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queer-geordie-nerd · 11 months

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I talk about Mira a lot, and I’m doing so again 🤷🏻‍♀️

She was a beautiful woman, and a powerful and talented actor and writer, no doubt, but much more importantly, I feel, she was also a woman of vast and deep integrity - she fought against injustice and nationalism/racism all of her life and her principled and public stance against the war and ethnic divisions in Yugoslavia cost her dearly and yet, it was a position she never ever moved away from and believed in profoundly. It is very easy to have principles when they are not being tested, and another thing entirely to stake your very life on those principles.

Even when her stance cost her her home, her career, and her friendships, and the enormous amount of threats against her life forced her to leave her country, she never once backed down from her belief in unity and cooperation.

The anti war essay she wrote and published as she fled is still one of the most powerful pieces of writing I’ve ever read and I am going to post it here in its entirety because it is fierce and amazing:

Letter to my co-citizens

I hereby wish to thank my co-citizens who have joined so unreservedly in this small, marginal, and apparently not particularly significant campaign against me. Although marginal, it will change and mark my whole life. Which is, of course, totally irrelevant in the context of the death, destruction, devastation, and blood-chilling crimes within which our life now goes on.

This is happening, however, to the one and only life I have. It seems that I’ve been chosen for some reason to be the filthy rag everyone uses to wipe the mud off their shoes. I am far too desperate to embark on a series of public polemics in the papers. I do, however, feel that I owe myself and my city at least a few words. Like at the end of some clumsy, painful love story, when you keep wanting, wrongly, to explain something more, even though you know at the bottom of your heart that words are wasted; there is no one left to hear them. It is over.

Listening to my answering machine, to the incredible quantities of indescribably disgusting messages from my co-citizens, I longed to hear at least one message from a friend. Or not even a friend, a mere acquaintance, a colleague. But there was none. Not a single familiar voice, not a single friend. Nevertheless, I am grateful to them, to those noble patriots who kindly promise me a “massacre the Serbian way”; and to those colleagues, friends, and acquaintances who, by remaining silent, are letting me know that I cannot count on them any more.

I am grateful also to all my colleagues in the theatre with whom I played Drzic, Moliere, Turgenev, and Shaw, I am grateful to them for their silence, I am grateful to them for not even trying to understand, let alone attempting to vindicate, my statement concerning my appearance at the BITEF Festival in Belgrade, the statement in which I tried to explain that taking part in that production at that moment was for me a defense of our profession which must not and cannot put itself in the service of any political or national ideas, which must not and cannot be bound by political or national limits because it is simply against its nature, which must, even at the worst of times, establish bridges and ties. In its very essence it is a vocation which knows no boundaries.

I know that all this talk about the cosmopolitanism of art seems inappropriate at a moment like this. I know that it may seem out of place to swear to pacifism, to swear to love and to the brotherhood of all peoples while people are dying, while children are dying, while young men are returning home crippled and mangled forever.

How can I say anything which won’t sound like an ill-fitted nonsense at the moment when, for absolutely unfathomable reasons, Dubrovnik is being threatened, the city where I played my favorite role, Gloria?

But I have no other way of thinking. I cannot accept war as the only solution, I cannot force myself to hate, I cannot believe that weapons, killing, revenge, hatred, that such an accumulation of evil will ever solve anything. Each individual who personally accepts the war is in fact an accessory to the crime; must he not then take a part of the guilt for the war, a part of the responsibility?

In any case, I think, I know and I feel that it is my duty, the duty of our profession, to build bridges. To never give up on cooperation and community. Not the national community. The professional community.

The human community. And even when things are at their very worst, as they are now, we must insist to our last breath on building and sustaining bonds between people. This is how we pledge to the future.

And one day it will come. For my part, until recently I was willing to endure all manner of problems in transportation, communication, and finances to trek the 20 hours across Austria and Hungary between Zagreb and Belgrade. I was willing to use risky, even dangerous modes of travel, just to keep holding my performances in the two warring cities, to appear at precisely 7:30 on stage with my Zagreb or Belgrade colleagues and to alternate Corneille and Turgenev for the sake of professional continuity, for the sake of something that would outlive this war and this hatred which is so foreign to me. Time and time again I was willing to make my life a symbol of a pledge to the future which must be waiting for us, until that day when some ardent patriot finally does slaughter me as so many have promised to do.

I was willing and I would still be willing to undertake all and any efforts, if the hatred hadn’t suddenly overwhelmed me with its horrendous ferocity, hatred welling from the city I was born in. I am appalled by the force and magnitude of that hatred, by its perfect unanimity, by the fact that there was absolutely nobody who could see my gesture as my defense of the integrity of the profession, as my attempt to defend at least one excellent theatre performance. I had no intention of acting further in performances outside the BITEF Festival, as I stated in my letter. BITEF as an international theatre event attended by the English, Russians, French, Belgians, and even one Slovene seemed to me worth participating in, especially because any decision not to participate would have meant betraying a performance I had worked on under the most difficult circumstances during the March 9th Belgrade tanks, daily threats of a military coup, etc., etc.

It is terribly sad when one is forced to justification without having done anything wrong. There is nothing but despair, nausea, and horror.

I no longer have any decisions to make. Others have decided for me.

They have decided I must shut up, give up, vanish; they have abolished my right to do my job the way I feel it should be done, they have abolished my right to come home to my own city, they have abolished my right to return to my theatre and act in my performances. Someone decided that I should be fired from my job. Thank you, Croatian National Theatre; thank you, my colleague Dragan Milivojevic, who signed my dismissal slip. I know that lots of people are losing jobs, that I am just one of many, simply part of a surplus work force. I constantly ask myself whether I have any right, at this moment of communal horror, to make any demands of my own. One thing seems certain: I plan for quite some time (how long?) not to perform on any stage in this crumbling, mangled land. Perhaps they needn’t have hurried so in firing me. Perhaps this would have simply taken care of itself. With more decency. And dignity. Not so crudely. Of course, this is not a moment for tenderness. But won’t someone out there have to be ashamed of this? And will this someone necessarily be me, as my fellow actors try to convince me in their orthodox interviews? Can the horror of war be used as a justification for every single nasty bit of filth we commit against our fellow man? Are we allowed to remain silent in the face of injustice done to a friend or a colleague and justify our silence by the importance of the great bright national objective? I ask my friends in Zagreb, who are now silent, while at the same time they condemn Belgrade for its silence.

It is hard to write without bitterness. I would like to be able to do that, because we should “Love Our Enemy.” I wish we all could. Herein perhaps lies the solution for all of us. But I fear that we are very far from the ways of the Lord. His is the way of love. Not hatred.

To whom am I addressing this letter? Who will read it? Who will even care to read it? Everyone is so caught up by the great cause that small personal fates are not important any more. How many friends do you have to betray to keep from committing the only socially acknowledged betrayal, the betrayal of the nation? How many petty treacheries, how many pathetic little dirty tricks must one do to remain “clean in the eyes of the nation?”

I am sorry, my system of values is different. For me there have always existed, and always will exist, only human beings, individual people, and those human beings (God, how few of them there are !) will always be excepted from generalizations of any kind, regardless of events, however catastrophic. I, unfortunately, shall never be able to “hate all Serbs,” nor even understand what that really means. I shall always, perhaps until the moment the kind threats on the phone are finally carried out, hold my hand out to an anonymous person on the “other side,” a person who is as desperate and lost as I am, who is as sad, bewildered, and frightened. There are such people in this city where I write my letter, the city my love took me to, a feeling it seems almost indecent to mention these days. Nothing can provide an excuse any more, everything that does not directly serve the great objective has been trampled upon and appears despicable, and with it what love, what marriage, what friendship, what theatre performances!

I reject, I refuse to accept such a crippling of myself and my own life. I played those last performances in Belgrade for those anguished people who were not “Serbs”; but human beings, human beings like me, human beings who recoil before this monstrous Grand Guignol farce in which dead heads are flying. It is to these people, both here and there, that I am addressing my words. Perhaps someone will hear me.

The punishment meted me by my city, my only city and my theatre, my only theatre, the only theatre I felt was mine, is a punishment I feel I do not deserve. I was working in the way I have always felt I had to work, believing in people and our vocation which is supposed to bring people together, not tear them apart. I will never “give up my Belgrade friends”; as some of my colleagues have, because I do not feel that these friends have in any way brought about this catastrophe which has afflicted us, just as I will not turn my back on my Zagreb friends, not even those who have turned their backs on me. I will try in every way possible to understand their panic, their fear, their bitterness, even their hatred, but I plead for the same dose of understanding for me, that is, for a story which is different than many others, for a life which has deviated, due to the so-called destiny, from the expected and customary. Why must everything be the same, so frighteningly uniform, leveled, standardized? Haven’t we had enough of that? I know this is the time of uniforms and they are all the same, but I am no soldier and cannot be one. I haven’t got it in me to be a soldier, soldiering just isn’t my calling.

Regardless of whether we will be living in one, or five, or fifty states, let us not forget the people, each individual, regardless of which side of this Wall of ours the person happens to be on. We were born here by accident, we are this or that by accident, so there must be more than that, mustn’t there?

I am sending this letter into a void, into darkness, without an inkling of who will read it and how, or in how many different ways it will be misused or abused. Chances are it will serve as food for the eternally hungry propaganda beast. Perhaps someone with a pure heart will read it after all.

I will be grateful to that someone.

Mira Furlan,

From Belgrade and Zagreb, November 1, 1991.

#mira furlan #anti war #this woman was fucking incredible #babylon 5

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dandelion-jester · 9 months

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Writblr Intro:

Hello All!!!

I've been meaning to do a proper intro so better late then never!

Who Am I?

You can call me Dandelion. I'm 22 years old, I use they/them pronouns, I'm English and I am a queer, trans, neurodivergent fantasy writer. I've not had anything published yet but it's my aim.

I have a background in theatre and circus so performing arts tend to turn up in my work. I also love making maps and studying conlangs! I do a lot of art and reading as hobbies, but my favourite pass time is playing dnd!

What Do I Write?

I write mainly fantasy, but also scifi and historical fiction. I also dabble in poetry and I would like to learn how to write for games and screen at some point. For now though, it's all novel writing as far as the eye can see.

My favourite trope to write is found family (I blame all the dungeons and dragons I play). I also write a lot of queer characters and try to diversify my casts as much as possible. My work tends to be very character driven although I do love world building a lot, especially building different cultures and places. I'm best st dialogue and really struggle with building plots. I also have a deep love for history, specifically the 1700s and Anglo saxon - medieval Britain, so that's usually finds its way into my work as well.

You can find my work on Patreon here

What Do I Read?

Unsurprisingly, it's mostly fantasy. I used to read over 100 books a year, but university has made me hit a massive reading slump. So the main thing keeping me going right now is Robin Hobb. I also listen to a lot of audiobooks.

My WIPs:

Information on my current work is under the break!!

Feypocalypse

Feypocalypse is a queer, fantasy horror comic set in medieval England following the events of a Fey Apocalypse in the 1300s. It follows a group of knights trying to survive in a world that has been turned into a Fey hunting ground, whilst protecting the Changeling child they accidentally adopted. The current plan is eight issues, to be published on Patreon and then printed as a complete novel at the end! It will be written by myself and illustrated by my amazing co-creator @withlovefromthecrowss.

The Legend of The Rat Bastards (vols. 1 & 2)

I recently finished playing in a Curse of Strahd campaign that lasted about 2 years and was one of the best dnd experiences of my life. So of course, I decided to write it up in novel form so that I and the other players could always return to it. Our paladin was an extremely detailed note taker so I've been borrowing their notes. It's currently the longest piece of writing I’ve ever done and I add to it every day. It's from the pov of my character, a human necromancer called Sepulcrave who has a pretty crazy character arc and it's my current main WIP, even though its a personal project.

Eye of the Falcon King (working title)

A secondary-world medieval fantasy novel about identity, rebellion, and manipulation. In a world where some few people have the ability to shape-shift into birds, the king seeks out these people to be his personal servants, messengers and spies. Turik is a young boy able to turn into a falcon and becomes a member of the King's circle. But after a tragedy befalls his best friend it begins to become apparent that the king is not as benevolent as he seems and Turik must come to terms with the knowledge that his reality is a lie. This book is about breaking free from manipulative forces, the ways invisible disabilities are ignored and pushed aside, and mostly about how the monarchy is terrible. Also queer people because all my stories have queer characters.

Otherlings (working title)

It's 1875 and Eliza Farthing's twin brother Alexander has just reappeared in her life after seven years. Except he's not her twin, he's her changeling. And Eliza isn't always Eliza, sometimes he's Francis. The world's of the two twins - one fey, one queer - are about to become very intertwined against their wishes. The two have to fight against their family, the police, a morally corrupt scientist, inter-community distrust, and their own dislike for each other, or both of them will never regain the lives they so desperately need and desire. Also there's a circus. The book deals with identity, secrecy, hatred, and community. It's a book about found family, about accepting yourself and others, about not needing to be seen to exist and be worth something. Mostly it's about sticking together despite your differences.

So that's my current WIPs! I'll add more as I get them, but that's all for now! Thank you for taking an interest in my work and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to send me an ask :)

Tags I use

#legend of the rat bastards, #eye of the falcon king, #ask dandelion-jester #feypocalypse #otherlings novel

#writblr #writeblr #writeblr intro #intro #wips #my wips #writer #author #writing #legend of the rat bastards #eye of the falcon king #feypocalypse #otherlings novel

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stillgotme · 3 months

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Been pretty quiet the past month and I don't know if there's really anyone that's still stuck around to see what I do next, but I'm still here! And the reason I haven't been posting as much is because I've been planning and I’m here to make some quick announcements for how 2024’s gonna go on this blog moving forward.

First things first....Karaoke Secrets is going on hiatus and this was what I was embarrassed to say because this story has barely taken off yet I’ve already had two big gaps in between posts and we still haven’t gotten anywhere. Oof.

I admit, I kinda went overboard with adding a third story when I haven’t even finished the other two. Not to mention, because this one was more driven by fun and me needing a break from my usual stuff, I’ve faced the realization that this story isn’t as developed. It’s why I unfortunately hit a creative wall with it and along with the struggle of trying to do 3 stories at once, my inspo just isn’t with it at the moment.

Don’t get me wrong, though, I still very much love this story! But I gotta really sit down and figure out an outline for it. I do prefer some sort of structure and I don’t have the full structure yet, so it’s best to put this thing to halt and see what I really want to do with it. Maybe one day when I’ve gotten the inspiration again and I’ve tightened some rough spots, then I can come back to it. For now, it’s on a break. And don’t worry, you will still see Risa and Akira every once in a while when I do some edits. I hope you understand.

BUT NOW THE GOOD NEWS:

AFTER FOUR LONG YEARS, REDEMPTION IS FINALLY MAKING A RETURN. Now, despite my lack of storytelling since the pandemic, I’m letting you all know that in the background I never actually stopped writing. I was still going over scenes for this story, writing dialogue, even going back to old scenes and writing in depth prose for them to get more in touch with my characters.

This story is so dear to me and the inspiration has called me for the past few months. And thanks to the lovely people in the writing discord I’ve joined, that storytelling spark has finally come back. What held me back was the worry over Karaoke Secrets, but I needed to stop forcing myself to treat this like a job and follow my inspo.

So we’re picking up where we left off. To new and old readers, I will do a summary post that tells you the story so far. I understand not everyone has the time to sit down and read and you are in no way obligated to do that so you’ll have the option to get a recap. That way we’re all on the same page by the time the story returns. And if you do wanna read from the beginning, be my guest!

Thank you to everyone that’s taken the time to read this and stick around. I understand I’ve been so messy with storytelling lately because of real life, but it really feels different now. I’m genuinely excited to get back to telling this story that’s been in my head since 2018 and hope you’ll join me in this crazy journey (again). And shoutout to the writing group for giving me the motivation. It may not have seemed like much, but your support has led me to fully get my storytelling back out there.

I love you all 💖

#💖💖💖💖💖#cannot thank you all enough for dealing with me lmao #aliya.txt

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acacia-may · 24 days

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From the excerpt ask game, could you answer 15, 16, and 17? 💖

Aww thank you so much, Erika! I'd love to answer your questions and share some excerpts as part of the ask game! 🥰

15. An excerpt from an old piece that I like

After reading your awesome Fairy Tail thoughts (thank you again for sharing those by the way!), I wanted to choose an excerpt from one of my Fairy Tail fics for you. I don't have any Jerza, but I do have some Mystwalker (Edo Jerza) and hope that'll do 😅 This excerpt is from "More Than My Life" which was my very first Fairy Tail fanfiction and is over a year old (so I'd consider it an old piece, especially since I never really talk about it) ^^

"I’ve failed in my duty to protect you, Your Majesty.” Erza Knightwalker hung her head but could hear King Jellal hum thoughtfully. “I suppose that is one way of looking at it.” “With all due respect, Your Majesty, what other way is there?” she questioned, glancing up at him again with a slight tilt of her head. The corners of his mouth twitched just barely with that thoughtful, almost imperceptible smile she had come to recognize after years as his most trusted bodyguard. In many ways it seemed saved only for her and those moments when she was far more frank with him than a servant should be with their king. “That I succeeded in my duty to protect you.” “Your Majesty, if you are the one protecting me, I have no right to call myself your bodyguard. It is almost nonsensical. When your subjects learn I have allowed you to be injured in my place, they will insist I be stripped of my rank of Captain in your Royal Army and perhaps even imprisoned or banished for treason.” As something almost affectionate passed over his eyes, King Jellal tilted his head. “I think they will understand.” “Your Majesty, your people are not as forgiving as you.” Erza sighed. “Though they are good people, they are also reasonable ones. They will never understand why their king would risk his life to protect his bodyguard.” “Perhaps,” King Jellal admitted quietly; however, his expression softened. “But I can only hope they will understand why their king would risk his life to protect the woman he loves.”

16. An excerpt from a recent piece i want to brag about

You are too kind to me, Erika! I feel bad I don't have any recent pieces from our shared fandoms, but if you will indulge me, I would love to ramble about "Under The Weather," to you specifically because this relationship is my "finding love again when it didn't seem possible" oc x cc pairing (ala your Nacsele, and you know how I passionately I feel about that kind of love story). Again, I apologize for choosing an excerpt from a fandom you're not in, but I just wrote this story for my birthday back in February and am so proud of it and this scene in particular because I think it means my romance writing is getting better...maybe? (I mean it's still one of those, "wow I can't believe I wrote this" things and they'd both swear they're just friends here...so it's ambiguously romantic(?) (I guess?) but it's an extremely slow burn so I feel like it's appropriate to be subtle). Anyways, I hope you'd have an appreciation for the vibes at least, and I chose from a portion of the story with no specific spoilers for OMORI or anything. ^^

“Lorraine has nothing but nice things to say about you,” he admitted with a slight smile. “She’s always telling me how smart, driven, and beautiful you are. How you’re strong and honest but so kind, so much softer than you want people to know. She says you’d make a great girlfriend.” Hero blushed. That last part had just slipped out—he probably wouldn’t have said it, if he wasn’t so feverish, but Zoey just laughed. “My sister said that to you?” She sighed, rolling her eyes somewhat affectionately but the look in them was genuinely guilty. “Sorry. I’ll talk to her.” As he coughed, Hero shook his head. “No, it’s…it’s okay. She’s right…” His voice trailed, distant and breathy, but he couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out of his mouth, “You are all of those things, and if you did ever want to date someone, that person would be very lucky…” “Not nearly as lucky as the person who gets your heart, Mr. Prince.” Even though Hero was sure she was only teasing him, his face flushed anyway—burning to the tips of his ears. He pursed his lips together, then stared down at his hands on the duvet. “It’s pretty broken…I’m not sure it’s much of a prize anymore,” he mumbled, trying his best to play along despite the sadness that crept into his words. He bit his lip, but he felt her warm, gentle hand reach out to take his. He couldn’t look at her face, but he felt her squeeze his hand, heard her voice—quiet but sincere. “I don’t think that’s true.” As he took a long, shallow breath, Hero shivered, but he wasn’t sure it was from the fever.

17. An excerpt from an unpublished WIP

This is an excerpt from "Something...Happened..." which is a Black Clover WIP I never finished. Noelle is the POV character, and the story takes place when the Black Bulls are combing through Gordon's observation diaries trying to find any information that might help Asta when he is put on trial after the Elf Arc only for silly shenanigans to ensue. It was fun to write, but I think I got distracted by other projects before I finished it...😅 Here's a snippet though ^^

Noelle began to skim looking for anything interesting but it was just the same old, same old. Shopping. Visiting with the vendors. Nothing new or exciting and certainly nothing that is remotely relevant to Asta. After about 4 more pages at the market, Gordon finally returned back to the Hideout. When I returned from the market with our groceries, Vanessa was busy setting the table. Captain Yami decided that we were going to have a special dinner to celebrate our very first mission where we caused no accidental casualties and didn’t earn a negative star. Noelle paused. So they were earning negative stars even back then, huh? No wonder the squad was in such bad shape when she had joined. Captain Yami bought some nice bottles of wine for the occasion, and he is even going to let Finral have some. Captain Yami said that since Finral recently turned eighteen, he should be responsible enough to drink in moderation. Vanessa is particularly curious since she wasn’t allowed to drink in the Forest of Witches, even though she says Her Majesty the Queen of Witches is very fond of red wine. She says she is very excited to finally get to have some. Noelle snorted. She bet she was—considering how fond she was of drinking these days. It was almost comforting somehow to see that her squad mates hadn’t changed much over the years. She had almost expected them to be a little bit different since she was given such an old observation diary. But no, Gordon was still awkward. Vanessa was still friendly. Finral was still a flirt, and Captain Yami still didn’t put up with anyone’s nonsense. It didn’t make for as interesting reading as one would think though. We all sat down for dinner—was the last sentence on this page, but when Noelle turned to the next her brow furrowed. This couldn’t be right… I managed to trap the goat in the bathroom. Then, I gently tied a rope around its collar and led it down to the basement where Captain Yami keeps his magical beasts. The goat seemed scared but there was another cage down there that would keep her safe. Noelle blinked. What? She flipped back to the previous page. Boring dinner. She flipped forward. Goat drama. It didn’t make sense—at least until she noticed the remnants of some pages that appeared to be ripped out.

#fairy tail fic snippets #black clover fic snippets #omori-fic snippets #erika 💙#mystwalker my lovelies

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lavoixhumaine · 6 months

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Before anything else—I don’t know if you will see this but I want to thank everyone who left the kindest and most supportive messages and replies. Thank you sincerely from the bottom of my heart.

To @rainedamodred and @bestbuddybobby — I wouldn’t have made it through without you both.

Now…

I’ve been contemplating what to write here for the last twelve hours.

When I say the past two weeks have been the most difficult in my entire life, that is not an exaggeration. It’s been…hell, honestly.

My husband was diagnosed with an arrhythmia over two years ago. Didn’t sound good but it wasn’t uncommon, but he was a special case, as we were told because on top of being unnaturally tall for our people, he apparently also had an unnaturally large heart…literally. We were presented with options that we were told we could delay due to the pandemic and our concerns regarding safety in authorizing a rather complicated operation during what felt like a perilous time…

The pandemic didn’t really end but it eased. We went in for a checkup. They said it was okay so far as long as he wasn’t feeling any different. He said he was fine. I believed him.

So we thought we had time. We thought this year we could get back on track after the hellacious last couple of years. Get back to what passed for normal, start traveling again, see old friends, revisit our favorite places, hit up our old haunts…

We scheduled him for surgery the beginning of next year…but I suppose fate had other plans.

My husband flatlined twice in the last couple of weeks. He was brought back both times but not without cost. They tried different medications. There were heavy discussions on what options were available. The idea of a heart transplant was offered but waiting for a new heart meant…well, you have some idea, yes? There was no way he could travel for treatment. His heart was going insane…hitting over 200 beats per minute, erratically bouncing from 90 to 145 in a blink…it was a mess.

I coped by not coping…I ended up breaking so many things in our home…a table, a glass wall and whatever I could get my hands on. The floors looked like they were littered with glittering diamonds by the time I was through…so much glass everywhere. It was the only way I could pull myself back together and return to the hospital without falling apart and screaming at someone.

And the goddamn crying…it came and went and I kept waiting to run out of tears but I never did.

I had my mothers and aunts calling from all over in different timezones and at first, I answered but then I would cry more because they cared and they kept offering…kindness and comfort. They wanted to come and be there but I couldn’t imagine keeping up a facade to yet another group of people when I’m busy trying not to fall apart and be The Wife.

And listening to them trying to give me comfort…somehow that was enough to trigger disgusting crying jags that helped nobody and just made a mess out of me. I stopped taking calls. I couldn’t keep my shit together when I kept falling apart at the sound of a caring voice.

For the first time in almost ten years, I was alone. In all the time I’ve been with my husband, I have never been alone…that broke something inside me.

He’s the calm voice, he’s the adult in the room, he makes the decisions, he is the one person that can talk me down from whatever insane cliff I’ve driven myself to…and suddenly, there was just silence.

It reached a point where I was the only one left to make decisions because he couldn’t anymore…his doctors all agreed the best option was to perform a cardiac ablation and implant a device that would be connected to his heart—a defibrillator with a pacemaker backing.

At that point, I was too exhausted mentally, emotionally and psychologically…I said yes to whatever they felt was best. They let me pick and choose off a menu which piece of technology to put next to his heart like I was in an Apple launch event. It was all so…fucking surreal.

Wasn’t it only a few days ago we were celebrating his birthday? He’s only fucking forty-one.

Between the harsh reality that I might lose my husband and the unrelenting conflicts that kept intruding upon an already terrible situation by way of his family…I was barely keeping myself together. I couldn’t even go home anymore and break things…I was that close to breaking things in the hospital but then how would that look if word got out?

I was too scared to go home…too scared I’ll leave and he would slip away.

It’s just the kind of thing he would do…leave without telling because he thinks that would hurt me less. Fuck, sometimes he’s also a dumbass but he is my dumbass, okay?

After I was able to make a decision that would alter his life while hopefully saving it…within twenty-four hours, the device was flown in as well as the specialist that would perform the surgery. Almost two weeks of agony and suddenly, an OR was booked, the doctors were lining up and introducing themselves, discussing their roles in the operation, explaining how it was all going to go down, the technician was making a presentation on how the device would save him on a daily basis while I was too punch drunk to process the information, the anesthesiologist was talking about how they expected things to go, critical care was throwing in his two cents, the cardiologist was trying to reassure me that he would be okay within twenty-four hours after the procedure and he will be able to go home just like that…

It happened so fast, it left my head spinning.

He’s home now. It’s not a fun experience and recovery will take time, but he’s alive and that’s really all that fucking matters.

Right now, I’m dealing with residual bullshit with his family…his sister who is a neurotic passive aggressive piece of work and his mother who seems to have no problem showing him how much she hates him right now…his father continues to be the kindest of them.

I loved and adored these people last month.

One of my aunts said I should not stew in my anger and hold resentment in my heart…that I should give all my negative feelings to God and ask Him to help me continue to love and honor them as I have been doing from the beginning. Ask God to help me keep my love for them so I will not be clouded and remember they are my family…

I told her to call me again next week and try again.

Right now, I just want to get my house back in order and help my husband with his recovery. Get our lives back to where it should be. Find some kind of normal that works for this new us.

I’m trying to channel my rage into more useful outlets outside of that and do something good because that seems like a much better idea than giving in to the urge to commit arson. I am trying so hard not to acknowledge the rage that I am not quite ready to let go of…

I stopped breaking things—I think I’m on the right track.

I keep reminding myself…

He’s alive. He’s not dead. He’s here. He’s breathing. He’s alive. He’s speaking. He’s right here. He’s alive. He’s here. He’s right here.

He’s alive.

And the silence has gone.

#lavoixhumaine #mine

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fleurdelily · 1 year

Text

— DIABOLIK LOVERS AS SONGS : marina edition

characters. shu, reiji, ayato, kanato, laito, subaru, yui

warnings. suggestive content, dark content

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ SHU SAKAMAKI

family jewels - marina

i can't break the cycle, am i just a fool ?

falling down like dominoes, hit by family jewels

pass it down from kid to kid, the chain will never end

less i decide to go to it, will i see the end ?

oh, don't you find it strange ?

only thing we share is one last name

Did i beat you at your own game ?

typical of me to put us all to shame

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ REIJI SAKAMAKI

are you satisfied ? - marina

it’s not my problem if you don't see what i see

and i do not give a damn if you don't believe

my problem, it's my problem

that i never am happy

it’s my problem, it's my problem

on how fast i will succeed

are you satisfied with an average life ?

do i need to lie to make my way in life ?

high achiever, don't you see ?

baby, nothing comes for free

they say i’m a control freak

driven by a greed to succeed

nobody can stop me

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ AYATO SAKAMAKI

oh no - marina

don’t do love, don't do friends

i’m only after success

don’t need a relationship

i’ll never soften my grip

one track mind, one track heart

if i fail, i'll fall apart

maybe it is all a test

cause, i feel like i’m the worst

so i always act like i’m the best

if you are not very careful

your possessions will possess you

tv taught me how to feel

now real life has no appeal

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ KANATO SAKAMAKI

obsessions - marina

sunday, wake up, give me a cigarette

last night's love affair is looking vulnerable in my bed

silk sheet, blue dawn

colgate, tongue warm

won't you quit your crying?

i can't sleep

one minute, i’m a little sweetheart

and next minute, you are an absolute creep

we’ve got obsessions

i want to wipe out all the sad ideas that come to me, when i am holding you

we've got obsessions

all you ever think about are sick ideas involving me, involving you

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ LAITO SAKAMAKI

teen idle - marina

i wanna be a bottle blonde

i don't know why but i feel conned

i wanna be an idle teen

i wish i hadn't been so clean

i wanna stay inside all day

i want the world to go away

i want blood, guts, and chocolate cake

i wanna be a real fake

feeling super, super, super suicidal

the wasted years, the wasted youth

the pretty lies, the ugly truth

and the day has come where i have died

only to find, i’ve come alive

i wanna be a virgin pure

a twenty-first century whore

i want back my virginity

so i can feel infinity

i wanna drink until i ache

i wanna make a big mistake

i want blood, guts, and angel cake

i’m gonna puke it anyway

i wish i wasn't such a narcissist

i wish i didn't really kiss

the mirror when i’m on my own

oh god, i’m gonna die alone

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ SUBARU SAKAMAKI

numb - marina

i can't breathe, and i can't smile,

this better be worth my while.

i feel numb most of the time,

the more I get the higher,

i’ll climb, and i will wonder why,

i got dark only,

to shine.

far gone families, far gone friends,

that's how it started, and how it ends,

i can't open up and cry, cause i've been saddened all my life.

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ YUI KOMORI

ancient dream in a modern land - marina

our ancestors had to fight to survive

just so we could have a chance of a life

ancient dreams in a modern land

i’m trying to get back as fast i can

back to a time before i had form

back to a time before i was born

you don't have to be like everybody else

you don't have to fit into the norm

you are not here to conform

i am here to take a look inside myself

recognize that i could be the eye, the eye of the storm

i am not my body, not my mind or my brain

not my thoughts or feelings, i am not my DNA

i am the observer, i’m a witness of life

i live in the space between the stars and the sky

#belle’s works ౨ৎ #diabolik lovers ౨ৎ #diabolik boys #diabolik lovers #diahell #laito sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #dl #subaru sakamaki #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #yui komori #diabolik lovers headcanons

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generic-whumperz · 6 months

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Getting way too personal on the Whump blog (of all fucking places) —

I regard the last few years of my life as the best years so far (despite some horrible tragedies) and when my life actually “started.” I asked myself why that was and I realized it’s because I’ve finally been able to freely pursue and throw myself completely into my hyperfixations and I have the adequate space to do so.

If I’m not constantly chasing the highs of mania, I’m just a weird, sad shell of a person anxiously waiting for the blues to go away so I can start pursuing the hit of mania again. I don’t know if this is my anxiety or depression or something else (I suspect I may have OCD but have never been formally diagnosed as I have been with anxiety and depression), but I need to be a crazy obsessive freak to function. I’m like driven solely by the urge of pursuing creative passions. Please tell me someone else can relate lol.

#not whump #idk what im on about #hyperfixation #weird drabble #bitch go to bed #me being a freak #obsessivecore

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kiyfra · 10 months

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Chapter 2 of Scorpio is complete! Can be read here or on AO3. PokéRus AU belongs to @monsoon-of-art

“I can bear scorpion's stings, tread fields of fire, in frozen gulfs of cold eternal lie, be tossed aloft through tracts of endless void, but cannot live in shame.”

——————————————

Ingo had come back to the Pearl Clan settlement and was outside Irida’s tent with the other wardens, all of them baying and scratching at the door as they waited for her to join them.

One by one the infected had lost their minds and turned into monsters, lacking even the nobility of animals. They might have superficially looked like pokémon, but they didn’t contain the spark of understanding and markings of a rich inner soul that real pokémon had.

She was going to be the last to turn after Calaba. The two of them had bunkered down in Irida’s living quarters and spent their remaining time listening as the beasts prowled the deserted camp, breaking into storerooms and rummaging through abandoned tents in their search for food.

They could have easily broken in to get at them; the flimsy tents wouldn’t stand up against several determined alphas. But they merely whined and begged for them to join their pack while the last two remnants of the Pearl Clan could only wait for the inevitable.

“It wasn’t supposed to end like this,” Irida lamented with her face buried in her paws.

The Pearl Clan had dissolved under the young leader’s watch, her people forced to leave the grounds where Almighty Sinnoh had appeared before their ancestors. She wondered where they went after they were sent away, if any of them chose to stay in Hisui or if they had all left for better lives overseas. Did they stick together or did the Pearl Clan disperse across the world, it’s people scattered to the winds?

It had been a close race between her and Paulina to determine a successor to lead the Pearl Clan, with Irida winning out in the end. Paulina had been happy for her, even presenting her with the headpiece she was seldom seen without.

Irida had often secretly believed that the older, more experienced woman that had felt more like a parental substitute than a rival would have made a better clan leader than her. Now she was forced to listen to her whimpering and impatient barking at all hours of the day, demanding to know how she could keep her locked out.

“Rarely do we get a choice in such matters. I thought that I had made my peace with that, but life never manages to stop surprising me,” Calaba said.

There was nearly a century’s worth of lived experience behind her words.

The old warden turned towards the young leader. “You don’t have to be so hard on yourself, I’ve made a real mess of things myself.”

Bitter and paranoid accusations were slung about from people that wanted something or someone to blame. A warden with no Noble to tend to was easy to point fingers at, whether they were a foreigner that kept their pokémon in strange capsules or a Pearl borne that refused to force their Noble’s remaining child to take their place.

Calaba’s insistence that a curse had been brought upon the clans had fuelled nasty infighting in the final weeks leading up to the clan’s exodus. They had latched onto her words in the absence of any other explanations and the old warden had inadvertently turned a member of the Pearl Clan into a pariah.

Irida knew the she never wanted that, but it was far too late for her or anyone else to make amends.

“You weren’t the only one who made mistakes. I wasn’t helping when I raised the possibility our predicament was caused by the false Sinnoh the Diamond Clan worships,” Irida said. “I don’t think our words or anyone else’s could have effected the outcome.”

“Don’t interrupt a foolish old lady when she’s going over her regrets on her deathbed. You know I made this far more painful than it needed to be,” the woman turned bibarel chided.

In spite of her misgivings towards the odd man, she never wanted to see him driven out. She suspected that despite his gratitude towards the people that had taken him in, Warden Ingo was never truly happy in Hisui and one day he would want to leave. Such thoughts had not abated over time, even after years had passed. How could Calaba think the man belonged with the Pearl Clan when he didn’t even believe so?

Ingo had dutifully complied with every prescribed exorcism and cure despite his skepticism and Calaba had done everything she could for a patient she believed was a lost cause.

“What would we have done without such a knowledgeable medicine woman treating everyone tirelessly? I wouldn’t have fared nearly as well as I did without you,” Irida insisted.

Calaba was always one of the people she turned towards for advice, along with Gaeric and Paulina. Her parents had been one of the causalities of a famine that had ravaged the ice lands in a cruel winter many years ago. Irida was too young to remember them, neither did she have any grandparents to raise her. She spent her childhood moving between the care of different adults and being supervised by older kids well into their teens. Most of them considered themselves babysitters with a few that took it upon themselves to act as mentors.

Paulina showing her how to care for and bond with the eevee her parents left behind, Gaeric teaching her how to endure the cold and not let it bother her, and Calaba guiding her through recipes for medicine and meals.

If Irida forced herself to try and remember her parents, they were the only people that came to mind.

Calaba remained doubtful and looked as though she was about to argue, but thought better of it. Sensing the line of conversation was going nowhere, she decided to change the subject.

“Was there anything you wanted to say or get off your chest?”

Irida pondered the question for a moment before shaking her head.

“I can’t think of anything in particular.”

A harsh cry mixed with a scraping sound came from outside and made Irida jump. The dissonant wailing of a glalie originated from Gaeric who was begging to be let in and banging on the door to make his displeasure known.

Calaba barely reacted to his forlorn crying, merely scowling and clucking her tongue as she felt a headache coming on. The old bibarel walked towards Irida’s kitchenware to put on the kettle, hoping some tea would calm their nerves.

She turned back to the glaceon, returning to the matter at hand.

“It could be any trifling thing.”

Irida thought back to when she was little and her eevee had gotten a scratch on its eye. She didn’t see what caused it and had run over to Calaba’s tent in a panic with her partner dangling from her arms.

Ursaluna’s warden calmly assessed the damage before concluding it was a minor and easily treated injury. She crafted two medicines for her eevee, one to speed up the healing and prevent infection, another to relieve the pain.

When she was older, Calaba taught her several common remedies, spending many evenings gently correcting her on dosage and how long to let plants simmer.

“Thank you for teaching me how to cook for myself and make medicines. And for always being there.” Irida looked away from Calaba and down at the floor.

“I wish I could be thanking Lina too.”

Calaba seemed momentarily at a loss, wondering where this was coming from before her expression softened in understanding.

“I was happy to do so and I’m glad you found it useful. Thank you for staying by my side when I was so sick.”

Calaba had fallen gravelly ill several years ago, leaving her so weak that she had been rendered bedridden. At her age it could easily prove fatal and it was an unspoken understanding by her and the rest of the Pearl Clan that she was at the end of her life.

Irida was busying herself with preparing a damp cloth and medicinal tea for the warden while forcing down a sickly anxiety when she called the girl over to her bedside.

She told her that she was happy with how she lived her life and she didn’t have to cry for her. It was Sinnoh’s will whether she stayed or left and that wasn’t something Irida could control. Why fight against the inevitable?

Everyone was quite surprised when her fever broke and she made a full recovery, Calaba most of all. Her death would come one day and it served as a sobering reminder that it may not be far off. It almost made Irida appreciate the Diamond Clan’s reverence for time.

A wavering whistle came from the kettle, rising in pitch to signal the water was ready.

Calaba carefully looked through her host’s tea selection before settling on one. It was a nice one from overseas, one Irida purchased from the Ginko Guild and had been saving for a special occasion.

After the tea finished steeping, she poured out a cup for each of them, making sure one of them was wide enough for Irida to lap out of. They drank their tea in silence for a minute before Calaba smirked to herself, amused by some private joke.

“I want to thank you for the buneary you brought me. It was quite thoughtful of you.”

Irida nearly snorted into her tea and the tips of her ears grew warm with embarrassment. Warm for a glaceon, anyways.

She had returned during a memory lapse one morning with a buneary she had apparently managed to hunt and left it on Calaba’s doorstep. It was certainly awkward trying to explain that to the warden and anyone else that witnessed her off putting behaviour. What exactly her thought process was in bringing that to a species that was strictly herbivorous remained a mystery.

“Lord Ursaluna was very appreciative of the offering. He wanted me to let you know,” Calaba continued, somewhat facetiously.

Irida pulled her ears down and hid her face in the flaps from her crest, wishing she could sink through the floor.

“Ugghhh... no...”

The warden chuckled at her mortification as she resumed drinking her tea.

The near incessant scratching and banging from the former humans grew louder and their yowling more pained and indignant. Irida worried their patience had run out and they would try to force their way in.

If Calaba was perturbed by the ruckus, she didn’t show it. But her gaze grew more distant and expression more somber.

“I’m not afraid of dying, I haven’t been for a long time. My greatest fear was being in pain.”

Tent framing started to creak as the howling reached a fever pitch, claws catching on fabric with the constant pawing that could tear a hole in their shelter. The clan leader’s eyes grew wide and her fur started bristling at the monsters looking to force the two of them out.

Calaba merely sighed and looked down at her cup morosely.

“I wouldn’t expect someone your age to easily come to terms with something like this. You did the best that could have been done and I’m proud of you.”

They were shoving each other out of the way for their turn to pound at the door, fighting amongst themselves for the chance to break it off its hinges. Irida desperately tried to think of some way out, her nerves completely shot.

Could they run away? The beasts had them surrounded and they would stand little chance in a fight. She wasn’t sure Calaba would be inclined to try either, still sitting down and sipping away at her tea in the very picture of resignation.

The frantic pounding and caterwauling carried on for a long time, long enough for Calaba to pour and finish a second cup. Irida listened anxiously for the cracking of timber or the tearing of cloth, twitching and jumping at every sound before the commotion finally slowed down and devolved into the usual pathetic whimpering.

The clan leader remained on edge, worried their reprieve wouldn’t last and the frenzy would flare up again. It was nearly an hour before she allowed herself to relax somewhat.

Her half finished tea had gone cold and Calaba collected their cups to wash and put away.

“...Thank you. If it’s alright, could we just pretend things are normal?”

The warden nodded in agreement and the two of them talked about anything and everything that came to their minds well into the night, falling asleep to the background noise of relentless crying from the mad alphas. The next morning, Calaba was gone. She had slipped out sometime in the middle of the night to join the caravan of beasts, leaving Irida as the only one left.

She spent a few more days holed up in her tent hearing her wardens yowling, not understanding why their leader wouldn’t join them and her blackouts growing more and more frequent.

Irida woke up one morning and knew deep in her soul that today was the day. She felt eerily calm as she accepted her fate; there was nothing she could do and nothing she could have done. Why fight against the inevitable?

Maybe Dawn and the Galaxy Team would find a solution in the end, but it was entirely out of Irida’s hands.

She didn’t have any beliefs about what would happen next, but she truly believed Almighty Sinnoh hadn’t forsaken them. Aide or comfort would be doled out solely at it’s discretion, in this life or the next in all of its divine wisdom.

Hopefully the Nobles would find it within themselves to carry on their duty to the clans and watch over them, for their sakes and for anyone unfortunate enough to be a victim of their madness.

She spent several hours making sure everything in her living quarters was tidied up and put away in preparation for her last meaningful decision. If she was praying for the grace and mercy of Sinnoh, the least she could do was not leave her space a mess.

When she was satisfied, she set about attending to her final matter of business. Working patiently, she twisted her head around and used her teeth to untie the knot in the back of her robe. She managed to get a tooth under one of the loops and tugged, loosening the cord holding the outfit together and sliding it off. Irida would no longer have any need of it.

That too was put away and after taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she leapt up to open the door with as much dignity as she could muster while scrabbling at the knob. The door swung open and Irida strode purposefully into the crowd of beasts, their ceaseless baying falling quiet at last. All of them regarded her silently as she walked towards the centre of the camp.

Ingo was perched atop a tent like an unmoving gargoyle, save for his eyes following her, with no doubts about where he belonged. Calaba, Paulina, Gaeric; there were no hints of recognition or familiarity in the eyes of any of the wardens, just the expectation that she would fulfill her obligation towards them.

The inky shadows that were now omnipresent in her mind were angrily threatening to suffocate her, to drown and snuff out her psyche.

It could do so whenever it pleased.

Far across Hisui, a young man came to a similar decision, relieved the waiting was over. Two clan leaders sat poised before their pack of wardens, ready to join them and ready to let their minds slip away into the darkness where they might never be found again.

#pokemon #pokerus au #pokemon legends arceus #warden calaba #pla irida

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kurtcobainsgreencardigan · 5 months

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pauuuuuuuuu i’ve got a question. i understand that you enjoy supernatural, so could you explain to me the whole destial thing? i’m like, fairly close to caving and committing myself to 15 fucking seasons of them and dean from gilmore girls (who i fucking hate(the character not the actor)) so like, i wanna know what i’m getting myself into, cause the only stuff i know is the meme that’s always going around, and that everyone and their mother is obsessed with dean winchester

OH MY GOD OH MY GOD @weeping-in-the-willows WE'VE DONE IT!!!

okay andi here we go its gonna be LONG (thats what she said?)

Destiel is a ship between two main characters, Dean Winchester, who is a monster hunter, and Castiel, who is an angel of the lord. Although Cas does not appear until season 4(?), when he does it's clear there's something going on between the two men (boys?), and, whether or not it's intentional, there's a LOT of gay subtext. I think they suffer a lot but it's worth it for the very few moments they get to enjoy, and you value them so much more which makes it so enjoyable.

As for Sam Winchester (Dean Forester), he's a young man with daddy issues who never met his mom and decided that instead of having that horrible monster hunter life he wanted to go to Stanford and study law and have a great academically successful life (Sam and Rory Gilmore would be best friends). He's a sweet, kind, smart, driven, ambitious (and hot) 22(!) year-old who would never voluntarily hurt a fly. Obviously life had other plans for him but what happens to him is up to you. Now, I will say that I'm not the biggest mid-series seasons Sam fan, but I think early Sam was one of my first fictional crushes and I still think of him fondly. His favorite singer is secretly Celine Dion.

Dean Winchester also has daddy issues but as in yes-dad-I'll-do-everything-you-say-so-that-you-love me-while-his-dad-still-loves-sam-more daddy issues (which I know all too well not not the time nor place), whereas Sam was more like "No dad, this is YOUR dream". Dean is like that jackass who thinks he's this huge deal and he think he's really hot and smart and always right, which is infuriating because it's true. But really imagine a giant teddy bear with a flannel. that's Dean Winchester. It's a bit funny but for him the most important thing ever is his family and he will fight with all his might to save it, blood or found, he will die for them over and over again with no regrets, except that one where his daug we don't talk about that. He's also incredibly funny, he likes Frozen and dad rock and pie.

Cas is an angel who very often forgets that. Funny thing about this guy is that they first portray him as like this scary creature, he's the most powerful thing they've ever faced and he's so intimidating but once they get to know him he's really just like if an alien saw a hot guy and went "that one". He talks to cats sometimes.

About the show itself, the firsts seasons they think they're like this moody, serious show, but as it goes on it quickly turns into a comedy. They meet Scooby-Doo once. There's a musical. Doctor Sexy wears cowboy boots. Dracula. Ghostfacers!

Now, I wouldn't go as far as "recommending" it to someone, but if i could start clean and had the choice to watch it again for the first time, I'd tell them put me back in it, and I would cry and curse and suffer, but I'd go through it again.

And that is all, unless Willow wants to add something?

Also I would avoid the last episode, I would not watch it if I were you, I wish I never saw it and I pretend it doesn't exist, it is not canon if I say it is not and I refuse to recognize it as such. Thank you.

#omg im gonna go watch the ghostfacers episodes they're the best

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roszabell · 1 year

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saying again that i adore this recent talking abt nedcan - god i don’t have the time to write or draw abt them, tho i’ve had breakup thoughts about them for years, but once it’s summer… i imagine their relationship was love, yeah, but always uneven. matthew being the hopeless romantic that he is, wanting true love and a forever, happily ever after, which is just not a lasting reality for nations, especially when he is so young and there are very few others with his similar amount of lifespan and experiences. other than the brother/sister relationships he has.

i always pictured it falling apart in the 90s as well, as this is my favorite lead up to modern prucan re(?)kindling. 1992-ish, gilbert has been home from the ussr, finding his new normal, experiencing modern freedom and navigating his relationships with his brother and friends that have a different flavor now. what is he going to do now? he’s too driven to simply relax, so does he find a new purpose, hobbies, job? he doesn’t have the same power or weight as he once had. enjoying the calm and lack of fighting and fear and duty, he’s able to connect with himself again, redefine himself as who he is without the overpowering Soldier personality he was made to be for all his life.

and matt, who is very fresh off a breakup with the man he’s loved deeply for decades, grappling with what the hell he’s gonna do now. he’s not good at being alone, to him, his relationships do define him. he’s gonna be in his depressed slut era for awhile, and then through some way he and gilbert (his childhood prince-charming crush he’s..mostly…gotten over) begin to make friends. hey this guy is actually really cool to hang out with! they can be normal about it for awhile. be themselves, have fun, good off and explore. until gil starts catching feelings, which rocks his world. he never expected that. and there’s tension and then matthew catches on, friends with benefits for years until one of them cracks, and it runs far too smoothly into boyfriends by 2000.

that’s my take, i’ve said too many times i need to talk abt my personal canon prucan relationship timeline but here’s a good chunk of it. i fucking adore nedcan for how it is, and again i’m so in love with all the ideas and writing and artwork that’s going around. i can’t wait to actually jump on the train myself. the way shifting relationship dynamics can be explored with these immortal characters makes me insane it’s my favorite thing ever

#windmill saga #nedcan #nedcan breakup #prucan #prucan timeline lore #rosza rambles #hetalia headcanons #ugh!!!! i love these men and their relationship issues!!!

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kloofspeaks · 1 month

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Hehehe glad to make us all suffer together in the Joel and Ellie feels 🥲 how's your RDR2 going now that you got it? I remember being excited to hear your thoughts!

I’m still not done 😭, I was determined to finish it earlier today after I got done at the gym and was like mentally hyping myself but after getting Mary’s letter I had to take a break. I do know what happens though so I can share my thoughts.

RDR2 spoilers under the cut

I feel like the game feels like the concept of being trapped from Arthur’s perspective, of course. It reminded me a tad of Maze Runner storyline wise due to the fact they were always running and never found freedom till one of them fell to the darkness. I’m doing the full honor run so it’s been the deer I’m seeing in most of the self reflective cutscenes. Which the symbolism in that is the most beautiful symbolism I’ve seen in a game in a long time, besides TLOU.

I feel like the deer can have a meaning that’s different depending on person to person, there’s native’s in the game so it could be their beliefs behind being reincarnated as an animal of choice, or it could be a way of renewal of a new life but it can also represent Arthur’s heart for compassion and the drive he has to make things better.

The wolf is always the bad guy in every story, so this is pretty self explanatory. It stands for greed and violence, pretty much the opposite of the deer stature.

Dutch’s line “I miss the old Arthur.”

Made me want to eat him alive personally, there’s something about death and uncertainty that can cause people to fall apart slowly. I think the game does a great job of doing that. (I do plan on doing the dishonorable run)

Dutch started out as a character I was curious in but I’ve been driven to hate him and Micah. They’re both toxic in their own ways; Dutch wants to leave a mark in the world that nobody wants to drive but himself, but because he is the leader of the posse they have to listen. Micah is just Dutch’s influence, they’re both nasty people and I disliked Micah picking on Arthur for his struggles of breathing without knowing the truth.

John and Charles are great companions to Arthur Morgan and help him feel more alive throughout the story so far. They’re both brother like and feel more connected than anyone else (I say this because Hosea is no longer around and that was basically Arthur’s dad in my opinion)

Mary was an interesting side character, but also so is Sadie. (They’re both the only women I found myself admiring tbh, my friend even said something while I was screen sharing)

I’ll be a Molly defender till I die.

I’ll continue to update you when I get done with chapter six, but for some side notes.

I cried when Hosea died, I literally haven’t paused a game so much in one SINGULAR MISSION. The whole time I’m casually repeating “It’s Dutch’s fault.”

John getting arrested threw me so off guard.

The island where Arthur is with everyone who is against him bugged me.

I plan on digging deeper into this due to me being a person that will eat this sort of thing up.

#askbox #rdr2 #I have cried so much this week and I’m just A GIRL

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lesless · 10 months

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Some thoughts on marriage

Growing up I never really understood the idea of marriage. My mom had me at 16 or somewhere near that, & was only married briefly as a result of being pregnant with me & having a less than ideal home life, which she wanted to get out of. My dad has been married or engaged 5 or more times, though now he’s old enough not to lure in underaged girls or young women & is now happily married to a woman who I really like. My great grandparents, who I grew up with, were married over 50 years, & though they bickered I understood that they had committed to each other & my great grandpa took care of my great grandmother through her senility, hiding it until it was noticeable to all.

So, I have mixed views on the topic. On one hand, it seems insane to me to enter into a legal contract for a relationship especially considering I’m not religious in the traditional sense. On the other, I find it incredibly romantic & a statement of devotion.

I my early 20’s the only person I remember breaking up with me (who really just beat me to it, bc I was unhappy & didn’t want to be with him really) told me that the reason he didn’t want to be with me is that he “couldn’t imagine marrying” me, which to me felt stupid & I was fine with at the time (& still am, he was a mess). When I met someone I was infatuated with, he talked about how he was “going to marry that girl” in reference to the last girl he dated, during the first 6 months we were together, which really bothered me. They were together for a year or less as far as I can gather. He later admitted it was because her family had a lot of connections in the film industry, which made me feel a little disgusted by his intentions of marriage if I’m being honest.

Personally, I’ve driven hard lines in the ground with people I’ve dated. Either I’m with you or not, & with you means I’m in 100%. I’m not going to leave unless there’s some seriously extenuating circumstances, such as, my last partner had a serious alcohol problem & got really scary & mean before I decided it was safer for me to leave than stay with them.

Nowadays, I’m with someone I adore & I feel adores me back. We have been together 5 years in a few weeks, which will mark the longest relationship I’ve ever been in. Simultaneously, our family is mentioning marriage (& have been for years).

& im at this crossroads. I think both of us have some doubt about the whole concept of marriage, our families respectively having a long history of divorce & the mess that entails. But also, is that something I actually want? I’m not sure.

By now I did imagine myself with kids of my own, though I love my freedom & ability to do what I want. Marriage feels like the end of that freedom to a certain extent, but also feels like the agreement on a future, & security. We haven’t talked about it, truly. Sometimes I think my partner is working towards a more secure future for us before that, & every time he talks about the future he says US, which is also reassuring.

If he asked I would say yes, but as time rolls on & my experiences & friends get hitched after only a year or two, I do wonder if I’m just not the kind of person someone would want to marry, as that long buried ex said. Or, are people just stupid & rushing into things? Are people just agreeing to things based on their circumstances & ideology? The people I know who have gotten married, largely, also became very institutionally religious. Which, good for them, but that’s not where I am.

I suppose I’m curious what readers think of marriage. What are the criteria? What is the deciding factor? Do you just know?

I’ve also known people happily not married with children in 10+ year relationships. I suppose theres no universal right answer to any of this. Just something I’m pondering after some deeply itchy nightmares.

#me

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lovesongbracket · 1 year

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Reminder: Vote based on the song, not the artist or specific recording! The tracks referenced are the original artist, aside from a few rare cases where a cover is the most widely known.

Lyrics, videos, info, and notable covers under the cut. (Spotify playlist available in pinned post)

No Children

Written By: John Darnielle

Artist: The Mountain Goats

Released: 2002

It should be noted that this song, and entire album, was written through the point of view of an imagined couple–known as the Alpha couple. In John’s own words, “The Alpha couple are these people who get together in California, and they fall in love, but they’re really broken people, and they’re very bad for each other – they’re both big liquor enthusiasts. They move to Las Vegas and live in a motel for a year, out of a sort of romanticized vision of how they’re supposed to live, and things just keep getting worse, so they just flee across the country in the hopes of starting a new life, but they haven’t really thought it through at all. So they get to Tallahassee, and that’s where I always envisioned them falling apart, in some tiny little house”. “No Children” is a staple of band’s live shows and certainly among their most well-known. The song further expands upon the notion that this couple cannot ever be content, and know only how to live in chaos and misery. The Alpha couple were put to rest by Darnielle after the release of Tallahassee in 2002–though John has said he could one day bring them back. Darnielle stated, “This is a song that I want you to know when it comes time for your divorce. You could be in a lawyer’s office somewhere off 15-501 in one of those little business parks you don’t normally go to saying, ‘Well, I must’ve driven past this place a thousand times. Now I’m going to get my divorce.’ Like some people wait for Christmas; it’s a different sort of Christmas. And as you prepare to sign the papers, you say, ‘I’m glad I’ve got that one tune.’ ”

[Verse 1] I hope that our few remaining friends Give up on trying to save us I hope we come up with a fail-safe plot To piss off the dumb few that forgave us I hope the fences we mended Fall down beneath their own weight And I hope we hang on past the last exit I hope it's already too late [Pre-Chorus 1] And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here Someday burns down And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away And I never come back to this town again [Chorus 1] In my life I hope I lie, and tell everyone you were a good wife And I hope you die I hope we both die [Verse 2] I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow I hope it bleeds all day long Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises We're pretty sure they're all wrong I hope it stays dark forever I hope the worst isn't over And I hope you blink before I do And I hope I never get sober [Pre-Chorus 2] And I hope when you think of me years down the line You can't find one good thing to say And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out You'd stay the hell out of my way [Chorus 2] I am drowning There is no sign of land You are coming down with me Hand in unlovable hand And I hope you die I hope we both die

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I Was Born to Love You

Written By: Freddie Mercury

Artist: Freddie Mercury

Released: 1985

Cover included: Queen, 1995

“I Was Born to Love You” is a 1985 song by Freddie Mercury, and was released as a single and on the Mr. Bad Guy album. After Mercury’s death, Queen re-worked this song for their album Made in Heaven in 1995, by having the other members play their instrumental parts over the original track transforming the song from a disco song to a rock song. The Queen version from the Made in Heaven album also includes samples of Mercury’s ad-lib vocals taken from “A Kind of Magic” and from “Living On My Own”.

[Chorus Intro] An amazing feeling coming through I was born to love you With every single beat of my heart Yes, I was born to take care of you Every single day of my life [Verse 1] You are the one for me, I am the man for you You were made for me, you're my ecstasy If I was given every opportunity I'd kill for your love, hey So take a chance with me, let me romance with you I'm caught in a dream, and my dream's come true (It's) so hard to believe this is happening to me An amazing feeling coming through [Chorus] I was born to love you With every single beat of my heart, yeah I was born to take care of you, huh Every single day of my life [Verse 2] I wanna love you, I love every little thing about you I wanna love you, love you, love you (Born) to love you, (born) to love you, yes (born) I was born to love you (Born) to love you, (born) to love you every single day of my life I was born to take care of you every single day of my life [Instrumental Break] [Bridge] My life! Hey hey! Every single day of my life [Chorus] I was born to love you With every single beat of my heart Yeah, I was born to take care of you, honey Every single day of my life

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#the mountain goats #tmg #mountain goats #no children #john darnielle #queen #freddie mercury #i was born to love you #polls #poll tournament #poll bracket #tournament #bracket #lovesongbracket #round1

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yeehawbvby · 2 years

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Falling Away With You | Ch. 7

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You run into Seb, and he winds up comforting you through a panic attack

Author’s Note: TW // a detailed panic attack, references to self-harm/sui attempt/eating disorders during said panic attack. Enjoy, and take care of yourselves x

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

Prev | Next

I got to Stardew Valley in the beginning of Spring, and now that we’re a decent three-quarters-ish of the way through, my hard work on the farm is finally starting to show.

Sam and I have only texted here and there since the night of our weird little moment, which is bugging me, considering he’s typically a ball of clingy energy. Is he avoiding me when he can on purpose, or am I overthinking?

Lots of yard work, alone, means lots of being trapped inside my own head, which means I’ve been thinking about all that a metric fuckton. If it weren’t for Cannoli, music, and my overactive imagination, I probably would’ve driven myself insane over it.

I’ve decided to take the day off from manual and emotional labor to do something less mindless — planning an actual layout for my farm. With the work I’ve done, I can probably get a decently sized patch of those parsnips growing, amongst other things. As long as I haul ass... it's not like I'll have much time to let them grow.

I’ve found, being newish to nature and all, that being outdoors does wonders for my focus when I’m not doing a ton of physical work. I could just sit out on the porch today—

Or, I could spice things up a bit and go somewhere new. It’s raining again, so as long as I find a nice tree or overhang to sit under, I don’t think my sketchbook will take too much damage… Yep. Field trip time.

After devouring a few scrambled eggs, courtesy of Marnie’s chickens, I brew some coffee. During my time at Joja, I began to hate it. Could only associate the beverage with disgustingly bright lighting and cranky colleagues and fake smiles. But now that I have a new life, I’m determined to get over the mild phobia I’d developed. I haven’t keeled over at the smell yet, so there’s a start!

I opt to put my coffee in a metal spinner, mixing in some vanilla flavored creamer before tightening the lid. I’ll just leave it by the fireplace while I go get changed, that way it keeps its warmth better. Yoba help me if Cannoli knocks it over.

My hair is looking a little messy, so I throw half of it up into a bun, letting the rest fall down my shoulders. Repositioning the bun closer to my nape, I put my favorite cap on. This bad boy is corduroy, black, and has a tiny pink uwu face knitted onto the front, with an even tinier pink set of horns coming out above it. Not sharp enough to do damage if I were to headbutt someone, but definitely sharp enough that it might freak Evelyn and George out a little.

I evilly snicker to myself at the thought. Granny Evelyn’s a sweetheart, but George can go eat a dick or two for all I care.

I want to keep things cozy, so I pair the hat with some big gray joggers, a cropped black tank top, and my black boots. It’s warm enough that I don’t need anything to cover my arms, but I toss on a windbreaker anyway, so I can protect my sketchbook from the rain.

I snuggle Cannoli on the ground for a few minutes, once again feeling bad about leaving him behind. I bought this funky lil’ cat door that Robin designed yesterday, and installed it myself earlier this morning, so that Cannoli can come and go as he pleases if he gets bored. I still worry he’s going to get lonely, or worse, into some trouble with other animals. He never leaves the farm when I let him roam outside, and he was a stray after all, so I trust him — but my motherly protective instincts are going nuts .

I give Cannoli one last forehead kiss, grab my things along with a fanny pack for some pencils and my wallet, and head out towards the town.

__________________

Every tree I’ve encountered so far has been too thin and/or drippy to sit under. Most overhangs I’ve encountered have been attached to someone’s house, so I can’t just loiter under one of those… Y’know, I vaguely recall Willy’s shop on the docks having some cover. That roof is such a mess, with its shingles scattered all over the place, but maybe it’ll come in handy now. I might as well check it out.

I make it to the docks in one piece, and it turns out, I was right! There’s a bench a little bit away. I’m sure if I asked, Willy wouldn’t mind me pulling it over to shelter. I might have to finagle his display table a bit too, which I hope isn’t too much of a bother for him. I doubt it will be. Willy looks a little scary, but he’s the sweetest scruffy old man I’ve ever met. He even calls me his “skipper,” how adorable is that shit?

I head inside, and after chatting with him for a little bit over our respective coffees, I mention the bench thing to Willy. He gladly accepts, and insists on helping me move it, too.

“Don’t want you splintering yourself on that old thing. How will you become a vicious angler like me if you’re injured?!”

Yoba bless this man.

I get comfy, and begin to line out the general shape of my land, when I suddenly see a black blob out of the corner of my eye. I look up, and see that it’s on the opposite side of the docks from me. Is that a person? What other sick fuck around here would be just chilling in the rain? I observe them for a moment. Wearing all black, appears to have black hair, too… hmm…

“Sebastian?” I shout from where I’m seated.

The figure turns towards me, and I can make out a face. Oooh fuck yes, it is Seb! My heart does a little dance at the realization. Why am I so excited to see him again? If Sam is a golden retriever, I must be a fuckin’ chihuahua.

I wave, as does he. I don’t expect him to move, but he begins to descend back towards the beach. I probably disturbed him, he said something once about enjoying the ocean best when he’s alone . I frown to myself.

I try not to think about it too much and get back to work. Maybe I could put a pathway around the land, some sort of brick or stone, so that I don’t risk stepping all over the crops when I’m in a hurry… I sketch it out roughly, to get an idea of what that could look like. Yeah, let’s do that, that would be sick!

I hear quiet footsteps advancing towards me. The person coming smells like smoke, and pine-scented deodorant or body spray. I smile before even looking — and I decide not to look, not wanting my focus to waver. I just continue sketching, as Seb sits down next to me.

I feel his breath on my now-bare shoulder, and quite frankly, it activates something feral in me. I wanna kiss this stupid freak so fucking badly. I won’t, obviously, but like, imagine? Either way, why is he so close?

I look at him, and he’s so much closer to me than I even thought oh my god , peering down at my drawing. For someone who’s supposedly just as anxious as I am around people, he sure does enjoy my presence.

“Is that your farm?”

“Mhm,” I hum as coolly as I can.

“Looks good.” So do you, heh. “Didn’t know you could draw.”

“One of my many mysteries, I guess.”

He gives me a funny look. I wiggle my eyebrows in response, earning a laugh out of him.

“Why’d you come out here in the rain?” I ask.

“For some reason, staring off into the gray horizon, listening to the waves as the raindrops add an ambient filter to the world… it makes me feel...” He pauses. I stop drawing and look at him, so he knows I’m still listening. “I dunno. Like it's worthwhile to keep pushing on, I guess.”

God, that’s deep. I don't really know how to react. My first instinct tells me to comfort him, but does he want that? All he was doing was answering my question.

“Damn, dude,” is all I can think of saying, so I do. Very smooth.

He chuckles, “Sorry, that was kinda bleak, wasn’t it?”

“A little.”

He sighs. “Do you remember that time you came to my house to buy shit from my mom,” he asks, “but instead, we ended up sitting in the kitchen for like an hour, just talking about how weird and shitty life is?”

I nod. I was still fairly new when that happened. Barely knew either Robin or Seb yet.

It was sometime in the afternoon, maybe 1- or 2pm. He’d come up from his room, which is apparently in the basement, looking like he’d just woken up. He had a groggy look to him, but his hair was wet and he smelled so fucking good — like one of those Man Flavored™ body washes that I’ve used before… might’ve been some kinda Old Spice? — indicating that he’d just showered.

Seb had emerged right when I was about to leave, given Robin was away at an aerobics class. He was headed to the kitchen for food and invited me to join him, and I mean, why wouldn’t I? He’s irresistible and I was hungry.

He made himself some coffee, and plated up a bunch of toast with a spread of cream cheese, tomatoes, and raw salmon atop it. Interesting combo, especially since I’m not one to eat animals very often, but it banged .

While we ate — and afterward — we just sorta ranted to one another. We already knew about what school and shit were like for one another because of our drunken rambles a few nights prior. But this time, it got more in-depth.

Seb talked about his freelance work, making web pages and game codes and whatever else is really needed by his clients. How he could easily make six figures if he’d gone to school for the same profession and joined the corporate world. He knows the ins and outs of nearly every coding language on the market, and some niche ones, too.

He’s experienced enough to have been well-established in any corner of the industry by now, had he gone that route.

But Seb knew it would’ve been a terrible idea to ground himself to a company. He knows his social limits, and that there’s no way he’d get by in an office surrounded by people day in and day out. People make him anxious, and he works better without ‘em looming over him all the time.

That stuff led into talking about how absolutely miserable working for Joja was. I’d gotten a psychology degree on scholarship (to which he called me a “fucking nerd,” affectionately), but couldn’t afford to get a higher education after graduating. My brain felt fried so I couldn’t bring myself to seek out more scholarships or anything for experience either. So, I applied everywhere I could for a job instead.

Joja was one of those throwaways applications. I didn’t want to work there, but it was hiring. I said “fuck it,” half-assed my application and cover letter, more applying just to say I did than to win a position. Unfortunately, it was the only place out of dozens that gave me a chance, so I took it.

I told Seb how they had cameras in every cubicle, how we were given designated resting time. The latter half sounds good on paper, but it was no more than a few minutes for every few hours of work.

We were expected to do unpaid overtime on a regular basis and we only got bonuses if we kissed enough ass. That entailed snitching on others’ mistakes, buying coffee for the higher-ups, working through our miniscule break times. All things I couldn’t be bothered to do, but they’re apparently a pretty common thing in office environments around here.

Seb had voiced that the conditions I was working in were exactly why he took being a basement hermit over some rich corporate hot-shot any day. And I can’t blame him, obviously. It sucked being stuck like that, and I’m happy he didn’t subject himself to that lifestyle.

Apparently, that’s something the poor dude doesn’t hear often.

Most people encourage him to suck it up and get out in the world anyway. As if he couldn’t possibly know what’s best for himself. As if he’s still just some shy, angsty kid who needs a push, rather than a whole adult man with the ability to make his own decisions about his own life.

“I dunno what possessed me to tell you so much about, like, my work and whatnot,” Seb continues, bringing my mind back to the present. “It was one of the first times I’d opened up about that so much. To like, anyone. That’s the type of stuff I usually think about when I come here to watch the sea,” he smiles.

Seb isn’t looking in my direction, but I can’t keep myself from looking in his. Normally he appears kinda somber, regardless of what he’s doing. Resting bitch face, and all that jazz. But today, with his hair all wet and wavy from the rain, the rosiness on his cheeks from the chilly seaside breeze, and the dreamy gloss over his eyes as he watches the horizon, he looks… serene? Hopeful, maybe. Beautiful, definitely. Like a painting.

“I… typically think the ocean is best enjoyed alone. But there’s something comforting about being here with you.” He gazes down at me, but the dreaminess doesn’t leave his eyes. “Makes me feel happy that I pushed through to get where I am now.”

I do my best to maintain eye contact — something I’m terrible with, but most people like and appreciate it, so I try anyway — and I feel a blush creep up the longer I hold it. Especially as I process his words. I’m making him feel that cozy? Can’t help but feel all giddy over what he said as I smile like a big dummy.

“I’m glad,” I mutter. I’m not used to being essentially told that I’m special or whatever, so I’m dumbfounded. “I hope you keep pushing. You deserve to be happy and successful.”

“I appreciate that.” A few moments pass, and he pops the same line I used on him in my drunken stupor a few weeks ago: “Y’know, you’re really cool.”

The way he said that sounded… an awful lot like an imitation. I glance his way to see if he’s serious or just being a shithead, and he’s narrowing his smug lil’ eyes at me. Definitely being a shithead.

“Make fun of me all you want, but I meant it, nerd,” I finally respond. “I’m an affectionate drunk.”

Seb laughs, and a few more minutes of quiet pass. Just the sound of graphite on paper, our breathing every here and there, and raindrops piercing the docks. He’s still watching me draw, and I might look like I’m doing fine, but the proximity is making my heart go berserk. I could pass out.

He breaks the silence. “Forgot to ask why you’re in the rain. I was surprised to see you out here.”

“I just like it. No deep reasoning behind it.” I squint at him, then giggle as he mirrors my look. “I prefer the cold and dark, over most weather. I’ve got some… sensory issues. So my eyes are really sensitive to sunlight, and sweating underneath it makes me want to frickin’ crawl out of my body.” As I finish the sentence, I look back up at him, and he nods. “The coziness and lack of people is nice too, though.”

“ Fuck, guess I’ll leave.” He slowly stands, the corner of his mouth tilted upward.

“Don’t you dare,” I laugh. I grab his hand (making my own heart go nuts, but that’s unimportant) and tug him back onto the bench. This time, he sits closer than the last, the sides of our hips touching.

More quiet washes over us. I bravely steal a glance, only to find him looking at me too. I’m suddenly reminded of my weird little moment with Sam, not too far from here, and frown at the thought.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“What’s up with Sam?”

“Is this about that night you guys hung out here?”

I let out a sigh and nod. He nods, too.

“So like, that happened and then he started ignoring me completely. Do you know what’s going on?” I ask.

“The guy’s crushing on you. Hard,” Seb bluntly announces, lighting a cigarette. I’m taken aback for a sec before Seb keeps talking. “He’s nervous around you, that might be all there is to it.” He pauses to take a puff and continues, “But, he made it seem like you were enjoying yourself too. So I dunno, what was that about, (y/n)?” He nudges me lightly, as if he’s trying to tease me, but I notice some contempt in his tone.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” Seb repositions himself, rolling his shoulders and scooting away a little. “He told me you let him snuggle up. But you’ve let me get pretty close too I guess,” he gestures at the miniscule amount of space between us, “so that one was easy to brush off,” he half-cheekily side-eyes me. “ But ,” Seb exhales, “he also said to me that he wanted to kiss you, and you weren’t backing out. He did.”

“Jeez, he didn’t make a move!” I defend. “I wasn’t gonna, like… yank myself away and make things weird for possibly no reason at all, ya know? It isn’t fair that he put it entirely on me.” I sigh. “I’m glad he didn’t kiss me. I wouldn’t have wanted that.”

I look at Seb, feeling a weird pang in my belly. It’s hard to read his expression as he shrugs, just staring into the gray skies ahead.

More silence. For the first time since meeting Sebastian, it’s uncomfortable.

I’m sure Sam’s nerves got the best of him while recounting his side of that event , or maybe his perspective really did make it seem like I would just let him kiss me had he decided to. But I don’t like to think of the chance that he just depicted me like I was eager to take whatever he was gonna give me.

Is that what these guys think of me?

“For fuck’s sake…” I mumble to myself. Seb hums questioningly. “I just wanted to be friends with him,” I barely even whisper.

Breathe, (y/n).

I lift up my sketchbook and rest it against my forehead, leaning my elbows into my knees.

In the past, I’ve gotten taken advantage of easily because I cared too much, too quickly. Too blindly . I have a track record with not being great at making or keeping friends. It always just led to betrayal in some shape or form, with me being blamed for being the one who’s “attracting toxicity,” or whatever the fuck.

It sucks to have nobody there for you, even more when you don’t know what you’re doing wrong. And nobody tells you if you're doing anything wrong. If there even is anything wrong.

I really hope that’s not the case with Sam. It doesn’t seem like a very Sam thing to do — befriending someone just to fuck ‘em over, or fuck ‘em, or whatever.

But what do I know?

I gave up on trying to find friends for the longest time, partially because of a lack of access to people I'd mesh alright with, but mostly because I’m terrified to go through all that garbage once more.

I came here for a fresh start, but maybe humans will be just as shitty wherever I end up.

Maybe I'm just shitty.

I can feel my chest tighten more and more, my heart pounding faster and faster, as I’m flooded with recollections of the abuse I’ve endured from those “friends,” from exes, from my parents, my bosses, myself …

I’m trying to just fucking breathe and exist in the moment and accept that bad things happen and it’ll be okay. I’m trying to ground myself. There’s a whole other person next to me watching me break down and I want to be calm to save us both the embarrassment.

To save him from seeing how worthless and pathetic I am.

But I should’ve known that as soon as I started spiraling into thoughts of my past, it would be useless to try and stop myself.

I can think back as fondly as I want about my youth, but it doesn’t erase the several attempts to end it all.

The years I spent starving myself, just to feel like I had some control over my body and life.

The nights I passed out alone in my college dorm, while my roommates were out drinking and partying with their friends.

The early mornings that were my nights spent sobbing as I cradled myself in bed, sometimes digging my nails so hard into my sides that I bled onto the sheets.

The hours every few days that were spent sobbing and cradling myself on the shower floor, blood racing down my arms and legs and stomach instead.

The days I couldn’t stay awake after spending hours upon hours in pure mental anguish, because existing was so fucking exhausting.

What if I’m just some stupid game to be played in Sam’s eyes? In everyone’s eyes?

What if Sebastian is the exact same way?

How do I know he isn’t going to just do the same thing everyone else has?

How do I know I won’t relapse, or worse, try to off myself again down the line?

What if moving here didn’t change a single fucking thing?

Existing is still exhausting, I’ve just pushed it aside more as the years went on.

I can only push it for so long.

I just want it to stop.

I don’t want to keep going through this shit.

I just want to di —

I’m brought back to reality by two lean, strong arms enveloping me. One hand is rubbing my spine, and the other is caressing the back of my head. I sniffle a giant string of snot — nice one, (y/n). I hadn’t even realized that I started crying.

I sort of just sit there, phasing in and out of conscious thought for a while. Could be minutes, could be hours. I’ve got no idea.

All I know is that Sebastian is kneeling in front of me, our chests pressed together as we breathe deeply. Accidentally in unison. Two metronomes working in harmony. He's embracing me as if I would float away without his arms to anchor me in place. Softly whispering the sweetest and most soothing things into my ear: "I'm here, I always will be." "You're safe. Everything will be okay." "You're doing so great, (y/n)." "Focus on your breathing." Etcetera.

This is the first time someone’s been here for me, physically or metaphorically, at a time like this. And this is the safest I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

“I’m sorry,” I whimper out when I can muster it.

He shakes his head and hugs me tighter. “Is this still ok, or do you need space?” he whispers.

I try to speak, but no more than a whimper comes out. I just hug him back as hard as I can, unable to control the guttural sobs that pour out after.

__________________

Never in a million years did I think my first time seeing Seb’s room would be after having a pretty severe anxiety attack right in front of him. Never in 2 million did I think I’d even have an anxiety attack in front of him, ever.

I feel like such a loser.

During my situation , I tensed up my muscles enough that I couldn’t really move afterward, so Sebastian piggybacked me all the way to his house up in the mountains. I told him not to, that I’d be fine, and I could’ve just walked home when I felt better — but he didn’t want me to be alone. He scolded me for being stubborn, and with how sensitive I was feeling, it worked. Made me cry a little more too. But he made sure to apologize for that, which I thought was really adorable.

I’m thankful he did this. Even if it is extremely embarrassing. Only Yoba knows how much further I would’ve plummeted if I were solitary.

When we got here, Seb put me down to wrap me up in a blanket, and scooped me back up bridal style, claiming he didn’t trust my “anxious jelly legs.” He wanted to put me in his bed, but I adamantly tried to argue against it, not wanting to get it all wet from the rain on my clothes.

“Just put me on one of those stools. I’ll be okay and I can snoop on your Solarian OCs until I’m good to walk again, and I’ll be out of your way in no time!”

“(Y/n), I’m not letting you sit on one of those pieces of junk in the condition you’re in.”

“Ughhhhhhh.”

“And also you don’t need to snoop, because you and I are going to play that together sometime, okay?” While he was saying that, he tried easing me onto his mattress, as if threatening a good time would distract me. That sly bitch! I clung on for dear life.

“Sick, cool, looking forward to it, but I’m still not letting your bed get all gross you bastard! Let me go!”

He stopped, sat up straight, and looked into my soul with his, at the time, dead fish eyes. “Let you go?”

“Uh—”

“Ok!” Still maintaining eye contact as he cut me off, and smiling hellishly, he did as I asked!

Right over his bed.

I started to get cold, even in the blanket — this basement is fucking freezing — therefore, I’m in his clothes now. I wasn’t about to fight him on this one too, and risk him changing me. I wouldn’t doubt that it’s something he’d do, for my sake, and I’d just wind up feeling even more pathetic. He chose to sacrifice one of his several signature black hoodies, and a pair of black pajama pants, that have little blue, green and purple Junimos on them.

…And so here I am, sipping the perfectly brewed jasmine tea Sebastian made me. Snacking on the perfectly baked cookies Robin made for us, after hearing about what had happened to me. In his bedroom — and his bed . While wearing his clothes.

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