О своём отражении
Я пытаюсь найти своё отражение в ком-то, а не в себе самом. К такому выводу я пришёл за последние несколько дней. Как бы я это не отрицал, но, кажется, я всё-таки бегу сам от себя, отворачиваясь и выбирая смотреть и погружаться в кого-то рядом, но никак не заглядывать внутрь себя. Это страх, неуверенность, неумение или что-то ещё. Стоило бы разобраться. Но я понял это и хочется верить, что это приведёт к дальнейшим действиям.
Мне не скучно с самим собой, я всегда нахожу себе занятие и интерес в каждой пролетающей минуте, но это всё будто бы так поверхностно и словно для кого-то, а не для меня самого. Быть в курсе происходящего, чтобы обсудить с кем-то. Смотреть кино и ловить музыкальные релизы, чтобы не отстать от остальных. Поддерживать кого-то и настаивать на принятии решений за кого-то, но прощать и оправдывать свои слабости. И порой мне начинает казаться, что меня самого и не существует, я собрание тех и того, что есть вокруг, из чего я создаю собственное я, облепливаю еле зиждущуюся индивидуальность. А убери всю мишуру - ничего не останется.
Это большая ошибка - бежать от самого себя, не стараться строить себя полноценно, не заглядывать внутрь, не видеть себя в отражении, не воспринимать и не любить себя. Убрать каждое «не» и делать наоборот: любить и воспринимать себя, держаться собственного мнения, взглядов и целиться внутрь, а не наружу - такой хочется настрой на будущее. Это внутренний диалог, разбор ошибок, убеждение и раскладка по своим местам - поиск внутренней гармонии, а не просто комфорта, потому что так «удобно». Наверное, это и возведём в новую цель.
Day 114: Flower - Befriending Floette (Steven Universe)(Poke`mon[1996,2013])
Started Spring 2021, Completed July 26, 2021
More of the Pokecross AU with Professor Rose. I had this idea well before the Chairman Rose was introduced. I realize I don’t have Rose’s gem/ belt showing in this one like the last time she was featured, but sometimes you just have to call a piece done.
More Rose Quartz here | More Steven Universe here
[please don’t remove the artists comments]
I let Damain convince me to try another cut. I have no idea why I agreed to that, but he figured that since my hair is already short, now would be the best time to try things. I went the the barber TWICE today. I wasn't crazy about the first cut he did, and I ended up going back tonight to get him to fix it further. After doing that, I realized that the haircuts weren't the issue. My hair texture is.
After the first cut, I came home and played around with it. After five failed attempts, I called the barber and told him that the haircut wasn't working for me. I went back to see him at 6 PM, and he shaped it up further. After he did that, he tried to style it, and he encountered the same issues that I was having. My hair WOULD NOT respond to the hair sponge or the gel. All this time, I thought I was doing something wrong when my hair texture was the issue. He told me that I have to learn to accept that this is what my hair does, and it won't look the way I want it to unless I get a texturizer.
I think I have officially given up on finding something new to do with my hair. Anyway, my hair journey has now restarted as my hair is MUCH shorter than it was before. The count down to two years starts now.
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Characters: Peter Hale, Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Danny Mahealani, Jackson Whittemore, Isaac Lahey, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Lydia Martin, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Sheriff Stilinski
Additional Tags: Mates Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mpreg, Married Life, Bad friend Scott McCall, good hale pack, Scott is his usual charming self, (Please note the sarcasm)
Series: Part 354 of A Year of Prompts, Part 17 of Free the Void
Scott has some disturbing views of the world, Isaac sets him straight. Peter is terribly amused about it all.
When John came into the NICU he almost, literally, ran into Mary who was stepping out. He reached out with one hand, the other holding a sleeping Dean up to his chest, but stopped when he saw her reddened eyes.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked softly, hand going to cup her cheek. He immediately glanced at Sammy in the incubator. "Did the doctors-"
"They didn't say anything, I just...couldn't be here anymore. Need a bit of a break." Mary said, wiping at her eyes, not meeting his gaze though she leaned her cheek into his touch. "Mind walking with me to get some coffee?"
"Sure, of course." John said softly, looking at Sammy once more. "You really want to leave him?"
Mary wrapped her arms around herself. "No." she confessed. "But I feel like I'm going to just...start sobbing so I need to get away. But I need you. Just...a minute. Maybe less."
"Alright." he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and after glancing at Sammy one more time led her out into the hallway. "You said something about coffee?"
"Wouldn't mind something stronger." Mary tried to joke, her smile falling just as quickly as it appeared. "But...yeah, coffee."
"Alright, coffee." John agreed as he led her back to the cafeteria. "Any changes?"
Mary shook her head, staring at the ground. "No, no changes." she said quietly. "I don't know how much longer we can take, how much longer Sammy will be able to fight."
John tightened his arm around her, bringing her closer. "Then we'll do whatever we have to do." he said simply. "But until then, we just gotta wait."
Mary nodded, rubbing at her face with her hands. "I just...I'm losing my," she glanced to make sure that Dean was asleep, "goddamn mind."
"Me too." John said simply, thumb rubbing against her arm. "Me too Mary."
They walked the rest of the way in silence, stopping at the cafeteria so that Mary could get something to drink, a weak cup of coffee with sugar and milk. Each sip stuck in her throat and she had to force it down, drinking the whole cup, she threw the empty cup out, and quickly ducked into the closest bathroom.
Thankfully, the bathroom was empty and she immediately ducked into the closest stall, fell to her knees, and vomited into the toilet, gripping it tightly. She coughed and spat out the bile, her greasy hair falling down along her face. Her legs gave out slightly and she leaned against the stall, breathing heavily.
She swallowed hard, trembling as tears pricked her eyes. Gripping at the stall wall she dragged herself up onto shaking legs, stomach clenching and contracting. She didn't have anything left in her stomach, she didn't have anything else to throw up, but she gagged and choked, coughing hard.
She forced herself to stumble out of the stall after flushing everything, managing to get to the sink and place her hands on the sides of the porcelain. She didn't look at herself in the mirror as she washed her hands, leaning down to wash out of her mouth as well. She also washed her face and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Licking her lips, she flinched slightly.
Maybe it was her imagination, but she could still almost taste the sulfur on her lips.
Grabbing a paper towel she dried herself off as best as she could, taking one more deep breath before composing herself as best as she could and stepped back out into the hallway.
John gave her a look of concern when she stepped out, immediately going to her side once more. "You okay?" he asked. "What happened?"
Mary managed a small smile. "I'm fine." she assured him. "The coffee didn't really agree with me."
John didn't look like he agreed with her but he let it go, just wrapping his arm around her again, the three of them slowly making their way back to the NICU.
When they entered the NICU they froze and Mary felt as if her heart was about to stop. There were a whole team of doctors, nurses, god knew who else, surrounding Sammy's incubator. Immediately they pressed up to the window, one hand on the glass as they peered in, trying to read their faces, trying to figure out what was happening.
"Sammy." Mary whispered. "No, no, nonono." Please. Please no.
Slowly, one by one, each personnel pulled away, muttering to one another, none of them looked towards the two of them, none of them would even give them the courtesy of a single hint of information about what was happening to their baby.
Finally, one of the nurses pulled away from the other and smiled reassuringly at them, giving a motion for them to wait for a minute. John and Mary shared a look, her hand snapping out to grip at John's hand tightly. He gripped her back just as tightly, grounding one another.
The nurse who smiled at them disappeared around the corner, coming out of the part where they were keeping Sammy and coming into the hallway, taking her face mask off.
"He's doing amazing." the nurse quickly told them before they could say anything. "All of a sudden, he started breathing on his own, started crying, and moving. He didn't spit up any of the milk you gave us Mary and," her grin widened. "while they don't encourage us to say it, I think he's going to be okay."
Mary leaned against John weakly, a sob that had been building up threatening to escape. "He's doing better?" John asked weakly, holding Mary to him.
"A lot better." the nurse reassured them. "He's still going to stay here for now, and he'll be monitored twenty four hours, but he's taking a very big turn for the better."
"Can we see him? Hold him?"
"Not yet." the nurse said regretfully. "We need to see that he holds steady for at least twenty-four to thirty-six hours before we let anyone else other than medical personnel near him."
Mary looked into the window once more, she was sure that it might be her imagination but Sammy did look...different. Stronger. He was moving, there was more color to his cheeks, and there was no way it was real but she could almost see a hint of stubbornness and annoyance appearing on his face.
He was going to be okay.
Sammy was going to be okay.
She could feel John sag slightly beside her, holding her close in relief. She looked at him and smiled, kissing his cheek when she saw the tears in his eyes.
Feeling eyes on her she turned back to look at the nurse, who was still standing there watching them with a smile. When Mary caught her gaze, her smile widened.
And she winked, her eyes flashing yellow.
Happy Thanksgiving! Let’s get basted!
Partnership with @lazyoaf
Day 61 - Apollo
О новом человеке
То, что я сейчас хочу записать, ещё пару лет назад растянулось бы на несколько текстов о разном, каждый со своей идеей и ворохом метафор и ловких поворотов абзацев. А сейчас я вязну уже на первой строчке, встреваю будто убегаю от кого-то во сне с ощущением, что не двигаюсь с места.
Хотел оставить тут как напоминание «ощущение нового человека» в жизни. Аффект знакомства и первой встречи, когда удивительным образом диалог складывается сам собой без неловких пауз и даже наоборот многослойно перекрывая одну тему другой, наступая друг другу на хвост, обсуждая одно, заканчивая совершенно другим. Это очень приятное чувство сближения внутренней энергии (читай душ), когда будто по инфракрасной связи подключился и настроил синхронизацию в два щелчка.
И уже попрощавшись я шёл дальше по маршруту дня в приподнятом немного летящем настроении, когда всё вокруг меняется, переполненное вдохновлением, просто от встречи с новым человеком, который не знает ещё толком тебя, которого толком не знаешь ты, который не факт, что останется в жизни надолго, а может так случится, что станет её неотъемлемой частью, начавшись с пересечения взглядов одним тёплым осенним вечером. Не скажешь так сразу. Только время знает ответ. И ему можно довериться.
Ещё лучше сразу же написать это здесь, вдруг новый текст родится снова только через месяц, что в эти мрачные серые ноябрьские дни я чаще обычного (обычно этого даже и не случается) предаюсь ностальгии, воспоминаниям о хороших временах из прошлого, событиях, людях и местах. Даже выделяю несколько минут перед тем, как провалиться в сон, чтобы вспомнить какой-нибудь момент, заглянуть в него и уже после утонуть во сне.
Воспоминания - приятная вещь, если не углубляться в плохое или не пытаться спрятаться там, даже если они хорошие. Но вот так вспомнить, как полистать старый альбом, умиротворяет. Видимо для этого и созданы долгие осенние и зимние ночи, когда день не особо отличается от сумерек и серая пелена затягивает небо, стирая смену дней и ночей. Остаётся только вспоминать и держаться за эмоции. Всё-таки действительно почти осязаемо пойманное ощущение это невероятно и замечательно, как своеобразные витамины в период осеннего авитаминоза.
Day 115: Refined - Others may not think she’s refined, but I always will [Star vs the Forces of Evil]
July 28. 2021
I feel I’ve been neglecting adding more prompts for Star, so I thought this one was perfect for season 3′s Queen of Darkness. She’s one of my favorite secondary characters.
Hand reference used from here.
More Star vs the Forces of Evil here
[please don’t remove the artist comments]
91/365: THE KIDS
Fujifilm x-t3 with 18mm f2
Joel bought us matching pajamas to wear for Christmas, and I am very skeptical about it. I have no idea what state our relationship will be in at that time. I don't even know why he is so comfortable making plans when we fall out every two weeks. WE EVEN FELL OUT LAST WEEK WEDNESDAY TO THE POINT THAT I PACKED UP EVERYTHING I HAD AT HIS APARTMENT AND BROUGHT THEM HOME. He barely spoke to me the Thursday after, and then on Friday, he realized that he couldn't live without me. He lasted TWO DAYS with being fed up with me not giving him enough time and not respecting our relationship enough (I don't even know what he meant by that).
Today he asked me what I wanted for Christmas, and again, I asked him NOT to get me anything. I already predicted that we would not be speaking that week, so I am not making any plans. Yes, I know that sounds negative, but I always prepare for the worst when it comes to him. We started good, but it has been tumultuous as of late. Anyway, I can’t WAIT to see how this pans out. I really want to see if we can figure out how to make this work.
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Characters: Peter Hale, Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Danny Mahealani, Jackson Whittemore, David Whittemore, Kira Yukimura, Chris Argent, Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Allison Argent, Alan Deaton
Additional Tags: Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is Noah, Good Alpha Derek Hale, Not yet Alpha Peter Hale, Good Peter Hale, Good Friend Isaac Lahey, Good Friend Danny Mahealani, Good Friend Jackson Whittemore, Conversations, Ocean Kitsune Danny Mahealani, Thunder Kitsune Kira Yukimura, Information sharing
Series: Part 348 of A Year of Prompts, Part 11 of Free the Void
Stiles tells Kira about what is going on with her while battling the nasty rumors Scott and Lydia spread about them.
Sammy was doing worse.
It was sudden and just happened, these kinds of things happen when it comes to infants in precarious situations like Sammys. They’re just not strong enough and sometimes, they just don’t make it.
His lungs were too small, his heart was too small. Everything about him was too small, it couldn't really sustain him. They'd keep him on the ventilator, on the pacemaker, on all the machines that there were already attached to him.
But it wasn't a guarantee, and it could only keep him alive for so long. At some point or another, they had to make a choice.
Take him off of the machines and see what happens. Maybe a miracle could happen and he'd start breathing and kicking and living on his own.
Or his organs, small and precious and so desperate, could fail and he'd die in moments. There just was no telling what could happen.
And there was nothing else the doctors could do.
Her parents had left, they had gone straight back to Lawrence to meet with Henry and Millie, the former having been through the Mens of Letter healing spells in the hopes of finding something that could help them. He said there were a few, he was also providing the ingredients, but they were all for adults, none for infants, so there was no telling what it was going to do.
He was also breaking quite a few rules by doing what he did, and surprisingly in his own words, he didn't give a damn if it meant Sammy could live.
Talking to the doctors was exhausting, they had nothing that they could actually tell her. At one point one of them convinced her to let them examine her as well and John pushed her into saying yes, giving Dean to him for the time being while they did so.
She was healthy more or less, drained and weak, but otherwise nothing else to note. She was warned against becoming pregnant again however, based on her pregnancy with Dean and how Sammy had gone, it wouldn't be a good idea for her to have any more children.
She wasn't planning to but thanks doc, thanks for that sentiment. She was too drained to throw them the middle finger, just nodded and made her way back to the hallway so that she could stare at Sammy with John and Dean.
When John saw her coming back he had been writing something on a piece of paper, he folded it and shoved it into his pocket when she reached them. "Anything?"
"Nothing that can't wait." she said, turning to look at Sammy, while he didn't necessarily look any different, she could feel something different, something had changed. "Anything?"
"Nothing. Same as before, getting worse." John answered softly. He glanced at the sleeping Dean on his lap, curled against his chest. "I think we should let him go with...Bobby."
She ignored the way he said his name. "I told him that, but he doesn't want to." she said. "Said he wants to be here for Sammy cause it's his little brother." she managed a small smile, reaching out to stroke over Deans head. "What were you writing?"
John hesitated, then took his head. "Nothing important."
Mary raised an eyebrow at that, needing something else to pay attention to for a few moments, otherwise she was terrified that she was going to collapse and not get up. "If it's not important, show me."
"Mary it's not important, drop it."
Mary just stared at him for a moment, moving quickly to grab the piece of paper and yanking it out of his pocket, he wasn't able to move to stop her, doing so would mean waking up Dean after all.
She stepped away and glanced at it, feeling her stomach drop. It was an ingredient list; picture, graveyard dirt, black cat bone, yarrow flowers.
The exact ingredients she had been trying to figure out how to sneak away from Bobby's storages.
In order to summon a deal making demon.
“You...were you planning to summon a demon?” Mary asked, staring at the ingredient list in horror, in something she couldn’t even name.
John didn’t look at her, he looked straight at Sammy. “Made the most sense, dad said that the spells he managed to find were most likely not going to do a damn thing. And he’s getting worse and worse and-” he closed his eyes. “This way at least we can have a guarantee of some kind. Problem is, I have no idea where there’s a crossroad here or where to get the ingredients.”
Mary stared at the words until they started to get blurry and her hands were shaking. “The ingredients are all at Bobby's house. There’s a crossroad ten minutes away.” she whispered. “I was preparing to go there myself.”
John's head whirled around to stare at her, lips parting in surprise. “No.” he told her, shaking his head. “If either of us does it, it's me.”
"Why you?" Mary whispered, rubbing a hand over her face. "This is my fault, it's all on me. I couldn't be a good mom to him, I couldn't carry him properly. Its my fault, I should be the one paying for it."
"That's not how it works, that's not how any of this works." John said, half glaring at her. He looked down at Dean again and then back at her. "Come here."
Mary swallowed but walked over to him, sitting down and placing her head on his shoulder. He shifted himself and Dean enough to wrap his arm around her shoulders.
"Alright, we're both willing to do this," he said softly. "We're both willing to sell our souls for our son, but it should be me Mary."
"And why should it be you?" she asked him, just as softly.
"Because the boys need you a hell of a lot more than they need me." John said, his thumb rubbing against her shoulder. "It's something we've always known, something we knew that would be done. You've been taking care of Dean, being his parent. I was just the visiting dad who dropped by every now and then."
"That wasn't your choice, it was what we had to deal with." Mary reminded him.
"The boys need you." he repeated, his voice steady. "They can be without me, not without you."
Mary's voice hitched when she spoke. "I need you." she told him. "You can't go to hell."
“Neither can you.” John said, she could feel his lips brush against the top of her head. “So...stuck again, aren’t we?”
“Stuck again.” she whispered, rubbing at her eyes. She couldn’t hold back the tears at the thought of John going to hell, being tortured, being hurt like that. Maybe even eventually one day climbing out with black eyes of his own.
She shuddered and turned her head to bury her face in his chest.
“So what do we do now?” she whispered. “What can we do?”
She felt him take a deep breath. “We wait.” he said simply. “We just...wait.”
Watercolor of a bun
Day 67 - Evie Frye
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О своих оправданиях
Продолжая убеждать себя, что я смогу всё, что угодно, если только заставлю, касательно всего - я продолжаю игнорировать множество того, чем хотел бы заняться. Хотел бы, но не заставляю. Не знаю каким числом стикеров обклеить все поверхности в доме, сколько напоминаний поставить или ежедневников завести, чтобы делать то, что я умудряюсь себе прощать (очень многое). Это совершенно банальные вещи, к которым просто не выработана привычка и всё, но я не даю ей ни малейшего шанса.
День целиком дома, безвылазно. Только в окно выглядываю, когда свет начинает преломляться в стёклах и через замёрзший рисунок инея. Пока начал ворошить мысли этим текстом, пришло здравое осознание, что формирование новых привычек должно происходит в немного изменённых условиях, а я кажется настолько втянулся в кресло комфорта, что не хочу даже шевелить пальцами - если встать вмятина будет приличная. Я засиделся, кажется. Но при всём моём страхе выбивающих из колеи происшествий, лучше я и дальше поищу способы выработать новые привычки или просто очередные оправдания себе.
Случайся новый год хоть каждый понедельник, да даже каждый понедельник - уже мотивация, но у меня это не работает. Может, рассуждая об этом и перечитывая собственные жалобы, мне станет как-то не по себе и я немного расшевелюсь? Хочется верить. Хотя бы по маленькому шагу в каждом дне. Сегодня уже восьмом из трёхсот шестидесяти пяти. А ведь когда-то счёт велся каждому дню.
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