#and there was a solid month and a half where I thought I lost everything I had written that hadn't been posted for DoJ

[singingcookie]

god I missed being able to write so bad

#kelly speaks #writing stuff #yeah so fun fact: my laptop died just before Thanksgiving #and there was a solid month and a half where I thought I lost everything I had written that hadn't been posted for DoJ #I did manage to recover everything but I spent that entire month wanting desperately to work on it and being completely unable to #I missed my usual anniversary posting goal and was just...especially miserable LOL #so if anyone follows me and happens to read my izuocha slow burn #now you know why I wasn't fucking updating lmao #can't wait to write this on the next chapter's author notes

[kaijutegu]

So. Now that she's home and safe and gonna be ok, I can talk about this.

I almost lost Kaiju. Christmas Day. I was woken up by a phone call from Allison, who will be referred to a LOT in this story. Allison runs the pet store where I board Kaiju. She called to tell me that Kaiju had lost a LOT of blood. (As it turns out, half her blood volume. Humans die when we lose 40%, just so you know. She lost 50%.)

There were no visible injuries, and she had passed a bloody stool. Or rather, a blood clot with some poop in it. She continued to pass only blood when they put her in the bathtub to clean her up. If I'd taken her anywhere else, that... would have been it, probably.

But Allison is an actual miracle worker and knew an emergency vet who was open- on Christmas Day- and could see reptiles. As soon as she called me, she took her to the e vet, where they gave her fluids and oxygen and got her stable. They did some x rays and found... nothing.

In fact, the e vet actually complimented me on her bone density and how nice her toe joints look. Whatever this mysterious haemorrhage was, it was in the soft tissue.

The immediate thoughts were:

Impaction

Cancer invading an artery

Aneurism

Reproductive issues

However, the emergency vet couldn't figure it out, and my vet was out of the country. The e vet consulted with a lot of vets and it was decided she'd go into Chicago Exotics for care the next day- they were willing to see her on immediate notice. Allison drove her over and they did an ultrasound... and couldn't differentiate the mass they found.

So, exploratory surgery it was.

But... she didn't have enough blood for that. She wouldn't have survived... if Allison hadn't found blood for her. Tegu donors were found, the transfusion happened, and was completely successful.

And what the surgery found was completely unexpected. No cancer. No repro issues. No typical impaction.

Instead? Weird white things in her muscles and a partial impaction that seems to be related to a reduction in her ability to properly digest. There are two possible diagnoses at this point. One is visceral gout. This is very strange because in reptiles, articular gout basically always happens first, and her kidneys are fine.

The other option? Weird, potentially cross species parasite she picked up when she was in the Everglades. Something she's likely had all her life, something that was dormant until recently.

I'll know when the pathology report comes back in a week or so.

Anyways! She is doing very well. She is alert and interested in things. She has an incredible appetite, even though she can't have solid food yet. She's on three meds, including one I have to inject. At her three week recheck, we will add a fourth- either the correct anti-parasitic or a medication to improve kidney function, depending on the diagnosis. Currently she's in a hospital cage and she hates it- she can't have any substrate because of the stitches.

The vet says it should take about three months until she makes her full blood volume. Her pack cell count should be at 35%. It was at 7% on the 26th. But by the 28th, it was at 10%. She's gonna be ok. She's tough. My little girl is a fighter, always has been. You have to be scrappy to survive in the wild.

And throughout this entire experience, everybody has told me how lovely her personality is. Through the injections and cloacal probing and everything, she never bit or even tried to. The vet didn't think she even wanted to bite. Like it wasn't a question of wanting to bite and not being strong enough- it's just not something in her behavioural repertoire. She doesn't bite because she doesn't want to. Because even at her most scared, at her most painful, she's still Kaiju, the best tegu to ever live. Love is stored in the tegu, and it continues to be stored in the tegu. We have a long road ahead of us, but she's out of the woods and is going to be ok. We both are.

Also, consider this a MAJOR plug for Curious Creatures in Chicago. I'm never going to board my animals anywhere else.

#reptile #lizard #tegu #kaiju #reptiblr

[glorious-spoon]

like an empty bottle takes the rain [9-1-1 | Buck & Eddie | Buck/Tommy]

~1k words | friendship | pre-relationship | sexuality realization

-

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

He senses, rather than sees, Buck's shift to his left, the way his head comes up, his attention sharpening. He doesn't look over, though. He keeps his eyes on the stretch of backyard in his field of vision. The demolition portion of the job is pretty much finished, the old rotting lumber from Eddie's sagging back deck stacked up to be hauled away, the floor joists still open to the raw earth underneath. They're both kicked back on the half-finished edge, beers in hand, feet dangling. The high midsummer sun beats down, and Eddie's shirt is sticking to him with sweat.

"Yeah, of course, anything," Buck says.

Eddie nods. He rolls his sweating beer bottle between his palms and doesn't speak for a moment. It's not because he doesn't know what he wants to say; it's not because he hasn't thought it through. If anything he's thought it through too much. Enough to know exactly how exposing the question alone is—to anyone, let alone Buck, who knows him better than anyone else in the world. If he says it out loud, there's no taking it back. There's no returning to a world where this is just a question that lives inside his head. It'll be something that other people know about him. That Buck knows about him.

He wonders if this was what it felt like for Buck, months ago, when he stumbled through a quiet confession in his loft and watched Eddie with frightened eyes for the three seconds it took him to jumpstart his brain and pull Buck into a tight hug. There's always going to be a world after he says it. And knowing how gently Buck would hold that knowledge still doesn't quite make the fear go.

"Eddie?" Buck asks, quieter. 

"Yeah," Eddie says. He takes a sip of his beer, and his voice is hoarse, and he knows he's lost any chance he had of trying to make this sound casual. He could just drop it—Buck would let him—but he doesn't want to do that. "I was wondering. You and Tommy—how did you know?"

There's a soft intake of breath. "That I was into guys? Or that I was into him?"

"Either." Eddie shrugs tightly. "Both."

"Um," Buck says. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie watches him duck his head, rub a sheepish hand over the back of his neck. "Well. I kinda only actually figured it out when he kissed me."

Eddie lets out a startled burst of laughter. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Buck says. The amused chagrin in his voice is enough that Eddie can bring himself to look over at him. He's blushing, scruffy and a little sunburnt in a ratty LAFD t-shirt that says KINARD across the back. Eddie has been trying really hard not to feel some kind of way about that since Buck turned up this morning, and only half succeeding.

"Sorry," Eddie says, and takes another gulp of his beer. "I'm not trying to, like…"

"No, it is, it's…I mean, in retrospect, it feels really obvious. You know? Like, when he came over after the basketball game—"

"After you broke my ankle," Eddie interjects, like he does every time the subject comes up.

"After I sprained your ankle, accidentally, which I still feel really bad about."

"As you should," Eddie says, grinning, feeling a little more like he's back on solid ground when Buck scoffs. "Okay. Go ahead."

"Anyway," Buck says. "We were just, you know, talking in the kitchen and, and—flirting, I guess, or at least I was kinda flirting, but I didn't really think about it like that. It didn't feel that different from—I don't know. I just thought he was nice and cool and I wanted him to pay attention to me, and he was, and it was like…" he trails off, shakes his head, laughing. "And then he kissed me, and it was like—oh, okay, that's what all that was. That was the missing piece, you know?"

"It just clicked," Eddie offers, hoarse.

"Yeah. Exactly. It clicked, and everything suddenly made sense."

"Oh," Eddie says, and then he takes a drink of his beer, gazing out across the backyard. The bird houses that Chris and Buck set up years ago, the paint starting to fade now, the patio chairs stacked against the back fence along with the fresh lumber for the deck. He's not really seeing it, though. He's remembering a night in Buck's kitchen, years ago: a beer in his hand, watching Buck move toward him with that cocky tilt to his smile, an unnameable tension thrumming between them. It wasn't the first time, but it was the first time he remembers it feeling like that: sharp and electric, like he was on the verge of doing something reckless.

What would have changed, he's wondering now, if either of them had thought to cross that line? If he'd grabbed the front of Buck's shirt and pulled him into a kiss, would Buck have kissed him back? 

The question is moot in any case. At the time, Eddie didn't know that was even an option, for either of them. And Buck's with Tommy. He keeps saying it's not that serious, but it's been two months, and he's still walking around with that expression of gobsmacked joy half the time. They've been sleeping together for a while now, which Eddie knows because Buck is incapable of discretion, especially when he's happy.

It was good, he told Eddie, afterward. It was like—it was new, and I felt like such an idiot about everything, because it's been so long since I had no idea what I was doing, but it was so good, and Eddie, who has heard way more about Buck's sex life over the years than any sensible friend would tolerate, had never heard him sound like that about it: thrilled and breathless, almost shy.

Eddie's not going to fuck with that, especially when he barely even knows what he's feeling here. Jealous, sure, a little bit. But he doesn't know how much of that is wanting Buck, and how much of it is wanting that. The breathless thrill of self-discovery he could hear in Buck's voice, every time.

"Can I ask you something?" Buck says. It's quiet, and when Eddie turns toward him there's something careful in his face.

"Fair's fair."

"You're not just asking out of curiosity, are you?"

Eddie breathes out shakily, presses his lips together, and finally shakes his head. "No. Not just curiosity."

"Okay." Buck lets out a breath and nods, rubbing a hand against his jaw. "Listen, Eddie…"

"I'm not ready to talk about it," Eddie says hastily. "Not yet."

"Okay," Buck says again, gentler. He leans in just enough to bump his shoulder against Eddie's. "If you ever do want to talk about it, I'm here."

Eddie leans back against him, the solid warmth of his body a familiar comfort. There's a tightness in his throat, but it's not a bad thing, not entirely. "Yeah. I know you are."

#911 #buddie #bucktommy #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 fic #my fic

[thelordofgifs]

Congrats on 300 followers! Fic prompt if you want: Maedhros has been released from mandos because of Reasons but maglor is still MIA in middle earth and mae has Some Thoughts about this

Thank you for the prompt, anon! Sorry it's been *check notes* a month and a half.

-

Maedhros was almost the last of his family to return to life; only his father still lingered in the depths of Mandos, and would, some said, until the end of the world itself.

Maedhros found he cared very little about this. He had spent too long, in his first life, reminding himself that he was Fëanor's son, and Fëanor's heir, with all that entailed; and it had led him in the end only to ruin. Perhaps, this time around, he might do better. If even Curufin could walk again with the wife he had disavowed, and the son who had disavowed him – if Celegorm, who had wronged an elf-maid so cruelly, could hunt with Aredhel of all people once more – perhaps there was hope.

Well, there was more than hope: there was Fingon, who had been waiting for him when he first emerged from the Halls of Mandos. With the solid weight of Fingon's warm hand in his, Maedhros had begun to believe that living again would be possible. It was a belief that lasted until the first tear-filled reunion with his mother and brothers was over, and he asked, "Is Káno yet to return from Mandos?"

Everyone went very quiet.

At last someone – he did not later recall who – informed him that Maglor would not be returning from Mandos. Maglor had never died; and, as far as anyone knew, he wandered Middle-earth yet, although the Grey Havens were long since abandoned and no ship had sailed the Straight Road for many Ages of the Sun.

"I searched for him," Elrond told him, later, when Maedhros sought him out to ask. "I looked everywhere, for thousands of years. Galadriel, too, although she won't admit it. He did not want to be found."

The Maglor-of-memory was a laughing, sociable creature, whose dark eyes had always flashed brighter in company, and whose voice had always soared most sweetly before an audience. In the days of their youth – strange, now, to think that Maedhros had ever been young, although his skin was as soft and unmarred as it had been when he was a babe – Maglor had delighted in dragging him along to every concert's after-party, every impromptu poetry reading and outdoor picnic gathering as Telperion bloomed.

He had come to the Mereth Aderthad because Maedhros had asked it of him, and Maglor had always done as Maedhros asked; but he had enjoyed it, too, in a way that Maedhros, then not two decades free of Thangorodrim, could not. It was his clearest memory of the feast, now: not the careful diplomatic work he had put in between course after course of too-rich food, not the unclouded kindness of his uncle's smile, not the moonlight gleaming silver off the lake as Fingon embraced him where no-one else could see, but Maglor's clear bright laugh sounding above the chatter of the partygoers.

And even after everything had been lost, he had still loved the children they had stolen deeply; he had been happiest in their company, with one on his knee and the other nestled into his side, or as they grew older in the schoolroom learning their lessons and in training-yard as he taught them how to fight. Their few remaining followers, too, had increasingly turned to Maglor when they ran into small difficulties, for he did not shudder in disgust from those he had led into slaughter, and could yet summon up a smile when they spoke to him.

That Maglor, then, could ever choose solitude willingly! What had been done to him, who had always taken solace in the society of others?

Maedhros knew the answer to that, actually.

"I really did try everything," said Elrond, who was a venerable elf-lord now, and yet did not sound so different from the six-year-old Maedhros had met long ago.

"Yes," he said, and then he went away, unable to offer any better comfort.

It had always been Maglor who had offered comfort.

He would not be welcome in Alqualondë, even now. But the Bay of Eldamar was long, and there were beaches enough for lonely wandering here, within sight of the Sundering Sea. Long ago Maedhros had stood on the shores of Losgar and thought that name apt indeed – and although all the world was changed since that moment, the breach in his heart remained.

He knelt to dip his fingers in the salty water. Perhaps far away Maglor was doing the same. The brine would sting the burn on his blackened, withered hand, although the soft uncalloused skin of Maedhros’ palm did not protest its own submersion. Perhaps Uinen, weeping yet for the slaughtered Teleri, called up storms to disturb the glassy water as Maglor drew close; perhaps the seagulls of Elwing’s acquaintance swooped squawking at his head if he lingered in one spot too long. And did he not deserve it?

The Halls of Mandos were supposed to heal one’s spirit of its wounds, and there were few wounds deeper than those left by self-destruction. Although Maedhros knew, theoretically, how he had died, he had not thought of the moment since his return to life. Now the memory came rushing back to him: the terrible pain of the Silmaril in his hand, and the same holy light charring Maglor’s slim clever fingers as they curled around the jewel. Maedhros had led Maglor to it; he had pushed Maglor into stealing the Silmarils from Eönwë, and Maglor, unwilling, had done what Maedhros had asked of him.

“He does deserve it,” Maedhros said aloud, to the vast unfeeling Sea. “But – I did too, and—”

It had been too much to bear, the knowledge of what he had done to Maglor. Maedhros had jumped rather than face it. But he was alive now, and must reckon with this last and greatest crime: he had left Maglor. He had led his brother all throughout their miserable, bloody decline, and then he had abandoned him.

With some surprise he realised he was weeping. He had not yet shed a tear in this life; nor had he cried once in the last since the Nirnaeth Arnoediad. Maglor had wept for him, instead, had readied every brother for burial and bathed their dead faces with tears, had sung Maedhros to sleep with the laments written for their funerals. He had not been crying before Maedhros had jumped, but perhaps he had after.

Maedhros could not ask him. He would never see Maglor again.

Here, then, was the bitter truth: there were hurts yet past healing, and wrongs that the fire could not sear away. Maglor was gone, and it was Maedhros’ fault – and though he might mourn here forever, wandering the shores of Aman in some fruitless attempt to shadow his brother’s steps, it would not suffice to bridge the endless waters that lay between them.

What was left, then, in the face of that terrible self-knowledge? Only the sound of the lonely wind, which, try as he might, would not carry the sound of Maglor's voice to his ears, and the tang of salt upon his lips, and his tears falling vainly in the thankless Sea.

#silmarillion #my fic #asks #anon #maedhros #maglor #very funny that I am still combing through my 300 followers fic prompts when I have recently hit 500 #anyway this is very angsty but blame the anon for that ok

[sallyastralhcs]

I just remembered about this very old ask I received, and since I switched blogs for headcanons I thought I'd finally write it but here!

@vulnonapix1234 thank you so much for the request and I'm so sorry for the delay!!

Let's get started :)

TW: MANGA SPOILERS!

.....-----.....-----.....-----.....-----.....-----.....-----.....-----

I always pictured Yuji as a really friendly person, but who never had many close friends throughout his life.

It's not like people didn't like him, they did, but kids his age perceived him as different from them, even if in a positive way. He might have not been the best scholar ever, but his talent with sports made him stand out in both middle school and high school. Many people were a little scared to approach him because of this, so they never did, but if they did they'd understand that Yuji was actually a nice guy.

Yuji occasionally spent time with his classmates, or the occult club members and kids around Sendai, but they were just that: classmates. Not friends you'd tell your deepest secrets to or that'd you see yourself hanging around with even after high school. That's why he lost contacts with them, aside from the fact that life at Jujutsu High doesn't make it easy to have relationships with people outside of campus.

At some point Yuji started to distance himself from his classmates, even before joining JH. He wanted to be near his grandfather in his last months, even if Wasuke kept refusing his presence in favor of his grandchild having a normal social life. And then we all know what happened after.

When he joined Jujutsu High and met Nobara and Megumi, something clicked inside of Yuji. He knew from the start they'd become good friends in little time. They spent a lot of time together around Shibuya shopping, training, talking, studying together. They spent countless nights with Megumi hopelessly explaining math to Yuji, but to no avail. They went to cinemas, parks, walking in the woods, watching movies or TV series in their dorms. And even though he had already done all these things with his peers in Sendai, now he was really having fun. He felt like he would see himself doing it again with Megumi and Nobara even after school, and he knew they thought the same too. It would be an everlasting friendship. Or so he thought.

That something clicked with Junpei too. Despite knowing him for a day and a half, they could have been inseparable. If they only had more time. Yuji would have introduced him to Megumi and Nobara, and he was sure they'd like him because "if you're Yuji's friend, you're our friend too". Their trio would have become a quartet, a solid group of true, close friends. But all of Yuji's hope was shattered right before him by Mahito.

Nobara was special to Yuji. She was the one who taught him that he wasn't alone in this world, that she was his "accomplice". One could say they were soulmates, be it platonic or romantic. They both traveled on the same wave despite their different tastes and passions: they did everything together and ended up laughing like idiots every time. It was almost as if they were two sides of the same coin, where Yuji was there was also Nobara, and vice versa. And then she "died" right when he needed her the most. Even if they've known for just three months, Yuji felt hurt. He suffered. He no longer had his accomplice. Now he was truly alone. When Arata told him that she could still be alive Yuji held onto that hope until he met Megumi again. And when Megumi confirmed that Nobara was gone... Yuji denied it. Not openly, of course, but he convinced himself that it wasn't true. If he acknowledged that she was gone because of him, he feared he might go insane.

Then Hana came, and Yuji felt that click again. But instead of being happy, he felt terrified. Hana somehow "scared" him: she reminded him of Nobara in everything, from her laugh to her smile to her jokes. Yuji was scared by the thought of accidentally replacing Nobara if he got too attached, that's why he treats her so coldly. He doesn't want a replacement. He wants his friend back.

Yuji might not have had the same bond he had with Nobara with Megumi, in the sense that he wasn't that into going around the city and partying. But that's what Yuji liked about him. Megumi and Yuji shared thoughts, opinions, feelings, and moral compasses. Again, two faces of a coin. Megumi was there whenever Yuji needed him, reminding him that they both shared the fault for what happened in Shibuya. But now that he was gone, what was Yuji supposed to believe?

Nobara told him he wasn't alone, and she left him. Megumi told him they were both at fault, but if Sukuna took control over him it was only Yuji's fault. He lost everything, because of himself. If he never ate that finger, maybe Megumi would be well and Nobara would still be alive. Maybe, maybe, maybe...

But if Yuji never ate that finger, maybe he would have never met his friends. He would have never met Nobara, Megumi, Junpei.

But was it worth it?

#jjk #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #sallyastralhcs #headcanon requests #headcanon #headcanons #headcanons requests #yuji itadori #yuji itadori headcanons #itadori yuji #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #junpei yoshino #hana kurusu

[hookingminor]

“i hate what i’ve become.” with mat? ty 🫶🏻

“I hate what I’ve become.”

this got very real and deep very fast don't ask me if I'm mentally okay after reading this because I'm clearly not

warnings: intense talk of insecurities

-

Social media was your worst nightmare even after years of handling it, you thought you had it mastered. You thought you could step back and block out negative comments and everything that made you feel like shit, but it was so much easier said than done.

And as much as you hated to admit it, Mat only made it worse. Being with Mat only made it worse. It was bad enough before you were his girlfriend, but now that you were officially public, it was exponentially worse.

The doom scrolling was the worst part of it all. You were so wrapped up in the toxicity of it all and couldn’t let it go. For hours you’d sit on Instagram, scrolling through the comments on his posts of you. Even if the positive comments outweighed the negative ones, you could only focus on every criticism of you. How you weren’t the typical WAG standard, how Mat must be cheating on you, how much better he could do.

Then came his tag posts, which were sometimes filled with vapid remarks about his alleged hookups or hateful judgements of your profile. Not to mention all the women he still followed that were stick thin and blonde and clearly got paid just to post bikini photos. You weren’t one to be bitter and misogynistic, but it was hard when everywhere you looked there were reminders of every beautiful ex Mat had or how ugly you were next to him.

It was all consuming and to the point where you just couldn’t handle it anymore. Like physically, you feared this comparison and criticism of yourself would be the death of you.

Realistically, you knew there was only one solution to this problem.

“We need to break up.”

Mat could not have been more blindsided by your words, his whole body coming to a dramatic halt at your blunt words. He was in the middle of making a sandwich for god’s sake. “Is this a joke?” Never in a million years would Mat have expected you to spring this on him.

“No,” you stated. “I think we should break up.”

The silence felt like it lasted hours while Mat’s brain tried to catch up with what you were saying. It was out of the blue and made no sense, and Mat still half believed you were just fucking with him.

“Why would we break up? Is there something wrong with us?” If he weren’t so genuinely confused by your outburst, he might be mad, but he was just lost. As far as he was concerned, you two were solid. Nothing big had happened to warrant a fight, let alone a breakup. “What’s going on, babe?”

“I just can’t do this anymore. I hate what I’ve become, and I can’t stand being like this, Mat,” you explained, which only confused him even more.

“What the hell are you even talking about? What can’t you do anymore? What’s wrong?” He walked to you in two long strides, enveloping your face in his hands while he scanned it for something. Anything.

“I can’t do being your girlfriend anymore,” you said. “All the comments and trolls and you being the literal hottest man to ever grace hockey while I’m just some girl.”

“Woah, where is this coming from? Who said this? Where are you getting this?” His questions came out at double speed, real fear setting in now that you might actually leave him.

“Instagram, twitter, those stupid blogs, I’m tired of it all, Mat.” Your voice broke on his name.

“When did all of this start?” He asked.

Mat never spent much time on social media anymore except to post something then log off, and you were sure he somehow had notifications set so only his friends showed up in his mentions. Of course he wouldn’t be focusing on all the bullshit they were saying about you.

“The day we met,” you snorted humorlessly. “We’ve been dating publicly for months now, and they’ve never slowed down. They’re never going to stop. As long as I’m with you, I’m always going to be hearing this shit and comparing myself to other girls.”

“As long as you’re with me?” The anger was starting to hit now. “I’m sorry, but am I missing the part where this is my fault? Have I ever made you feel like this? It shouldn’t matter what other people think. They’re all spineless assholes who have nothing better to do with their time but tweet insulting shit. I think you’re amazing and wonderful and hot and sexy and incredible. Doesn’t me loving you count for something?”

“Of course it does, Mat. And I love you, but this shit never stops. You don’t get it. You don’t get what it’s like to look at every single woman and wonder if you’d be more attracted to them than you are to me. To wonder if you’re just waiting until you find something better.” And he didn’t get it. Not when he looked like that and had all that money and fame and success. He would always be too good for you.

“Jesus Christ.” Mat’s heart broke at your confession. “How long have you been feeling like this?”

It was painful to hear about your insecurities, and that was the reason you never brought it up. It wasn’t Mat’s job to reassure you every time you were feeling down, especially when your bad days greatly outnumbered your good days. You felt like a burden when you told Mat about your problems.

You shrugged. “A long time.”

“And you really think breaking up will solve this?”

“It can’t make it any worse.”

Mat rethought his strategy. He clearly wasn’t letting you call off nearly a year-long relationship over something you hadn’t discussed more than just this one time, but it was also clear your mind was made up.

“Okay, well, I’ll just delete my Instagram then,” Mat said casually. So casually your eyes snapped up to his.

“What? No. You can’t do that,” you said defensively.

“If it’s the only way I can keep you then yes, I can,” he shrugged.

“Mat, don’t be stupid,” you scoffed, pushing him away with a hand though he wouldn’t budge.

“If anyone’s being stupid here it’s you,” he said without hesitation. “If you think I’m letting you breakup with me having not even discussed this with me, you’re insane. Clearly, this has all been taking a toll on you, and you won’t even tell me about it so we can handle it as a team.”

“There’s nothing to handle. I’ve already figured it out.”

“Totally.” Mat nodded. “You know that in a relationship we handle things together, right?”

And maybe he had a point, but this wasn’t his battle to fight. It’s not like he was the one whose self esteem had taken drastic hits.

“I just don’t see how this can work out when I’m constantly thinking about how awful I feel or look,” you said.

“Well, I can tell you how we can work this out,” Mat replied confidently. “First, you tell me when things get bad like this so you don’t have to be alone. Second, I will tell every single bastard online to fuck off if you want. Third, we both take a step back from social media. No name searching or doom scrolling or even posting, if that’s what you want.”

“It won’t work, Mat.” You tried the whole ‘taking a step back’ and ignoring shit. It doesn’t work.

“Have you tried it with me?” You shook your head. “We’ll spend our evenings learning new hobbies like it’s the 1800s or something. You can teach me how to crochet or bake bread. We’ll start new shows and explore the city doing stuff we never thought we’d do. We can go to every single bagel place in New York and rank them.”

“That’ll take years.” You couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out.

Mat continued on, a smile tugging at his own lips. “We’ll go on vacations to the most remote places in the world with no cell reception. We’ll take pictures on polaroids and disposables like old people so that the only pictures we have are just for us. We’ll buy a house in the woods where we can go to escape whenever we think it’s all too much. When I retire we’ll move to the most secluded small town in Canada and put all of our efforts into starting a small business. There are so many things we haven’t tried yet.”

It all sounded so beautiful coming from Mat, and you couldn’t fight the smile that crept across your face as he listed off a million things for you to do. “You’re planning quite a far way into the future.”

“That’s because you are my future. I love you, and I want this to work. Your bad days are my bad days, and we should be handling this together. Like a team,” Mat said.

“We’re not qualified to start a small business,” you remarked, and he scoffed.

“Then we’ll both go to business school,” he teased. “We have years to plan that out.”

You knew he was joking about half the things he listed, but the fact that they were mostly all plausible options had you pausing to consider.

“Just give it a chance for us to work this out,” Mat pleaded.

And maybe it was the thought of hiking through South American mountains miles away from civilization or the thought of settling down with Mat in a home with your possible future children or the fact that you just loved Mat with all your heart, plain and simple, but you nodded in agreement.

“Okay,” you said softly. “We’ll work it out.”

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #my writing #requests #blurbs #isles13

[muffin-artz3]

Knives x reader part 3

Hide and seek

Enemies to lovers, sloooow burn, based on my knives x reader imagine. A lot of back story in this one. Reader is an ex-plant enforcer/earth solider

Part 1 Part 2

"Please!! Come with me!!"

You look back at the trembling hand held out to you, and then to the owners face. Her short platinum blonde contrasted against her dark skin. She had tears in her golden eyes. The fighting had left you both ragged and bloody. The soldiers were closing in and she was in the doorway of the spaceship. You could buy her time. She could escape. Straining, she reaches further towards you.

"As long as we're together--- we'll be okay! Right?" Its a soft, broken, and pleading sob.

...Solana...

******

"There is so much potential here" She said  leaning back against a rail as you both wait in line to get water rations one day. The enormous light-bulb glass of the PLANT, adjacent to the saloon. The locals chatting away doing their daily chores. Bounty hunters causing a racket at the bar. Hooting and hollering. With the occasion gun shot in celebration, and the annoyed glares from the people walking by. Each day the same, each day different. Solana rolls her eyes and grins when a drunkard stumbles out of the bar and face plants into the dirt. His buddies roaring with hiccupped laughter. 

She turns her golden eyes to you. The familiar tenderness in them is like being embraced in rays of sunlight.

"Y/N... thank you. Thank you for giving me this chance and for believing in me."

Flustered, you look away sheepishly. Before you can respond, a giggling child carrying a bucket of water weaves between you. To both your surprise the child turns and screams a "THANK YOU" in the direction of the glass container encasing the PLANT. The kid flashes a toothy grin, showing some missing teeth and speeds off again. Almost tripping in their excitement.  There's a moment of silence and then you both erupt into a fit of laughter. Wiping your eyes, you smile soft back up at the PLANT, then notice its red color. The sky clouding over and wind picking up.

Solana frowns, her laughter gone too, brushing sand from her face. As hard as you both tried, the heaviness of the topic follows you every where. Nothing was different, everything was the same.

"I---If only my research had---" She shakes her head and lets out a deep sigh.

"Y/N..." She turns to you. The determination in her eyes causing you to pause.

" There's a future for us here. For everyone here. PLANTs. Humans. And it's a future that's brighter than even the two suns" 

It was after that day her platinum hair showed tints of black.

*******

You're knocked out of the memory as your teeth clang together, face-planting onto the rocky canyon floor... again. It took a few minutes for you to gather enough energy this time and heave yourself up and forward. But you didn't have time to waste. The exhaustion was catching up to you, and every second counts. The impending cloud of doom and hate was looming so close behind you.

After taking down Knives airship, you knew that he wouldn't let you fade away again. You had spent months gathering supplies from the ship you had arrived on with Solana. Your friend- your sister in arms- your family, he had murdered. It stung to be in the empty halls echoing with her memory. You still couldn't enter the side of the ship that had the laboratory and her room. Transforming the hollowness of lost into fuel for your vengeance, you calculated and planned your attack for that faithful night with the airship, and what was to happen afterwards. The first step had worked out perfectly.

Piss off Knives. Check that off the list

Though you had expected to get on Knives' shitlist, the chances of him wanting a one-on-one fight had been slim. You thought that he would spare some of his little clique members and direct at least half of them to focus on finding you, while the rest would continue to target Vash. But to your utter surprise and slight dread, Knives had decided to track you down-- personality. Putting your plans on speed-run mode.  

His hunt for you began the same dawn of your attack on his ship. At first you had managed to get enough distance from him. Fighting dirty and using everything in your inventory to stave him off. Avoiding cities and driving your stolen car until it crashed and flipped during his last attack. The crash may have bruised a rib or two.

Fortunately, with your background as an ex-PLANT enforcer, you had the technology to stun him with brainwave transmissions and the occasional high grade bullet that caused Plants to heal slowly. Unfortunately, with your resources dwindling and your strategic partner gone...things were much more difficult.

Still you were prepared. The goal was to get him to your crashed spaceship. It felt like so long ago when you and Solana had first came to No Man's Land. The landing had been horrible, crashing through what appeared to be the only canyon in the entire sand-based planet. Hitting every arch and boulder when the ship finally came to a stop by smashing into a large cave.

Such a crash shouldn't have gone un-noticed, but that same night you both emerged from the ship, a pillar of light far off in the distance launched itself towards the sky and left a giant crater in one of the moons. Your crashed ship had managed to fly under the radar, because a much larger and more bizarre event had occurred.

You thanked Solana for thinking ahead and having you both bomb the entrance of the cave, only leaving a concealed tunnel for access.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when the sound of ringing metal alerts you to the whip of blades that almost grabs your ankle. You roll, grimacing, and aim your rifle. Holding your breath until you see Knives emerge from the cloud of dust--- and shoot. He blocks it as more blades materialize from his body. His aura promising blood and death.

You share in his teeth clenched rage, refusing to back down despite the stab of anxiety in your gut.

Not breaking eye contact he steps forward. You tense up slightly, mind scrambling for a plan. His sea foam green eyes, cold and sharp.

"I've let you live for far too long, parasi---,"

He's cut off as you aim your gun over his head, and shoot again. The fragile pillar that was keeping up the boulders above him collapses. The rock fall blocking the canyon path and burying him.

That was your last bullet. You bolt as the rocks shift and don't dare to look back.

***********

PLANTs. A gift. A tool. A blessing. A calamity. The same could be said about humans. It use to be so simple. Catch the PLANT put them down and still have enough time to grab a bite to eat afterwards. Despite everything, the thought of activating the execution chamber made you nauseous. This was no ordinary spaceship, it was a PLANT transportation prison. First of its kind. Made to handle the PLANTS that were too powerful for ordinary enforcer containment. And if a PLANT was deemed too dangerous, the ship's unique feature would take care of that. A way to pass judgement silently and efficiently. A built in black hole.  

And you and Solana had both stolen it before it could even have its maiden voyage.

It was agreed to never be put to use... but he had to pay for his crimes. It was so unfair--- why had you lived, when she died!? There had to be some sort  of justice... but why then, does the thought make your throat dry? You shake your head clear as you limp through the barley lit metal hallways. Energy was to be conserved just for this very moment. There were several engine rooms that needed to be turned on manually. And it was only a matter of time before Knives found the entrance of the ship.

Since the crash, most of the engine generators had failed. Solana had offered to power the ship herself, but what use would it have been? There was no getting off the planet. No longing to return to earth either. She had fixed the engines that were still salvageable and left it at that. Solana was the only one to use the ship often anyway. You thought it was likely a bit of home sickness, despite her saying otherwise. You tried not to pry, there was always that sadness in her eyes at your questioning.

It was for the best in hindsight. If everything went according to plan, more generators would have meant a bigger field of reach for the black hole. No need to take out the entirety of No Man's Land for this one man. Solana would be devastated at the thought of the planets' demise.

so much potential....  the memory whispers, as the doors of engine room #1 slide open. Waving your hand to clear the dust, you start tinkering with the generator in the dim light. After a few turns of the wrench and wire rerouting, you pull the lever. The holograms and lights of the room flash and stabilize.

"Generator operational" says the ships AI " power at 7%"

You pause as the ship shakes and dust falls. "Not answering that door knock." you muse "got to pick up the pace"

Generator #2 turned on perfectly with almost no adjustments. "Power at  18%" but the sound of metal being torn apart could now be heard some where in the ship. You didn't have time to investigate, it was likely Knives found the entrance sealed door, and it won't hold forever. Just Generator #3 left.

"Time to meet your maker, you son of a bitch" you whisper to yourself, as you close the panel to the wires and harshly pull down the lever for the third and last generator. The lights above burn bright and you grin. Now you just had to lure Knives to where you wanted him.

"Power at 25%" but seconds later the AI stutters and the lights flicker.

"ERROR. ERROR." The monotone female voice says.  "Generator malfunction. Can no long----conne---power output. Gen-- #1 power lost" The AI voice fluctuations and changes tone slightly.

"WHAT!? No no NO!" You tap the screen of the flicking holograms, the lights once again dimmed.

"---rator #2. LOoooSTtt!!" The AI almost seems to shout in its new distorted voice, and powers down along with the lights.

Desperately trying to analyze for the source of the issue, but you find your answer as the screech of metal and loud boom sounded just outside in the hall way. You crouch instinctively and hide in the shadows. 

He had thrown generator 2 down the hallway. Not thrown, more like launched. And it was the generator closest to your location. He hadn't gone through the tunnel entry. No he had managed to drill through the ship's ceiling! And he wanted to make sure you knew he was inside.

You could hear the sound of bare feet in the hallway slowly stepping closer and closer. Then the tense silence turns into screeches as Knives drags his blades against the metal walls.

"That's all you humans are good for; deceiving others and then hiding until you can strike again."

A shadow passes by the white filtered window of your door and pauses. Then the dark silhouette turns to face the door completely. You cover your mouth, knowing that PLANTS had heighted senses. Your armor should prevented him from hearing your thundering heart. All that betrayed you now was your need to breathe.

" You won't last long enough for another strike human" The darkness steps forward. You skillfully retreat around the other side of the generator as the door slides open.

He lingers in the doorway, savoring the cat and mouse game for just a bit longer. Over the top of the generator you can see his blade whips unfurl and curl, like claws in the barley illuminated doorway. They stretch to the ceiling and point down to where you cower.

"I'm so sorry, Solana. I--"  but there is a crash outside.  

"You dumbass!" Is shouted outside--- but its--- in your voice. More crashing, like someone stumbling, can be heard. Doorways opening and closing in the hall. You don't have time to question it as Knives whips around and stalks after the sound with a frustrated shout. You wait until you hear him further down the hall, then shakingly let your hand fall down, and slowly exhale and inhale again.

In a daze, you almost gasp as you hear a voice whisper from the engine room speaker.

"Hurry, through the vents before he comes back" You're shaking harder now, because this voice you thought you'd never hear again.

#knives x reader #million knives imagine #millions knives #Trigun #I guess this AU is a mix of both manga and stampede #thanks to all whos that left kind comments for the other parts #trigun knives

[purplepinkcoruscantskies]

Random thoughts about current Disney Star Wars?

Trying to fix writing issues in Disney Star Wars is like trying to plug a leaking wall of water. Just when I think I’ve solved something another leak springs (I’m pretty sure that’s how that goes please correct me if I’m wrong lol).

I cannot be bothered to watch Book of Boba Fett or Visions but for everything else from the sequels to TBB I’m kind of overwhelmed by the bad writing choices.

The first two seasons of The Mandalorian were amazing despite their few flaws and they were solid and enjoyable pieces of television. Season three was where it lost its way. And I didn’t hate season three nearly as much as other people who wanted Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni’s heads on pikes, but I didn’t enjoy watching half of the season and the other half had its own flaws when it came to the overall narrative structure.

I’ve been a Star Wars fan my entire life but the intensity of that enjoyment comes and goes, in the past few months it started up again because I started to re-watch TCW (which escaped Disney’s antics in its revival). But before that, I got back into Star Wars because of the Kenobi show when it first aired.

The whole premise of the plot, now that I think about it is flawed, and I’m not even talking about the fact that it should have been a two hour movie instead of a six episode limited series. It was obvious that the cast and crew were so passionate about the project but they didn’t get enough funding and they really fumbled the writing.

TBB has a Rebels type of situation where it has some stunning plot points but too many of the episodes are irrelevant and often boring. I’ve also talked about my issues with the main characters before (still mourning Echo’s near character assassination). I’m looking forward to the third season though because I know they’ll find a way to give us a climactic, satisfying yet heartbreaking ending (if there’s something this show can do well it’s a finale). Omega and Crosshair are hard-carrying right now.

And then there’s Andor which can’t do anything wrong right now. I don’t see a single way that they could fuck up the second season based on the sheer dedication and love that everyone involved in the show has for their work so I’m really happy for season two and it cannot come fast enough.

#star wars #disney star wars #the mandalorian #kenobi show #tbb #the bad batch #andor show

[melis-writes]

Similar scene to michael looking at kay and shut the door to her face but with victoria after she cheats on him...but in michael's view of story or third person's point of view?

Omgggg drama and angst, I see!! 😭 Little too painful to write because we all love these two and their relationship so much so be prepared for lots of heartache, angst and since Victoria’s the one unfortunately doing the cheating here, a little revenge on Michael’s behalf and a very unhappy ending. 💔💔💔

Cheating on Michael was the last thing you felt you could ever do in the world, betraying yourself, him, your children and your family as a whole.

It was never even a thought that crossed your mind or something you could utter in a joke and regardless of how “normalized” having mistresses or casually having sex with prostitutes seemed in the criminal underworld, it was never accepted or brushed aside by you or Michael the way Sonny and Fredo did.

Ten solid years of marriage came with its ups and downs, fights, arguments, highs and lows, but Michael and you never went to bed angry at one another, never gave each other the cold shoulder, never screamed insults to each other or fought near the children, never let others get in the middle of your relationship nor did you or Michael ever hurt one another.

There was never a moment where you questioned your marriage or its integrity, where you stood with Michael or the love you both had for one another—physically and mentally, but you could say now to yourself as you faced your husband for what seems to be the last time until the upcoming court sessions for divorce, that he lost you to other things.

It was his absence. 1959 onwards with your youngest child—James—then two years old and the twins, nine, everything changed.

Your little family had grown in 1956 and 1957 to welcome two new baby boys but nothing could have changed the trajectory of your life and directly, your marriage with Michael like his own absence.

Michael’s longest business trips in the past took up to a week, but you were seeing two, three weeks on end. When Michael would return, he’d be exhausted and in no mood to take you and the children out on day trips, yacht rides, or sometimes even eat meals at the same time as the family.

Even at the end of a business trip, it seemed that Michael was still wired to whatever company or business partner he was working with. At times it would be all he spoke about and spending late nights until 3AM in his office continuing to work became the norm.

Your bed remained cold half of the time and every time you peeked open your eyes and looked over to see if Michael was there, he was not. When he was, he didn’t respond to your touch or cuddle against your body out of exhaustion and deep sleep.

When you awoke in the morning, Michael no longer was next to you naked and enjoying his morning cigarette but rather fully dressed and smoking while getting ready and leaving you behind.

Michael no longer had the time to tuck the children into bed, and the bedtime stories he used to read from James’ favourite book became something of the past. The children had to grow used to not seeing their father around in the mornings or the evenings, but treated rather like guests who needed an appointment just to see if there was time to hug Michael.

Michael’s absence not only become unavoidable but it quickly became insufferable. The two of you went from having sex at most three times every single day to once a week, if not once every two weeks.

It didn’t dull the physical experience of sex, but Michael went for one round only and there was less time for foreplay. The two of you still enjoyed the sex but it completely lacked the fire and energy that was put into it from both sides giving effort like the past nine years.

Things only intensified, doubled and worsened in the following months but Michael didn’t see a single thing wrong with his actions. He was present for annual family photos but he wasn’t present fully in your life or the lives of your children.

In many ways, Michael forced you to grow used to his absence and the weeks you spent crying yourself to sleep became a pain you simply accepted in your heart.

You spent that period of time trying to talk to Michael—trying to tell him how he was splitting the family apart with his absence and that it was becoming clear to not just you but the children and Michael’s own brothers that Michael was choosing the family business over his own family every single time.

The communication you tried to get across to Michael was ignored completely or resulted into fights and arguments. Gone were the days of not going to bed mad at each other or no cold shoulders; the cold shoulder was all you knew from Michael.

Even when you tried to seduce him by wearing a new, sexy piece of lingerie and lingering around the doorway of his office, Michael glanced up from some paperwork and simply told you, “I’m busy.”

That night, you returned to your bedroom in tears throwing off your lingerie and practically trying not to tear it out of anger. You were uncomfortably aroused and wanted intimacy and time spent alone with your husband but Michael pushed you aside every single time.

A year into this and your heart knew it wasn’t worth the wait or the useless effort. You began to return back to the courthouse for work instead of doing so from home and Michael neither noticed or cared.

You spent every bit of free time you had with the children to essentially play the role of both mother and father to them but felt miserable seeing little James grow up without Michael’s full presence like the twins and Vincent had as toddlers.

But the misery you had in your relationship only remained in your relationship. The rest of your family members, in-laws, and even coworkers and colleagues at the courthouse treated you no differently and you found yourself working twice as long because you enjoyed their company.

Being touch starved was another thing, and you gave up on Michael ever touching you or spending the same amount of time with you again. You didn’t try or ask anymore and it stopped bothering you when your path collided with an old colleague from Darmouth once again; Salvatore Romano.

Salvatore had been transferred from New Hampshire to Nevada and preferred the courthouse to personal, smaller cases like yourself. It was a reunion you never thought you would look forward to and the glance the two of you shared during the welcoming party told you that you wouldn’t have to feel alone for long.

So you didn’t. When you’d normally finish your work for the day or court was adjourned, you’d head home, but you stayed back with Salvatore. You watched him finish his work, wrap up his cases and learned from him as much as he learned from you.

You came to work early to enjoy coffee and breakfast with Salvatore, reminiscing about the old college days. The two of you worked on the same cases with each other and all seemed like friendly time spent together until the two of you shared a kiss after work.

Hidden kisses in the dark led to little trips to Reno together where you were able to disguise yourself well from any media attention. There was a thrill in seeing Salvatore in secret and he spent every last bit of his effort and free time giving you the love he yearned to do so in college.

You were drowning in affection and love and you confirmed it to yourself then that this was your dirty little secret you couldn’t help but enjoy—your affair that nobody suspected because of the double life you lived with Salvatore and Michael.

Michael did not suspect a thing and he couldn’t because of his own absence but you told Salvatore everything. You burst into tears during a dinner date at his house and explained everything that had been happening to you with Michael for the past year.

It led to the dinner remaining cold and unfinished, but the bed warmed with the two of your moans filling the room. You then learned what the meaning of being touch starved was and as you found yourself falling more and more for Salvatore but also still madly in love with Michael, you told yourself that with the person you are and the lifestyle you live, you could definitely have it both ways like Michael did.

But you couldn’t. Michael may not have cared about your work habits but your prolonged absence from him—not your children—was not a case of “two can play at that game”.

He did not send any of his men to watch you or insist on any bodyguards, but rather he left you alone. And then one day, Michael had Tom call your receptionist with a false name as one of your clients from reading it off of your case notes and asked how long you’d be staying in the office for.

You always came home at 3PM, 5PM at the very latest when everyone had finished their shifts at the courthouse. Your receptionist told Tom you wouldn’t be home until 10PM.

Tom had followed you out of the courtyard that rainy evening to Salvatore’s apartment. He was unable to hear or see anything except make out your silhouette behind the curtains from the window, and seeing you two embrace and kiss confirmed it all for him.

There was always something inside of you ready to leave Salvatore and back to Michael for good if he was just there for you—if things could have gone back to normal. You were still madly in love with your husband after all, and Salvatore didn’t know this.

Perhaps with everything that you’d been through now and the decisions you made, you should be saying “good riddance”, or perhaps not even feeling a semblance of shame in yourself.

At the end of the day, you weren’t prepared for the consequences to your actions and that meant Michael taking custody of all of the children and forcing you to allow him to do so otherwise he’d blackmail you into exposing your corrupt practice and your affair with Salvatore.

The two of you spent an entire week screaming at each other, fighting, even leaving the compound and refusing to be around each other as Tom prepared the divorce papers. Hearing the children cry and beg for their mommy and daddy to stop fighting was the norm for you and Michael.

“Do I even have to ask why you disgraced our family? Our marriage?” Michael spoke to you through gritted teeth as your back pressed against the front door.

“You have to stop asking yourself stupid questions you already know the answers to.” You said back with tears in your eyes. “You did this to us, not me.”

“I never cheated on you, I never once looked at ANOTHER WOMAN!” Michael bellowed, causing the children to cower in the hallway as they listened over. “I would NEVER do that to you and our family, no matter what! And to think I expected the same goddamn decency from you after ten years of marriage only to see you’ve been warming the bed of that lawyer—how fucking utterly pathetic are you.”

“Go ahead, Michael.” Your throat tightened with emotion. “Do it. Say all of your mean things, it’s not like our children are listening.”

“MY CHILDREN!” Michael points an accusing finger at you, sneering. “They’re MY children from now on. They’re not yours. You can live in regret everyday for the rest of your life because you will never see them again, do you hear me?”

“You’d be surprised,” you whispered, but your comment back was not taken lightly by Michael.

“Get the hell out of my house—“ Michael grabbed at your arms, pulling you away from the front door by force before throwing the door open and shoving you out. “GET OUT!”

You cried out and stumbled onto the cobblestone pathway, almost falling onto your side but shakily regaining your balance.

“You will never see my face again, you will never be able to visit your family here again.” Michael gripped the doorknob so harshly that his knuckles turned white. “And once all the paperwork is in order, you’ll go back to the way you wanted everything to be; just Victoria Ferrari.”

“You’re throwing me out of my own home.” You scowl back at Michael, “simply signing a few papers and screaming at me about it isn’t going to be enough!”

“I get what I want every single time, Victoria.” Michael raises his voice above yours. “And I promise you that if you go against me, I will make you and that Romano’s life a living hell.”

“Mama!” Verona burst out into tears as she tried to rush to the door with Nicole, James and Vincent—all of the children crying silent tears while being hidden in the hallway but unable to take it any longer.

“I wanna see Mama!” Vincent burst out sobbing.

“MAMA!” James shrieked as he extended his little hand out to you but Michael began to pull him back from the door.

“STOP IT!” You screamed, lunging for the door only to find it slammed abruptly in your face and immediately locked. “Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!” You crumbled to your feet, sobbing in anguish against the door and pounding your fists over it until you the children’s cries grew quieter and they were taken to their rooms.

You didn’t even bother to move or comply when Michael’s men came to forcibly remove you off the compound’s grounds—the same men who put their lives on the line countless times for you in the past ten years now hauling you out like a wild animal.

As you were taken to the front gates of the compound and about to get in the back of a vehicle that would take you to the airport to board the next flight for New York, you looked up at a figure you didn’t recognize by the gates.

Just as you raised your head, you gave the photographer at the compound the perfect headshot of you for the papers, but before you could react in any way possible to knowing your name was about to be smeared all over the press, you noticed something else too.

The photographer held his camera in one hand and reached out to grab his pistol from the pocket of his dress trousers with the other.

All happening back to back in one split moment, your eyes widened as the last thing you heard from the assassin was: “Michael Corleone sends his regards.”

#godfather au #prompts #Michael corleone #Michael corleone x reader #Michael corleone fanfic #moth to flame fic  #moth to flame fanfic #michael corleone x oc #godfather x reader

[loop-deloo]

no idea what album thing that anon was referring to but BOY DO I HAVE RECS:

hopping off their billy joel talk, MY personal favorite bj album is glass houses. some of his best work, everyone’s a banger. i feel like i have some credibility here being from long island, so i have many opinions about our boy billy and their all right.

other albums hmmm. i LOVE the kink’s village green. mystery jet’s twenty one is one of the best early band albums out there, the shit that they pulled being so new is INSANE. also the doors’ soft parade.

one of my favorite albums of all time has to be the lemon twigs’ go to school. it’s an experimental musical about a chimp raised by humans who experiences culture shocks and it’s insane. those boys are my everything, THE THEORY. THE KEY CHANGES UGHHHH

what else what else uhhh talking heads’ more songs about buildings and food is up there for me. moondog’s h’art songs. PAUL MCCARTNEY’S RAM THAT’S THE ONE THAT’S IT.

kinda went off oops my bad. these are just some off the top of my head 🤪 anyways love you let me know if you take a listen i love music talk <333

ok claude you sent this like a month ago, i’m so sorry. it takes me SO long to listen to albums bc i have to listen at least 5 times to be confident that i’ve actually listened to most of it. i get distracted :/ i’m sorry. anyway. i am very much working my way through

here are my thoughts so far but i’ll keep going later.

you definitely have lots more authority than me i’m from philly. tell me more opinions on bj though i’d love to hear. i think i was like a solid 8/10 on glass houses. good story. fantastic work album listened to it for most of the day while i organised boxes of pipette tips and inputted hours of mind numbing data oh my god. also some bangers for cleaning the kitchen. i liked you may be right (kitchen dancing). honestly i liked all for leyna even though it was giving slightly musical theatre vibes. just. solid. and erm also v much enjoyed sleeping with the television on. c’etait toi was very sweet and the smooth voice mm, his accent threw me off a bit but that’s my problem. and close to the borderline was a good second-to-last always brought me back when i’d zoned out. did catch myself singin along when my coworker came in the back room where i was which was. er. we’ll oh well (i can’t fucking sing).

ok i have to go now but i’ve been alternating village green and twenty one in the shower (i lost the songs a lot in here so my thoughts are really jumbled and half done but i’ll write me down soon) and making my sister play doors n lemon twigs in the car. bops. i drive in a car like maybe once a week though so it’s slow going. i will sit perhaps soon and report back.

jesus that was a lot. oh welll. there’s more coming ;D

p.s. thank for this message it’s been making me happy when i come back to it.

GIVE ME MORE (not just putting this on claude. all of u come broaden my horizons pls)

#claude has been single-handedly providing me with all of my media intake for a month #simply bc i’ve been asking them too #you’re too kind #ILL BE BACK WITH MORE UNSOLICITED THOUGHTS

[ruckystarnes]

Title: You're Not Alone

Author: RuckyStarnes

Card: B018

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Yelena Belova

Warnings: hospital, injury, unconscious

Words: 920

Rating: Teen

Written for: @agonyapril2022 | @buckybarnesbingo | @badthingshappenbingo

Event: Agony April | Bucky Barnes Bingo | Bad Things Happen Bingo

Prompt/Square: Day 21: Hosptial | B1: Blankets | O1: Grief/Mourning

Summary:

Type: Moodboard | Fic

Bucky looked down at the figure in the bed, the monitors beeping in the background at a steady rhythm. He sighed and set down the bouquet of flowers on the bedside table before rounding the bed to sit in the chair. It was uncomfortable but he didn’t complain, just leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he hung his head. He made a promise to Natasha years ago that if anything would happen to her, he would look out for Yelena. And that promise, to him, was broken the night before.

He wasn’t expecting for Yelena to show up in the middle of his mission. He wasn’t expecting to see her being a contract killer for the opposing side, either. It wasn’t like he knew it was her when he saw the dark figure on the other end of the hallway, goggles glowing green in the dim light. He let his guard down for a second, assuming that the figure was just another one of Valentina’s lackeys and never took in the fact that the figure was far from being built like a man. It was when he was about to land a punch with his vibranium arm that he finally realized that the ‘enemy’ was, in fact, Yelena, but it was too late. His fist came in contact with her chest, sending her into the wall twenty feet back. His heart dropped, stomach in his throat as he rushed forward to one of the few people he thought of as family. When he took off the goggles and mask as he moved to hold her. Blood was coming from her ears and mouth and wasn’t responding to his words.

So now she was hooked up to monitors and tubes, asleep still. The doctors said she will come-to eventually, but it was on her terms. Every second her eyes were closed, the more he begged silently with an unseen force to switch their positions. He had brought the blanket that Natasha made her, laying it over Yelena’s unmoving form. He wanted her surrounded by the things that he knew would be comforting to her if, no, when she woke up.

He had to stop thinking of it as being an if, not a when. She was going to wake up, and he will do everything in his power to make it happen. He ran his hands over his face and sighed heavily. The doctor was optimistic that she would come out of it, but that did little to ease the guilt he had. They only lost Natasha months ago, and both of them took it hard. Now he was the reason why Yelena was in this position.

“Did I ever tell you that frowning isn’t becoming of you?” a raspy voice sounded.

Bucky’s head snapped up, his blue eyes meeting the half closed ones of Yelena’s. She gave him a weak smile as he stood, taking her one hand in his metal one.

“Seriously, your forehead is going to be fixed in that position if you keep frowning like that,” she teased, the side of her mouth tilting slightly in a smirk. Her eyes closed as she inhaled deeply, groaning slightly as she shifted.

“Careful, solntsey, you have a few broken ribs and a concussion,” he whispered, his flesh hand moving to smooth over her hair.

“Yeah, you always knew how to punch,” she smiled, eyes still closed. She squeezed his hand and looked at him through slits. “Why were you there?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” he countered, “who sent you?”

“Brat, you know I cannot discuss that.”

“Bull shit, I almost killed you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Solntsey–”

“Don’t solntsey me, James. I’m serious, I can’t tell you. For a very good reason too.” Yelena coughed slightly, swearing some in Russian before she sighed. “I know Na’sha made you promise to take care of me, but I am a former Widow. I know how to take care of myself.”

“Yet you walked right into a place where the Winter Solider was,” he grumbled.

“I thought you said that Soldat was dead,” she replied, the teasing tone back in her voice. “Thought you went by White Wolf now.”

Bucky shook his head and smiled, letting go of her hand to gently scoot her over so he could lie down next to her. He was careful of the tubes and wires coming from her as he laid down next to her, adjusting the blanket from Natasha around her.

“I promised her to take care of you solntsey, and I will spend the next month making this up to you.” Yelena fell quiet, her head resting on his shoulder. Words did not have to be said to know that the small comments about Natasha was enough to open the deep wounds of her being dead.

Yelena pulled her head back slowly to look at him. “She would have kicked your ass for hurting me, knowingly or not.” She gave him a sad smile, one that he couldn’t return.

“I miss her too, solntsey,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple and letting her rest her head against him again. They remained quiet for a few moments before Yelena broke the silence.

“You know, you can get me a hot fudge sundae with peanuts if you are serious about making this up to me.” The teasing tone was back and she slightly slapped his hand. The slight playfulness in her voice brought a small smile to his lips and he chuckled.

#agony April day 21 #agonyapril #bbb2022 #bucky barnes bingo #bthb #bad things happen bingo #bucky barnes #yelena belova #natasha romanoff

[davy-zeppeli]

dramatic diary post again but i haven't got anywhere else to put these thoughts so cry about it i guess.

it's getting hard to keep going man. after i move into my flat i haven't got anything at all. ive already had my sister telling me that i have to find stuff to look forward to but she doesn't seem to get that I've reached a point where i don't even want to look any more. i called her earlier for a bit of emotional support considering the guy I've been talking to for a month just got back with his ex and happily told me so, and i got lectured for not changing jobs and told that 'relationships aren't everything'. she told me i have to make work my life for a little while to get by. why the fuck would I want to do that? so that was a fruitless phone call.

i got back and locked myself in my room when I got in and cried for about an hour. it seems real fucking immature to be crying about boys but this hurt, man. again, it's my own stupid fault for not managing my expectations - he never wanted anything serious, but at the same time he also said he didn't see them getting back together. boo boo the fucking fool here can't cope with half measures though, so of course i got attached. and the sad part is that he's been my only solid friend and person to confide in for the past month or so since shit hit the fan with Adam. and now i just don't feel right. i don't want to talk to him. in doing that, i haven't got anyone. at all.

he tried to ask me how I was later this evening and i couldn't tell him I wasn't doing good. he knows I'm not doing good. he probably knows why I'm not doing good. but I'm not telling him and can't because nothing will change if I say anything. he's not going to spontaneously decide against getting back with his ex. he said to me when he told me "I know you're upset, I've just watched your entire body language shift. what's up?" followed by "tell me what's up so I can accommodate you, it won't change my decision but I want to accommodate you" after I refused to elaborate. it's selfish, but the second I elaborate is the second I lose everything with him. I lost it once briefly but managed to bring it back, and that brief period was hell. we both already know what's up either way, I'd just prefer it be left unsaid so nothing is concrete.

my siblings offered to come pick me up and bring me home. I'd usually consider taking them up on the offer but I can't get the time off work. my sister told me 'health comes first' and that I should just leave, I don't care about the job any way. she doesn't understand that this job at this point is all I fucking have. I have nothing without this job. i can't fucking leave and it's killing me to stay and i just want it all to stop. nothing is going right and I've got nothing to do or look forward to.

I'm going to wrap this up now because it's just incomprehensible babbling. tldr; the guy I've confided in and grown to care deeply about over the past month got back with his ex and now I'm left with no one or nothing look forward to. i feel weirdly used despite the fact I knew the risks. i want to go home but haven't really got one. i think i want to die.

#me #ramblings #the diary

[gregbruchert]

Breakfast sandwiches

Starting anew with my caloric responsibilities. Recent and ongoing stressors, weathering my resolve, have driven me to eat like a toddler at the Keebler tree. I'm trying to start the day with a solid foundation, food-wise: The breakfast sandwich. One egg fried in canola spray, two similarly fried slices of turkey bacon, a slice of Monterey pepper jack cheese, and half of an avocado mashed into the top half of a toasted multigrain sandwich thin bun. I downed that action with some caffeinated soda squirts a la my whitest personal appliance, the Sodastream. Let's just go ahead and log that into FatSecret to make things just a tad more pale around here. Not to mention, a third of my breakfast was avocado toast. Refill my mimosa at your next brunch, my fellow alabaster bros.

We are trying to sell our house. That means packing. That means painting. That means working with the wife to move forward on those things. We generally fail to see eye to eye on operations. I, being the one of the two of us with past managerial experience, seem to think I know better. She, being incredible at the same position at her respective places of employment, tends to end up being the only one that knows what is happening. I have plans, she has plans. The overlap is minimal. If you enjoy that 'blood in your stool/panic attack' type stress, be sure to add a deadline toward this endeavor that doesn't so much have a set date and time, but dictates an approach that requires everything be done as soon as possible. You both work full time, you say? You are currently raising a toddler, you say? You have multiple obligations beyond your baseline, you say? Social engagements, you say? Deaths in the family, you say? Just make sure to have all of your heart attacks on company time. Bigger payout for the bereaved.

To find a moment would be a luxury. So, my usual means of therapeutic writing can't seem to make an appointment with my self. I enjoy the pen and pad so I can sit with the thoughts a bit. This feels like a sprint. There are reasons. I am working right now. Listening to Shostakovich's 9th in E minor. My man. If you haven't ever, do. Cartoonish insanity with some beautiful resolutions within the margins. Allegorical to current events, I'd argue. I'm going to utilize the internet the way the lord, Hades, intended and seek knowledge on Dmitri... Ah, there are many a book on my man. We'll just drop a few of these into the 'want to read' column and revisit. Turns out he knew Stalin in some capacity. Will we have to compartmentalize the music from the man? Knowledge can be a real motherfucker. We shall see.

Don't tell the boss I'm unloading on an all but forgotten b-squad social media site where I have maybe 5 followers. Shout out to the Cinco Psychos. I felt it might be in my best interest to find a way to un-clench my jaw. I think the 'clenched' status is going on a month now. Rafiki voice: "It is time."

My aunt Cheryl died Tuesday night. It was reported to me on Wednesday morning. You know, just before work. A woman who had been in my life for all of my 45 years twirling about the sun. She's gone. Not to mention we lost her son, my cousin just earlier this year. She had grandkids. He had daughters. I barely had a moment to maneuver my cousin Chris's death before I heard the news Wednesday morning. Cheryl passed away from the same cancer that took my dad. The great K-Dubs. The last conversation that Cheryl and I had revolved around her concern for how I rough house with Violet. She wanted to make sure I take care of my daughter properly. I plan to honor those last requests.

So, what is the move? I've lost my map. Navigating these waters is futile. Fate is in Hades's hands now. I'll tell you what you cannot do. You are not allowed to cope with that level of bad news without a full day at a job you moderately tolerate. Go to work bitch. They'll give you a box of tissues. Wipe those tears away between emails. This is healthy and fine.

Let's follow up that work day with a visit to the dentist that has been years overdue. Get berated by the tech for not flossing, then run some errands with half your face numb and sliding off your skull. We need groceries. The baby needs milk. Kelly needs almond milk for smoothies. You need eggs for breakfast sandwiches.

To be honest, I used some of my free time to check in on mom. She lost her sister. I'm not alone in grief here. I had to make sure she was maintaining. She was. Probably better than I. Maybe she's doing worse behind closed doors. That being said, the takeaway for me was that this is something common enough in old age that you have developed processes in which to grieve. It made me feel like a novice, at best, in that regard. I'm sure I'll get the reps in. Mom has endured enough to solidify her routine.

That's probably the hardest part. I need time for me. I feel like I should be there for my mom, my brother, my immediate family, extended, etc. as well. My capacity to prioritize my responsibilities dwindles as ye scroll of tasks drops and rolls away from me as I read it. The budget will not allow for a life coach. Let's explore what the modest budget might offer as an equivalent. I bought a salmon/tuna poke bowl, extra sauce, extra spicy.

[ziracona]

For the videogame ask game 5, 7, 9, 11 :D

5: Game(s) coming out that you’re looking forward to

Hmmmm I guess the next Dark Pictures game, because I really like Supermassive, and I’m enjoying the series! Someday they’ll make another main series Fallout game, and I’ll be excited for that. I’m excited for the new Spider-Man determinately—not playing until I hear if they did right by Harry Osborn, because he’s a blorbo of all time, but if so, I will be over the moon. Wolf Among Us 2, like most people, and I’ve heard if it succeeds, Batman the Telltale series season 3 will be next and I desperately need to help John and Harvey and see what happens, so that too.

7: A series you’ve lost interest in

Right now I’d have to say Dragon Age, if this question means in a moving forward way? Like I still Adore Origings through 2, but DAI was so fucking horrible in a lot of the pulls they made that I have -200 interest in Dread Wolf or any new DA game unless the devs like, un-become shitty people. I felt genuinely betrayed by a lot of stuff they did in DAI, and I’m still very hurt over it.

9: A game you played completely blind with no prior knowledge of and enjoyed/loved

Hmmmm Oxenfree I think I just snagged on a PS sale? OH The Council is a fantastic little mystery/suspense/eldritch horror game, and I love playing titles where the ends aren’t even all known because it’s so branching and so few people have played (this was also my experience with Oxenfree, bc I played around launch back when people thought there just was no good ending). I googled like ‘suggestions for decision based games’ and that’s how I found The Council, but I hardly thinks subgenre counts as prior knowledge. — oh I could also say Fallout 4. I knew nothing about Fallout at all, and got a PS4 to play Until Dawn as many times as it took to save Josh right after launch, having played once with my brother on his. I came home with my system after a shady Walmart parking lot Craigslist deal half an hour away where both I and the seller were sure we’d be murdered by each other, and when I got home my brother offered me his copy of FO4 for ten bucks (a month after release, back when it was a sixty dollar game), because he’d beaten it and only plays games once. I owned no games yet and wanted to try out the system, and happily agreed. I’d never played an open world game before. Or one where followers had an affinity system, or branching choices in the large scale way, so my mind was blown. I remember Piper stopping me (literally) to tell me she thought I was a little bit of a do-gooder, and being amazed the game was keeping track of my actions and she had comments on it. Core system memory there. It’ll always be a special game in my heart.

11: Do you prefer ‘blank slate’ main characters you make yourself or otherwise project onto, or characters with a set personality and backstory?

I like both! I guess I prefer a little backstory though? Because a game like FO4 where you can chose almost everything but you had a spouse, kid, and specific job, solid building blocks to rp with while getting a more complex personality. if I start a game like Skyrim where there’s a fuck ton of backstory I don’t know for the world, and NO history for me, I have no idea how to RP correctly. Because I don’t have the social and historical context. Like, DAO? Okay I get a quick background. Tabris. I love in a shitty Alienage, humans oppress us, I’m getting married, here’s an overview of my immediate social and political system. A+ — my personality and feelings are mine, but I have enough context for the world and my species and class that I can rp well. DAI? Idk we assume you played the rest of the series and tell you fuckall. I was a mage Vashoth. I got ‘your powers that would have made you a threat back home made you a successful mercenary. People are afraid of your species though.’ I’m there for some meeting?? That’s nothing. I started DAI before any other game, and had fucking 0 clue what anything to anyone was, and I couldn’t even give ‘I don’t know’ answers to make that work. Terrible game design. You can’t assume every player in your franchise played all 5 games before this. I know like 30 people who started Witcher in Witcher 3, and it did a great job of giving us not only world background, but specific past game facts too, so we /could/ start in 3. Anyway uh, I like minimal but enough context to rp well out the gate I guess? But it’s also fun to like, play a Telltale game be Lee Everett or Bruce Wayne. Like that’s cool too, idk which is more fun. Both fun for different reasons.

Ask game

#thanks for asking! : D #tis-the-marmot #ask games

[fossadeileonixv]

Milan 4 Dinamo Zagreb 0

Big game. Big win

Milan are firmly in second place in Group E in Champions League and will only need a draw vs Salzburg at the San Siro next week to stamp their ticket to the knockouts...the first time since playing Atletico Madrid during the 2013-14 season. But before that, Torino this weekend, and even before that, Milan x Dinamo Zagreb ratings...let's get started...

TATARUSANU 7 Was busy early with a lot of buildup by Dinamo and a few decent shots on goal but did his job and a clean sheet to boot 

KALULU 7 Solid game and you could tell Pioli asked him to hang back. Whenever Milan got forward and Dinamo won the ball back and tried to go over the top it was usually Kalulu back there. And man, that cross from 30yds away in the first half to Giroud during the run of play...*chef's kiss*. Love this kid

KJÆR 7 Solid game and had a few decent long passes, which is one of his strengths particular with Tata in goal because, well, that is NOT one of his strengths...

GABBIA 8 Co-MOTM Solid all game and a perfectly timed run and perfectly timed dive and perfect header on a perfect ball from Tonali. Best dead ball play of the year for Milan

HERNÁNDEZ 7 Solid all around. That's it. That's all I got

TONALI 8 Co-MOTM Did everything well this game. Positioning, tackling, passing. And oh man. That cross on the dead ball that found Gabbia. Man. What a beaut. I shared this in the chat yesterday but as Ray Hudson said, "that was a shot glass dropped in a glass of beer at the other end of the bar". Yep. Pretty much

BENNACER 7 Solid. Just like Theo. Yeah

REBIĆ 7 Not perfect by any means, and probably...no, did cut in too much. But, BUT! You can see what quality wingers do to the attack when both are threats. CDK really should have taken advantage of this since the defense all of the sudden kept having to shift their gaze to each flank. Love the runs he made into the box but needs to balance that more with keeping the width and banging in crosses, particularly when the defense is packed in. It's one of his jobs out on the wing to keep the width and jeopardize the defense's lines

DE KETELAERE

GIROUD 7.5 One of his better games of the last month and has been money in the bank on PKs (I probably shouldn't jinx him, huh?...sh*t, I did already...I know I jinxed him. God damn it...). Oh, a few of you mentioned this in the chat yesterday: NO MORE FLICKS. Just receive, settle, and distribute Giroud. Come'on, man. Gotta keep that possesion

subs

KRUNIĆ 6.5 My favorite kind of Krunić. The kind we only see when Milan is up 2-0 and just need him to make tackles and break up the opponent's play

BALLO-TOURE 6 Was fine. Didn't do anything great but didn't bone the sofa cushion either. Yeah, I don't know what that means

POBEGA 6.5 Decent if unspectacular outing and almost had a goal

MESSIAS 6 More of a cameo. A winger coming in when you're up 4-0 doesn't leave much for them to do other than to track back and defend

ORIGI NA Didn't get enough for me to grade him but I'm still not sold on him. Some of you, *cough* Frank *cough*, are aroused by Origi but I am still not seeing why...

coaching

PIOLI 9 You win 4-0 at a place where the opponent beat an-albeit-out-of-form Chelsea last month and hadn't lost in like 22 (maybe it was 24) straight home matches, I'd say you got it right.

Pioli also FINALLY started Rebić at RW and boy did it pay off. The attack was dangerous from both sides and while not exactly clinical, just the mere threat of Rebić made Dinamo have to respect Milan's right side. The subbing was great, both in the starting selection (and accompanying tactics for a slower CB pairing) and pulling guys out to rest. Bravo, Sig. Pioli

THOUGHTS

Ok, so the two big storylines coming out of this involves something good and something bad. Let's get the bad out of the way...

The Bad...

CDK. Charles. Dude. That was UGGGG-LY. On a day when Milan was firing in attack and ends up winning 4-0 and you have arguably your worst game of the season. Yikes. I think it's safe to say he has the yips.

For those of you who don't follow or play golf, the yips happen when a player misses a few VERY short putts, something that should be routine, in a relatively short amount of time, and now trembles when over the ball on short putts and every short putt is a mental safari ripe with risk, fear, and perspiration. There's a version of this in baseball too when a fielder can't make an accurate throw to first base on routine ground balls. He sails them over the head, throws it short by 10ft, or is off 5-10ft to the right or to the left. But basically, like in golf and the short putt, every routine ground ball is an adventure. So in a nutshell: the yips are overthinking the task at hand.

There were numerous times in the first half where CDK was caught between ideas, and so in the end he ended up making the wrong decision, no decision, or the right decision too late which ended up making it the wrong decision.

The concern if CDK really does have the yips is that it's really hard to overcome. This type of thing can ruin careers. It's going to take A LOT of practice to get back to instinctively playing the game AND with smart, knowledgeable decision-making. For all of our sakes, Milan and us fans, I hope he's up to it.

The Good...

Rebić at RW to start! Yay! Pioli finally did it! Yes, I know he was partially forced into it due to injury but who cares, it's here. And I'll tell you what, this might end up being the go to, maybe in general, but at least when Milan is short on bodies. No more of this Krunić at RW nonsense, or taking Brahim out of the middle, sticking him at RW while an all-thumbs player is put in the #10 position.

Ok, so what was different with Rebić out there? As mentioned above, he was cutting in a lot, with and without the ball. Sometimes these runs, particularly without the ball, were awesome and made the defenders have to leave their dug-in position. This created movement and space within the box for others to navigate and take advantage of during the run of play. Other times however, his run crowded the box and evaporated any width Milan had particularly with Kalulu staying back. This had the opposite effect and caused congestion and left the attack without lanes to move, pass, or shoot. This will improve with Calabria back (when he returns) and having the RB up more on overlapping runs and helping to bang in crosses, while Kalulu and Tomori can protect the counter and over the top attempts by the opponent.

I think the more Rebić plays out at RW the better he'll become and the more balanced, and therefore higher scoring, Milan will be. Get him firing, along with a hot Brahim, and Leão being Leão, I think Milan will find themselves scoring 3-4 goals a game on average when they're in all there. That's no guarantee, but I wouldn't bet against it.

Next Match

Alright, Milan is flying high and have a tricky match vs Torino this weekend before taking on Salzburg in a CL match where they need at least a draw. Pioli will need to keep his men on their toes and ready since the top of the league table is so packed.

What are you guys thinking? About the match yesterday, this weekend, Salzburg, CDK, Rebić, whatever!

Forza Milan

[deenaschaoticniche]

Rant.

I have a stream of thoughts that doesn’t stop, my headache is now morphed into a 4 armed clamp tightened on my skull. 

Faith- The weekend

I have lived my whole life limited in the communities I was raised in, and only these past few months was I introduced to the world beyond those limits. I never asked my self serious questions , neither have I ever thought of having an opinion about philosophical matters. I never thought about religion or politics or history-Though I’m interested in knowing as I claim- but the communities around me has nthn to do with the questions I have been asking. I remember even a time where I thought I was a fraud and fake cause I didn’t have a solid opinion on anything that matters.. but the more I know and listen the more I figure out that I’m not obligated to have an opinion. Everything is one big Masquerade, you take one face off to find another to take it off to find another and so on. you cant 100% Pin the start of anything or claim the truth of anything 100%. when I was younger and whenever I hear a Muslim saying that a Christian is a “kaffer I used to say “and to them you are also a kaffer” and it came from my understanding that people don’t really walk a mile in each other choose. I grew up and I don’t know who is kaffer now .. is there anything up there ? is he really out there? I keep having these thoughts and then tremble in fear when i find myself saying “ya rab” in any difficult situation. “ya rab” ? isn’t that the same “rab” you keep wondering if he’s out there or not ? is this “ya rab” coming out of habit or out of believe ? how strong is your believe  ? you used to drink and pray right after cause you know nth .. you still know nthn but why don’t you pray ? what changed ? how strong is your questioning ? what drives you ? I know what drives me .. my ethical code my OWN ethical code drives me, “ say no lies , make no harm and often try to make good” .. politics and history where do they really start ? what is the oldest agenda ? who is right ? does it really all come down to the wantings and desires of a group of people ? ancient ? a cult? who's winning?  .. How can people be so sure and argue over things they don’t know half the truths about ? where do they get the confidence ? they know? impossible ! no one can know .. nothing is ever a 100% sure and to that I’m forever lost.

Rabbit Hole

“ I don’t know how it got this bad I just wanna kick it.” .. I wanna go, not leave but be gone. the thought is clearer as each day goes by , I can’t find a will or a reason to keep going. I wake up do the same things and every now and then I go off the rails trying to feel sth other than sadness and indifference. “ Mask it with laughter , smoke something and pretend that I’m fine” .. nothing is enough anymore. there is nothing to be enough to start with. I have nothing. My life is lowkey fucked up and no one is willing to admit foreseeing the damage but they will all be suddenly conscious when it’s roaring at their faces. “ and no one like to drink alone , so come be my friend” .. I don’t have people around me , I’m completely and utterly alone and if ever someone tried to reach a hand I cut it off, cause no one will understand and I need no one to. “ I don’t know how it hurts this bad I just wanna quite it” . 

The Labyrinth Song

“ But there's a moon above, it's shining, and I think I hear a call It's just a whisper through the trees, my ears can hardly make it out But I can hear it in my heart, vibrating strong as if he shouts “ .. it saddens me to the bones, to the deepest of my bones .. the sadness is unbearable, no condolences are really condolences. I try to sleep everything off till I take the last breath but even in the sleep the nightmares are hurting, he’s everywhere.. screaming at me & whispering to me. Sleep does me no good, numbs nthn.         “ Everything is quite, and I'm not exactly sure If it really was your voice I heard, or maybe it's a door” .. being awake is me walking hell.I never knew such pain before and I had my fair share of troubled days but I look at myself in the mirror and I see him when I look at my eyebrows or my eyes .. I hear his voice when I accidently touch the stretchmarks on my stomach. “ are you strolling through your sacred grove? And is the moon still shining? You're the only thing I'm thinking of” .. I walk the streets trying to get tired so the sleep would be dreamless and all the streets reminds me of him , as if we walked every block together holding hands when we never even met. the city has grown more melancholy to me more than it was already. “ I wish I had that string, it's so damn dark, I think I'm going blind “ I don’t know what to do. no escapism or amount of distractions are right. I’m not sure how he manages to do it cause even on those few minutes I try to do sth “happy” all I think about is how he is not there to share this happiness with me. “ Oh Ariadne, let me sing you, and we'll make each other last “ 

Dilaudid 

I feel like I’m in a swirl , nothing is there for me .. no family , no friends and the only lover is all the way over there. The loneliness and the quietness are deafening. I feel the need to be high all the time to distract myself of this sorrow. the ridiculous part is that there’s no connection between my despair and my sorrow. they don’t walk hand in hand .. I wanna live for him, I wanna live for the hope-this is my sorrow- but my despair oh my despair comes from the true believe that there’s nothing out there left for me. my sorrow and my despair they don’t walk hand in hand. I can feel my head being intoxicated with all these ideas filled with indifference and numbness and sadness. I feel all the spots being taken over by the dark shadow. I think this will soon be my end ..or at least that’s what I hope. 

“Now you see me Now you don’t  Now you say you love me Pretty soon you won’t Turn the tires towards the street And stay sweet  I know you If we lived to see the other side of this I’ll remember your kiss So do it with your mouth open And take your foot off the brakes For Christ’s sake”