one thing the constables couldn't complain about. She wouldn't get any sleep that night, but she wouldn't end up in jail.
Antea paced around, refreshing her memory about which god's statue stood where. There were thirty-two gods to choose from. Some of them were so minor no one worshipped them, but the Shrine represented all gods. Leaving one out just because they were as popular as moldy cheese was unthinkable.
Antea picked the Dog Goddess because she'd always been fond of bitches, and who didn't need a little guidance in their lives? She sat cross-legged on the braided wool mat spread out before the goddess's marble toes. The Dog Goddess stood in two forms next to herself. One was a rearing limer with floppy ears, painted black and brown, the other a small-breasted naked woman, painted with dark skin and white hair. The woman's hand was outstretched in benediction. It shone white at the tips, the details of her fingers worn smooth from the touch of too many worshipers.
Antea leaned close and said, "Hi."
The goddess did not reply.
"It's been a while since I talked to one of you gods. I'm not very pious, I know."
The dog statue of the goddess had its head tilted as if Antea had done something peculiar.
Antea drew her knees up to her chest. "It's funny, you know. I used to be very pious. Ready to do anything any god asked of me. Thirteen years ago." Thirteen years ago, she'd been a lot of things.
In the twilight, the goddess's expression looked sympathetic, but Antea had had twelve years to learn how little the gods cared.
She said, "I think I'm supposed to ask you for a gift. It's traditional, or something."
Someone passed by outside, and Antea forced herself to stay relaxed. Go away. She was communing with her god, like a good little citizen. Go away.
She stayed silent until the footsteps had faded. Then she said, "So, demanding things. I can't think of what I want. I mean, I want to be healed. But you've all said no to that." Thousands upon thousands of prayers, all unanswered. She'd even tried the gods no one prayed to anymore. And nothing.
Beyond the shelter of the shrine walls, the constables were ringing curfew. They'd start searching the streets soon, looking for beggars and troublemakers and other unwanteds. People like her who hadn't been smart enough to hide out at the Shrine. She needed to look prayerful, but it was early enough spring that the nights were still cold. Surely it couldn't hurt to pull out her blanket and cover her lap. The devout didn't have to freeze, did they?
"I'll ask for food and a place to sleep. That's nice and humble, right?" She undid the ties at the bottom of her haversack and yanked her blanket loose. When her spare dress clung to it, she stuffed it in the bag. And the letter fell out and fluttered to the stones.
Antea froze. She stared down at where it lay, heavy with its words. When she sat back down, blanket hugged against her chest, her movement bumped the letter a few inches away, but it didn't disappear.
She buried her face in wool and said, "You can't be serious. That's not a reasonable suggestion."
It wasn't, but the Dog Goddess wasn't suggesting anything. Antea was just talking to herself again. If the goddess had actually been present, the statue would have lit up with bright light, perfectly white the way mage lights never managed. Antea had seen the gods answer petitioners before. She used to watch her father-- Never mind. Forget it.
But she didn't forget it in time. Stabbing pains made her squeeze her eyes shut.
Someone cleared his throat behind her. She spun around, and the headache and the motion nearly made her vomit.
A Shrine worker stood there in his modest tunic and apron, both glowing white. He bowed his curly head and said, "You're here very late, daughter."
Antea kept her head high and clasped her hands together on her lap. "I'm keeping a vigil."
"I thought that perhaps that was the case. We do permit vigils, despite the curfew, but I must ask what you pray for tonight. The constabulary has us keep records, you see."
Of course they did. And if she didn't tell him something worthy of a goddess's guidance, he would call the constables. And she couldn't say she was asking for healing because the Dog Goddess wasn't a healer.
The letter lay innocently on the stone beside her. She picked it up and held it in her hand. Words flowed from her lips as if someone else was doing the talking. "My father hurt me and left me for dead, twelve years ago. I don't know what happened to him after that. He never came back to the city."
The worker's brows lifted, and his lips pursed as he took a step towards her. "That is... troubling. What guidance do you hope the Dog Goddess will grant you?"
Antea slumped, letting the letter trail against the ground. "I just... I need to know why. Why he did it. But he's the only one who knows, and there's no way I could afford a passport to even leave the city, much less to go to all the places he might be. That's why I've never found him."
The Shrine worker nodded. "That is a difficult problem, and one I fear I cannot help you with. But keep your vigil, daughter, and perhaps the goddess will grant you her wisdom." He swept his hands in a sign of blessing, and he walked on.
Antea let her breath out in a rush. She shoved the letter back in her haversack with shaky hands and wrapped herself up in the blanket.
"Close one, huh?" she said to the goddess's statue. "Maybe give me some guidance if you feel like it. Because I would like to know what he ruined my life for."
The goddess's statues stayed dark. If the goddess intended to guide her, it wouldn't be directly.
She sighed and rocked back and forth. "I know I'm very stupid. What am I hoping for? To remember? Trying to remember makes it worse." Even remembering something near to that day threatened to tear her mind apart.
The cloudy heavens overhead split and spilled out a thousand stars, winking and sparkling like candlelight seen from far away. Her brain throbbing with its usual rhythm, Antea sank down in her blanket, shut her mouth, and closed her eyes.
@anonymousfoz
@moremysteriesthantragedies
@elizababie
@sm-writes-chaos
@bellascarousel
@palebdot
@Hyba
#writeblr#writing#writing community#creative writing#fantasy#this is terrible#why am i even posting this#Stitches and Memories
66 notes
·
View notes
Text
Harley D. Dixon 16
An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99)
Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board!
Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!
📖Chapter List.
Author's Note. This is the longest chapter yet! Just shy of 10,000 words!
For the first time in forever, we're blessed with a slow day.
The sun crests over the clouds in the early afternoon, glazing the Greene house and its golden paddocks in a soft, buttery glow. Slow once meant boring, but now it means peace. My Dad's awake now, albeit bed-bound, but he's more or less as healthy as a horse. I don't need to keep glancing at his pale form anymore, watching for disaster. Not having that threat of death lurking around the farm makes the air feel so much clearer. I can finally relax a little. I think everyone feels the same relief. There's one less problem ready to strike at us.
Maggie lets me use the guest bathroom to take a hot shower in the afternoon.
After helping me tape a scrap of plastic over my stitches to ensure they stay dry, she lends me some fruit-scented shampoo and body lotion, assuring me she'll be right downstairs if I need anything else. I luxuriate under the warm water for some time, suds-ing up my dirty blonde hair and scrubbing the dirt form underneath my fingernails. I feel my muscles let go of all my tension in real time. It's the best feelin' ever.
I tweak the water off and step out onto the green bath-mat, face to face with my reflection in the mirror.
Last time I got a proper look at myself, I was dying in the back of the RV. I look at myself again; at my healthy, clean complexion.
"Hey," A girly voice calls out gently from behind the door — Beth, I think. "I got you a spare shirt, if you want. Is white your color?"
I look down at myself. "I'm more of a beige color."
She laughs. "No, silly. I meant... never mind. I'll leave it here for you."
After her footsteps recede down the corridor, I fetch the shirt, close the door, and hold it up in front of me. It's a tight, white blouse with frills down the front of it, and two, tiny puff-ball sleeves that each look a little like a lily-of-the-valley flower. I peel the plastic off my side and pull the shirt on — almost a perfect fit, but a little loose — combined with my blue jean-shorts, socks, and yellow rain boots.
I clomp back downstairs and into Dad's room, where he's trying to read a book he found in the bedside drawer, but failing.
It must be a romance. He hates that sort of thing.
I ask him if he wants to do my hair instead, and he agrees to the distraction right away.
With the window wide open to the smells of sweet pollen and farm life, I sit between his legs as he brushes my hair. I'm just so glad he's alright. He gives me two neat braids, ties them off with my hair lackeys, and then I ask Maggie for a pair of scissors so Dad can trim my bangs up a little. She's hesitant at first, but I tell her that my Dad's been cuttin' my hair since, well, I had any hair to cut, and that he's actually not half-bad.
She lends me some kitchen scissors, and I happily thank her.
I make myself comfortable on the bed, on top of a towel to catch the clippings, and I snack on a red apple as Dad cleans up my out-grown, wonky bangs. He tells me he's rusty, but he does a good job. They'd gotten long in our weeks on the road, but they look much better now.
After my hair's done, I kiss his cheek goodbye and head outside.
I find Carl over by the shed. He's playing on the swing that hangs from the burly tree growing beside it in a ray of sunlight.
"Hey, Harley." He greets me, digging his heel in the dirt to slow down. "Want me to push you?"
I smile, "Yeah, okay."
We exchange places, and he gives me a gentle push.
I can see Rick over by the tents, talking to everyone. He's probably sharing the disappointing news that it really was Shane that shot my Dad, so that everyone's on the same page. We're not supposed to tell the Greenes about this discovery. We need to make a good impression, and having a trigger-happy murderer in our group ain't the best way to achieve that. It's better if they continue believing it was Otis that caused all this, otherwise we're gonna get booted to the streets again. I never wanna go back to living that way. We need this place, for Sophia.
I don't wanna talk about Shane, so I won't bring him up.
Nobody's told Carl about any of it, anyway.
"I didn't even know this swing was here." I say as I enjoy the breeze on my freshly washed skin. "This is just like the one I used to have."
"I never had a swing." He muses as he pushes me again. "I miss playgrounds."
"Betcha don't miss school, though."
"Eugh. No." He exclaims. "My Mom still makes me do homework sometimes. It sucks."
I remember doing all those spelling quizzes and math problems back at the quarry. I don't miss it one bit.
I ask him, "What grade was you in, before?"
What grade 'were' you in, Lori would correct me, not 'was'. It always annoyed me when she did that.
"Sixth." He answers. "What grade were you in?"
"I was in second grade."
"Second grade?!"
"Yeah. What grade did you think I was in?"
"I dunno. Five, maybe?"
"I'm eight." I giggle. "You're twelve. We can't be in the same grade."
"But we're friends." He counters. "I've never been friends with someone outside of my grade before."
"Well," I sing-song, "Now you have."
"Even my cousins were the same age as me."
"Mine were all older."
I haven't thought about my cousins in forever. They're all on my Momma's side, from her two brothers. There was Vicky and Tobias, the twins. They were super old. Like, fifteen. Then there was Hunter, and Lillian, and Georgia. I miss them the most. They always treated me nice.
I've never had friends or family younger than me before. I've always been the baby. Even here, that still hasn't changed.
As I'm gazing out onto the distant cornfields, swinging back and forth relaxingly, Maggie approaches us with a friendly wave.
"Hey, y'all." She smiles. "Havin' fun out here?"
We both notice her, and answer, yeah, at the same time.
"Who built this swing?" Carl asks her. "It's awesome."
"My Daddy built it, a long time ago," Maggie fondly says. "When I was just a little girl. Nice to see it gettin' some use, again."
"I reckon I could touch the sun." I hum to myself, looking at the sky.
She chuckles. "Don't go testing that theory. Your Dad would kill us all."
"You wanna play with us?"
"I actually wanted to ask you guys somethin'. I heard from Daryl just now that you found a walker in one'a our wells today?"
Oh, yeah. That ugly thing.
Carl corrects, "Technically, I found it."
I roll my eyes. "Don't be a smart-ass."
"Hey. That's a swear word."
"It's fine. My Daddy don't care 'bout swears."
"I was just wondering which well it was." Maggie interjects. "We've got quite a few around here, and I don't wanna search them all."
"Oh, it was the one near the barn." Carl says, pointing in that direction.
I ask her, "What are you gonna do with it?"
"I talked to Rick about it, and we reckon we're gonna try using a winch to pull it out. Can't have it dirtying up the water."
"What's a winch?"
"It's like a really long, metal rope you can attach to a car." She explains. "We've had ours for years, and luckily for us, it hasn't rusted."
I bring myself to a stop, widening my eyes. "Can we come watch?"
"Yeah!" Carl enthuses. "Can we?"
"Sure ya can. I don't see why not."
With a small cheer, we abandon the swing and follow Maggie across the field, rambling about all the gross stuff we think is gonna happen.
Everyone pitches in to help clear the well, except for Shane. He's off somewhere, brooding.
At first, we try dangling a chunk of canned ham over its head to see if that'll get its attention, but since canned ham don't bleed, kick, or scream when you bite into it, the walker doesn't want anything to do with it. We realize we'll need live bait, and for some reason, everyone's eyes fall onto Glenn. He thinks that's super unfair, but he is all better now, and he does have the fastest reflexes out of all of us.
"Have I mentioned that I really like your new haircut?" He smiles lopsidedly at me, thinking I'll save him. "Really suits your face."
"Don't worry about it." Rick reassures him. "You'll have four of us on the rope. We're gonna get you outta there in one piece."
"One living piece." He emphasizes. "The living part's important."
Dale drives over the car they're gonna use for the process, while Andrea retrieves a thick coil of rope, making Glenn go pale at the sight of it.
Rick and Jacqui start wrapping it around his body.
"We'll give you the winch." Rick says. "Just try wrappin' it around its neck."
He sighs in defeat, "Let's get this over with."
As soon as he's in the well, he's screaming bloody murder.
If not for the suspenseful atmosphere, it would be super funny. Me and Carl watch from the sidelines as Rick, Maggie, Andrea, and T-Dog work together to lower Glenn into the well with nothing more than a rope looped around his midriff to keep him from falling to his death. Dale sits in the driver's seat of Maggie's Subaru, waiting for the signal to start reversing. There's a mechanical lookin' thing attached to the bumper. It looks like a garden hose, but it's made of metal. It must be the winch. The end of it leads into the well.
"You people are crazy!" His disembodied, terrified voice shouts from below. "This is crazy!"
"We got you!" Andrea calls out.
Rick grunts, "Give us an eye, Maggie."
At the front of the line, Maggie peers in. "Doin' okay?"
"Can't believe I'm saying this," His wimpy voice echoes, "But I need to be lower."
"Lower." Maggie parrots.
They all shuffle forward a couple steps — a couple too many steps, apparently.
"Higher!" He shrieks. "Higher!"
The rope strains against the cobble as it's tugged again, backwards this time.
I chew my fingernail nervously.
"Can you get it around that thing?" T-Dog asks, sweating. "Sometime today, please?"
"Fuck you!"
Me and Carl exchange glances, biting down shocked giggles. This is the first time I've ever heard Glenn say, Fuck.
"How's that now, Glenn?"
He takes some time to answer, grunting, "Living the dream, thanks."
"Just get the winch around its neck." Rick coaches calmly, "Easy as pie. Then clip it onto itself, and it should secure."
We wait with bated breath as he wrangles the walker.
After about a minute, he calls out again.
"That's it! It's on! Pull me up! Pull me up!"
"Get him up!"
"Pull! Pull!"
"Come on!"
They wrestle with gravity to lift him back out the well, struggling in unison as Dale reverses. The winch immediately pulls taut. It creaks loudly, mixing with the sound of the engine and Glenn's panicked screaming to create the worst, most cacophonic song I ever head, and I've had to listen to my Dad's favorite music all my life. We cheer them on anxiously, watching closely in anticipation. The grass begins to split under their boots from the force. Just as the rope is about to give way, T-Dog gives one last powerful tug.
"That's it!" He says, "Come on, grab him!"
Glenn scrambles over the lip of the well, panicked, as me and Carl rush forward to help everyone pull him out.
"You okay?!" I ask him.
"God, get me out." He cringes. "Get me out."
As he lands on his ass, soaking wet from being splashed, the walker is next in line to be pulled from the depths.
It gets caught on the edge of the wall like a thousand-pound pinata.
"More force!" Rick orders.
Dale stomps on the gas, making the tyres squeal.
"Come on, you ugly thing." He goads. "Come on."
As the winch begins to cut into the walker's neck, the growling is hitched suddenly, replaced by choking.
Its eyeballs bulge under the pressure.
The engine revs once more, and Rick ushers us out the way. "Get back! Get back!"
All of a sudden, the well cracks and breaks apart around the walker's fat body as it's dragged out onto the grass. Rick's on it before I can even blink. He unsheathes his knife and sinks it into the mushy, water-logged skull with a satisfying squish. At last, the darn thing goes limp.
We all catch our breaths as he stands.
Dale turns off the engine.
"It's uglier in the sunlight." Carl muses, revolted.
No doubt about that. It's disgusting.
Eventually, Glenn deadpans a celebratory, "Anybody thirsty?"
There's a weak chorus of laughter amongst us.
I stand next to Dale and Glenn, watching as Rick and T-Dog drag the walker off the property.
"You know," Dale ponders aloud, "Did they ever mention how that thing fell down there in the first place?"
Mmm... Nope.
No, they didn't.
"This whole farm is fenced off." He continues, thoughtful. "How could a big thing like that just wonder in?"
"Maybe it's been there since before the fences." Glenn guesses. "They might've put them up after everything."
"No," Dale hums. "I was talking to Herschel about it yesterday... He said it was all built in the seventies and they do maintenance every month."
The walker is silently dumped on the ground.
All Dale muses is, "...Strange."
"And then it exploded!!"
My Dad's eyes widen.
"Just kiddin'," I giggle. "Rick stabbed it in the brain."
"I was gonna say." He scoffs. "Explodin' walkers? That'll be the day."
Dad missed out on the action of the well today, so I decided to recount the whole thing to him after. I left out the part about Glenn screaming like a baby goat, though, 'cause I think he'd appreciate that. He's already got enough humiliation for a lifetime with the whole jerky fiasco.
"You really believed me?" I grin, shaking my head. "Actually, I ain't surprised. If you believe in chupacabras, you'll believe anythin'."
He smirks, "Watch yer mouth, girl."
"Whatever." I keep giggling. "I gotta go now, Dad."
"See ya later, baby. Stay where people can see ya."
Carl uses the situation to convince Rick to let him carry a gun. I don't know why he wants one so bad, but he sure is stubborn.
"What if another walker gets in?" He needles. "I need to be able to protect myself."
"Under different circumstances, I'd consider it." Rick explains. "But for starters, I promised Herschel no firearms on his property."
"But—"
"I've also been reassured that this was a one-time thing, Carl. Nothing else is getting onto this farm anytime soon. You don't need to worry."
"I'm not worrying." He argues. "I'm just tryna be smart, like you guys."
"You are smart. I know you are. That's why you're gonna let this go."
With a great big groan, Carl rolls his eyes.
From over by the campfire where he's polishing his pistol, Shane throws in his two cents. "Might not be a bad idea, Rick."
He looks over at him. "What?"
"You know we're both certified instructors. Plenty of land 'round here that ain't Herschel's. We could set up a shooting range, see how it goes."
I scoff hearing that, anger rising up inside me.
"Yeah, you'd know all about shooting things, wouldn't you, Shane?" I snarl sassily.
There's a very stiff, very awkward pause between us all. It's lucky it's just us around, and not any of the Greenes. I guess I wasn't thinking, but when my temper flares up, I never think before I speak. That's how you know I'm my Dad's daughter, I suppose. Shane stares at me like I've just slapped him sideways across the face. I glower at him; a seething, hurt look I've never directed at him before, one I know will pain him. He knows he's broken whatever it was he'd built between us with this stunt. He's damn right I don't wanna be his friend anymore.
It's so frustrating that we all know what he did, but none of us can do anything about it. He gets away with everything.
At least I can hurt him with words.
Rick sees that I'm getting angrier by the second and puts a comforting hand on my back.
"Huh?" Carl asks, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Carl." Rick warns.
"No, I wanna know. What did you mean?"
"He shot my Dad, is what I mean." I exclaim, heated. "He was gonna leave him out in the woods to bleed to death. Ain't nothin' more than a murderer."
Carl's gaze snaps onto Shane, a look of betrayal skirting over his features.
"It was you?"
"Carl, it's already been discussed." Rick tries calming him down. "What's done is done. It's over."
"Why'd you do it?"
"Listen, buddy," Shane placates, for some reason looking at me when he does. "Sometimes things just happen. Heat of the moment."
"Weren't no 'heat of the moment'." I shout. "You followed him through the woods for hours!"
"I didn't—"
Carl taunts, "You gonna shoot my Dad next?"
"This is gettin' outta hand." Rick intervenes, standing up from the picnic table. "Come on. Let's go cool off. Both of you."
"I hate you." I call out to Shane as I'm pulled off the bench. "I fucking hate you!"
He doesn't even have anything to say. There's nothing he can say. He ducks his head, unable to look my way, and once Rick gets himself in my line of sight, I can't see his guilty expression anymore and I don't care to. I shove Rick off. He respects that I don't want him crowding me so much and opts for just holding my hand, instead, telling me everything's alright. My eyes well up, lip wobbling. I hate people seeing me cry, but Rick's probably seen Carl cry a whole bunch of times. I don't need to be too embarrassed. He would never judge.
He guides us both toward the side of the house.
"Here." He gently says as we approach a trough of clean water. "Wash your face off a bit. It'll feel good."
"I can't believe you didn't tell me." Carl frowns. "Were you ever gonna?"
I splash some water onto my already wet cheeks, catching my breath.
"Shane's been with us for a very long time." Rick confesses, "I didn't know how to break somethin' like that to you, but yes, we were going to."
"What does Mom think?" He pouts.
Rick nods. "She's disappointed."
I dry my face off with my shirt, mumbling pettily, "Murderers go to prison, y'know. They don't just sit around, cleanin' guns."
"What are you gonna do, Dad? Is he just gonna stay here?"
"Do you want him to?"
Carl seems torn on how to answer. "W—Well, yeah, but you don't usually get to choose, right?"
"We do now." Rick tells us both. "Lots of people make mistakes. Shane's definitely made a mistake by doin' this. I recognise that. But things are different. We need each other to survive out here. We need this place to survive. Putting that at risk will be hurting us, too."
"He's sorry, right?"
Rick doesn't know how to answer that one.
"I hate him." I sniff, miserable. "I can't look at him no more."
He gives me sympathetic look, rubbing my back.
"We can't kick him out." Carl worries. "He's our family."
Everybody is someone's family. My Dad's a murderer, and he's my family. That's why I forgive him. I guess that's why Rick, Lori, and Carl forgive Shane, too, even though they're angry like I am. I wish I could have that gene for moving on, but I just don't. Shane ain't my blood.
"Things are weird right now." Rick admits. "I know. But we just have to stick through it for a while."
"Until when?" I demand. "When's it gonna be okay that he tried to kill my Dad?"
"Never." He appeases. "You have every right to be upset with him. I just want to secure our place here, first."
"How you gonna do that?"
"I'm going to talk to Herschel tonight."
"And then what?" I spit sarcasm. "My Dad can have at him?"
"It's tricky, Harley. I can't kick Shane out. I can't kick you an' your Dad out. I can't have you around each other. There's no good option, here."
"When my Dad's all better, he's gonna kill him." I grind out. "That's a good option."
"No, Harley, it's not." He sighs patiently. "Two wrongs don't make a right."
"Why the Hell not?"
"Because I will not allow murder within the camp. That's a line we do not cross. Ever."
"Then kick Shane out!" I scream in his face, as if that'll make him listen better, turning on my heel and storming away.
With anger coursing through my veins, I search the farm for Shane.
He made himself scarce after Rick forced us to give him some space, but I'll find him. I don't know what I'm gonna do once that happens, but the first step is to find him. Maybe I'll shout at him. Maybe I'll punch him in the face. Yeah, that's good. I'll do that. I'll break his nose, just like my Daddy did. I ask Jacqui if she's seen Shane anywhere, and then I ask Andrea, and Beth, and even Jimmy. They all give vague, unsure answers, but they all mention the direction of the back gate, so that's where I go. I'm an arrow, soaring toward its target.
Sure as shit, I find him on the outskirts of the farm. He's sitting in the neglected, tall grass, staring out onto the distant sunset.
When I see him rub the heel of his palm over his eye, I realize he's crying.
I approach him from behind, not caring how loud my raging footsteps are.
When I'm within ten feet of him, he starts to turn around, sighing, "Rick, listen—"
"It's me!" I shove him harshly, surprising him. "And yer lucky it is, 'cause if I was him, I'd kick you out right now!"
Shocked, he faces me with wide, wet eyes.
"Scratch that, I'd kill ya!" I seethe. "Just 'cause my Dad survived, don't make you any less of a murderer! That's what you are!"
"Harley—"
"I don't wanna hear nothin' you have to say, no more." We're nowhere near the main part of the farm. From here, the house looks like a miniature. The sky is open wide. I can scream all I want, and nobody will be the wiser. "I don't care. You can't say sorry for somethin' like this! Everybody knows what you did, Shane! Rick knows, Carl knows, Lori knows, I know!" My voice cracks. "I gotta live with it! With you!"
I don't care that he's been crying. He could cry an ocean of tears, and I still wouldn't care.
"When my Daddy comes for you," I shout, "I won't stop him. Ya hear me? I won't!"
As soon as my Dad's better, this place will become a hunting ground. As long as one of 'em is alive, the other won't stop 'till they're dead.
A flash of violence glints over his eyes when I say this. This was never his plan. If he had things his way, not only would that bullet have gone straight into my Dad's head, but I'd also probably be mourning in his arms right now, letting him replace what he'd made sure I'd lost.
"I did what I did for you." He snarls, offended. "I did it to protect you. You think this is what I want, Harley?"
"I know it's what you want. You're a fucking murderer."
"Yeah? I want my best friend lookin' at me like he doesn't even know who I am, anymore? I want you tellin' me that you hate me?" His lip curls around his biting words. "That's what I want? I'll let'chu in on a little secret, here, Harley. I don't. This is Hell for me, too!"
I shove him again, but he doesn't retaliate. He takes it; deserves it, even.
"You can't protect nobody!"
I smack him again.
"Nobody!"
"Harley—"
"I was your friend!"
"Fuck!"
I punch him square in his stupid face.
He grunts under the sheer impact, his hand going to his nose. He pants, dumbfounded. His fingers come away wet, red; bloody. I stand there, huffing and puffing, my knuckles sore, as he looks up at me like he doesn't recognise me. His eyes are wide pools of incomprehension. I-I just punched him. I have never in my life punched an adult, before. It feels good. It feels really, really good. It feels better than just washing my face off, that's for sure. Sometimes, two wrongs do make a right. I know, 'cause I'm starting to grin, now. Rage, to me, feels like a medicine.
He gulps, blood trickling down into his gaping mouth. He frowns lightly at me.
"That make you feel better?" He asks without venom, as if he's genuinely curious; as if he's got an idea.
"It did." I breathe. "Made me feel a whole lot better."
He pauses.
Then, he mutters, "Do it again."
"What?"
"Hit me again." He shuffles onto his haunches, presenting his bloody face to me like a prize. "Hit me again, Harley. Do it."
I hesitate at first, not believing this is really happening, but then I see that he's serious. He cups his hands around both his knees, ready to be my punching bag. He raises his chin; takes a deep breath. For once, this isn't a trick. This is plain, raw indulgence. The slithering delight of violence is all mine to take. I feel it building up inside of me again, fighting to be let out. I slowly curl my fist again, rearing it back into the air.
I bring it down onto his face again with a dull, painful thud.
He straightens again.
I lay into him for a third time, and a fourth, and a fifth. I think of Dad's unconscious body, the sound of the gunshot, and the way he was tip-toeing alongside death for three whole days. I think about how Shane almost took my Dad away from me forever, and I make him hurt.
By the time I'm done with him, his cheek is already turning an ugly green-brown color, bright blood smeared across his chin.
That's the best thing I've done all week.
He sits back down in the grass, adjusting his jaw, groaning, "Where'd you learn to hit like that?"
"My Dad." I pointedly spit. "Taught me to punch people who are mean to me."
He chuckles weakly, accepting my punishing words instead of arguing. "Well, you got me."
"This don't change nothin'."
"I know it doesn't." He pants. "No matter how many times you hit me, you're Dad's still a fuckin—"
"I told you I don't wanna hear it."
"A fucking asshole." He finishes. "Hell, he's no better'un Ed was. You— You wanna know the difference between him an' me?"
I refuse to answer, glaring at him.
"I have never hit you." He says, knowing I can't argue with a fact. He's infuriating, that way. "Hate me all ya want, but... I've never hit you."
We stay like that for a strangely painful and gaping moment, face to face with each other's honest presence.
In the distance, we hear people calling for me.
He sniffs wetly, bringing his shirt up to clean his face. "Best you get back, now."
"Harley, where'd you go?"
"Harley!"
"Harley!"
As a parting goodbye, right before I walk away, I mumble, "You can't protect nobody."
He doesn't come back to the farm until after dinner.
Rick's a little angry when I return to the farm, but he hears me out.
"I just went on a walk," I fib, hiding my bloody knuckles. "To calm down."
"Are you alright?" Lori fusses.
I smile. "Yeah, I'm... I'm really good."
They glance at each other, but it looks like the matter is already settled.
"Come on, then." He sighs. "Dinner's almost ready."
Lori grabs my clean hand and leads me toward the house.
"You need to reconsider." Rick comes out and says that night, helping the Greenes clear the dining table.
Herschel frowns, "I beg your pardon?"
"Asking us to leave." He sets the dirty dishes down in the sink, and then turns to face him, his arms crossed. "You need to reconsider."
At least he wasn't lying, I think to myself as I finish off the last of my peas. This is him following through on what he promised me he'd do.
"If you saw what it's like out there," Rick continues, "You wouldn't ask. You're a man of belief. If you believe anything, believe that."
"You're putting me on the spot, here, Rick."
He doesn't back down.
"Well, I mean to. Those people out there look to me for answers. I wish they didn't, but they do. That includes Harley."
Herschel glances at me, a soft look in his eyes.
"After everything that's happened," Rick doubles down, "The least you can do is reconsider."
"You're a plain-spoken man."
"I'm just doing what's best for my people." He humbly says. "We've been to Hell and back these past few months. This whole journey started for us when Harley got scratched by one of the dead, right in the beginning. We honestly believed that we were going to have a child's blood on our hands. You don't forget somethin' like that. I know I won't. I know her father won't, either. Now I fear the same thing might happen with Sophia. I know you're a man of good morals, a man of faith. You got two girls of your own. If you kick us out when Daryl's better — before we can have a good chance at finding Sophia — Then this time, I'd say the blood will be on your hands. Not ours."
Herschel is confronted by his words, glancing over at Beth and Maggie, the apples of his eye, as they clean dishes together.
"Will you consider my request?"
"There are... aspects to this." Herschel says. "Things I can't and will not discuss. But if you and your people respect my rules... I will reconsider."
I try not to let my excitement show on my face.
Rick smiles. "We will. You have my word."
Herschel nods. "And you have mine."
Dad's still reading the book when I go into his room that night and change into my pyjamas.
"Dad, guess what?"
He hums.
"Rick got Herschel to think about lettin' us stay longer." I smile, stepping into my sleep shorts. "We might not have to leave."
He lowers the book at that, a sceptical look on his face. "He did?"
"Yeah." I pull on my shirt and hop on the bed, taking out my braids. "You know what that means?"
"What?"
"Shane can get punished, and the Greenes won't care."
As I move onto the second braid, content with this development, I don't notice my Dad looking over me, a dark look in his eyes.
"Baby?"
"Yeah?"
"What's that?"
He grunts as he sits up slightly, reaching out to grab my wrist. I look down at it, only now noticing a tiny speckle of Shane's blood on one of my knuckles. Damn it. I thought I got it all off when I washed my hands this evening, but I must've missed a spot. I lick my thumb and wipe it away.
My gaze averted, I confess, "I punched Shane today."
"You what?" He scolds harshly.
"I punched him a whole heap of times, actually." I say somewhat proudly. "He let me. He said it would make me feel better."
He looks like he wants to strangle something.
He demands, "Who else was there?"
I realize I might actually be in trouble for this, and I mumble, "Uh... No-one."
"Fuckin' Hell, Harley." He groans, rubbing a hand down his face. He drops it, revealing a deep frown. "You stay away from him, okay?"
"But, you said—"
"Don't back-talk me, girl. You know what he's capable of, and ya still went and talked to him."
"I wasn't nice to him, Daddy. I promise. I was real mad."
"A guy like that, it don't matter." He insists. "He gets in ya fuckin' head, Harley. He already has. Do not do that shit again. Ya hearin' me?"
"Yes, Dad."
"Creepy piece'a shit." He grumbles to himself as he sits back, taking a deep breath. "You remember what I did to Ronnie?"
Chewing my lip, I murmur, "Yeah."
"And how you weren't scared of me, after?"
"Uh-huh."
He nods. "Well, keep that in mind."
"Why?"
"'Cause I told you to. Now, c'mon. Time for bed." He lifts up the covers for me, and after blowing out the candle, I wiggle myself in beside him. This will be our last sleep in the house. Herschel reckons Dad will be able to walk tomorrow, and after that, we're gonna get kicked outside with everyone else. I don't mind. I can't wait to sleep under the stars again. Once I'm comfortable, he offers, "You want me to sing you to sleep?"
I nod, closing my eyes.
His soft words begin to fill the quiet room, a pretty echo of an old life.
"Hush little baby, don't say a word... Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird."
"He-lloooo, farmer's daughter."
The next morning, I send Glenn an unimpressed look from my seat on the porch.
"Gross, Glenn."
He continues peering through his binoculars at Maggie as she rides up the road.
I roll my eyes and go back to eating my small breakfast of peach jam on toast.
They're going on a run today. Between me, T-Dog, and my Dad's injuries, the painkillers and antibiotics have run out pretty quickly. He's gonna try walking today, so he'll definitely need them more than usual. They're going to check out a nearby pharmacy for more. I asked if I could go with them, but Rick, Dad, and Lori all answered me with a synchronized scolding of, No, so that idea's out the window.
As Lori comes up the porch steps, Glenn startles, trying to hide his obvious spying.
"Oh, h-hey, Lori. Nice morning, huh?"
She raises a brow. "I'm not even gonna ask."
"You got the list?"
"Yeah. Here it is." She hands him a crumpled slip of paper, glancing around, lowering her voice. "And there's one other item on there."
He unfolds it, reading down the scrawled words.
"I wrote it down separately. It's personal. If we could be real discreet about that, okay?"
When he makes it to the bottom, his eyes go wide.
"Uh, s-sure." He promises. "I just need to know where to find it."
"Try the feminine hygiene section."
His cheeks go a little pink, but he nods, "Consider it done."
"What is it?" I nosey.
"Just some lady products." She brushes it off, taking a seat beside me. "Don't worry about it."
Glenn mutters, "Can I ask... Whose—?
"No." She chides.
He nervously gives up on his question. "O-Okay."
Maggie makes it to the front of the house, leading another horse alongside hers for Glenn. He quickly snatches up his backpack and rifle, heading down the steps. We watch as he clumsily mounts the saddle with some coaching from Maggie, which makes us both giggle.
He gets it, eventually.
As they trot down the path together, Lori gives me an amused look. "He's totally sweet on her."
I scrunch up my nose. "Don't put me off my food."
"Sorry," She laughs.
Later in the morning, I join Andrea on the roof of the RV as she stands watch.
Looking through her binoculars, she mutters to herself, "What is he doing?"
I frown. "What is it?"
She hands them to me, and I peer through the lenses in the direction she was facing, met with the peculiar sight of Dale on the border of the farm, kicking a fence post. He continues along the line, giving the next one a firm shake. I lower the binoculars, mildly entertained.
"I think he's investigating." I snicker to myself.
"Investigating?" Andrea looks at me, confused. "Investigating what?"
"He thinks something's up with the fences." I tell her, watching his distant figure move onto the next one. "I guess he means to find out what."
She laughs. "He's gonna break a toe if he's not careful."
I've never known anyone nosier than Dale Horvath.
In the afternoon, Glenn and Maggie return with everything on the list.
Dad insists that he don't even need the painkillers, but he gets forced by Maggie to take 'em, anyway. We wait half an hour for the pills to kick in, and then after some more arguing from Dad's end about how he can do it on his own, he yanks the IV needle out his arm and scoots onto the edge of the bed. With some effort and a few heavy grunts, he manages to get onto his feet, wobbling only slightly.
I cheer him on, making him smile a little.
We trail him out onto the back porch, hovering nearby in case he falters, but he stands strong the whole way.
He breathes in the fresh air. "Almost forgot what real life smelt like."
I pace around the house with him as Maggie and Glenn clear out all evidence of him ever existing in the guest room.
Herschel checks him over one last time and gives him the official green-light to return to life as usual.
We all spend about half an hour pitching a tent and driving over all our chairs, rucksacks, and other belongings to a nice spot on the far reaches of the property, under a patch of healthy, green trees, per Dad's request. It'll make the walk to camp that much longer, but he's willing to deal with it. He makes it very clear that he doesn't wanna be within a hundred fuckin' feet of Shane. Maggie and Glenn express vehement understanding.
"He's like a bomb waitin' to go off, that man." She scoffs, setting the last item, a crate, down in the dirt. "Don't know why you keep him around."
Dad mutters sardonically, "He's popular in the Grimes department."
"Well, if he was in my group," She drawls, "He would've been gone days ago."
"Trust me, I share the fuckin' sentiment." He takes the last bag from Glenn. "I got it."
"You sure, man?"
He grunts uncomfortably as he tosses it into the tent. "Yeah, I'm sure. Don't need no babysitters. I'm fine."
"Well, that's everything." Maggie sighs. "Come back to the house for dinner tonight. We're havin' veggie soup and grilled cheese."
"I think I've had more than enough of that house for a lifetime."
"Half an hour won't kill ya." She rolls her eyes. "Do it for Carol. She made it happen, after all. We'll see ya then, okay? Bye, Harley."
"See ya later." I smile, giggling as Glenn flicks my ear as they both walk off.
Dad settles down in his camping chair, hissing.
I ask him, "Ya feelin' alright?"
"Yeah, baby. Just sore. Start a fire, will ya?"
"Sure thing," I say, turning away into the treeline to search for twigs.
In the afternoon, Glenn and Maggie return with everything on the list.
Dad insists that he don't even need the painkillers, but he gets forced by Maggie to take 'em, anyway. We wait half an hour for the pills to kick in, and then after some more arguing from Dad's end about how he can do it on his own, he yanks the IV needle out his arm and scoots onto the edge of the bed. With some effort and a few heavy grunts, he manages to get onto his feet, wobbling only slightly.
I cheer him on, making him smile a little.
We trail him out onto the back porch, hovering nearby in case he falters, but he stands strong the whole way.
He breathes in the fresh air. "Almost forgot what real life smelt like."
I pace around the house with him as Maggie and Glenn clear out all evidence of him ever existing in the guest room.
Herschel checks him over one last time and gives him the official green-light to return to life as usual.
We all spend about half an hour pitching a tent and driving over all our chairs, rucksacks, and other belongings to a nice spot on the far reaches of the property, under a patch of healthy, green trees, per Dad's request. It'll make the walk to camp that much longer, but he's willing to deal with it. He makes it very clear that he doesn't wanna be within a hundred fuckin' feet of Shane. Maggie and Glenn express vehement understanding.
"He's like a bomb waitin' to go off, that man." She scoffs, setting the last item, a crate, down in the dirt. "Don't know why you keep him around."
Dad mutters sardonically, "He's popular in the Grimes department."
"Well, if he was in my group," She drawls, "He would've been gone days ago."
"Trust me, I share the fuckin' sentiment." He takes the last bag from Glenn. "I got it."
"You sure, man?"
He grunts uncomfortably as he tosses it into the tent. "Yeah, I'm sure. Don't need no babysitters. I'm fine."
"Well, that's everything." Maggie sighs. "Come back to the house for dinner tonight. We're havin' veggie soup and grilled cheese."
"I think I've had more than enough of that house for a lifetime."
"Half an hour won't kill ya." She rolls her eyes. "Do it for Carol. She made it happen, after all. We'll see ya then, okay? Bye, Harley."
"See ya later." I smile, giggling as Glenn flicks my ear as they both walk off.
Dad settles down in his camping chair, hissing.
I ask him, "Ya feelin' alright?"
"Yeah, baby. Just sore. Start a fire, will ya?"
"Sure thing," I say, turning away into the treeline to search for twigs.
We stay in our new little camp until the sun goes down. When I start to notice our people heading inside the house, I put my book down and convince him to come have dinner with everyone. It's only polite. He stomps out the fire, grabs my hand, and we make the short hike back.
When we step inside, the delicious smells of melted cheese, spices, and fresh bread fill my lungs.
"You made it." Maggie's delighted. "Nice walk over?"
"Sure." Dad replies gruffly, way out of his element, here. "This food better be good."
"Harley told me ya like scrambled eggs, so I made ya a portion to go with the rest of your plate. A little present to celebrate you walkin' again."
He seems caught off guard by such thoughtfulness, but he's grateful, anyway. "Thanks."
We make our way into the dining room, where everyone is finishing setting the two tables that they've managed to manoeuvre in here. They've even brought in a vase of wildflowers to serve as a nice centre piece. We take a seat at the table that naturally seems to have been designated the non-Greene table, next to Carl and Lori, who smile when they see us. Conversation is easy amongst our group, but there's not really any cross-contamination between us and the Greenes. This is the first time we've all been in the same room together. It's pretty awkward.
A bowl of colorful, steaming vegetable soup and a side of hot grilled cheese is served in front of everyone.
"We better thank Carol." Jacqui smiles as she hands us some cutlery. "This was all her idea."
"Oh, it was nothing." Carol meekly chuckles. "I just thought it would be a nice way to thank you all for everything you've done for us."
"Well, it looks delicious." Beth says kindly. "I can't wait to eat it."
After Jacqui sits down, Herschel's table join hands and say Grace together. Then it seems like we're in the clear to start eating.
Everybody makes little hums and pleased noises to let Carol and the other women know that the food is good, but nobody is brave enough to try and start a conversation. What do we talk about? The funeral? Shane going crazy? The possibility of getting banished to our deaths?
Eventually, Rick comes up with an idea, 'cause he's good like that. "How about that walker today, huh?"
Our table is clearly up for the distraction, but we're cut off almost immediately.
Herschel frowns. "What walker?"
Oh. He doesn't know.
There's a series of glances thrown around the room.
"There was a walker stuck in one of your wells." He awkwardly explains. "We, uh, pulled it out."
"I'm not sure I appreciate you poking around my property." Herschel says. "You should've come to me."
He nods, looking like he regrets even opening his mouth in the first place. "You're right. I'm sorry."
Another bout of silence falls over us.
Glenn tries next. "Anybody... know how to play guitar?"
"My Dad can play." I offer, poking at my soup.
T-Dog asks, "You any good?"
Dad shrugs. "I'm decent."
"Otis knew how to play."
We all try not to look at Patricia when she says this. She's just made things ten times more awkward for everyone.
It's almost as if Otis' ghost is in the room with us, and we just have to do our best to ignore it.
"Yes, and he played very well." Herschel quietly reminisces, before the silence takes over again.
I take four bites of my grilled cheese before Beth speaks up.
"What happened to your face?"
Shane chokes a little on his spoonful of broth, reluctantly answering, "Oh, uh, it's— I just tripped a little, that's all."
"Looks like you got into a fight." Patricia comments.
"No, that's— That's not what happened at all, ma'am."
Beside me, my Dad glowers across the table at Shane. Rick notices and adopts slightly nervous look, as if he thinks they're gonna jump on top of the food right this very second and stab each other with their butter knives. Honestly, they might.
"You sure?" Dad mocks Shane, a strange lilt to his voice.
"S'what I said, ain't it?"
"What?" He chuckles. "Did ya step on a fuckin' banana peel?"
"Don't start with me, Daryl."
"Daddy, leave it." I grumble harshly under my breath. "Just keep eatin'."
Jacqui suggests a change in subject. "How about you tell us how you learned to play, Daryl?"
"I think I'm good." He scoffs.
The tension grows to be so unbearable that I eventually excuse myself to go to the bathroom.
As I meander down the corridor and pass the empty kitchen, something on the other side of the window catches my eye. I pad over to the sink and go on my tip-toes, peering out into the dark. Over by the barn, there's a short, skinny figure standing in the grass, hunched like it's in pain. My eyes widen. Sophia? Is that her? With a glance back at the dining room, I decide it's best I don't bother anyone, and I head outside alone.
The warm night air surrounds me as I softly call out her name.
The figure groans lightly in response.
I can't see all too well, but I can make out a pair of thin legs, a stringy, knotted mass of hair, and two bony hands that twitch rabidly at its sides. I creep closer, slowly taking in the figure's too-tall height; the way it convulses lightly, unable to keep its balance. The moonlight peels over the clouds, then, splaying out across the silent field. The breath leaves my lungs. The figure is illuminated, revealing itself only now to be someone I don't recognise at all. It wheezes painfully, twisting to look at me with a face riddled in decay. My skin goes cold at the deadly sight.
It's a walker. Of course it's a walker, you stupid girl.
Dale was right. They're getting in, somehow.
I don't get a chance to turn around. All at once, a second body latches itself onto me, knocking me over into the grass. I cry out. Oh, God, there's more than one out here. I try scrambling away, but its cold hands grip my knee and anchor me to the spot. It climbs up my stomach, looking like something out a Goosebumps special. A pair of staggering footsteps approach, and when the second walker appears over the first one's wrinkly shoulder, I let out a blood curdling scream that rings in shockwaves through my skull. I can't take on two walkers. That's impossible.
In the distance, the back door swings open.
"Harley!?" My Dad hollers, echoed by the other men as they bound down the steps.
The walker's large crucifix necklace dangles tauntingly over my nose, shining with the yellowed spit that leaks from the gaping mouth above it.
I grab it, trying at the same time to kick the walker off. Its chiselled edges bite into my skin. Anything can be a weapon.
The walker flails angrily, possessed with hunger.
I drive the cross into its skull. It gives out a gurgling, beaten cry, and I stab it again, and again, and again, only stopping once the bone cracks around the dreadfully blunt end, and it slumps on top of me, dead for a second time. I push the top half of its heavy body offa me, ripping the beaded necklace from its neck with a dry snap. The grabbing hands and loud growling of the second walker quickly replace it.
I ready the crucifix again, but it's hard to aim when I'm seeing two of everything!
Its jaw hinges open above the soft skin of my leg.
Right as it's about to bite down on me, Shane suddenly comes into view.
His knife glints in the moonlight. He rears it back above his head, burying it deep into the walker's face in a swift, brutal motion. Black blood splatters his front as he pulls it out, grabs its shoulders, and throws it angrily into the grass, where it lands heavily, giving out one last croak.
I'm finally able to crawl away, throwing the necklace onto the ground.
Before I know it, my Dad is crouching at my side.
"Are ya bit?" He frantically demands to know.
"N— No." I shudder. "No, I ain't— I ain't bit."
"What happened?"
"I thought I saw someone, but..."
"You weren't there, Daryl!" Shane laughs loudly, now, still clutching the knife, sounding as if he's just won something. "You weren't there, man!"
"Bullshit, I wasn't!" Dad sneers, standing up. "I was two fuckin' feet behind ya!"
"And that walker's teeth were two hairs away from Harley's leg!" He retorts. "One more second — One second — And she'd be bit right now!"
"You don't know what the Hell you're talkin' about."
"All crippled and beaten, bumblin' over here like an old man. This is what happens, Daryl. You can't afford to be slow, no more!"
"I can protect my own!"
A grin splits his face. "Don't look that way from where I'm standin'."
"My own!" Dad growls. "You get that through your thick head, Shane! Mine! My fucking daughter!"
"And what a sad shame that is!"
You can't protect nobody.
Oh, why'd I have to go and tell him that?
The others finally make it over just in time for Dad's temper to snap.
I think my heart stops in this next moment. In a fit of rage and fire that nobody can stop, he pulls his knife from his sheath, jumps forward, and tackles Shane to the ground. I shriek as Rick and T-Dog hurry over to them, shouting at them to stop it, god damn it, stop it. Blades go flying left and right. Shirts are slashed. Curses are bellowed. Dad mounts his squirming body and lifts his knife into the air, making me squeal in horror. Rick takes a big handful of the back of his shirt, and right before he manages to drag him off, the knife comes down into Shane's shoulder. He cries out in agony, clutching the gash. He's lucky Dad missed in the chaos. Otherwise, it'd be in his throat.
Andrea and Lori throw themselves at the ground near Shane, feverishly putting their hands over his gushing stab wound.
"Oh, you're attackin' people, now, are ya, Daryl?" He goads, groaning through the pain. "You've always been a damn feral animal."
"At least I ain't a fuckin' creep! Goin' around, askin' little girls to hit me!"
"Maybe you should keep a closer eye on her, then, huh?"
Dad rushes forward again, but Rick catches him. He wrestles the knife out his hand and tosses it away.
"Holy shit!" Glenn exclaims, pulling on the roots of his hair.
Dale and Maggie rush over to me, their faces pale and panicked at the scene around them.
"That's enough!" Rick grinds out, forcing Dad backward with the help of T-Dog. "That's enough!"
"You say that shit again!" Dad roars over their heads. "Next time, I'm breakin' your fuckin' neck!"
Jimmy stares depressingly at the bodies. I think he must know who they were.
Carl sobs from nearby, "Dad, what's going on?"
Rick gives my Dad a shove, leaving him to stumble, clutching his hurt side. He reprimands, "What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinkin' he deserves worse." He groans.
"So, you kill him? That's your solution?"
"Why don'tchu ask him? He knows all about killin' folk, don'tchu, you fuckin' schizo? Betcher sorry I lived, huh?"
Shane tries to make a retort, but the people around him encourage him to stay calm.
Maggie helps me to stand, asking me if I'm hurt anywhere, to which I dazedly shake my head. We watch as Shane gets escorted back into the house, where they'll probably get started stitching him up right away. He pushes them all off of him, enraged. I can't believe that just happened. I don't think anybody else can, either. They're all frozen in place, eyes wide and darting around for answers to questions they didn't even know to ask.
My Dad slumps down in the dirt, his chest heaving from exertion, head hanging low. He cradles his aching stomach.
It finally happened.
"You okay, man?" T-Dog uncomfortably asks.
Dad spits blood into the grass. "I been wantin' to do that for about a month."
"Well, I hope it was worth it." Rick jibes. "We might lose our place here, now, thanks to you. You want your daughter back on the streets?"
"Long as she's nowhere near that crazy son of a bitch, I'on give a rat's ass where she is."
Rick scoffs, completely done with tonight. "You're unbelievable. Both of you, unbelievable, and outta your minds."
Jimmy pipes up, "What did he mean about killing folk?"
"Nothing. Get back inside." Rick scolds, turning away alongside Maggie to go follow after everyone else.
Then, it's just me, Dad, and Dale left out in the field to process everything that just went down. I head over to him, and he wraps me up in a tight hug that I never wanna leave. Shane's blood stains both our clothes, and I'm horrified to learn that it's all still hot and sticky. This was a total disaster. I knew this would happen sometime or other, but I thought I would be prepared to face it. I don't know what happens next.
This might be the push Rick needs to kick Shane from the group. He must see now that they cannot co-exist peacefully.
After a while, Dale inspects the dead walkers and murmurs to himself, "I knew something was fishy."
He paces along the footprints they left behind, following them this way and that, further and further away.
When he comes up just short of the barn, I frown in confusion.
He tugs at a few loose boards, poking around. He makes it to a crate that he pushes out the way, revealing a gaping hole in the wall.
"What the—?" I hear him exclaim, right before a dead hand shoots out from between the planks.
He steps back, astonished.
Dad's hand curls tighter around my shoulder.
When he calls out to us, his voice frail, I feel like I might faint.
"They're keeping walkers in the barn."
Author's Note.
There's a reason Shane rhymes with insane. That's all I'm gonna say about that 😵💫
Also, I rearranged the order of events a little bit for this one. The way I write this story is I bring up a script for the episode I'm following as well as the wiki page for the season, bc I don't have anywhere I can stream TWD. It was a little confusing having to combine stuff from different episodes, but I hope it flows well. I try very hard to mix canon with non-canon things in a way that feels seamless.
Basically, it goes - Walker in the well, shooting lessons are considered, Maggie and Glenn pharmacy run, awkward dinner, someone discovers the barn walkers. Same outcome, just different.
As always, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks for reading. Sending love! <3
#the walking dead#twd fanfiction#twd#daryl dixon twd#daryl dixon daughter#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon#daddy issues#parent daryl dixon#rick grimes#shane walsh#angst#fanfic#reader
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hey ladies 💗!
You can call me Tañ. I'm a 24yo European disabled dyke with sometimes approximate English. I'm also an anarchist and believe genders and sexual exploitation are as oppressive as (and products of) patriarchy.
I'm a veteran of the Reddit misogyny and purge against "TERFs" for saying neo/microlabels and bi/pan "lesbians" are harming real lesbians and bi women. I was already starting to be skeptical and tired by trans women talking over lesbians with pretty misogynistic takes, so I decided to look into the so frowned upon radical feminism and gender critical ideas, sensing this Reddit drama was just the tip of the iceberg. That's after years being a TRA/libfem.
I'm tired of the marketable liberal feminism and queer communities and catering to males' feelings, when they're actively hurting lesbians to satisfy their ego and so called feeling of erasure (forcing females who want nothing to do with males to cater to their mental health still or trying to coerce them into sex). I'm also tired that "lesbian" is always associated with porn, especially porn for straight men. So I hoped to get to know the radfem community here better, because you are the only ones who seem to give a fuck about women at all these days and trying to keep women from mutilating their beautiful bodies instead of caring for their mental health. I almost did that to myself due to the trans agenda convincing me that I was a "nonbinary transmasc" and not just a good ol' dyke not aligning with heteronormativity, so here I am. I'm still reading and learning about radical feminism. To be frank, I've been quite brainwashed into the TRA/pop feminism cult bs and genuinely have to rebuild myself psychologically and get all these things I interiorised (to be honest, mostly out of fear of being thrown out of my own lesbian community, leftist and "feminist" spaces) out of my head. Including things about my body and the "queer community" pushing for us to cater to men and shutting ourselves up instead of saying things as they are. I hope I can learn by interacting with the community here. I frankly need some sorority to help me out of the patriarchy and its genderist Hell. This ideology definitely made feminism go back of 50 year. Males can wear dress and be feminine without needing to get into our locker rooms and females can be butches and bind to alleviate dysphoria without being men.
What else to say? I don't want to say too much for now, because the world is so fucking dangerous for women, especially if they go against the men ideology. I really hope to find a peaceful corner here where I can interact with other lesbians without getting witch hunted for stating science and that I'm not into penises and without fucking men filling up the only internet spaces where we can just have women talks about women issues without always centering or integrating men.
I also discovered things like the Moon School, which helps me healing my relationship to being a woman and starting to accept again that I'm a lesbian and don't have to convince myself I'm either trans or having to be exactly like straight women or that gender matters. I'm learning to get rid of the internalised misogyny and feeling like I can't love what I want to love, especially if it's "girl things" or be emotional...etc I'll likely open up more and act more like my confident self once I'm used to be able to state my opinions without getting banned. Probably expect some NSFW and New Age content here. I have a spiritual approach to what it means to be a woman (exploring Wicca and the Dark Goddess).
I'm still learning to use Tumblr, so apologies if the tagging is shit or if the reading is hard on my blog for whatever reason (tell me if I can make it more accessible!). I'm still not confident being here, hope I'll learn. Feel free to DM or send recommendations in asks (about how to use Tumblr, radfem communities, radfem books/Youtube channels, women-centered spirituality...anything really) or just introduce yourself! Straight women have valuable inputs too, but I'd prefer to interact with other lesbians and ex-TRA, since we have more shared experiences. Hope I'm not being weird by spam liking and reblogging your posts there!
Also warning word that my beliefs are bound to adjust as I learn about radical feminism and heal my own relationship to being a woman. I'll still navigate radical feminism leaning, but might go more tirf or other orientations over time.
⚠️ Everyone except the dni can follow, I won't tell you "pro TRA kys" like people say about TERFs 🤷🏻. If you don't want gender criticals, misandrists possibly in the future TIRF, TERF, SWIRF, Dianic Witches or whatever to follow you, you can block me. ⚠️
Again, I'm too new to know exactly what I'm going for except radical feminism.
DNI : Men in general, bi/pan/male "lesbians" (febfems are cool, I refer to mspec "lesbians"), conservatives, alt right, the genderist/MOGAI crowd can respectfully interact and is welcome to like and reblog, but you're on thin fucking ice
#terfblr#terfsafe#terf please interact#radfem please interact#men dni#tumblr bios#radical feminists do interact#radical feminists please touch#tw long post
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Alrighty, I finally had a minute to sit down and smack out some of my thoughts. @itsgoghtime, I am tagging you as a full participant :)
Brought to you by the Moth Realization that I am in charge and can do whatever I want
Okay, so we're leaning more into the mirror-world stuff, with certain things being representations of real life and such.
It opens with Madge flying around the house and landing outside the window where Nathaniel is sitting, just as a little nod to the owl :>
Nathaniel is trying to fit in with his brother's family, but there are so many of them
One day, when he's trying to get some peace and quiet and read the copy of Ivanhoe that he swiped from Nicholas' office, the kids all burst into the room falling over each other and laughing and chattering and making an absurd amount of noise
Nicholas is, of course, right behind them, giggling and trying to keep from falling asleep
Nathaniel fully loses it, dropping the book and yelling at the children.
Nicholas ushers them out, and tries to calm his brother. It doesn't work, and Nathaniel just lets all of his frustrations and pent up resentment come out, shouting at his brother and leaving Nicholas stunned (and hurt)
Nathaniel storms out, going on a walk and trying to calm down after all the things he said. (He hadn't intended to get that upset, but it had all spilled over and gotten a little too close to comfort to a vulnerable heart-to-heart, so he had to leave in order to save face)
After a bit, he feels suitable under control again, and enters the house, only to find it totally empty
The place is ransacked, a complete disaster with books and papers scattered and flapping in the breeze from open windows
Nathaniel searches, but there's no one to be found, so he heads to Nicholas' office
There, he sees a suspiciously spotless room, and the Sister (We're calling her Eurus for simplicity's sake) sitting on top of Nicholas' desk, reading Ivanhoe
(She looks spooky and flashy, somehow more dramatic than Curtain but in a more old-fashioned style like Nicholas. Also purple, to round out the cool-colour sibling trio. Just look at this, because it's amazing)
Nathaniel demands to know what happened to his brother and the others, but she just laughs menacingly
Closing the book, she swings her legs off the desk, smiling at him
"Wouldn't you like to know, Natty?"
Nathaniel is affronted, and tries to cover his confusion with Awkward Curtain Bluffing
Eurus introduces herself, and mocks him further by revealing a model of Nicholas with a flourish, toying with it as they speak
"This is what you wanted, right? To be free of little Nicky and his nuisances? Now you can read your books and make your silly plans in peace."
Nathaniel vehemently states that he'd rather have his brother back to deal with on his own, please and thank you /s
(And his plans are not silly. They are genius)
"Oh, but he's mine now. I can't just give back such a fun toy. Besides, Nicholas will forget all about you soon enough, and then I'll have him and his friends to myself, permanently"
Nathaniel is, obviously, perturbed by this, and demands that she stop whatever game she is playing and return his brother and his associates
She laughs at Nathaniel again, and figurine in her hand turns into a pocket watch, with an abnormal thirteen hours on it
"Well, I do love games. And a game is no fun without some stakes to keep things exciting, so here are the rules: You have thirteen hours to win all of them back, or Nicholas stays with me. No more, no less"
She hands the pocket watch over, which starts ticking as soon as it hits Nathaniel's palm
He looks up to ask her who on earth she thinks she is, but she's gone, and so is the office
Nathaniel is standing outside a massive labyrinth, with no discernible entrance
As he's looking around, who should he find but Dr. Garrison!
Or, not Dr. Garrison, since she's wearing strange clothes and looks at him with confusion
(It doesn't matter, but I think she'd be wearing a typical fantasy poet shirt/tunic, red vest, and probably black pants. Her hair's braided, instead of cropped short or that longer style she kept in a bun)
Nathaniel addresses her and demands to know what's going on, and why she's a part of this ridiculous farce
Not-Garrison responds to her name, but maintains that she's never seen him before. She explains that she's the caretaker of the Labyrinth
Nathaniel sarcastically asks if she'll let him enter, and she shows him the gate
Nathaniel enters the Labyrinth alone and is confronted with a huge, apparently endless hallway that continues on in the same way for as far as he can see
(Part of me wants to include the Atrocious Hallway Painting just because)
Eventually, he stops, seeing that he's wasted a lot of time, and still gotten nowhere
As he's standing there, cursing the insanity of his situation, SQ appears!
(Also in different clothes! I know these aren't important, but I am a highly visual person and I love the artistic style of the movie, so we're going to have a lot of side-notes about how stuff looks)
(SQ is wearing a dark blue jacket [Slightly reminiscent of his dad's colors] and a red scarf, and carrying his sketchbook)
Nathaniel is startled by this, of course, but SQ introduces himself as if they haven't met before
Nathaniel carefully asks him what he's doing there, and SQ tells him he's been drawing some of the interesting creatures that live in the Labyrinth
SQ then inquires as to what Nathaniel is doing, and he exasperatedly explains that he's trying to get to the centre, but the whole thing is nonsensical and the endless hallway must be a trick designed to keep him from winning
SQ asks why he doesn't take a break, but when Nathaniel refuses, he says (somewhat cryptically) that maybe he just needs to look at things from a different perspective
**Clever Metaphor Plot Shenanigans Ensue**
And Nathaniel enters a new part of the Labyrinth
CUT TO WHAT EURUS IS DOING
Nicholas awakens in a spooky castle
He wanders through, looking for other people, but finds no one
Eventually, he comes across some guards, but they do not acknowledge him in any way, so he continues searching
He enters a weird throne room/office thing filled with books
(It looks like a warped version of his office, with lots of shelves and stacks of books all around, empty picture frames, a potted violet in the corner, and a big, impressive throne made of books in the middle)
He finds his copy of Ivanhoe on the ground, and opens it
This, and all the other books, are blank
Eurus appears, sitting on the throne and watching him
Nicholas tries to politely and calmly ask about what's going on, but she ignores his questions
Instead, she asks him about why he's bothered, since he obviously doesn't care about his family
And of course Nicholas is aghast at this and starts panicking over what she's done to the others
She goes on a spiel about how he left Nathaniel and he doesn't really care about his family and how he's only being so nice to Number Two/Rhonda/Milligan/the kids out of guilt
(She's kind of a terrible person in this, in case you hadn't noticed)
And Nicholas is horribly upset and trying to keep a lid on his emotions, when she gets up and walks over to him
"Now, wouldn't you like to be free of that guilt? To not have to worry about all of those strays you took in to make yourself feel like a good person? You're better off alone, you know that, so why not embrace it?"
CUT BACK TO NATHANIEL
Nathaniel comes across two doors, with Jackson and Jillson standing in front of them!
(Jackson is wearing a royal blue doublet/pants, and Jillson is wearing the same but in red. Both have floppy bard hats on)
Together, they communicate that one of them only tells the truth, and one only tells lies
(I've learned this is called a type of logic puzzle called "Knights and Knaves!)
One door leads closer to the castle, and one to "certain doom"
After some typical banter and circular logic, Nathaniel discovers which door to go through
He enters, and falls down into an oubliette
Garrison appears to let him out, and tries to get him to leave the Labyrinth
Nathaniel persuades her to guide him to the castle, and the two set off
(Garrison somewhat reluctantly)
They continue on their way for a bit, before Eurus shows up again
Nathaniel takes the opportunity to complain and ask why on earth she's doing this
She chooses not to answer this, and instead asks Garrison what she thinks she's doing
Garrison responds with cagey assurances that she hasn't forgotten her job in this, and Eurus threatens that she better not
Nathaniel demands to know what she's done with Nicholas, but she tells him that showing him would be cheating, and she isn't about to let the game end early
He asserts his confidence in being able to beat her, at which point she offers to make it more of a challenge
Eurus disappears and a huge machine starts pushing its way through the hall, about to crush Nathaniel and Garrison
Luckily, they escape, and find themselves in an upper part of the Labyrinth
In that area is Kate and Reynie!
(Reynie is wearing a brown tunic with a belt, and Kate is wearing a red tailcoat with feather designs)
The two of them are bickering about the way to the castle, and Nathaniel hesitantly approaches
He's used to the way things work now, and resigns himself to the fact that they are not going to be the people he knows normally
Eventually, he's able to get some even more cryptic advice from them, and he picks a random direction in frustration
Garrison attempts to leave him, but he steals her notebook and makes her agree to help him
Immediately after this, sounds of fighting come from nearby, and Garrison runs off
That's all I've got for now, but I will be adding onto this in a bit! Apparently this is the new thing my brain is refusing to let go, so we'll see what happens
#This one just took on a life of its own a bit#I wanted to stick to the familial/character development points#So there's a lot of whimsy and magic instead of well-structured plot#End goal is for Nathaniel to learn to get along with his brother and his family#But it's going to take a while and a fantastical adventure for him to get there#Also I finally got to watch Coraline (2009) for the first time recently#So I'm realising there's quite a bit of influence from that#It's funny because my brain has been trying to combine Pan's Labyrinth (2006) and MBS because of the beautiful style as well#And that's a whole other kettle of fish#But I guess this is where my brain has decided to devote energy :)#mbs labyrinth#labyrinth au
18 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! I don't know how often you get these, but I really, really, really miss your fics. Seriously, your stories are so unique and wonderful and they have this gothic-romantic-sexy-tragic atmosphere that's just 😩😩 Anyway, do you think you're going to post again any time soon?
hello! yeah, I do semi-regularly get asks like this, and have published none of them. my past policy has always been "don't answer them until I have some good news," ie something written and ready to post, which is why they've gone unanswered for a while now (my apologies to anyone who's sent one in! I'm not ignoring you out of malice so much as having trouble confronting my own...trouble, I guess.)
because I can't sugarcoat, I've been in a real writing slump for the last year and change! I don't really know why, or how to fix it, so I'm kinda. trying to make peace with it. lately I've been limping along writing bits and pieces of WIPs and things, but nothing I feel is in a state of completion or readiness (and I hold myself to a pretty high standard there to begin with.) I'm trying to at least stay in a writing-y mindset by reading lots of books (both fiction and craft), taking long rambles through the hills, working on other creative hobbies, continuing to write meta and the very occasional journal entry, etc. but the truth is I feel like a drained battery most of the time. it is what it is ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
when it comes to my fics (and thank you for the compliment, omg that is the HIGHEST praise and has definitely made my week), in particular my two big WIPs, the most I can promise is that I'm never not thinking about them. I may not have posted updates in a long time, but really I've been tweaking outlines, taking notes, writing down little inspirations I bump into so I can revisit them when my ability returns from war. I even did the Fanauthor Workshop again, which was great for inspiration, craft-honing, and just easing back toward a general writing mindset. so I have hope that I'll pick them back up again! I just can't say when. it's been hard to talk about because I hate having nothing to say except "yep, I haven't written a goddamn thing, it sucks," but like, maybe it's one of those paradoxical situations where my creative output won't be restored until I learn to let it go, or something. who knows.
anyway I'm sorry I rambled about my creative slump for the length of a high school paper but this has all been on my mind a lot lately, so your timing was great! thank you for giving me the space to self-analyze a bit.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
March 23rd
'It is too late now, Sam dear. You can't help me in that way again. I am almost in its power now. I could not give it up, and if you tried to take it I should go mad.'
So right after I read this last night, I was looking at the moon setting behind the trees in the west (as you do) and it started raining. Cinema
Anyway this book continues to torment me what's new :D
Frodo looked again towards the Mountain. 'No,' he said, 'we shan't need much on that road. And at its end nothing.' Picking up his orc-shield he flung it away and threw his helmet after it. Then pulling off the grey cloak he undid the heavy belt and let it fall to the ground, and the sheathed sword with it. The shreds of the black cloak he tore off and scattered.
'There, I'll be an orc no more,' he cried, 'and I'll bear no weapon, fair or foul. Let them take me, if they will!'
Screaming crying in there's an emotion bundled up in the chest of every pacifist, shining out from behind their eyes like the moon through the night-wrack, and it is not "peace"
Absolutely off my head about this. The ugly violence of self defence. The stain on your heart when someone gives you no choice but to fight back or take it, and the weight of that. The leering entombing weight of something horrible that delights in the frailty of its prey, that kindness has no direct power to end or mend.
The circumstances and depth of character that lead Frodo to throw away sword and shield like they disgust him. For better or worse. This is his defiance against the cruelty that surrounds him and the rot in his soul that has nearly succeeded in stripping away everything he loves. It's some kind of desperate bid for freedom in a situation where it seemingly wouldn't matter much either way, but it matters to him. Aaaauuugh.
Sam did likewise, and put aside his orc-gear; and he took out all the things in his pack. Somehow each of them had become dear to him, if only because he had borne them so far with so much toil. Hardest of all it was to part with his cooking-gear. Tears welled in his eyes at the thought of casting it away.
'Do you remember that bit of rabbit, Mr. Frodo?' he said. 'And our place under the warm bank in Captain Faramir's country, the day I saw an oliphaunt?'
What if I just sob forever. Would that be cool or
They have almost nothing left, and the cooking stuff, a sturdy comforting symbol of life and the determination to keep on living has to go too. Grief!!
'No, I am afraid not, Sam,' said Frodo. 'At least, I know that such things happened, but I cannot see them. No taste of food, no feel of water, no sound of wind, no memory of tree or grass or flower, no image of moon or star are left to me. I am naked in the dark, Sam, and there is no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I begin to see it even with my waking eyes, and all else fades.'
Yep. I'm so alright with this. It's not enough that this thing took him away from his home and sent him to his death, it took home and light and laughter away from him, ripped it out and left horror in its place. Sure. That seems fair.
'And he isn't going to mess with my pans!' With that he carried all the gear away to one of the many gaping fissures that scored the land and threw them in. The clatter of his precious pans as they fell down into the dark was like a death-knell to his heart.
As a cook...I felt that
He came back to Frodo, and then of his elven-rope he cut a short piece to serve his master as a girdle and bind the grey cloak close about his waist. The rest he carefully coiled and put back in his pack.
First rock emotions now Rope emotions...if you couldn't tell book 6 destroys me on a personal level
'I'll get there, if I leave everything but my bones behind,' said Sam. 'And I'll carry Mr. Frodo up myself, if it breaks my back and heart. So stop arguing!'
🥲
SAM 💚
#im at my fking limit bro#lotrn323#lotr newsletter#i intentionally put the pacifism post in my own words bc i. do not remember it. lol#OH and i think i forgot to mention it before but Pippin and Sam both being like i wish i could carry you.. earlier 🥲#slightly younger hobbits helping their older friends <3#these guys honestly#it's like they want me to believe in goodness and friendship and love or something#the world wants me not to#*oh hellos voice* but i doooo
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Seoulmate | MYG
Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader (nicknamed Kitten)
Wordcount: 1.3k
Genre: fluff, spicy (with smutty implications)
Rating: 18+
Synopsis: Yoongi and Kitten are basking in their post-engagement bliss. And as Yoongi tries to write his vows — and fails miserably — he decides he can bare one more part of his soul. (Similarly to L.A. Confidential, Yoongi and Kitten exchange some spicy texts during a group dinner and after letting out some steam, Yoongi takes a moment to reflect on his time with Kitten).
Warnings: sexting (mentions of pegging, strap on, oral sex, 69)
My masterlist is here!
Kitten, love
It was painful to get out of bed while you were there, asleep, beautiful.
I wanted to sleep next to you, to bask in your peace, in your calm.
But I stood up and came over here in the studio, to think.
It's been two weeks since I said yes to you, to life with you, to being with you forever.
I'll say this before you start getting worried: I don't regret it.
I love you and I don't regret it. Ever since the moment I met you, my only regret is not opening up sooner to you. I wish I'd laid myself bare from the moment I first saw you.
I wish I'd let you read me like a book, scrutinise me with your attentive eyes that so often are focused on minuscule details, like when you pour over your law books and your case studies.
I knew you would have tread softly on me. And you would have read me perfectly, right from the start.
But I'm also glad we didn't risk it, because I'm glad of where we are right now and I'm not so confident that any other path would have brought us here, not with my secluded personality that closes up like a clam whenever someone gets too close too fast.
I think I've been raised like a stray for all my life, and dammit, it feels perfect to be domesticated by you.
You made me your loyal, devoted pet, and I've never been more grateful.
I took this pen tonight because I intended to write my wedding vows, but once more I have failed. Whenever I try — it's the fourth time now — I always get distracted and find myself writing this sort of diary to you.
It's like a logbook of my exploration of you, and hopefully I'll keep updating it till my last day at your side — even more hopefully the last day of my life.
You know I'm not romantic, but for you I'll give it a try, because I've learnt that when with the right people, even the impossible can happen.
And the most impossible happened the day my mind learnt of you, the moment I apprehended your existence.
That was the moment you entered my mind, and ever since then you never left it.
There’s this part of me, whenever I come back home, the part that says “I’m home” and I know it’s because I just walked in, but it’s mostly because finally I am with you. Any day, doesn’t matter how long, is better when I know I’ll be home, I’ll be in your arms at the end of it all.
And then again, you know I’ve been scared to hug people all my life and I did it anyway, and it’s not because I don’t like it, but because I don’t know when to let go. I like holding on, if I could I’d never let go at all, but then again I don’t want the other person to feel awkward or to hold on to me for pity, and not because they actually want to. But with you, I know you hold on because we need it, both of us, and you’d never let go of me, because you always say you want to hold me all the time.
Sometimes I’m afraid I don’t hold you (or allow you to hold me) for long enough, but then I remember you’re not the type to be afraid of asking and I manage to relax.
God, Kitten, I love you so much.
Most of the time I forget you’re not an extension of myself – I mean, that we’re one thing, that we’re the same thing. I get careless and treat you the way I would treat myself, I push you through the same bullshit I push myself through and I kiss you with the intensity I would want to be kissed in return. I cook you my favourite meals, buy for you things I would love for myself, clothes I would wear myself. And I don’t know if you say it because you don’t want to break my heart or because you’re too damn good for this world, but you love all of that. It feels like I know you, like the universe had been shaping us to fit perfectly against each other, inside each other.
I never understood how intimate the word “penetration” could feel – and I don’t mean it as the divine experience of having sex with you. I was thinking of how I feel like you’re a knife to me, sinking inside me so deep until flesh regrows around you, and I almost feel normal again, but then as I go about my day, I shift and you shift inside me, I see some memory of you, of us, and then I feel you moving inside me, like a ghost, caressing your fingertip against my mind. There’s nothing sweeter than that.
There’s nothing sweeter than walking down a street and seeing something at the window and thinking, “oh, she would love that”.
There’s nothing sweeter than seeing the billboards of a show we were thinking of watching together, nothing sweeter than someone ordering your favourite food during a business meal and my face lighting up in a smile as memories flow through my brain like a movie. All of them, Kitten.
I’m so yours. I have no other words to explain it but these. I am. So. Yours.
And there’s no other thing I want to be.
There’s no other way but be your husband and wear your ring and have you wear mine, like a person holding their pet’s leash – for protection rather than for ownership.
Kitten… If you could see yourself through my eyes…
Sometimes I cry because I can’t bear the thought of missing you, because with you, the verb “missing” takes its most literal and violent meaning.
I miss you like one would miss a limb, like a puppy misses their owner. Sometimes I sit alone at home and feel like whining until you come back, and I hate the absence of you until my soul grows blue and the colour drips out of me and all over the sofa, dripping to the floor, rising like a tide until I feel I am suffocating.
But then you appear and the blue washes away and there’s warmth and suddenly I don’t even care your absence ruined my mood because you’re back! You’re here! And I feel like I was being silly and I just hug you.
You always complain when I don’t let you get changed straight away after you come home from work, when I “hold you hostage”, as you call it, on the sofa, but you don’t realise that when I do I am clinging to you like you’re a lifeline, saving me from the tide of the blues.
I feel so silly for writing all of this stuff and I can already imagine the teasing smile you’ll wear, grinning through the tears once you read this.
But for now I’m getting too emotional, so I guess I’ll just close my entry here and go back to bed, to you. I’ll hold on tight, baby. I’ll hold you as tight as you need me to.
I’ll tell you I love you and you’ll probably be asleep. You’ll probably wake up sweaty and sticky because I’ll be clinging to you and I’ll probably wake up once you move away. I’ll leave you some space, reassured by the fact that your hand’s in mine as we fall asleep again. And by morning come we’ll be sprawled over each other all over again.
Goodnight, Kitty cat. Sleep safe.
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
aloha friends and people who left annoying incorrect opinions on my posts, raistlin is a waif he is the waifiest waif it doesn't matter if his twin is a brick shithouse you are WRONG I am kinda sorta back. maybe only for one tipsy night, but who knows. listen, I'm 1.5 ciders in and feeling Properly Tipsy as opposed to last night when I drank jack and cokes for the first time in a while and just felt nauseous, so I'm Thriving atm. ANYWAY.
i feel like i have cleared some cobwebs from my brain. kind of. mostly i redownloaded bc i have the irresistible urge to natter about my life. tbh i considered deleting tumblr for a while bc there are some things about this site (but also social media in general) that annoy the absolute shit out of me, and also i feel like I dedicated too much ~mental energy~ to this site in the past (not to sound like some new age crackpot) and I need to cut down on how much scrolling and getting mad about other people's incorrect opinions I do. However, there are a few beloved mutuals on here that I miss talking to and also tumblr is kinda Home, y'know?
anyway TLDR I'm back, kinda. might still delete the app during the day so I can focus on IRL shit instead of being a zillennial social media addict, so I apologize if I miss messages etc but. yeah. for the sake of my mental health I have to be better at self-policing. Also, no longer going to allow myself to use the For You tab, so sorry if I don't see your posts bc tumblr only served them there. I can't control it lmao. frankly the algorithm here just ain't good enough and I don't want to cry AGAIN bc a video of a naked woman jiggling her stomach with a caption about how much she hates herself and wants to lose weight came up on my feed. Frankly since this is tumblr I'm not sure if that's porn or self-harm, but either way, fuck off with that shit, man! I kinda hate my body too and I don't wanna see that!! I don't want that in my brain!! Hence why I quit and went to ig-only for a while. My IG is all pottery and miniatures and painting and European travel vlogs it's so PEACEFUL!
now onto the fun stuff, a list of things I consider interesting that happened in the past 3ish weeks:
have done a whole lot of reading lately: Homesick for Another World by Ottessa Moshfegh which is weird and off-putting by very worth reading, then a reread of the Unicorn series by Vicki Blum (always a delight) and finishing Princess Jellyfish (there's quite the plot twist in the last few books but overall it's a delightful series), then my hold for Please Kill Me: The Uncensored Oral History of Punk came up (extremely interesting and worthwhile read, especially after listening to the No Dogs in Space punk series, very sad ending though bc of course a lot of the punk musicians passed away young), and now I'm rereading The Mermaid's Secret and The Dragon Prince by Vicki Blum as a palate cleanser, and then hopefully I'll start the LoTR reread I've been meaning to do for a while. So yeah I read like 16 books in 3 weeks. this is the power of quitting social media.
Also I've kinda discovered that I'm just pretty... disenchanted with all book-fandoms online. it's just so...kinda annoying? nowadays? just the same old drama over and over and I don't caaaare lol. Read what you want, at whatever speed you want, idc, none of it matters. I read for funsies after work. Some people read 24/7 because being a book blogger is their career. Some people are 17 and still have the mental stamina to read a 500 page book in 2 days. Idgaf if you read Maas or Austen or Sanderson or whatever, there's no moral high ground (except maybe not giving Sanderson money bc WOW BYU is a shitty organization). Also I don't necessarily want other people's opinions on what I read or if a book I just bought has "mixed reviews" or whatever (unless the person is a mutual whose opinions I value lol). So I might start posting on the book blog again but just....not interact with booklr. Torn between the desire to communicate with others and the desire to keep my hobby all to myself and free from unnecessary judgement or bullshit.
Finally rearranged my bookshelves, by ~vibe or whatever~. Might post photos tomorrow but the living room is once again in a state of chaos since I started gardening today.
On that note, started my garden! planted some veggies, herbs, and a whole boatload of tomatoes in seedling trays (listen, MacKenzie seed were on sale 3/$5 today at the store and I'm weak for weird tomato variants and herbs. Still need to find rosemary and fennel though). Have more stuff to do, but I'm going to give the seedlings a couple weeks to get started and then maybe plant everything else Easter weekend. Last year was nice, garden-wise, but this year I really hope we don't get 30C weather in May. My allergies cannot handle it 😭
saw the Alien/Aliens double feature our cheap theatre put on and it was a DELIGHT
we also got a record snowstorm that weekend, which sucked bc it was the same week I'd had a random friday booked off (previously for traveling with my aunt, very glad that was cancelled now) so I basically did none of the other things I had planned.
also after said double feature, had to make my first 911 call. luckily I rot my brain with true crime All Day Every Day so I handled it like a pro 😤 (i am fine it was for another person, and uh, it turned out to not be so serious once the emergency people were able to get them to stop crying hysterically and realized this poor person was just intoxicated, underdressed for the weather, and a bit lost)
discovered the health foods store near my place has a bunch of funky herbal teas for like $5.50 a box so I've been going a little nuts there. I LOVE FENNEL TEA IT'S SO GOOD. ALSO LAVENDER MY BELOVED! they also have a bunch of local coffee blends, and I'm seriously considering getting a coffee bean grinder so I can try them
saw Lisa Frankenstein the week after the Alien double feature at that same theatre, it was fucking excellent I laughed my ass off, also at that theatre you can get your ticket and snacks and drink for the same price as a Cineplex ticket, it's excellent
finally watched Saltburn, which was great. love the Donna Tartt vibes. i watched it while somewhat drunk off Soju, which I think is how it's meant to be viewed.
also started a Ghibli rewatch, to justify not cancelling my Netflix just yet (I know I know, I should but I technically can afford it and it's my emotional support streamer you know? how else am I going to instantaneously watch Gilmore Girls on a bad day?) So far I have only watched Kiki's Delivery Service lol
Also, funny anecdote: last week I got my period and was VICIOUSLY craving alcohol. like I went to the store and bought the most bizarre range of random things (soju, honey jack, and mead...and then proceeded to drink them at my normal rate lmao). Realized afterwards this is a combination of my usual craving for sweet things + my very stressed coworker constantly joking about how we need to crack a bottle of something when this stressful project is finished. At the time however I thought my uterus was trying to make me an alcoholic.
Did my budgeting with my new rent and discovered that I'm actually fine, because I had DOUBLED A NUMBER SOMEHOW! and I basically had $150/month freed up. I'm so smart. I continue to procrastinate my income tax though (shhhh I have another month....)
Started writing a vague story about two women hiking to a portal to elfland, which is located near an abandoned train station. There are cultists called vampires living at said train station who are such a fucking delight to write (not real bloodsucking vampires tho, they are currently eating paella 🥘). It's fun and weird and I'm having a good time with it.
started listening to a podcast called No One Should Believe Me about cases involving Munchausens by Proxy, which is very interesting. the host has a sister with (alleged) MbP and genuinely wants to get her (and of course her kids) help, so it's actually a really good, compassionate take on an issue that's usually played for shock value. I have to listen to it slowly though bc it's Heavy
started knitting again! made 1 dishcloth and started a second. have decided I'm going to take these into work when I have a few done. If my boss won't buy us proper cloths then I'll pawn my knitting practice off on them lol
there is a lot of early road construction near my office since, aside from that random snowstorm, it's been a mild early spring. be glad you haven't had to listen to me rant about that lol
finally bucked up and got a duvet cover for my comforter that was lowkey falling apart at the seams. it's a good comforter aside from some light "my washer is evil" damage so I'm happy I can stuff it into a (less expensive) duvet cover instead of having to replace the whole thing
#hey hi hello#also goodbye and goodnight if my sober self decides to not redownload this app tomorrow#i will probably post less and interact less than usual and i apologize but you know how it is.#i feel SO MUCH BETTER when im just doing my irl stuff during the day and only on socials during certain times
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
accomplishments 3/8/24
walked my dog
ran an errand to get my medicine (another black girl told my my hair is beautiful 😭 feeling highly blessed bc i was convinced it was a mess today)
ran an errand to give my dad a belated present
talked to my dad for 2 hours and didnt have a meltdown
ran to dunkin for a drink
ran to the grocery store to pick up a few things
read a book to cross off an item on owned TBR list challenge from The Server - hated it but i read it
sewed in lining partially for my friend's bag that i made
listened to an audiobook that just happens to be on the book bingo challenge sheet i made for myself
listened to Media Club Plus
made breakfast
made dinner
made the snack i posted earlier
filled out interview questions
this was the most ive been out on errands in almost 2 years. maybe 2 full years. the most ive driven my car in almost 2 years. possibly tbe most ive been on my feet. and i feel okay. i still dont want to hope im getting better. im scared this is just feeling okay for now. im scared ill go back to how i was. that i'll regress. im scared that this isnt progress at all that its a fluke. and thats the thing is: my CFS isnt going away. even if im going into remission something could trigger it years down the line and i could get sick again. i have to live my life constantly cautious from now on.
i wanted to do work today but seeing my dad took a lot out of me mentally. we talked about some heavy topics (my mental illness, my chronic illnesses, scratched the surface of my financial trauma that he partially inflicted on me) and like. idk. i dont think my dad knows how crazy i am. he had like an expression of fear??? almost??? when i told him (only slightly!!!) what mania is like and wbhat psychosis is like and that i still get delusions like that time this january i cut myself off from almost everyone for a week because i was convinced i was being shunned by everyone. or that time several years back i was up til 4am tearing apart the apartment and ranting trying to find the source of a smell that didnt exist in the space (burning cinnamon). like im delulu. ive made my peace with it and look at my irrationality with a fondness now. but im delulu. and always will be.
anyway i dont think he ever bothered trying to understand what bipolar disorder and chronic illness was until now, when he retired. idk something changed after his first year of retirement, its like he actually listens to me talk aboht my experiences instead of like reminding me over snd over that my birth parents gave me up and didnt want me and constantly bringing up my childhood instead of talking about my life now. hes less exhausting now is what im saying. still get flashbacks from seeing him tho.
tldr: i djd a lot. idk how to feel abt it. im scared to hope. today was mentally draining.
4 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tva-sarge
The Virtual Armory
guys-of-pretty-little-liars-blog
Ezra, Toby & Caleb
cozinhaairfryer
Senza titolo
naruto-photo-album
Naruto Photo Album
disneyshitorwhatever
Untitled