#but it has haunted me ever since. i can never have normal dreams about my otps frrrrrrr

[deus-ex-mona]

cursed confession: being forced to play julieta for the event has given me flashbacks to the not-so-distant past _(:3 」∠)_

#said flashback: i once had a very cursed dream about a hypothetical julieta novel #in it lxl had a previous bonus manager named ‘julieta’ #the first part of the novel was her pov about her suffering with lxl. then she quit or sth and they had to hire hiyoko #the second part of the novel was about the planning of lxl’s wedding in the distant future or sth???? #idk but there lxl were，dressed in matching white suits in front of a 5-tier wedding cake… on a cruise ship of all places #then the cruise got shipwrecked and the epilogue was lxl making out in a cave #it had nothing to do with the julieta mv at all. (had the dream before the mv came out) #but it has haunted me ever since. i can never have normal dreams about my otps frrrrrrr #like i had this other cursed dream where yujiro really wanted to get matching tramp stamps with aizo (who had an 0nlyfans for some reason??) #i can’t even anymore. please. someone. trade dreams with me. i give up on my own degeneracy #zenryoku na aiyuu ga kawaii

[husbandhoshi]

jeonghan + 2am + cute🥰

[2:00]

“i don’t think this is a good idea.”

the night that blankets hwaseong is buttery and lush, moon hanging over the sleeping city like a ripe apple.

"have i ever had good ones?" jeonghan answers plainly, and he waits for your nose to scrunch up in annoyance before he smiles.

it's a habit, much like the way he matches your stride, the way it feels right to walk beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

it reminds you of when you were children, walking with pinkies linked through the wildflowers, except now he's at least two heads taller than you and a lot funnier.

"what if someone sees us together?”

jeonghan chuckles, deep and intimate, and takes his baseball cap off to plop it on top of your head, pushing the brim down to your eyes.

he has a big ass head now too, you think, but you keep that one to yourself.

"better?"

"you know that's not what i mean."

“who would say anything? we know everyone here.”

and that shuts you up because he’s right.

you wore the city like your second skin. borne into you, the laugh of the ahjumma who owned the jjampong place, the glitter of july-ripened strawberries, the titters of old folks feeding the gulls.

you never thought jeonghan would leave all that behind until the tuesday six whole years ago he said was going to seoul to become an idol.

“did you miss me?” he asks.

like crazy. like i’d never missed anything more, you want to say. instead you swallow down the lump of crazy chewed up words and think of something more normal to say.

it’s not like you hadn’t talked since he left.

have you eaten? he would text you. other times, like my last instagram post or you’re a fake fan.

only once: how big is the moon in hwaseong? are you looking at it too?

there was a time you couldn’t imagine hwaseong without your best friend. for a moment, it was like a ghost town, haunted by the boy who picked up bugs on the ground and always let you have the last bungeoppang, even if it was filled with red bean (his favorite).

but it seems he’s outgrown his shadow. he stands tall and expensive, and even the hat on your head seems like it costs more than your car.

and yet, you hear his old man groan claw its way out of his chest, and you feel as though nothing at all has changed.

“ya, are you actually ignoring me? did i fly a thousand something miles out here to get ignored?”

it’s another habit, what jeonghan does next, but you can swear the stars drop out of the sky—he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, made strong and lean by time.

it jerks you into a moment seven summers ago, when you’re you and jeonghan is just the gangly boy next door throwing rocks at your window, and you forget for a moment how woefully plain you feel next to your best friend turned celebrity.

“sorry,” you laugh, gathering your bearings. “of course i missed you. i even got weverse or whatever.”

he rolls his eyes in a way so dramatic, you would almost delete the app off your phone if it wasn’t for that smile, a traitor to the cool front he always has.

“i missed you too.” he says it easily, simply, as if all of this was just foreplay.

“it must be a lot quieter here than in seoul, huh? and the food is—”

“no, i missed you.”

he stops in his tracks, elvish features almost offensively attractive in the fluorescent streetlight, to look at you.

to look at all of you, not just the you who bandaged his knee when he was learning to skateboard for the first time, but the you who answers his anxious late-night calls, the you who greeted him at the airport with that dizzyingly warm smile, the you who stands before him now.

and it’s you who he takes into his arms, hesitantly, then all at once, as if he’s dreamed about this for ages (he has).

he takes off the too big hat, holds the face he knows so well in his hands, and kisses you under the hwaseong moon, finally not so far away.

(“you think the paparazzi got their pictures?” he jokes between kisses, knowing full well your audience consists of a raccoon and maybe the weird guy who owns the liquor store across the street.

“we can give ‘em another one.”

he’s never one to argue with a good idea.)

#sorry it kinda fell off the rails at the end #🫶 #also sorry it’s LATE i went out to eat and then started watching this terrible show #ask #anon #mine #jeonghan #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan x reader

[vaguely-concerned]

the previews of nona the ninth have started a full on brainworm rave within my cranium by just like... laser focusing in on my mercymorn & augustine feels. and since I have several of their main scenes bookmarked on my audio book app (I am normal), I started going over some of them again and like... wow they’re fucking me up from their very first scene together.   

what really stood out to me this time is that augustine goes up to hold the eulogy for cytherea specifically to lessen john’s pain; in response to god’s grief augustine takes on the task/responsibility of easing it as he doesn’t for either mercy’s or his own. while mercy talks he mostly just listens, respectfully, even (for the first and last time don’t worry lol). I think he probably did care about cytherea in herself too, as much as his motheaten hollowed-out heart allows for at this point (he seems to be quite upset by someone messing around with her body, even aside from thinking it’s mercy doing it), but when you read how the scene goes down augustine only takes an active part in response to john’s distress. he rests his hand on john’s shoulder in comfort and he gets up ‘like it hurts’ to say the words for cytherea. this pattern they apparently set up from the very beginning where mercy confronts john with the harsh truths he doesn’t want to acknowledge -- “There they go, John“, “She said, ‘We had the choice to stop’” -- and augustine smoothes things over in the wake of it, removes discomforts; still does the board meetings he hates for him, as it were.

like. holy shit. imagine having eldest daughter trauma (gender neutral) with god himself for ten thousand years. “Come, swear your loyalty, my son—my brother—beloved—Lyctor—saint.” no boundaries buddy you can only be something in relation to me!!! ‘he could have gone anywhere, but he stuck with me’. what a mess! what an absolute mess, especially knowing it’s been like that right from the beginning. he gave john (and john’s dreams -- his empire) everything: his life, his time, his loyalty, his brother, and john took it. john took it all, including mercy at the end, like she was just another... thing no one would miss. what a brilliant dark mirror of what gideon thinks she wants harrow to do to her but which a) harrow has the soul and sense not to do or want and b) would doom them both if it actually happened. the subtexual/implicit mirrors of the process of lyctorhood just aaaaallll over this empire john has built around him, even & especially with those closest to him. NO normal vibes on this haunted fucking space station I’m going to create an interpersonal dynamic that is so incredibly toxic and insidious it takes you thousands of years to figure out something’s very very off and by then it’s waaaaay too late, we’ve all got rivers of blood on our hands by now and no clean water left anywhere 

(also “Ten thousand years, and I never heard her say an unkind word, except when it was very funny. She loved us unguardedly, all of us, which showed both her patience and her enormous capacity.”

the ‘my bones will rest easy next to your bones’ speech deservedly gets a lot of recognition but I’m always struck by the dry mundane loveliness of that description, the resigned rotted fondness. and he immediately undercuts it by kind of dunking on loveday too which is soooo... *tirls hair around my finger* ahaha nooo stop you’re such a shitty human being you’ll make me completely obsessed with you ;) )

augustine will be like... *turns up to not be the worst person in the room only because john and mercy are also in said room and they’ve got a pretty level playing field going now after all these years, has a moment where after a whole book of a sort of glib mean-spirited ennui he suddenly says something so hauntingly beautiful and profound you get dizzy, goes back to being the worst person in the room again like nothing ever happened* and then you just have to live with ‘Bury me next to you in that unmarked grave, Joy’ forevermore. 

augustine and mercy praying only for their own cessation at the end and not even getting that. their best friend and dad and spouse and boss and king and god... is god. and they couldn’t even get that unmarked grave together. I just. hello darkness my old friend etc.

tl;dr: someone on the internet had to be an augustine stan by sheer law of averages and I am devastated again and again to find that it is me. I am that person.

#the locked tomb #the locked tomb spoilers #nona the ninth spoilers #harrow the ninth #augustine the first #mercymorn the first #john gaius #please understand that I am unhinged about this #seeing the john prologue and being like 'hm. have I misjudged him?' #and then looking alllllllll around him for how he affects those he 'loves' and going 'no. no probably not' lmao #I cannot explain to you the strange surge of joy I got just seeing mercy's dialogue in the preview. you could feel the... herness of it all #just from that #god why did I have to get attached to the horrible old war criminals there's not going to be anything good for anyone here fhksjdas

[nightraiderwrites]

Déja vu

Summary: Doc's just built the world eater, and Joe processes trauma.

Tw: hefty descriptions of moon big, like super heavy unreality, and uh I think that's it. Lemme know if you need anything added.

¤¤¤¤¤

Joe is mining obsidian.

Now, that would not normally be a notable thing, if he wasn't mining it directly underneath approximately fifty exploding tnt. But Doc called on the HHH for help, so help he did. Joe would never turn away a Hermit in need. Never.

But he does wonder, though. He wonders why Doc would create a machine of vast destruction, considering the experience they all had. The bright, bright lights, and the deep, burning heat.

Joe supposes it's his way of coping. Destruction in a way they could control. After all, when the world ended, no one had control for what happened.

And honestly, it's probably healthier than everything else people are doing to cope.

□□□

Sometimes, Joe dreams.

The wind pushes him backward, and he squints through his glasses. He readies another firework to launch, when he spots a flaming debris about to hit him. Joe tries rolls out of the way, but it clips his wing. The elytra shudder, and catch fire. It slowly spreads up, heating his lower back. He throws it off, letting the syrupy gravity drag him downward, like some fallen angel.

His heart gives a drumroll, to the grim realization he'll never see Cleo again, or host a HHH or do anything, really. He realizes he'll burn here, and no one will know. No one will ever find his corpse, because he stares at the giant moon looming over him, and he knows. It's going to fall, just like him, and nothing can stop it.

And as he falls, he thinks. He really didn't expect the world to end like this. There are flaming rocks right and left, and Joe hopes one of them hits him before he hits the ground; he hopes death is painless. It's so bright, Joe thinks.

Joe doesn't know why it's so scary to him. He's died before! He's the man who conquered death, for goodness sake. This is different though. It's one thing to look Death in the eye and say no, when Death is simply being mauled by a zombie, or flying too fast. It's another thing to say no when the world is falling apart, and you're falling with it.

Then he jolts awake.

Then he realizes he's in a simulation.

Then he realizes he's in his haunted house.

Then he's in the hospital wing.

Then he's in Cleo's bed, sobbing because he thought he'd never see her again and he loves her very much but in a platonic way and you know he didn't mean to leave her right oh gods Cleo I'm so sorry-

Then Cleo will hug him tight and he can feel his tears dripping on her skin, which really isn't good for rotten flesh, oh dear Cleo, I'm good now, you can let go-

Then she'll hug him tighter, cutting him off. She'll say that he's being stupid, he's clearly not ok, but they'll deal with it in the morning.

And if they fall asleep hugging each other, with Joe's glasses catching on Cleo's stitching, and her flowers growing around Joe, that's no one's business.

□□□

Joe would say he's doing well. He would say he's coping, and he certainly doesn't need help. Joe accepts the fact he may be losing his mind, but he's pretty sure other people on the server need help more than him, so he just pushes his needs away. He likes helping the others anyway.

It is a well known fact Joe Hills is a terrible liar.

¤¤¤¤¤

Woah! This has been a long time coming. Since *checks dates* 12th of May! Around then, Joe was doing a HHH for Doc, removing obsidian for him that the sweepers didn't catch. He had moment in where he stopped mining and just looked up at the world eater. Did it kick this off for me? Yes! Was it buried under a couple dozen other projects until I was cleaning my notes up? Also yes!

I think most of them, in world, haven't really processed the trauma. That kind of trauma is huge, and none have them have taken a chance to go to therapy or something. This piece was about that, and also an opportunity to write Joe. He's such a character, but also like just a guy™️. I am also just a guy™️ so I sort of wrote it how I would react. Which is just shove my trauma away and focus on other things? I guess?

Anyway as always, thanks for reading. Reblogs are always appreciated, as is feedback.

I'll see you next time, folks.

#nightraider writes #writing #writers on tumblr #hermitcraft #joe hills #zombiecleo #zombie cleo

[professor-rye]

10, 20, 30, 40 for the weird writer asks!

Thank you for sending me some questions! Apologies in advance for how much I ended up rambling 😅

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Oh gosh. Definitely Dapple. I was worried that I wouldn’t finish the very beginning idea I had (which ended up just being act 1), so I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when not only did I finish that, but then it kept going… and going… *and going.* I’ve always been good at coming up with ideas for long fics, but never before (or since) have I ever been able to actually *stick* with writing them, let alone so consistently. For some reason, for Dapple, my ADHD brain said “This is your life now and you are addicted”. It literally was what kept me on this earth for a while there. It unironically saved my life. And then it just… disappeared. 

My brain no longer wanted to think about it, and it was only habit keeping me going for a while there. I pushed past that point way too far and got burnt out, and I’m still waiting, desperately hoping, that the floodgates will open again. And not just because I want to finish it, mind you. Like I said, writing and posting dapple did so much good for me. It was a safe harbor in a storm. It helped me process some of the worst traumas in my life. It got me *so many friends*. I can not express enough how much I miss it. …. Gods, okay, that got way deeper than I intended. Apologies! Gods… well uh, on to the next question!

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you've always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

Well, after the last question, I think the answer is probably obvious lol. No question at all, I would pick to perfectly finish Dapple (Gods, and if that also let me get the sequel idea I had as well?? And also all the side fics??? Shit I would sell my soul for that). (It also doesn’t help that I am ace and have trouble contemplating the idea of magically gifted eternal happiness, so like… it was just very stacked in Dapple’s favor already)

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

So, its kind of complicated? I am very much so that writer who just daydreams about fic ideas as I lay down to sleep every night, so there is a very hazy period during the in between where sometimes I’ll get ideas that I can actually remember the next morning.

But I don’t think they’re actual dreams, because my normal dreams tend to be a) incredibly stressful and b) about the most boring stuff imaginable, which is quite the combo. 

But I will say that the pre-sleep daydreaming feels so different from any other actual plotting that I do. It’s very… gods, how do you describe this… 

There’s a thing I learned in art school where you step away from your composition and squint till you can only see the hazy outlines of the different elements of the work. Or like when they tell you to turn the painting upside down for a bit to see what isn’t working. The pre-sleep daydreaming always involves reimagining the scenes I had already thought about during more lucid moments, but looking at the broader strokes and the pure emotion of it (because sleepy). 

So most of the “ideas” I got from those moments were realizations that certain elements didn’t quite work the way I wanted them to, and then once I was actually lucid, I could think back on it and then (sometimes) realize a better way to handle that particular part. 

So… yeah? It’s hard to say if that counts as dreams specifically, but it’s also a really big part of my writing… existence? Process feels weird to say there lol. But yeah, it felt relevant to share. 

Gods, I’m rambling again. Last question! 

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

(not me taking several days to find this poem because my memory is terrible and I kept mixing up the line I was searching)

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb. ~ Mary Oliver

So yeah, if anyone else wants to send questions, here is the original question list post thingy. I will try not to ramble quite so much next time 😅

#my writing #writer ask game #dappled shadow and penumbral light #fan fiction writing

[kassymalone]

Your plots and characters are so engaging, how do you do it? Where there any books or book series that may have helped shape your style of writing, or did you just keep writing fanfics until your writing kept improving and you developed your own style?

Hello, quiet one! Thanks for the compliment, and the question!

I wouldn't say there's one particular book or series that inspired me. Last time I moved house, over 20 of the boxes were just my books! Not even kidding... I've got horror, I've got romance, I've got sci-fi, dragons, LGBT+, bildungsroman, thrillers, manga, high fantasy, reference books... it's a lot. Variety is the spice of life!

I think understanding why you do or don't like what you're reading is very important to engagement. The last book I remember absolutely hating was something I thought I would enjoy (haunted castle in Japan? Yes please!), but the writing was so verbose and the characters so flat, their actions made no sense in reality and there was a subplot about suicidal depression that seemed to disappear after the first chapter...? It was frustrating to finish, and I've always thought that a bad example can be an excellent teacher.

I was always called a daydreamer as a kid, not paying attention and 'away with the fairies' (which was completely true), but I was always thinking of stories. Even to this day, on the bus to and from work I'm thinking of the next chapters, playing it out twelve different ways before picking the one I like the most to actually write down. The second I don't need to be paying attention to the real world, I'm off with my characters seeing what would happen if things went this way this time...

God, this sounds pretentious. Sorry.

As for characters... what makes a character engaging is very difficult and highly subjective. My personal rule is 'it has to make sense'. For example, using Sun and Moon in the fic I'm currently writing, if I randomly put in that they enjoyed making bread, that would make no sense. They're robots, they can't eat, they hate mess, they don't like any humans enough to make the effort anyway, Sun doesn't have the patience for baking and Moon would just point out that there's sliced bread in the kitchen l already. Could there be another story where them baking bread does make sense? Sure, but the way I've written this one!

And finally, you've kind of hit the nail on the head - I have A LOT of experience in this. The first story I finished writing was 80 pages long, and I was very proud of it, but I was 11 so it was probably pretty bad XD I seem to recall there was a dragon involved? I've been writing ever since, both fanficiton and original stuff. I put it aside for a few years in my early twenties during those horrible years I was trying to be 'normal' (because none of the adults I knew at the time had any hobbies, so I thought it was something I had to grow out of, but that's another story...), and the second I picked it up again my mental health improved so much, I can't even tell you.

While my life-long dream of actually being published may never come true (turns out it's really fucking hard, who knew?), just being able to write makes me incredibly happy. I think wanting to do something really shines through in the end result, and if you're really engaged with what you're writing then the reader will be able to tell.

Plus, y'know... practice, practice, practice.

[engagethelinkage]

One Year Later - Written April 24th-25th 2023

Today has marked 365 days around the sun since I stood up for myself and broke free of my relationship with [ex]. 365 days since I made a decision for the good of my own sanity for the first time in a very very long time.

A year is a long time, but also not a very long time at all. I've heard it's a decent metric for healing and progress, I'm not too sure about that. When I think of where I'm at it's plain to see that I'm a few squares behind where I was when I started dating her. I'm back to being terrified of sex and feeling unable to let anyone get close to me. Back to feeling like I don't deserve the physical contact I so deeply crave. Back to wanting to shut out the outside world and return fully to my hermitage. It's clear that my job is just a lucky break that means I can more feasibly attempt to carry on existing like this.

I know I'm not made for the real world; the world of full time work and a mortgage and 2.4 children. I'm not coded to function as just another bland cog in the machine, even though the anonymity of normality is one of my deepest desires. I was made with a series of statistical time bombs within my body and my neurochemistry that make it nearly impossible that I'll live past 40. I'd hoped to have lived some beautiful stories in those years, though tragedies are a special beauty too. As defective as I am I still had too much respect for myself to let the tragedy that was my relationship-my sentence with [ex] play out to the full beautiful ugliness of what it could've been. I considered that ending to my story; slowly giving up my hobbies and letting myself be eradicated piece by piece by the attrition of tiny constant adjustments just like her slowly taking every inch of the bed, all in exchange for physical warmth.

The truth is I really truly want to love someone again. I want to be able to open up to someone and trust them. But I don’t know if I can. It feels like I'm too broken to deserve anything other than abuse under a thin veneer of kindness. I don't know if I'm whole enough to love again knowing that if we don't break up then they'll lose me when I run out of time, or if death decides to carry on her sick joke of snatching people away from me, I lose them. My life is the one story I hated having the ending spoiled because it's made the whole journey feel empty. I wish I never knew this knowledge that has always lived in my brain, this foul truth that makes me feel undeserving of any sort of human comfort.

Last night for a split second I dreamt that I was in [ex]'s bedroom again, the fear that shot through me was enough to wake me instantly, but I still had the ghost of that terror in me. It’s the first time my own brain has pulled the eject cord during a nightmare and it was a dream about being near someone I was supposed to trust. The thing my mind fears most is being back with her, the single greatest fear I have is being back in her bed, and she was the person I chose to love and grew to resent. I told myself I'd never let a lover hurt me again. Promised myself. And here I am with another bag full of lead weights added to my baggage.

Now I truly don't know if I'll have sex again, I don't know if I'll ever be able to suppress my fear enough to trust a partner like that again. I don't know if I'll ever be able to accept a tender touch on my chest or a hand on my cheek. I don't know if I'll ever kiss someone again. [Ex] just drove all of my fears deeper and wrapped them in the confusion of "it's meant to feel like this". She hurt me so deeply and she gets to live in blissful ignorance of what she did to me. I have to struggle to sleep because I'm haunted by the fear I would feel walking into my own bedroom scared that she'd want another round of sex and she just gets to jump to a new partner in less than a month. It’s so fucking hard to not be bitter about it. The bitterness just becomes another recurring boil on my soul if I let it stew too long.

The bitterness doesn't last long, thankfully. I'm passed crying over her, but I can count all the new buckshot pellets she left in me.

I hope the terror fades in time, therapy is expensive. I can laugh at a lot of what she put me through now, I have to laugh at it or else I'll cry, but some things scarred me deeply. I don't know if it's possible for wounds that deep to heal on top of so much scar tissue. "A collection of stories and scars and a love for the arts" is what I called myself once. I'm also a creature that is extensively predisposed to fear, my existence is one of almost perpetual terror and my various unhealthy mechanisms of keeping it at bay; smoke another joint, recite the Litany Against Fear again, recite the futhark one more time. All to make it through the current wave of terror that paralyses my mind. She didn't put this terror in me, it's been in me for as long as I've lived, she just gave it new forms to take.

I'm still hurting, but I'm not sure how much of that hurt is from her anymore. [Ex] abused me, I can admit that. But after all the abuse I've experienced from others, I can see that she left me with very few new scars. I'm broken, but she didn't break me, I've not killed this version of me to hide from the memories, my hair remains uncut.

I cannot say that I will heal, but I take solace - a sense of victory if I'm honest - in the fact that I am still this version of me.

#personal shit #things i write #idk why im sharing this tbh #male abuse victims are forgotten a lot of the time so maybe this is representation #relationship stuff #i still cant watch Steven Universe without feeling sick because of her

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Epilogue ask time!! Okay, so I have been thinking about this non-stop ever since I read that line near the end, i dunno which chapter it was but it must've been before the Henry boss battle--Mike basically says something along the lines of "save that for the wedding" to Simon, and now I H A V E to ask. What would Simon and Mike's wedding REALLY be like? Would they invite everyone? What would their wedding cake look like? (gosh, I am SO pumped up for this couple, they are so goshdarn cute--)

.(I honestly can’t recall why I haven’t answered this ask when it was time :c I’m sorry Yeah, epilogue ask time! Even if you might never will see this answer, hah. Sorry for having been gone so long! But better late than never and all that. ALSO: TUMBLR DOESN'T PERMIT LONG ANSWERS ANYMORE? I'LL TRY TO EDIT IN THE WHOLE THING AFTER POSTING, BUT IF YOU CAN'T FIND IT, YOU’LL KNOW IT’S ON MY AO3)

It was a normal day in the renamed Afton household. Which means that the household was currently a dilapidated Freddy’s. Unlike most dilapidated Freddy’s, this just felt mildly depressing and empty. Any soul that would have haunted the immediate area was gone by now, as Dave and Old Sport were busy to pick the last few springlocks out of Dave’s skin. “How many children are we at now? This has at least been thirty! How did you even MANAGE to capture so many kids without anyone EVER noticing?” “Hey, Old Sport, it ain’t my fault that 460,000 children go missin’ every year! I’ve only ever gotten like- yeah, 30 a year, at best! With all the police swarmin’ and all that. That ain’t nothin’ compared to children goin’ missin’ every year!” “… we’ve only made it through ONE year’s worth of your murder?!” “Eh, we’re makin’ pretty good progress if you ask me-“ The door to the room was very abruptly slammed open. Circus Baby stood in there and after an appropriately dramatic pause, she came inside and slammed a few pictures onto the table. “IMPORTANT NEWS, DADS! MIKE AND SIMON ARE CURRENTLY ON THE MOVE. INTEL SAYS THIS IS THE LOCATION!” “You don’t need to scream, we hear you just fine!” Old Sport leaned back, relaxed. “Ooooh, pretty!” Dave picked up the images. “Yes… too pretty.” Baby scoffed. “Don’t you notice something about these pictures?” “Ya really got talkin’ like a crazy detective down. That Ethan guy really impressed you, didn’t he?” “No- no! Not at all!” She huffed and turned a bit. “But just- look! There’s a church there! And travelling all the way there… isn’t it clear what is going on?!” “Enlighten us, my body is ready.” Interested the Orange Guy leaned forward. “They. Are. Trying to…” A pause. Then abruptly she ripped one of her arms up, pointing a finger into nowhere. “MARRY!” “WHAT!?” “YES! AND THEY HAVEN’T INVITED US. AND FROM COMMUNICATION WITH BASE-“ “Oh, did you say hi to Jeremy for us?” “Yeah, I did- BUT NO THE POINT. COMMUNICATION WITH BASE REVEALED: THEY HAVE ALSO NO KNOWLEDGE OF THE OPERATION. MIKE AND SIMON HAVE GONE ROGUE AND PLAN TO GET MARRIED PATHETICALLY AND ALONE WITHOUT ANY OF THEIR FRIENDS. CAN WE STAND FOR THAT!?” Immediately, the both of them stood up. “NO SIR!” “THAT IS WHAT I LIKE TO HEAR: OPERATION ‘BIG WEDDING, IF YOU LIKE IT OR NOT’ COMMENCES N O W!” The fact that maybe, POTENTIALLY these two were just going on a nice trip was carefully considered by Old Sport and then passionately discarded. As was the potential that they weren’t invited on purpose. Or that there were still children’s souls to save. They waited decades- surely, they could wait some more, eh? - - - Mike was the first to wake up. He was groggy and confused, but his hand immediately reached for his partner. “Ssss- simon…?” A cough beside him snapped him fully out of it. Simon was stirring besides him, groaning. Quickly Mike leaned over him, gently slapping his face. “Simon?! Please- wake the fuck up.” “… Mike…?” It came back, as groggy. Then, a soft, raspy laugh. “… you look… beautiful… am I dreaming…?” “Christ, Si. What’s with the sentimentalities? Wake up.” Shifting on the spot, the heavy fabric around his legs confused him for a moment- “WHAT THE FUCK.” Jumping back, he stared down at himself, inspecting baffled the completely white and glittering wedding dress he was wearing. Now that he thought of it- Simon was wearing an elegant dark suit with a light blue tint. “What the FUCK!?” “Aaah… were we kidnapped?” Simon got slowly up, looking around, not caring too much about his appearance. “… you’d think now that we’re away from Freddy’s, that would be over…” Flustered, Mike stood up straight and gritted his teeth. “… whoever the fuck did it, I’ll break their necks. You don’t fuck with a Freddy’s veteran, not if you want to live.” Simon just snorted in response, but allowed Mike to gentle help him up- laughing a little again, as Mike carefully checked him over. “Really- I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just a bit dizzy.” “Good. Their deaths will be quick instead of slow then.” They spotted a door. Their exit? Carefully they approached- and before Mike could try the handle, a hand wrapped itself around his. Looking back, Simon had furrowed his brow and nodded determinedly at him. We have been through worse. Together we will get out. They pushed open the door… … light flooded in. Immediate cheers from all sides and elegant organ music was playing. Glitter and white petals were falling from over them, as they tried to desperately to regain orientation. They were in a giant church, and the benches were filled with animatronics, fellow Phone Guys who looked rather confused, and at the very front was Jeremy, in a priestly outfit, smiling and waving at them. “CONGRATULATION!!!!” Marion was by his side like a shadow, looking skeptical- but also raising a hand in greeting. Old Sport was nowhere to be seen, however it turned out terrifyingly enough that it was Dave of all people on the organ, playing his heart out in the fanciest clothes he seemed to find. Actually, all these fancy suits seemed to have a similar style… “… did you rob a fucking wedding dress venue?!” Baby by the front gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. “ABSOLUTELY! ONLY THE BEST FOR YOU! Well- I wanted to give BOTH of you dresses, but Jeremy said that wasn’t traditional and that we didn’t know what you would want- so eh. I’m sorry, I gave my best to make BOTH of you beautiful.” Funtime Freddy didn’t even need to raise his voice to be audible over the cheers. “YYY---YYEAH! S-S-soo we G-GAVE it to the one who- one who- NEEDED IT THE MOST! HA-AHAHAha-A-A-A-AHAHAH!” Simon stood up straighter. “DO NOT TALK THIS WAY ABOUT MY MIKE! OR I’LL- I’LL UH- KICK YOU OUT OF MY WEDDING, RIGHT NOW!” “No—NOOOOO!” Funtime Freddy looked horrified. “I- I- AM SOooOO- S-SORRY! P-Pleas-eee-e! Don’t- don’t- kick m-e-e-e OUT!“ “Then watch yourself.” Simon dragged Mike a bit closer. “… are we actually fucking doing this?” Quietly Mike whispered to him as they walked up the rows. “… we should play along for now… and if we see a chance, we’ll get out. Take revenge, or- uh- whatever.” “If you say so. I’m with you to the end.” They arrived in front of Jeremy, who made a gesture to quiet the room, with Dave taking the que to play a quieter, marriage appropriate song on his instrument. “Hey, uh- Jeremy.” Casually Simon started, clearly having a plan. “I appreciate this, but uh- you’re not a priest, right? Aren’t only priests allowed to do stuff like this? Baptism, marriage, all that? We can wait for you guys to find a proper priest…” Sadly, Jeremy’s lovely smile broke that hope immediately. “Oh, actually, protestants are allowed to baptize themselves if no priest is there. I think as long as two witnesses are there…? But yes. Same for marriage! No worries- I gladly do it! I also made the cake!” The promised couple turned their head around to spot a giant cake. Beautiful multiple layers of delicious goodness. “It’s with strawberries!” Happily Jeremy said. “I picked the motive.” Cooly Marion pointed out. “Jeremy almost made a golden Fredbear and Springbonnie cake.” “It would have been cute.” Jerry pouted, but Marion’s eyes didn’t leave Phone Guy. “… I thought a cool fire motive would connect with you guys better.” And indeed, the huge red and orange cake was a piece of art with glass-like sugar tips that looked out and broke the light like a frozen fire. The rest of it looked mouth-watering filling, vanilla and chocolate pieces on top, to completement the fruity mass. Mike nudged Simon’s side. How about doing it for the free cake? Simon shrugged, not opposed. Jeremy rose his arms. “We have gathered today, to witness the wonderful and loving union of these two people. You will know them as your friends, your employers, to some even our heroes-“ “Can we speed it up?” Mike scoffed. Dave from above laughed. “TOLD YOU GUYS THEY WOULDN’T WANT THE WHOLE SPIEL.” Looking a tiny bit offended, Jeremy shook his head. “Fine, fine. Okay, so, in the name of god, pledging your lives, in sickness and in health, good times and bad times, through everything that could live throw at you- will you, Simon McCall, take Mike Schmidt as your husband?” What was that for a question even? Simon paused, looking into Mike’s storm-grey eyes. Those with the hint of blue, those that had looked at him so often in his life. The first time he hired him, the first time he stormed into his office complaining about the animatronics moving, the ones that had called him out relentlessly… the ones that had looked at him with untypical worry after he had fallen sick, the ones looking at him with apprehension, that slowly turned to trust… from then to now, this man had gone through all with him. Through all the disappointments, the terrors, the victories, the problems. “Yes, I do.” The words came out of him unintentionally seriously. But he meant them with his whole heart. “Good! Mike, through sickness and health, through the good and the bad-“ “Yes, I do.” Mike answered with an intensity untypical of him. A seriousness that could hardly be rivaled, only matched by Simon’s before him. They had been through sickness and health before, through pain and joy, through everything life could do to them. And for Simon? He would do it all again. Without hesitation. Jeremy sniffled a little, clearly moved. “Then- I shall declare you husband and husband. Put the rings onto each other’s fingers and kiss, a union for all to see.” A door to the side had opened among the cheers and cries of the audience and the glammed up Old Sport came out, holding a box. The noises of celebration became louder when he stepped beside Jeremy, between the couple and opened the box. Mike and Simon stayed quiet however. “… those are fucking grenades.” Cheerful Old Sport pointed at the golden rings with each two red and a blue stone at the top of the grenades. “No worries, the rings are at this part here. All you gotta do is pull them off!” “They will blow up if we do that.” “Love will protect you <3” “… how did you make that noise with your- you know what, never-fucking-mind.” The church had gone quiet again at this point, everyone watching breathlessly. Slowly Mike looked deep into Simon’s dial. They nodded slowly, at the same time. Their heartbeats were in totally synchroneity. It was time. Both of them picked up their respective grenade slowly. The entire church held their breath- Within one immediate movement they pulled their respective rings over and in the same movement, Phone Guy dropped it in Old Sport’s hands while Mike chucked it with ALL power to the place were Dave was sitting, who in response JUMPED, but not AWAY, no! TOWARDS it, reaching out to catch the bomb, while Marion had already grabbed Jeremy, pulling him upwards, out of the blast radius, while Mike and Simon at the same time rushed towards the door, past the confused attendants, who made gasps of confusion- Rolling over the ground, Dave held up his one, smiling like a maniac. “OLD SPORT! OLD SPORT LOOK! I CAUGHT IT! THAT MEANS WE GET MARRIED NEXT! OLD SPORT-“ B O O M ! Thankfully, the grenades had simply been smoke ones that were fitted to look and to some degree sound like real ones. However, the smoke was extensive and cough-inducing and when it cleared, Mike and Simon were gone. “These BASTARDS!” Old Sport called out, rubbing his soot-smeared face. “Ah, the eagerness of freshly married couples.” Dave put a hand on his chest. “Gotta say, I’m jealous.” “Not THAT!” Disgruntled Old Sport pointed at the table that had stood by the exit. “THEY TOOK OUR ENTIRE CAKE!” “What!?” Appalled Dave cried out. “Unbelievable! These fuckin’ sewer rats. Next time we ain’t gonna invite them to their weddin’, bet they’ll feel stupid then!” - - - Somewhere, far away, a camper stood, with two people sitting on top of it. Each of them held a place with a big piece of deliciously expensive and sweetly flavored cake. “You win some, you lose some.” Mike took a bit bite. “But I think we won more.” “Where do you think they got these rings from?” Carefully Simon inspected the admittedly beautiful ring on his finger. “You think they, uh- stole it?” “Probably.” A shrug. “But I mean- well. Do we want to be married to each other with stolen rings…?” For a moment they looked at each other. Then they both shrugged. “Yeah, fucking whatever.” “Totally fine by me.”

#microphone #simon mccall #mike schmidt #Dave Miller #Old Sport

[dimonds456]

.

i just wanna feel okay. i just wanna move on. i just wanna be able to go a fucking month without thinking about her. all her memory does is give me massive anxiety, and fear, and dread, and i never realize it's coming from her memory until something triggers it again.

i fucking hate this. i know i have ptsd. i have SOME form of it. idk of it's the normal one or c-ptsd or some secret third thing but i'm not exaggerating, and i'm not faking it, and i'm just so fucking tired of fighting it.

it's not even about her. last summer, i almost died. i straight-up barely made it through. and my illness has been affecting me since middle school. my first experience with seeing stars was caused by my thyroid fucking up. my heart rate has been over 200 several times. i don't know how i haven't had a fucking heart attack and keeled over yet.

it's bound to happen. but also not. we're not tied down by fate, there's no such thing. self-fulfilling prophecies yes, and butterfly's wings flap and suddenly you're on the run from the law, yes. but it's not fate, it's an intricate web of cause and effect to get you there.

what caused this in me?

no one fucking knows. i'm tired, and i'm queer, and i'm disabled, but able-passing, and i'm hurt, and traumatized, and guilty of so many things no other living soul knows about, and i'm struggling with religion again and hating myself for it, and i just want to feel okay.

i just want a day where i don't have graves. a day where i can run as fast as i want, and a day where i won't fall over for it, and a day where i can lay on my stomach and pick grass in a field where it's warm or even hot but i'm not uncomfortable, or i want to be able to play tag with my brother, or just go a single fucking day where nothing matters and i can just.... exist.

i want to be alive.

i can't see my future. i can't see where i'll be in ten years. i spent last summer wondering if i'd see 2023. i'm here, and i made it to my 20's (something i didn't think was possible when i was 14), so now, i just gotta get to my 30's, right? but... there's so much shit going on. where will i be at 30? is it even worth thinking about? surely, yes, since the future is important, but... i can't see it. i can't see it, and if i can, the only reliable thing i see is loneliness. i'm always alone, sitting on a couch, touch-starved, watching tv and not even drawing. my hand got fucked up somewhere along the way, cuz of course it was, and i can't do anything.

they say that dreams are a reflection of the subconscious. that whatever reality we don't want to face, it comes out in dreams. but if that's true, why does she keep haunting them? is she in my future?

i want to be alive. i am alive. alive, i tell you.

.....but for how long?

it feels like i'm waiting for a clock to count down, that the people who say that we only breathe a certain number of times in our lives are right and my limit's almost up. i'm going to fall asleep, and not wake up, and no one will even notice for a few days because i'm already a hermit who prefers staying inside because the sun makes me feel awful and even when i'm inside that's when i get eaten alive by just, everything.

i got this far in life by being positive. i can continue to do that. but, my positivity has also blinded me to the bad before, and pretty much every relationship i've ever had has turned sour in some way because i refused to acknowledge a person's faults or express when i was uncomfortable until i couldn't stand it anymore. i wanna lay boundaries, but not upset people. i wanna hold a friendship for more than two years without it rotting away like an old maple leaf downed in acid. i hate thinking about my past, but i also love talking about it because i always think that imparting my bad experiences will help people somehow, even if it hurts me to think about it, but i should think about it, otherwise it'll fester and come out later.

i need therapy, but i can't get it. i'm alone.

i'm alone in my head. i'm alone in this room. i'm alone in this city. i'm alone in my pain, and my struggles, and i'm alone in my life. i feel like i attract bad people and hurt the good ones. i can't maintain a good friendship unless it's online. i'm going to be all alone, by myself, with no one to really reach to when my body finally fails me and i'm left to thrash around by myself.

i need to go to bed.

#dimond speaks #vent #severe content warning for this one- lots of self-negativity; helplessness; talk of death; ect #unreality in the tags #also ptsd and cptsd #i lead a fun life as you can clearly fucking see #like i'm lucky. i feel like i have it good. but at the same time i keep getting fucked over every other week #unreality here but the writers of my life cannot make up their damned minds on what my living space or mental state is #like just fucking pick one so i can deal with it properly! #i just wanna feel okay. i dont think thats a tall order right?

[houseofskyandpain]

In Love We Find Liberation

Since Ruhn and Agent Daybright decided to destroy my life, I had to write a fanfiction about them. This obviously contains spoilers for House of Sky And Breath, so if you haven’t read that yet, proceed at your own risk. It takes place after the war. 

There is no explicit content, but there is some angst (obviously with the two of them).

If you prefer reading it on AO3, click here. If you like the fic, please do consider liking and/or reflagging it, that would mean a lot to me.

Pairing: Ruhn x Agent Daybright

Summary (contains spoilers for HOSAB): After the Asteri's defeat, all Ruhn and Lidia want is a normal life. But Lidia's dreams are being haunted by her past, and Ruhn would do anything to comfort her.

Word count: 1127

Ruhn woke up to Lidia‘s ragged breathing. She was tossing next to him and it was obvious that she was having a nightmare again. Ruhn turned around to fully face her and gently shook her. He didn’t want to scare or hurt her. Didn’t want to remind her of all the times Pollux had woken her up in the middle of the night.

With a gasp, she opened her eyes. She shot up, frantically searched for the knife he knew she had hidden between the mattress and the bedframe. But when she saw him and the worry in his eyes, she calmed down a bit and let him pull her into a hug.

“Are you alright?”

Lidia nodded, but Ruhn knew that she was lying. She regularly had nightmares, most of the time about her… work for the Asteri. About Pollux. About the unspeakable things she had been forced to do to Ruhn. This scene was almost a routine for them by now and it hurt more than any of the torture he had endured in the Asteri’s dungeons.

Ruhn wouldn’t pressure her into talking about what she felt. He knew that after so many years of putting on the mask of the Hind, she had a hard time letting her guard down. He wanted to give her a chance to process everything and to adapt to her new life at her own pace. He would be lying if he said that he wasn’t worried about her though.

She looked up from where her head had been resting on Ruhn’s chest and the anguish in those usually burning golden eyes made his heart shatter all over again. She had sacrificed so much over the years, put herself in danger over and over again, and there was no way that he could help her if she didn’t voluntarily let him in. Still, he wanted to comfort her and tenderly stroke her hair.

“You had a nightmare again, didn’t you?”

She nodded and lay back down. Ruhn didn’t want to push her any further. Forcing her to talk about what had happened during the war wouldn’t change anything for the better. On the contrary, Lidia would probably withdraw to a place he couldn’t follow her in a desperate try to protect herself from the pain. She still did that sometimes, returning to the unfeeling façade of the Hind when she felt overwhelmed.

“I– all of this still feels so unreal. As if the nightmares were reality and this – this is the dream. And I am scared that any moment I will wake up and find myself next to P– him again”, Lidia whispered, and the way her voice trembled made Ruhn see red.

But he swallowed his anger and replied as softly as possible, “I can guarantee you that this is reality. There has never been something as real as our love, Lidia. Even if it were a dream, it would still be truer than anything else.”

She didn’t say anything, but he could feel her tears leaving wet patches on his t-shirt. He wanted to resurrect everyone who ever hurt her and kill them again, Pollux above all. Ruhn would have found a way to do it for her if she as much as hinted at it. He would have brought them back and punish them over and over for everything they had put her through. One death for every tear she shed because of them. One death for everyone she had been forced to kill.

“It’s just – I know I shouldn’t feel as if I deserved all of the pain, but I can’t help it. How can I ever look into the mirror without resenting what I have become, Ruhn?”

Ruhn knew that it would probably take decades for her to come to terms with the atrocities she had committed during the war. It had already taken him some time to really see the female underneath the Hind and to realize how many sacrifices she had made.

He was about to try and comfort her again when she continued, “Back when you were – before we ended this war, when we could only truly see each other over our connection, your love felt like fog invading my mind.”

She looked up again and despite the tears still running down her cheeks, she smiled and it made his heart slightly lighter. Solas, he would never get enough of it. A genuine smile was still a rather rare occurrence and every time he saw it he knew that the pain had been worth it. And he would go through all of it again if it meant preserving that smile.

“It made it almost impossible to think and keep the mask up. It was everywhere, in every shard left of my heart, in every crack of my crashed soul. But it reassured me. I knew that no matter what happened, I had your love. Towards the end, it was the only thing keeping me together. And even now, or maybe especially now, it mends my heart.”

Ruhn was at a loss for words. He wanted to reply something that could show just how important she was to him, something that would prove his love. But he knew how impossible it was to put the enormity of his love into words.

Instead, he softly kissed her, their lips barely brushing, as if any more touch would be too violent and break both of them. Lidia put her hand on his cheek and kissed him again. It conveyed all the feelings neither of them couldn’t express in words. It contained all of their love, and it that moment, there was nothing but Lidia. She was all fire, and he was shadows. They weren’t opposites that were attracted to each other. On the contrary, they completed each other and created something new, something whole. They were two sides of the same coin.

When at last they pulled away, Ruhn smiled as well and said, “After everything we went through, we both deserve a happy end.”

Lidia chuckled sadly and sunk back down on her pillow, without taking her eyes of him. She said, “Happy ends don’t exist.”

Ruhn knew that she was right. He had suffered more than enough to know that no matter how much both of them healed, they would never be truly free. Fairytales always made it sound so easy. The prince and the princess found each other, and their love magically fixed everything. But this wasn’t a fairytale, and while Ruhn was a prince, he didn’t feel like it. No, they were both damaged, maybe broken beyond repair. But it didn’t matter; they understood each other and when he looked at her, a happy ending didn’t seem all that impossible.

#house of sky and breath #crescent city #sjm #sjm spoilers #hosab #hosab spoilers #cc hosab #ruhn danaan #the hind #lidia cervos #agent daybright #daynight #ruhnlidia

[xoxo-bunnydumpling]

We were planning on being fancy but there was a BBQ shack on the way to the sushi place and we got lured in. We are both entirely overdressed, sitting outside at a picnic table adorned with Christmas lights. His button-up comes off and he's all set to get sauce all over his white undershirt.

"That's why I have no white clothes." It's 100% fact, I don't even own a white bra.

"Barbeque sauce, specifically?"

"Yeah. Never know when you're gonna need to stop and eat ribs."

I'm really going for these ribs tho. The good thing about being married is that it's past time to care about decorum. It's already legal, he's already been divorced once...he's not leaving because I got Sweet Baby Ray's on my earlobe.

He braces himself, nearly stuffed already but continuing to plow through a mountain of brisket. "Man...I'm getting the meat sweats. We might end up too full to fool around tonight."

"We've got the rest of our lives."

"Mmhmm."

We have an amalgam of things in front of us. We never know what we want and like to try everything. I know I bitch about the south but I don't know any other region in this country that will give you half a loaf of white bread with your BBQ...and like, 8 different sauces. I'm reminded of just how white my husband is when he sweats through a quarter of a hot link, declaring it "holy shit hot".

"Taco trucks in Cali would murder you."

He smiles as much as he can with his mouth full, and after swallowing tells me he'd still like to find out.

My grandparents are moving here, from California, and being old folks, need some help packing up their house and trucking all their stuff here. They've never met Eli before, so they didn't ask him to help, but when he talked my grandpa through setting up his webcam to video chat and also taught him how Skype works, he was excited to be able to see them and talk to them. The first Skype call we had with them, he BEGGED them to let him help them move.

"You see these biceps? They were made for moving furniture. I LIKE lifting stuff. Please?"

The plans are tentative. We both forgot about my surgery. Shouldn't conflict, but it might. Honestly, after my grandparents are here I have no reason to ever go back...so I'd like to show Eli around the place where I had the most normal portion of my life. I need to walk him through the desert at midnight, listening for the coyotes and mountain lions, have him smell the combination of dust and dairy that's strong enough to haunt my dreams. I'd just like him to know where I'm from.

"Have you thought any more about going up to Minnesota for Thanksgiving? Jeremy said it's your year, so we can take Red. He's gotta see Paul Bunyan and Babe, just has to."

He jostles me out of a daydream about cacti and drought and I realize we've never been to where he grew up either.

"I'd love to. You'll show me all your old haunts?"

"Of course, I've been wanting to take you both up there basically since we met. Shelby didn't like to travel so...I haven't been in a long time. Fair warning though..."

Oh, this should be good. "Okayyyy?"

"Mama WILL make you learn how to make the traditional Jewish brisket. If you're very strongly in the turkey only camp, you might be disappointed."

"You know what? Fuck turkey."

He raises his glass bottle of Cheerwine (I feel very strongly the people who own this place are not from this state. I've only ever seen Cheerwine in Georgia and North Carolina) for a toast. "Fuck turkey, indeed."

#hot librarian chronicles #husband material #barbeque #hotel weekend #southern summers #southern life #california dreaming

[the-ukrainian-giraffe]

I have learned two things today. First and foremost...my wife, tiny little gal that she is, has the pain tolerance of a chorus line of berserkers. Secondly, I can, in fact get so angry that I see red. Always thought that was a myth.

Several months ago, we had some appointments with a fertility specialist and she had some separate ones with her usual OB/GYN and GP in turn. I was with her when she told them both that every time she had her cycle she'd experience extremely heavy bleeding, sweating, cramping so bad it kept her bedridden, and pain EVERYWHERE that was so bad she'd occasionally black out. I was there with her when they looked her in her 35 and has been having her period since she was 11 year old face and told her it was fucking normal and that she should just lose some weight about it.

She was ovulating predictably and to them that meant there was nothing wrong with her. But three and a half weeks ago, in the middle of making dinner, she dropped. One moment I was watching her make pasta and the next, she's on the ground. There is something uniquely terrifying about trying to pick your knocked out wife off the ground while a pool of blood collects around her. I may not have a uterus of my own, but my mother and sisters did not allow me to grow up ignorant of how things work and even as a dumb ass man I know...that amount of blood is not normal.

I don't believe in miracles, typically, but I have to think the fact that she received the ONLY female doctor at the emergency room was fated somehow. It is only because of this that the biopsies and imaging that should have been ordered before, were finally ordered. The fear in her voice when she appealed to this woman to please help her, still haunts me. After 3 extremely long and stressful weeks we know my wife does NOT have cancer again. Yes. again. They also looked her in her cancer survivor face and told her that her concerns for her health were just her being hysterical and that she's also too fat. NOT that she has all the classic signs and symptoms of endometriosis, which is what she was finally diagnosed with today.

She tells me she's been told this bullshit for years and I cannot get the thought out of my head that they could have killed my wife, easily. They could have put her off so long that it was too late. It happens all the time, it's happened to friends of hers. She's lived for years afraid she'd be the next one to be medically neglected to death.

I would be hard pressed to find anything in this world I love more than my wife. The way we met was insane, a once in a lifetime thing, and I must admit I fear losing her sometimes for no reason at all aside from my well documented anxiety disorder. But being given a solid reason, that neither one of us has any control over, by people who swore an oath to do no harm but have absolutely done so, has made me more angry than I have ever been in all my 42 years.

She's sitting on the couch, hugging the dog, insisting that she will be fine. In less than a week, it begins again. We have a diagnosis now, a treatment plan to come but I can't help but dwell on how much she's suffered, silently, stronger than I could ever dream of being...and the fact that she never should have had to be in the first place.

[hope-urok]

haunted

240317

i notice it is more prominent when i see you. when i don't see you much it still lingers. is that normal?

i don't know if it's because i feel so bad and guilty that it's haunting me. isn't it so dumb that i'm the one that broke it off and then when we tried again i started dating 3 months after? or maybe i'm just living my life? i can't hold myself against getting into a relationship because we weren't in touch. yes we said waiting but we did also say to keep in touch and it didn't happen. this was so long ago and i'm still thinking about it. i can't help these feelings but surely i can identify what sort of feelings at this point but i really don't know.

is it the lack of closure? because we barely talk i barely know anything about his life at the moment? and i want to be friends again, do i? it's not been like this with anyone else. we're better now but i'm still having the same thoughts.

it's so hard for me to act normal around him. this has been our normal for the past few years. it's a cycle. it's a whole 8 seasons. i liked him early on in our friendship when we first met. but he had a gf. after they broke up, i tried to go for it, we went to ball, i was too forward. i got into a relationship. few years later, he starts to have feelings for me and we start dating soon after i got out of that relationship. he moves down to hastings. it doesn't work. we break up. the next year we have camp, i visit him, things reignite but doesn't continue when i go back home. since then it's been business conversations, awkwardness and ignoring.

what im tryna say is we have not acted like proper friends since before we started dating. even then it was a bit confusing. even then I couldn't talk to him much without feeling things. i remember wanting to distance myself because of my feelings. and now it's the same thing.

for whatever reason, it is a lot of effort, not natural, anxiety-inducing to try talk to you or make a conversation. it's easier when it's about youth. but when I see you I go blank. my brain doesn't work. and yes, it probably is because of our history and I'm nervous to talk to you. not that i still have feelings right? i barely know you now. how can i say i still like you.

to be frank... i miss you. i am jealous of people who can talk to you casually and normally. i want to be one of your closest friends again. i want to know what goes on in your life on a regular basis. but, if you are seeing someone, I don't want to know. at this stage, I could not attend your wedding. there's also the fact that you were in aus during valentines so that's a big tell imo. we'll see how we are in a few years, hopefully, I can get to a place where we can have a pure friendship and I'll be happy for you when you do date or enter the seminary haha.

i do have a feeling that a conversation over coffee would fix this. i guess I'm not mature enough right now. some day. is it pride? a part of me feels it would be selfish to ask to talk if it's just to say I'm sorry and talk things out. it's also been so so long...

there are indicators that i still have feelings. did i not truly heal? the regular dreams i have of you have to stop. every song along the lines of 'the one that got away' hurts. and there must be a reason that love, rosie and the hows of us are my comfort movies. these all feed my delusions.

i never thought that when we separated that we weren't meant to be. i always thought we'd come back to each other. but we're intertwined in each other's lives so much lately and things are still weird so i don't know what that means.

i have to remind myself that i am making this really dramatic in my head. it's probably not that deep. i always say time will tell but shouldn't it be my turn? i don't know if i'll ever be ready for that, i reckon i need to push myself one day. one day....

in the mean time, working on myself sounds really good. i need to prioritise that more. more good habits!

[resmarted]

alright fine, is this what you want? here it is, the weirdly sincere version of me that comes to casually haunt you late into the night, she's right here. did you want me to tell you how i'm scared this is just another trick or too jaded to believe in the niceties of others, that i am beside myself over how pretty you are and that something that once seemed fairly easy to ignore has made its way through the floorboards pounding at my conscience with such ruthless fury? i don't know exactly when this happened, i think it started in very small flickers that i could easily smolder without much thought. i think surely you must interact with everyone this way, that you're just very nice and everyone sees these same shining eyes and has to protect their own hearts accordingly, that perhaps it has been like this since you were a kid and that your mother probably has stories for days about what that was like for all the sweet stupid girls and boys that got overlooked and left behind. i try to make sense of it, water it all down with pure logic, like surely you must feel bad for me or want to put me at ease in some sense of duty as any nice caring person would. surely you knowing me by my government name has hindered your ability to really see me and i can rest easy knowing it's just an extension of grace and generosity with good manners mixed in. i woke up randomly from a dream a few weeks ago where we were talking and could only manage to think huh, that was weird. i didn't want to keep thinking about it. i can't keep doing this to myself, the whole reading too much into things that are not there and overinvesting energy better spent elsewhere. this always happens when i am already stuck on someone else that doesn't give me the time of day, when i am wrapped safely in the cocoon of a delusion so refined that i couldn't possibly make room for anything new. i can never just be normal about things. i need obsessions to keep me going and it usually takes a new one to snap me out of the old, like some strange autistic train hopping from one infatuation to the next, lest i feel dead inside with nothing or no one to aimlessly yearn for and pine over. i can obsess over work and find things to do and people to bide my time with, but i can't unsee you. not lately, anyway. you are invading my thoughts and filling the space in my brain that is usually reserved for dead air and practical affairs. i keep thinking it's still early enough to get a grip, that i can simply meet someone new or find something shiny in the nick of time, that life isn't so bland to the point where i need a constant source of disassociation to mend the wounds of reality - not yet anyway.

jealousy is a disease and everyone around you is dying. you don't even see it. it's a pattern i see in all my favorite people, their humble nature always blocking their sight from all the ways in which people are out to get them, the subtle nonverbal cues and the small minded mentality unbearable to witness by those that actually do care for them. i can't help but suspect people have sabotaged you in similar ways all your life, how envy has wreaked havoc on you in ways you still haven't quite grasped as you're never competing with those determined to beat you at any cost. it's too presumptuous to think someone could be so calculated and vile, and that it only sounds crazy because it is and they are. but what do i know? i've been kept hostage in this cave my whole life while reverend henry kane siphons and harvests my light for personal gain. i've only ever known betrayal and alienation, it's the pure love that is difficult to navigate. it's the unabashed kindness and the rorshach of angelic whimsy all around me all the time, how did that happen? i am trapped in a prism, warm gooey blackberry dreams melting over me and vague memories of summers spent in westerly reading novels that took place in the same towns, wondering how strange it felt to be surrounded by such seemingly normal and decent people. i've lost so many versions of myself over time, so many variations and talents that were suppressed for survival, jumping from timeline to timeline until i can't seem to figure out my age anymore.

people scare me for various reasons, mainly the ones who come too close and want to stake claim, to feed off my energy and hoard it for themselves. i can't deal with anyone else trying to own me, i am still trying to wash the slime off from prior experiences. i am safe in solitude but i can come out to rage and party in these wildly extreme ways before disappearing for lengths of time, and i forget all the time that i'm not a kid anymore. which is weird because i am constantly insisting i have everything handled and i don't need any help! i'm fine i'm fine no really i'm okay it's fine!! it's literally never fine and hasn't been for so long but if i say it out loud then it becomes real and i can laugh off a thousand problems until it eventually becomes funny; a fake it til you make it kind of thing. it is very likely true that i am the evil narcissist monster people love to paint me as, because how dare i like myself, right? how dare i carve a place in this world and defy all odds when it would be easier for everyone if i just crawled back into the hole and stayed put, fall in line and act oh so grateful for anyone to ever possibly give me the time of day, oh my! i didn't survive this life to stay silent and if anything the ones that have tried to keep me in this space for so long had better find a new god to pray to if they know what's good for them. i am not here to bore you with the gory details of a life spent growing up in hospital beds or the disdain with which grown adults would look at me and still do, how people must think it was easy for me to get this far or underestimate all the burning buildings i crawled through on my way here. i hold no resentment about it, nor the desire to relive any of it. i just wanted to tell you i forget i lived through any of it when i look at you and something softens inside of me in a way that is both terrifying and thrilling. i can barely remember the hatred in their voices or the violence or the mockery or the way they thought i never caught on to any of it, how gallantly they cackled like the most pathetic coven of washed up pseudosorcerers as they feigned so poorly a threadbare kinship. all of it washes away when i look at you and for a moment i actually believe in something other than the corruption of tethered souls and the enigmatic greed that only the most clueless pawns in spiritual warfare could succumb to. i look away before i get too lost because i don't really think i can believe it, your charm far too sugary sweet for any of it to be real or reliable, but god do i wish to be fooled.

i hate that i felt my heart drop to my feet or that i even cared enough to let it be more than what it was. i guess if i could go back i wouldn't change anything, and i probably wouldn't go back at all, even if only to look at your face up close once more. i can't handle the obsession, it's not good for my fragile little psyche. i managed to be so good at not caring and then you had to go and fuck it all up and look at me like that. i tell myself you do this shit to all your hoes and that there are likely a dreadful amount, that i am being the exact version of silly according to some sick plan and falling into the trap just as designed. but then you act like a shy idiot and i am into it, i want more even though i hate this stupid game, i hate these little techniques used to reel me in like a beta fish and i want to knock you off a very high horse for daring to get me lured in this far. and i want to stare at you for a while and listen to you talk in that uncontrollable way where you do the thing starting on one topic only to wind up in fifteen other places, and i'm there along for the ride. i am following to every single rest stop, taking every little note, and watching every slightest glimmer in your eyes as you light up like a little kid in emphatic fervor. i can't tell if i want off this ride or if i want to just crash and burn and get it over with already. can't stand not knowing how long this is supposed to last but when i review the omens they seemingly all lead back to you. i was so sure it was someone else back when i wanted so badly for it to be them, and now i can't tell if i'm making it out to be you for the same reason, but the descriptors are eerily accurate and things have already happened as predicted which could not only suggest that this isn't an intricately built snare but perhaps even a safe haven where i am to finally rest my head and sleep soundly without fear for the first time ever. they say there are false twins that will mirror back the things you want them to be, that can mimic the true soul mate and deceive you into falling for the wrong one. i can't help but notice everyone that came before was just a bad imitation of you, terrible actors in a low budget cable movie in hindsight. i don't know if i can handle another fully formed entity posing as all the things i want, i'd rather turn you off completely before anything can even get started. but then what if i throw away the only person that could ever feel like home? all because i'm a superstitious dummy afraid of getting hurt. i am hurt all the time, i suppose there's not much more to be afraid of at this point. but i do know if you were to look away now it might kill me, and even worse, i might enjoy the decay.

#long reads

[mirtifero]

I dont typ e it because i lack the emergy ans my head hirts. Funnn fun fun fun fun i want to kill myself i wished i was dead isnt it funnt isnt it so fucking funny i love saying that bevause it doesnt feel serious right everyone feels rhat everyone doed ! Why would you care if i said i was going to kill myself. Im a hysteric little bitch an annoying ass teenager i think too much i live in my own dumb world and jmahine things tjay arw nkr eeal ams make everyone angrynat em and eberuone LEAVES Isnt that funy isnt it. It is funny it has to be. Kt need s to be funnt. Im hysteric and thats why no one tales me seirlusly . If i wastn tlike this people would take me seriously. Ah yes thank you for your interesting imput nook ineed to say it like a weird bitch i cannot be normal for fucjs asake i thi k im always rigth i thing k im always correct and i al2aus always need everyothing to be funnt and good and everything has to have hope i. Jt because it NEEDS to because otherwise i will DIE. the ghosts of people who left because thwy couldnt care leas about ne haunt me and j think abkut them coming back and laughing at me all the time. Everyone laughts at me. Its so easy to laugh at someone whk wants to be funny all the time. Isnt it funny. I find it funnt. Im laughing rght now. Shsoukd ng i?every noght i dream i cant speak i cant breathe i cant move and everuone laughs at me and everyone thisnks im crazy. And every dream i see people loving me and laughing bevause they KNOW they wont coome backk they are GONE . I cant do anything right

Its been 24 days since winter break statterx. 24 days. 24 days and i STILL FWEL LIKE THIS. I STILL FEEL LIKE THIS. AJBQQNBS ISNT IT AMAZING. ????? . GOD IM SO STUPID.

Im just on my period oh im just a teenager oh itll pass im justt FINE. EVERYONE feels like this. Everyone has a perdect body and perfwct everything and looks in the mirror and feels like a hysteric ugly weak bitch and thinks why am I even trying. I habe what? More than a year clean. Provavly more than one year and a half. And i still dream about cutting myself in front of people i think about BEGGING to be listened to I dream of BEGGING to be HEARD.

But my psychologist is right everything is OKAY

I'm just a teenager.

It will go away

I need to wait

I need to wait

I' normal im just like any other girl.

Perhaps as hysteric as any other girl. As fake as any other. Im just like the ones who bullied and abused me.

I just need to wait

EVERYONE feels like this. EVERYONE commits suicide in most of their dreams. EVERYONE is horrified and thinks about how everyone is going to leave them. EVERYONE WANTS TO DIE. AND EVERYONE. EVERYONE. IS STUPID AND WILL NEVER EVER EVER EVER BE LISTENED TO BECAUSE THEY ARE A HYSTERIC PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT WHO CANT DO ANYTHING RIGHT AND IS JUST EMBARRASSING AND EMBARRASSING AND A LITTLE KID WHOS EMBARRASSING TO EVERYONE AND I AM JUST TROUBLE AND I AM just. I just. I wanted to have just died back then. I wanted to have just died before I discovered that life can be better. I didn't need hope. I feel forever tired. No amount of winter breaks will fix this. No growing up will. And if it will I'll kill myself for it. Because it's just too embarrassing to lie. And I'm not lying. I'm not. I'll kill myself. I'll kill myself if I was lying. I'm not lying. I'm not exagerating im not being dramatic im not im not im not i just want people to HEAR me. I just want to be heard. Please. Please . Please. Please. Im so sorry. Please. Please. I hate myself and all that i get embarrassed for. I hate evrything i am. I hate how i cant seem to do anything. Im a liar. Im a liar im a dirty liar. Please. Please.

[shitty-drawer]

👻🎃OCs as Horror Tropes🎃 👻

/j

Hola again :D!

My friend @bunniletto tagged me for this one, and it was really cool!

As always- I will ramble about what I think the results could mean- so, you can ignore that if you want to! Bible of text incoming-

Thanks for stopping by!!!!

Valentina: Isekai

.:The Killer:.

"Was there ever a choice ? Maybe, but that fork in the road is far, far behind you.

You surround yourself now with sharp things, tools to harm, and they have become your only family. You are the thing that goes bump in the night, and you hunt for scurrying mice like a hungry cat.

Maybe, just maybe, though, one can finally put an end to your hunt, and allow you to finally rest."

Oh shit-

Interesting...well this fits with me becoming a werewolf in Skyrim...and especially with me desperatly protecting all my characters in their respective games (since they are the Protagonists of each one)

I guess the end of my hunt is the team of Modded followers in Skyrim, since they protect me at all costs from...well, everything. They are doing the job that I normally always did...

Valentino: Shivering Isles

.:The Sacrifice:.

"A knife to your back is your first memory- it will also be your last.

You cannot help but let things into your heart, such is your nature. Time and time again, however, they hurt you and leave you to rot. But your heart remains open, and you continue to let more in.

Is it kindness, at that point, or is it sacrifice ?"

I actually wanted this one or Monster for him, so WOHOOOOOO, suffer young one.

It's obvious everyone in Oblivion is off to fend for themselfs, but Val still feel the need to protect the ones around him, be it warriors, daedras or even Princes. They don't show him love, some don't even care about him, but Val still will sacrifice himself for their attention, for their affection, even if it's just a "you're not that bad."

Even if daedra hurt him, threaten him or ignore him, Valentino will follow them, silently, but never ever leaving them alone, to the point of obsession for their acceptance.

Zamira: Last Dragonborn

.:The Monster:.

"It was not your fault- at first, at least. You cannot help being the way you are. And even if you could, would you choose to change ? They met you with torches raised and shouting mouths, the only choice you had was to flee.

But you will not stay away forever. They whisper your name in fear, and you will make sure you hurt them just as much as they hurt you."

I mean, makes sense, they are pretty rude to your dragonborn in Skyrim...

Zamira is an Anti-Hero, for the empire she is a Hero, for the Dark Brotherhood a leader, and the rest of Skyrim has to prey she is not in a bad mood for when they ask something from her.

After getting all the artifacts from the Princes, she has every dark thought from those artifacts trapped in her basement...But Mora...Hermaeus is the stronger one, the one thought and dream that just won't let her rest with her family in peace.

I don't think she will ever act on those thoughts, but she is not the same person she was back in Helgen. She wouldn't hurt the people of Skyrim on purpose...but if they threaten her family, she will not hesitate.

Arvius: Nerevarine

.:The Haunted House:.

"Decrepit and falling apart at the seams; time has not been kind to you, has it? Termites have nestled in your bones, and stray cats find comfort in your sinews. You may be victim to time and erosion, but your abandoned corpse remains a refuge for unwanted things. Vermin and ghosts thank you.

What greater kindness can there be than offering shelter?"

I feel this in...he has accepted being the Nerevarine, it hurts, it's lonely, sometimes you want someone to come and fix you, help you...but even after all of what happend, even if you are broken, the people he saved, the experiences he gained, how he bacame stronger and learned to stand up for himself...it was a nice feeling, he helped people, and freed a WHOLE nation in the end.

So it's a bittersweet feeling for him, just like the haunted house.

Emilian: Hero of Kvatch

.:The Ancient Evil:.

"They have wronged you. Perhaps, once, you were something powerful– something to be looked at with adoration and worship and fear.

But time does not yield to you, and when you lay to sleep, you awake to find yourself forgotten. Your rage is insatiable.

No matter what, you will make sure they do not forget this time."

OHOHOHOH HOLY SHI-

I MEAN THIS MAKES SENSE, THE THALMOR TOOK CREDIT FOR THE OBLIVION CRISIS

So the sacrifice of Martin and Emilian was forgotten, and now that Emilian is Sheogorath, I CAN JUST- JUST IMAGINE, THE MOMENTS WHERE EMILIAN HAS CONTROL, WHERE HE COMES BACK, AND SEES WHAT HE BECAME- AND HOW NO ONE CARES- LIKE SBKSFBSI oh my god,,,,,,I need to make a drawing of this

But yes! That would be all! Thank you so much if you've read this far 😭

I hope you have a good day/night!!!

#My OCs #self interest #isekai #OC: Zamira (LDB) #OC: Arvius (Nerevarine) #OC: Emilian (HoK) #OC: Valentino #tes #tag game