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gh0st1nth3wa11s · 2 months

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hi... Wakers I have a fanfic for you.. chapter one..

'Divers Love.'

okay it's a normalcy AU and is Alan/Alice. they deserve happiness and a break from the hellish(/pos) cannon of the game.

~`☆`~

Alice turned on the car, pulling it off the boat carefully as she playfully honked at Alan. Alan scoffed and rolled his eyes, soon getting in the car. "You ready for relaxation?" His wife asked. Alan cracked a smile, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the window. "Yeah, yeah, Alice." Alice couldn't help but grin bigger, tapping her hand against the steering wheel. She pulled in front of the towns diner. "We need to stop here, get the key from.." Alice leaned forward, looking at the notebook that had their days planned. "A Mr. Carl Stucky, he should be waiting for one of us.." Alice's eyes looked up at Alan, smiling more as her husband groaned, rolling his eyes at her. "I will go fill up the car, and come get you in about.. What? Ten, fifteen minutes?" She asked him, putting the car into park. "Sure." Alan murmured, soon getting out of the car. He was nervous to separate from her. "Oh, and Alan?" His turned back around, leaning down into the car window. "Hm?" "Thank you for coming here with me." He chuckled, smiling as he shook his head. "I love you too, I promise to behave." Alice nodded, gently laughing to herself as she pulled away.

Alan exhaled, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked into the diner. He looked around, jumping slightly as he met his carboard self, right in the doorway. He had forgotten about small towns. He had been in New York for years now. It wasn't a little town where everyone knew each other. He had been scared out of his thoughts as the woman behind the counter spoke to him. He glanced at her name tag. Rose. Her name was Rose. "Welcome to the Oh Deer Diner!" Alan cringed internally. She projected her voice so much that it seemed louder than it was. but he knew it was just his exhaustion. Alan spoke quickly, "Hey, I was wondering if you could help me, I'm looking for --" Alan blinked as he had gotten cut off. "Mr. Wake? Alan Wake!! I am your biggest fan - I know how people say that a lot, but I really am -" As Rose spoke, he took a step back, glancing at his carboard cut out. "That's.. great to hear that.."

His voice trailed off. "Rose!" She said happily. "Rose, I'm looking for Mr. Stucky, Carl Stucky." Rose nodded, setting her hand on the counter as the other grabbed a dirty coffee mug from in front of her. "Carl? of course. He must have whent to the rest room, he'll be out in a moment." She smiled warmly at him. Alan moved around, letting his hand run across barstools. Her and Alan talked briefly, She was talking how she had all his books, where she got the cardboard cut out, even to a conversation about coffee with the towns police officers, Rusty. He turned, letting his eyes close as he heard Rose ask if his wife was with him, and that she could show him around town. God he hated that comment. "So much for a quiet vacation.." He mumbled to himself. He spoke louder. "Thanks Rose, we'll be sure to keep that in mind." He said kindly, He swiftly moved toward the back of the diner, turning on that damned music box as he was asked, by the two - seemly old cooks of the town. He made his way into the dark hallway, being weary of where he stepped. He knocked on the bathroom door, "Stucky? Mr. Stucky?" before he soon turned, to get met with a woman in funeral wear. "Jesus-" He muttered. "Carl couldn't make it unfortunately, he fell ill." The old woman held her hand out, the key hung off of it. "But I have the key, and the instructions to get to the lake." Alan nodded carefully and snatched the key from her hand. "Okay.." He muttered. "I wish you a good stay in my cabin. I will visit you later on to check how you are doing." Alan nodded. "And to meet your wife." His eyes turned to a harsh glare as he looked at the woman. He soon fixed his face, it was rude to glare. "I insist." The old woman continued.

Alan looked at her in slight bewilderment. "Thanks.." He moved away quickly, gripping the key in his hand. His eyes darted behind him as the other woman began to talk about darkness and how it wasn't safe. He shrugged it off, keeping himself moving. Eager to get back to Alice. He waved half hazardly to Rose as a goodbye and shoved open the diner door, exhaling as he saw their car in front of it again. He got in the car, taking a big breath. "Mission accomplished, The key-" He held it up in his hand, "And the directions." He grinned just slightly as he saw Alice's face light up. "My hero, I got more batteries and flashlights. just in case." She took the keys from Alan and set them on the clipboard that was on the dash still. Her hand returned to Alan's after she put the car in gear.

They began to drive, his thumb tracing over Alice's ring and down her ring finger as he began to spoke. "That diner was a real nut house.." Alice laughed, "Can you believe this place? this would make a great setting for a book-" Alice's face dropped slightly as she realized the words that had just slipped from her mouth. She didn't even truly, actively try to say that. She glanced at Alan, an apology in her eyes, then back to the road. "Were supposed to be on vacation, Alice." He said with slight bitterness, letting his tone soften before he spoke again. "I'll figure it out when we get back home. Okay?" Alice nodded, and Alan looked back to the road. "Okay, we can talk about this way later." Alice said, reassurance in her voice, one that made Alan feel comfortable enough even with the idea of talking about his writing right now. He hadn't written a coherent sentence since his last book , Two. Years. Ago. It made his head hurt to even think about that fact. Alan let his eyes close, to clear his mind. This was a vacation, time to relax, to let go and be a husband again, a good one at that. He missed Alice, he missed sleeping with her at night. He knew she had gotten used to a cold bed, he hated he was doing this to her. He had taken note of this in his mind. Spend more time with Alice, My light. Everytime that he had thought to get away from the damned typewriter, the darkness of what could happen if he stopped writing entirely re-engulfed his mind, scratching out his wife entirely.

Alan's eyes jerked open as Alice stopped suddenly. She had always been a little rough on the break but he had gotten used to it. She put the car into park and grabbed the clipboard and notebook off the dash, inspecting it and the key. "Bird leg cabin..?" She asked, glancing at Alan. "That was the key I was given.."

Alice laughed, stress eminent in her voice. "By who?" Alan rested his head back against the window, the lingering warmth from the heaters of the car kept him just cozy enough. "Some old woman in-.. like a 70s mourning gown, veil and all." Alice pulled the key from ignition and looked at Alan, her back against the door. "A 70s funeral gown? and you tell me now? Here, get out of the car, we'll explore and then head back into town. This isn't our cabin." Alice opened the door and got out of the car. Alan groaned, opening his eyes and got out of the car with her. Alice damn near ran across the bridge.

Alan scuffled after her, getting a tighter grip around his wife's camera lanyard. He stopped short as he caught up to Alice, heels dug into the soft dirt. He looped the camera around her neck, guiding it to rest against her chest. "Do you really wanna break into this place Alice?" He asked, his hand finding hers once more. Alan looked around, seeing a murder of crows lingered around the island. The house didn't seem up to times, the smell of wet wood filled his nose, this cabin gave him the creeps, he-

Alan was yanked out of his thoughts as Alice pulled him up the steps. "Cmon, just a moment.. Its not breaking in! We were given a key. Do you wanna stay by the door? to make sure nothing closes us in?" She laughed, letting his hand go. Alan rolled his eyes playfully, scoffing as he followed nonetheless. He watched Alice dissappear into the house, and smiled slightly as she fumbled with the key. He remembered how much of an explorer she was, how hands on she was a person. She was never to scared of the law, or the things inside abandoned places. She loved them, saw the beauty in the dilapidation. He stood by the door and held it open wide, watching his wife rummage around the cabin. "Bird leg cabin.." He said.

Alice perked up as he spoke, glancing into a book case. "Yeah, our cabins name is the 'Divers Love' not.. bird leg.." She tilted her head, seeing a couple of books, a writer she had never recognized before. She carefully snagged one from the shoebox, looking at the book in her hand. She set it back down, back with the rest of the books and stacked them neatly inside. Alice left the box and soon moved over to the counter, rubbing her hand against it. "I wonder if they even use this cabin.. its dusty."

Alan moved more inward, keeping an eye on Alice. He nearly yelped as Alice tossed a thermos at him. He caught it half hazardly, looking at it. "Alice!-" He said playfully, laughing softly as he turned it over. "Let's go soon, this place is freaking me out a bit. All the crows, and the... just. this place is weird." Alice nodded, grabbing the few scraps of garbage that was around before grabbing that shoebox. "Babe-" Alan whined as she moved past him. Alice turned around. "I'll return them once we go to leave and return the key to Stucky." Alan nodded, moving away from the door. His head snapped back to it as it slammed behind him. Alice locked the door again, slipping the key into her pocket and moved quickly off the island. Alan hurried after her, assuming she also felt the wisps of uneasiness that reached out of that cabin.

They gotten back into the car, Alice driving again. Alan looked around, ignoring the neck pain and how his back just generally ached. They had been in the car for so so. long. He was eager for a warm bed, a kiss from his wife, maybe a beer if she was okay with it. "Alice..?" He asked gently, looking at her as she hummed in response. "I wanted to- fuck.." Alan took a deep breath. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for all... of my nightly behaviors, when I'm not stuck in that damned office.." Alice grinned slightly, but Alan made no comment- he knew she had absorbed what he had said. "How much did I drink before we left..? Did you drink with me or.." Alice clicked her tongue. "Yes I did, way too much, we killed a twenty-four pack.. within like... oh.. shit, like, 4 hours maybe." Alice gripped the steering wheel as she looked back on the memory, he knew she didn't like her choices. "Sorry baby, I shouldn't have been enabling you." Alan nodded wordlessly, he knew why she did it. Got drunk with him to fall asleep in his arms again, to have his breathing sync with hers. He knew it was a last ditch effort to try and help rekindle their relationship a little more, to bring the rings that adorned their hands close again. He hated that she felt that she needed to be fucked up with him to feel connected with him. He knew Alice wasn't the best at these things, she was emotionally heavy, not taught to truly regulate herself either. He looked over, scanning Alice as a cigarette pack was made known in the pocket of her skinny jeans. Alice used to smoke.. badly, it would help regulate her. Soon Alan picked up on it too, then they both agreed to cut it down to a minimum. She must have been stressed, smoking them when Alan was asleep, he wondered how many packs she had whent through on the way up. Alice must have read his mind, she pulled the cigarette pack from her pocket and set it in the cubby in front of the shifter. Soon Alan's lighter made its way with it. "Oh so my lighter..?" He teased gently, looking over at her lovingly. "Yes.. M' Sorry, I couldn't find mine and it was a last minute idea.." She spoke gently, hunching her shoulders up, bracing herself for some snappy remark. Alan frowned. "Hey no, it's okay babe.. I didn't mean it in a bad way, I was just playin' around.." He said carefully, a hand finding her thigh as he rubbed it gently an attempt to calm her. "Maybe once we get back to our cabin we can get into pajamas and have a nice sleepy day... smoke a blunt, drink some wine... something gentle." Alice looked at her husband with damn near bewilderment. And Alan smiled at her before picking his voice up. "Alice-" Alice snapped her head up and swerved back into her lane properly, having just passed the yellow line. "Good god.." She breathed. "Where did you find pot..? But yes.. that sounds nice.. you deserve rest." Alan chuckled warmly, eyes blinking with tiredness as the exhaustion seeped into his bones. God he missed his wife so much. "I have my ways... and maybe after we get the key we head back to the store and then find our cabin..? You deserve rest too Alice..." He said, always hating how Alice put him first. that the things they did were for him, not for them, together.

Alice nodded, soon parking in front of the diner again. "Okay. I'm gonna get the right key, return this one, and then we can finally fucking unload our car." She clapped her hands together and grinned at Alan. He smiled back weakly, watching her get out of the car and into the diner. God he was exhausted, tiredness pulled at his eyes an everlasting nagging to let himself drown in the darkness that cradled itself at the back of his skull. His eyes cracked open as the drivers door opened again and Alice plopped herself into the seat. "So.. they said.. there is no cabin in the lake. It whent down in the 70s.." Alice looked over at Alan with mischief in her eyes. Alan scoffed playfully and looked away. "Well glad that's not us." He held his hand out for Alice to take, smiling bigger as her had found its place in his.

After a while, they were on the road again, Alan had ran into the store, grabbed beef jerky, a pack of beer, a bottle of Alice's favorite wine — surprised that they had it, so. He had to get it. A small bouquet of flowers, condoms. For some fucking reason. Alan cussed himself internally as soon as they got scanned, what was he going to need those for? Not like he planned on doing anything, and was fine with doing nothing - His thoughts were that if by some damned miracle that he and Alice were to do anything those would ease her mind a bit. Considering it had been.. almost a year. Since anything, any sort of romance, that thought hurt his soul.

Alan looked around again as they pulled into what seemed like the most scenic cabin in the woods ever. He looked around, marveling around at the trees, and how pretty the cabin looked. It was on the opposite side of Cauldron Lake. God, the cabin was beautiful. A bit older, rustic on the outside, but he knew the inside was more modern. He looked at Alice, grinning at her with full fangs - he was excited to be here, with her. He got out of the car, moving over to Alice's side, and scooped her off her feet, causing her to yelp and soon laugh as her husband held her close to his chest. He grinned more, cheeks starting to hurt as she unlocked the door to their cabin for the next month, a long. nice vacation that the both of them deserved, needed.

#alan wake #alice wake #alan wake 1 #alan x alice #alanalice #alan wake fanfiction #please wakers be gentle i just think they deserve love and peace and a chance to rebuild their relationship at their own pace and not have #shitty ass doctor fuck up their lives and the rest of the plot of the game #past alcohol abuse ment #past nicotine abuse ment #uhh alan makes a silly joke abt a blunt/pot #there are headcannons and shit shoved in here please be gentle good GOD IM SCARED.#they go to a pretty cabin on the other side of the lake #next chapter is more angsty !! Alice bbg im sorry in advance.#remedyverse #alans sub conscious kicks in n' is like #“booze and condoms..” and then he feels like a fuckin idiot for buying them

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cypriathus · 4 days

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Here is my version of Tamiel/Kasdaye and Jophiel!

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNING: There are mentions of substance abuse (alcoholism and drug use), coitus, and animal torture.

Kasvedolun Zuraphomiel is an Äylcephomus with an addiction to hard liqueur and two illegal Æylphitus drugs: wemnatruphovszik and bolavrenzikus. Despite her promiscuity, she’s somewhat faithful to her husband, but she does have to hide her sinful unchastity from the priestly covenant of Äylcephinozur. She tries her best to be humble, however she occasionally boasts about her creative talents and beauty. She’s greedily protective over her items of wealth, her worthless knick knacks, and her husband’s body. She will use seductive and manipulative tactics to gaslight people into sleeping and staying with her. She’s a veracious, imaginative, and wise aesthete that likes her leisure time and is often against using underhanded means like violence. She’s capable of being tender and altruistic, spreading hope and love to those who need it the most. On the contrary, she finds solace in taboo subjects, BDSM, and sadistically taunting people who are suffering. She’s quite obedient, but will act rebellious when things don’t go her way or she thinks that something is morally wrong in her self-righteous eyes. Kasvedolun takes pride in providing holy services, indulging in her hedonistic nature, and pursuing intellectual delights and contemplative reflections.

When in Kasvedolun’s angel form, she’s a 5’ 11” (180.34 cm) ectomorph with an hourglass figure, semi-broad shoulders, a flat chest, soft muscles, and a slightly rounded belly. She has snow-white skin with cinereous freckles on her face, neck, chest, and shoulders as well as silvery stretch marks on her hips and belly. She has four Egyptian vulture wings with an impressive wingspan and sparkling blue-grey eyes with yellow-orange pupils. Her short bleached dark purple rooty stacked bob (it was originally a strawberry blonde) with delicate waves and a side-swept bang, covering the right side of her face. She has two tattoos: a flying hourglass with a snapped red rose below it on her right lumbar region and a brazen serpent hiding behind a draped urn on her left outer thigh. Her right arm was affected by a gangrenous growth due to the overuse of injected drugs into her bloodstream, so she had to amputate it. In order to hide the amputation, she replaced it with sharp plate arm armour made from enchanted gold, which is decorated with moss and artificial coral roses. She wears a wimple of starched linen and a guimpe of light pink silk covering her entire chest that she doesn’t have on during warmer weather. She dons a pale mauve silk scapular and a tight-fitting dress of navy blue serge fabric with a side split that exposes her left thigh. Kasvedolun has a purple gold cincture around her waist, red ochre rope sandals, and an amethyst beaded necklace with an open poppy jasper hand that has a gold leaf eye in the centre.

When in her true form, she’s 23’ 1” (703.58 cm) with a breastless, lanky, semi-gaunt body, a fuller belly, flaky pale mauve skin, and eight grabby arms. There are 13 golden arrows penetrating her back and a few glossy bulbous sores and needle holes of metallic purple on her thighs and upper arms. Her snow-white face is elongated with bloodshot yellow-orange eyes, two silver blue tentacled tongues, and a wide, toothy mouth that has dried gums oozing yellowish pus. Her head is adorned with a swept back bush of super curly, knee-length strawberry blonde hair. Her crotch is hidden behind a dolphin skull tied with a purple gold rope around her hips. The flesh of Kasvedolun’s front torso is painfully pulled back by silvery khopesh-shaped hooks to the back of both trapezius muscles, the bottom of her inner thighs, and her buttocks. It reveals pulsating navy blue flesh, golden veins, writhing periwinkle worms, and a light scattering of swan feathers. Her heart is a sparkling bright diamond covered in thin golden veins. She has six swift wings in a fiery gradient of dusty rose, yellow-orange, and carmine. Her guimpe now grotesquely binds itself to the underside of her chin and below the back of her head, looking tattered and stained with vomit. It has sleeveless arm holes, a mid-back rectangular piece, and the front is split into two ankle-length triangles, revealing most of her exposed torso.

She’s a master of astronomy, art, performing abortions, and sexual intercourse, and can personally create any weapon for all situations from her perception. She can manipulate Pnemazokhus, lower-ranking demons and angels, embryonic development, serpent bites, noontide heat, holy fire, natural perfection, concealment, justice, destiny, and perception. She’s able to summon somniferous dragons and put people into a dream state that reflects their ideal afterlife. She has an immaculate singing voice that summons love-inducing, incredibly accurate golden arrows and cleanses people of their sins. The deities gifted Kasvedolun with absolute senses, and she can gain information about whatever piqued her interest through intrinsic knowledge. She’s capable of negating deveasting infernal attacks and healing the injuries of non-Äylcephomus through reciting forbidden prayers. She can use psychokinesis, turn herself invisible, and make herself imperceptible by temporarily fogging up her targets’ sight and manipulating light and sound waves.

FAMILY:

Unnamed half-watcher half-seraph grandmother

Unnamed watcher grandmother

Unnamed father

Unnamed princedom grandmother

Unnamed power grandfather

Unnamed half-princedom half-power mother

Joluszeniah (husband)

Yomajuzhiel Galesoturvik (son)

Aremophivus Brejzuktophina (daughter)

Many ex-lovers

ALIASES/NICKNAMES:

Tamiel

Kasdaye

Jophiel

Angel of the Unseen, Perfection, and Beautiful Wisdom

Ma (by Yomajuzhiel)

Mommy (by Aremophivus)

FUN FACTS/EXTRA INFORMATION:

Her sexuality is fluid

As an Æylphitus, the different parts of her name have special meanings: Kasvedolun means “concealing the hand of power” and Zuraphomiel means “god is my watchman of beauty”.

She’s 37.5% watcher, 25% power, 25% princedom, and 12.5% seraph.

She originally had birthmarks that almost looked like rosaries on her wrists, but grew out of them due to the rampant use of her inherent biokinesis.

She wishes that she has bigger breasts and hates it when people mention that she has a smaller feminine chest.

She can speak over 70 languages

She’s secretly into kawaii lingeries and dominatrix outfits

She has a flaming khopesh made from the remnants of the dawn’s beauty, but rarely uses it as she’s not much of a fighter.

She has fantastic cooking skills, using them to make food for the local angel community, newcomers to heaven, and impoverished mortals.

Despite having an immense love of rabbits, she brutally tortures them in secret, deep in the forest-y areas of Eylvhraszokjumni. As a result, bunnies have a tendency to appear in her drug-induced hallucinations and nightmares, especially the darker-coloured and albino Holland Lops and Flemish Giants.

Despite her somewhat mediocre parenting skills, she possesses unconditional love for her children.

She used to make baby clothes for her children during their infant and toddler years, but would stop once they grew older. However, she’s willing to make baby clothes for close friends and colleagues who are having children or plan to have offspring.

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publicabsent · 8 months

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small drabble under here. warnings include: implied spousal abuse, physical violence, gendered language, mentions of alcoholism, death. <3

things have been normal. perhaps that, in itself, might have warned the medium that such smooth waters precede a violent storm. but normalcy is intoxicating, & leads to complacency.

the task was simple – deliver the books to the addresses, picking up any that are due, nothing complex. nothing she hasn’t done plenty of times before. (except now, complacency bleeds into carelessness, & she’s misread an address.) nothing strange till the last house. the roof of it sags, shingles missing in small patches. the lawn is somehow both brown & overgrown. the door, a light, cheap wood, sits crooked between two luan-covered windows. annette hesitates before knocking, a brief chill running down her spine.

that was her one & only warning.

delicate knuckles rap on the door, which easily opens without a sound.

“h - he-hello … ? i’m fr-from the l-li—“

a sickeningly familiar cold freezes her lungs solid as the gravelly, slurred voice of a man interrupts her.

“well, well, well. look-y who’s come crawlin’ back. surprised t’see me, ava?”

like a prey animal, annette freezes as one large ghostly arm wraps around her waist, the smell of cheap booze & decay flooding her senses. delicate frame braces itself for whatever may come next, dread stiffening bone, when she’s roughly cuffed on the back of her head & released, careening forward onto the ground. she lands with a smack, palms & knees bearing the impact.

“that’s fer leavin’ me —”

one large grubby hand jerks her up by her hair, pulling a strangled cry from the girl. now she sees the face of this spirit – distorted by anger, seemingly eaten in places by the vermin of the house. he wears a puke-stained shirt & stands so big, a hulking terror in both life & death.

an open-handed slap to freckled face disrupts her thoughts, rattling her skull.

“i-i — s-sir, i … i’m n-not —”

“shut up, you lyin’ bitch! that w’s fer lettin’ me die.”

“bu - b-but i —”

putrid hand clamps around her jaw, squeezing just tight enough to be a warning. annette closes her eyes, hoping the man at least kills her quickly.

he instead begins ranting.

his drunken ramblings are lost on the medium, interjected only with hits or shakes. he says something about losing a job, about ava’s family, something about children, all half-intelligible. he interrupts himself every so often to toss the girl to the floor, stomping at her while screaming for her to listen. he manages to catch her once or twice with his feet, though she’s hardly aware. she is far away. her mind is somewhat safer, imagining her small nook of her attic. the spirit continues to shout, striking the living girl when deemed necessary.

one sharp hit — large knuckles to fragile cheekbone, jolting her back into the present — elicits a soft whimper of a response.

“i-i … m’n-n—” she can hardly speak, her stutter working in distorted tandem with her busted, swollen lip. annette figures she must be crying, though she can’t tell. her weak attempts at speech are clipped short by two hands clamping viciously around her throat, the force pushing her harshly again a moldy wall.

“y’think i wanna hear one goddamn word outta yer mouth? shove those fuckin’ excuses aside. yer a coward! a weak, pathetic little bitch! f’you couldn’ handle me, y’shouldn’t’ve married me!”

his grip was growing tighter. it’d leave bruises, she’s sure. thin hands & short nails scrabble at the half-there hands, hoping to loosen the vice grip on her throat. the dead man continues shouting, his voice louder & the louder as his hands tighten, thumbs digging into her pulse points. the volley of foul insults never stops, even when the pressure on her neck vanishes & she collapses to the floor.

the voice, now disembodied, feels almost inside her ears, screaming obscenities at ava, who would never hear them. the small, somehow still-living girl shakily climbs to her feet, favoring one side greatly. her right ankle, clearly a victim of his stomping fits, is bulbous & a sickeningly dark purple. her every breath wheezes, but she limps out of the now-empty doorframe. his voices still screams in her mind for months.

she wears scarves to hide the slow-to-fade handprints round her throat.

she wraps her ankle.

she wakes in the night, screaming and clutching her chest.

& as always, she tells no one.

#✽ ➝ out. ❜#✽ ➝ meta. ❜#ask to tag /#definitely violent ! not bloody but violent !#violence /#alcoholism imp /#abuse imp /#abuse ment /#verbal abuse /

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zhuhongs · 9 months

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yk, i get why my brother had a drinking problem. our childhood was sooooo much. genuinely. they need to invent a belizean childhood that isnt horribly toxic and marked by cheating, alcoholism, and abuse bc the food and music and cutlure is soooo good minus the aforementioned aspects

#im gonna say it. there was no reason for me to end up rejecting belizean culture as much as i did to try and hide behind cultures so differe #nt from my own bc of the intense rejection and abuse i faced from my family. there's no reason i should speak fucking hokkien more than #kriol. im fucking belizean. the reason i took up jpn and korean and later chinese was bc they felt so different from belizean culture which #caused me so much pain and continues to pains me sooo much. like #why did i end up like this. if my ancestors could see me theyd be so confused 為什麼會這樣 #i just wanted to fit in so bad but everyone in my family was so cruel and i couldnt take it so i just. rejected it all abd now im so far #removed from the culture its embarassing and i just.... fuckkkkk #alcohol cw #🐌.txt #abuse ment #hhhhhhhhh

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teddybeirin · 1 year

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it's been 5-and-a-half-ish years since we've had even a drop of the only thing that makes living in hell bearable. i know that it is natural to seek comfort and relief from pain and fear and all the abuse we've been going through for all this time, but honestly, i dont think being here should be bearable. in the sense that being abused constantly is just by nature not okay, and if something is making it okay, making it bearable, making it comfortable enough that you dont have to leave anymore - that thing is not really helpful. comfort is not always good. i want the comfort of not being abused, more than i want the relief of feeling okay with being abused. that's all it ever did - i felt okay with things as they are, i felt okay yes but it can't be separated from the external reality driving me to seek it anyhow.

#alcohol ment #abuse ment

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emmetrain · 1 year

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"RIKAAAAAAAAAA... THIS IS AMAZING. I am nnnnot drrrrrunk yet! Can I have some morrre?" He just took a sip. And it had been enough to make him a mess.

"Uhhhhh... We sssshould have invited EVERYONE! I miss my frrriends.."

#ic #//so it begins #//every ask/reply gets a new icon and im ready for the madness for an hour :D #substance abuse tw #alcohol ment tw #alcohol mention #alcohol tw #open;; link with me to form a two car train #dash commentary;; watching from sidelines

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cidnangarlond · 1 year

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now I'm thinking about this house I lived in for a year and a half ish when I was a kid and it had this awful green carpet and there was the sliding glass door out to the deck I got my first splinter on and it had a walkway to this raised deck area and in the spring and summer we'd inflate our pool and jump in off the deck and my childhood dog got in once and promptly swam to the other side and got back out and when my dad would deflate it we'd let the water rush us out to the chain fence where honeysuckle would grow and we would know then it was summer and how beautiful the sunset was and the fence we shared with our neighbor who had a female dog that wasn't fixed and our dog when he was a puppy tried tunneling underneath the fence to get to her and on the other side of the backyard it sloped down a lot so in the winter we'd sled down it before crashing into a tree or the fence and my sister and I slept in a tent in that backyard but I got scared and went in and she stayed and saw a spider hatch its eggs on it in the moonlight and all these baby spider shadows cascading down that made her scream and run back inside and that kitchen where my dad would cook all the time and I'd scrub the potatoes and my mom would make me my after school snacks and in the summer have sangria in the fridge and I'd be given the sangria soaked fruit as bb king played loud on the stereo and the sidewalk out front where my dad tried to get me to learn to rollerblade but it was a steep sidewalk and I had to bail into the grass before I made it to the road and how I tried and failed to learn how to ride a bike and had a panic attack at my best friend's house because I was so scared being away from home for a night and how in my bedroom I had a bed tent and when my dad was playing with me and my sister I thought he was attacking her for real and got a plastic bat and started hitting him with it and I gave him a bloody nose but he wasn't mad at me because he knew I was just trying to protect my sister and how she and I would play with a balloon in that hallway for ages because we were poor and couldn't afford a lot so we'd make our own fun and how my mom had a seizure for the first time in that house and got diagnosed with epilepsy and my sister had to play nurse to my mom and mother to me and I spent every moment at school worrying about if my mom had a seizure while she was home alone and died and how my parents would argue and my mom would have her chronic migraines and be bedridden for days and my dad would drink god can he drink and god could he yell and it's taken me years to unlearn the inferiority I gained in that house because my parents couldn't be bothered to pretend to care about anything I liked and wanted to show them or talk about it and I always bothering them so I thought shows and movies and everything else was more important than me so I just stopped trying and our cats probably tore up the furniture and I puked on that hideous green carpet after having cherry medicine because it tasted awful and how my favorite white shorts with blue and magenta on them got bleached in the wash and I cried and I broke my arm in that backyard and now so much about that house has changed it's almost like it never was the house I experienced all this in and I didn't have amazing times in that house but I wish I could for just one moment feel that childlike happiness I experienced once in that house again. good god I miss that house. I hate that house. I love that house

#long post #SORRY I JUST NEEDED THIS OUT #alcohol ment #abuse ment

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