#just the fact that those birthday recordings exist

[back2bluesidex]

Your Lips, My Lips - Apocalypse - JHS (18+)

Pairing: Demi God!Hoseok X Fem!Reader

Theme: Angst, explicit SMUT, open ending, fantasy au

Wordcount: 2.0k

Summary: You are lonelier than anyone he has ever witnessed. Your loneliness comes with an intensity that matches his, maybe that’s why he is so attracted to you? Maybe that’s why he wants to give you his final moments of existence?

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, loneliness, kind of philosophical, explicit sex, unprotected sex (it's a no no), it's kind of sad. NSFW!!

Minors are not allowed in this blog!!

A/N: It's my man's birthday in less than 24 hours! Yoo-hoo! *sigh* only if he knew that I exist and I love him with my everything. *another sigh* but it's okay! Jung Hoseok, I love you regardless. And I hope you are happy and healthy.

and to my precious readers. hope you guys enjoy this short babie. let me know how is it, if you want! (also if you feel this is My Demon coded then that's right. But I haven't even watched the drama lmao!)

Hoseok can’t read humans’ minds and he thinks it's a handicap. 

No matter how much he loathes the fact, he, still, is a demi-god. One prefix in his title has pushed him down in the hierarchy, taken away his right of authority, his right of serving the verdict and he hates it all. 

But what he hates the most is that he is left with this half-assed power of sensing despair in humans but is totally unable to do anything about it. 

His hand itches to right all wrongs whenever he comes across something that should not be happening, that should be mended by the gods above. On those occasions, he curses those so-called gods a little more than usual. 

What did they say? That Hoseok meddles too much in human business? Just because he saved a 5 years old from a deadly accident? That he has no right to change their fate? That he is just a lowly god that is not even worshiped? That he is to be perished into ash as soon as he changes another human's life directly or indirectly? 

Huh! As if he cares. 

He actually does. Not that he is scared of turning into scattered dust and disappearing into air, but he wants to change someone’s life before he does. 

If he is going to disappear, then he might as well do something worthy of disappearing. 

Like getting to know you, offering you with his company and changing your fate of being alone even if it’s just for a night. 

It has been 2157 years since Hoseok has descended to earth and he has been keeping receipts of every single day. 

He has come across a lot of humans and their despair but he hasn’t done anything. He held himself back and waited for that one final occasion. 

He knew that final occasion was going to be you as soon as his eyes landed upon your figure a year ago. 

That day, he walked into this dimly lit pub to enjoy a glass of whiskey that he came to love so much and to observe some humans for his own record. 

That was then, you walked in. 

More beautiful than some of the goddesses they worship, more mysterious than those unearthly creatures and you made him more intrigued than he had been for 2156 years of his time on earth.  

And also, you are lonelier than anyone he has ever witnessed. Your loneliness comes with an intensity that matches his, maybe that’s why he is so attracted to you? Maybe that’s why he wants to give you his final moments of existence? 

Just like any other Friday night, you are sitting in your usual spot. Tonight you have chosen Gin and Lime to be your companion. 

You look as unapproachable as ever, so much so that even Hosekok feels weak on his knees while gliding smoothly towards you. 

Your eyes are trained on your smartphone when Hoseok slips beside you and heaves a little “hey” to grab your attention. 

You look up at him, your eyes meet him and he knows he is going to be one of those very few lucky men whom you don’t ignore.  

And then you smile, an unusual, non-formalitic and genuine one, and greet him back, “hi”. 

He is astonished to find you keep smiling at him, “Do you mind if I-” 

“Not at all. I have been waiting for you to approach me for a good 10 months now.” you cut him off. 

Hoseok is astonished yet again, or maybe shocked will be a better word. He knows not everyone can notice him. He is noticeable only when he actually wants to be, for instance by being noticeable to the bartenders, so that he can enjoy his drinks. 

But he never intentionally allowed himself to be noticed by you. Or maybe he did? Because all along that’s what he actually wanted? 

“Ah really? You noticed me then?” he breathes slowly, trying not to scare you away. 

“It’s impossible not to notice someone as good-looking as you. On top of that you are a regular here and you look as lonely as I am.” you voice fades by the time your sentence ends. You punctuate it with a sigh. 

He gives you a tainted smile. It’s the first time someone has caught upon his despair too. For the first time he doesn’t feel things are terribly one-sided. For the first time he is not pitying a human but resonating with her. For the first time he feels his ending inching closer. 

“I am Hoseok, by the way.” Hoseok introduces himself while ordering his usual.

“I am Y/N” you reply. Your name rings in his ears, even though he already knew who you were and what you do, but hearing you introducing yourself to him has some weird effects on him. 

“Do you always have the same thing?” you point towards his whiskey. 

“Yeah. I’m not a great fan of alcohol.” he replies calmly. 

“Oh. then what is it, you are a fan of?” 

“Humans.” 

You laugh at it. A clear, ringing laugh that sends tingles to every corner of his body. 

“As if you are not one of us.” you say breathlessly when you are done laughing. 

“Maybe I am not.” Hoseok adds quietly. 

You look intrigued now. Your eyes are filled with a playful glint that has replaced the hazy loneliness. 

“Good then. I hate human beings, even though I am one of them. Maybe I hate myself as well? Who knows.” and within an instant, your despair is back. It is now clouding above your head. Hoseok can see it clearly and he wants to blow the smoke away. 

“Why so?” He places his question delicately. 

“They have done nothing to be loved. At least not the ones I have shared or am sharing my time with.” you sigh. “Even though I am moving on with time, moving on from people and situations, I am going nowhere. It’s as if I am stuck in an endless loop of time and things keep repeating on their own accord.”

Hoseok feels your every word deep in his bones. He has been stuck in this limbo for a long time as well. Feeling people’s pain and being able to do nothing about it is even more painful. And he can’t take it anymore. But tonight he will end it all.. 

“Do you want me to change it? Do you want me to take away your despair?” he says finally, “just answer in yes or no.” his voice feels hoarse all of a sudden. 

You sit straight. It seems as if you can tell how serious he is being. And maybe that’s why you nod a yes. 

Hoseok’s nails dig into your naked waist. His lips trail down the path of your throat, painting bruises on your skin. 

You moan his name when he bites down on the crook of your neck. He feels alive after all these years. The beating of our heart, vibrates into his own chest making him want to be a human like you, for you. 

Your fingers are tangled on his jet black hair. The delicious friction of your nails on his scalp is everything. He works his way to unclasp your bra, throws it away somewhere in your dark room and sets his eyes on your chest. 

“Beautiful. So beautiful for me.” he murmurs as he takes a nipple in his mouth. One of his hands slips into your underwear and finds your sensitive bundle of nerves while the other one massages your unoccupied breast. 

“Oh Hoseok!” you sigh in containment. 

It’s been so long since anyone has called him by his name. Things feel unreal at this point.

Hoseok drives you towards your bed and gently lays you down without breaking the contact with your skin. 

Two of his fingers play with your clit while his mouth dives down the valley of your breast, reaches your naval, and heads towards you core. 

“Hoseok! Quit foreplay! I need you inside me.” You whine while tugging at his hair. Your fingers join his inside your underwear. You take his hand out, pull it towards your mouth and suck your juices from his fingers. 

Hoseok can clearly see his end approaching. But he doesn’t regret it. 

You are warm, slippery and incredibly addicting when he enters you. His cock glides smoothly through your entrance. He thrusts with a force that will satisfy you but won’t break you, reaping out melodic moans from your mouth. 

“Fuc-fuck Hoseok! You feel so-so good! I can’t- ngh” and you cum on his godly cock.

Hoseok sees stars at this point. How can a human being be this addictive? How is he supposed to leave you behind if you keep holding him back like this? How? 

He spills inside you, ropes after ropes of cum shoots inside your pussy, some even leak out and drips down your inner thigh to your bed sheet. 

Both of you are trying to catch your breath but it’s time he ends both of your sufferings. So he climbs on your bed and hovers above your freshly fucked body. Your body glistens with a sheen of sweat, he can’t get enough of you. 

“Y/N” he calls your name and you open your eyes, look directly into his eyes and offer him a weak but genuine smile. 

“I am going to kiss you now. After the kiss, I will disappear, but so does your loneliness, you despair. I will take away the pain you suffer from.” he says in a breath. 

“Hoseok..” you murmur weakly, but before you can say anything any further, Hoseok is kissing you. He cups your face and dives into the kiss. 

The kiss is full of passion and pain, rainbow and rain.. 

Two pairs of your lips mold perfectly with each other, tasting every ounce of your mouth, your life, your soul.

But Hoseok feels it. His legs are not on your bed anymore, those have started to dissipate into air in the form of fine ash. It reaches to his torso, his chest and then his face. A single tear leaves his eyes before he fades away completely. 

And all of a sudden everything is blank. 

It’s been two weeks since you had that weirdly realistic dream. You can still remember his face, his voice but somehow his name has slipped out of your memory. As if he himself doesn’t want you to remember what he was called. 

Or is it just you? Is it because your loneliness has become way too overbearing for you now that you are making up sex scenarios with non-existent perfect men and hallucinating them everywhere? 

You should book an appointment with a therapist. You need it. 

“Excuse me, Ms. Y/N?” the voice comes from right beside you. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice that the bus stop wasn't empty anymore. 

“You dropped your employee ID on the way” the voice speaks again as the man comes to stand before you. 

“Oh shoot! Thanks a lot.” you take your ID from him and look up with a smile. 

But it vanishes and you are shocked to find out that the man of your dream is standing right before you. 

The voice, too, is similar. The only difference you can find is that this guy is filled with boisterous energy, he is less dark than the man in your dream. 

“Did I scare you? You look like you have seen a ghost?” the man laughs. 

“I- I ah..” you fumble with your words, “you look like someone I knew.” you laugh back awkwardly. 

“Oh I see.” he pauses for a bit, “I am Hoseok, By the way.” he continues, extending a hand towards you. 

“Hi Hoseok. I am Y/N” You wrap your palm around his. 

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @chimmisbae @i-have-no-life-charlie @violetsiren90

#bts angst #bts smut #hoseok angst #hoseok smut #bts x reader #hoseok x reader #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #jhope angst #jhope smut #jhope x reader #bts jhope #bts oneshot #hobiuary #bts

[vanwritesfan-fiction]

Angel Eyes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 1,114

Bucky was downright giddy as he walked to meet Steve and Sam for breakfast. To be clear, he wasn’t excited about meeting those two jokers for breakfast, that was par for the course. He was excited because he knew you were going to love the gift he got you. You were celebrating your first birthday together as a couple and he wanted it to be perfect. He had been practicing a recipe for your favorite meal so he could perfect it and had planned a romantic night just for the two of you. He swung the paper bag he had carefully placed your present in, swinging it front to back in time with his steps. He sat down next to Steve, Sam already devouring his pancakes across the table. Bucky placed the gift on the side of the table, not wanting to let it out of his sight.

Sam looked between Bucky and the gift, a smirk on his face. “Did you get me a gift? Oh Buck, you shouldn’t have.” Sam placed a sarcastic hand on his chest, reaching out to grab the small bag. Bucky snatched it off the table in a blur of movement, clinging the bag to his chest. “This isn’t for you. It’s for Y/N.” He released his grip on the bag with his metal arm, worried he had crushed the gift in his hand. Steve snatched the bag out of Bucky’s hand, immediately reaching in to pull out a plastic CD case. He turned it around in his hand, a confused look on his face. “What is this? A CD?”. “Yes a CD, Steven.” Bucky regretted the fact that these two fuck faces were his best friends at this moment. “What’s on it?” Steve was sympathetic to Bucky. He knew how much he loved you, and it meant a lot that Bucky was willing to be vulnerable. “If you must know, I made Y/N a CD of some of my favorite songs, including the song that was playing when we first met.”

Sam couldn’t hold in his laughter at this sight. Bucky’s head whipped over to Sam when he heard the deep chuckle. “A CD, really Buck? People don’t have CD players anymore; she’s not going to be able to listen to it. You probably would have been better off pressing a record for her, at least those are trendy now.” Bucky grumbled as he repacked the present in the bag. He hadn’t really thought this far into his plan, he was just so excited he had found a gift that he knew you wouldn’t have. Steve shoved a bite of his omelet into his mouth before giving Bucky a clap on the back. “It’s the thought that counts. When we were growing up, this technology didn’t even exist, so don’t be so hard on yourself.” Bucky hung his head in defeat, “It was really expensive, I had to send away for it for weeks.” “That should have been your first indicator Bucky, you can download songs on your phone in seconds.” The boys collected their things, Sam dropping a few dollars on the table to cover their bill.

Later that night, Bucky was hoping that the dinner and wine would distract you from the fact that he didn’t have a gift to give you. He was settled on the couch, glass of wine in hand, his leg jiggling in nervousness. You plopped down next to Bucky, so infatuated with him after one of the best nights of your life. Between the conversation, amazing meal, and expensive wine, you felt truly loved and appreciated. You gave Bucky a gentle kiss, lingering close once his face. He smiled, taking a deep breath before kissing you again. You slumped into the couch and placed your head on his shoulder, Bucky wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“Thank you so much for tonight Buck, you sure know how to make a girl feel special.” You rubbed his thigh and Bucky let out a deep sigh. You sat up to look at him. “Something wrong?” Bucky took another breath before he got up and pulled the now crumpled bag out of his jacket pocket hanging on the coat rack by the door. He handed the bag to you, not making eye contact. You unwrapped the bag, holding the CD in your hand. “Bucky’s Jams and Hits for Y/N” was scribbled on the front of the CD in black sharpie. “I know it’s stupid and you probably don’t have a CD player anymore to even listen to it, but it’s a CD of some of my favorite songs. It even has Careless Whisperer, the song we heard when we went to that dive bar in Queens for our first date. It was playing on the jukebox that night.” You sat there in silence for a few moments, Bucky holding his breath waiting for your response. You quickly got up and ran back into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Buck threw his body down on the couch heavy, swinging his feet up to lay down. He was expecting your response, hoping you weren’t disappointed in him.

After a few seconds, Bucky heard the handle from your bedroom turn, and you walked out, the CD in one hand and a small tech item in the other. You climbed on top of Bucky and placed the device on his chest. It was a round disc with headphone cables wrapped around the outside. Old, discolored stickers were placard on top of the device, pictures of N’SYNC and Backstreet Boys on the front. He remembered their faces from when you shared some of your childhood crushes with him on one drunken night.  “I always knew there was a reason I kept this,” you said as you unwrapped the headphones, popped the CD player open, and placed the CD Bucky gave you inside. Bucky had only heard of CD players because they became obsolete before he was reintroduced into society, and he had to admit, looking at this item laying on his chest, he wasn’t very impressed. The record player was infinitely more innovative. You placed one headphone bud in your ear and placed the other in Bucky’s ear. You pressed play, and Angel Eyes by Ella Fitzgerald played in your ears.

As you both laid there in the dim light of the table lamp, Bucky’s heart swelled. In all the women in the world, he had found you, someone who had kept a CD player for a special moment like this. Bucky placed a kiss on your forehead and stroked your hair as you both enjoyed the music for the rest of the night.

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #buckybarnes

[3rdeyeblaque]

On May 8th, we also venerate Ancestor Robert Johnson on his 112th birthday 🎉

A renowned ICON of Hoodoo History, Culture, & Folklore, and a Delta Blue's legend, Robert Johnson's storied yet brief success has cemented him at the crossroads of Hoodoo Folklore & American History. He is known for his exceptionally eerie singing & masterful guitar play amid living a hard and fast life; after having struck a deal with the Devil to become one of the greatest Blue's musicians of all time.

According to Hoodoo Folklore, it was a cool October night when Robert Johnson walked alone with his guitar down a dark road in the Mississippi River Delta on a full moon night to the crossroads at Highways 49 & 61 in Clarksdale, Mississippi. As he walks he thinks about his sorrow. He thinks about the jeers & shouts for him to get off stage. In his misery, he cries out into the night. For his weakness, jealousy, fear, & the anguish of failure. But he’s not alone. Here, he meets the Devil. The Devil heard his cry & appeared, offering to fashion him a talent so he could play unlike any other in exchange for his soul. Thus Robert Johnson rose to fame as the King of the Delta Blues.

Robert Johnson was the eleventh child of his mother's children & born out of wedlock. He was born and grew up with his mother in Hazlehurst, Mississippi until he left to stay with his father for a time in Memphis,TN. His childhood is largely a mystery. Those that knew of him, claimed that he took up the diddley bow (a wire attached to nails sticking out of houses), as music was his life long interest.

As a teen, Robert Johnson met fellow Blue's legend Son House and Willie Brown. They became his musical mentors as they played in small towns throughout the Mississippi Delta. Thus began his showmanship & his iconic fusion of singing, guitar-playing, & songwriting. From then on he lived the life he sang about, the life a mysterious traveling musician. Though as the old folks of the era would say,  “The Blues was never meant to be taken seriously or reflectively. It was simply a force, expressing the deepest roots of their lives”. That there are only 3 known photos of him in existence only adds to his mystery.

By 1931 he was a popular name in bars and nightclubs throughout the region. While passing through Jackson, Mississippi in 1936, Robert Johnson caught the eye of a talent scout who'd go on to arranged his first recording session, which went on to selling 5,000 copies throughout the region. This was the very 1st time that  Robert Johnson's singing voice & guitar play was recorded. Despite his short life & career, he became a major influence on Blue's & Rock N Roll in the '60s & '70s. He'd go on to influence the likes of Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones, Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, the Allman Brothers, and Eric Clapton. In 1961 Columbia Records released, King of Delta Blues, which was a compilation of his early recordings; spanning just 29 cut between 1936-1938.

In 1938, a music producer at Columbia Records learned about his recordings & sought him out to perform at Carnegie Hall in NYC in front of an all-Black crowd. Unfortunately, Robert Johnson passed away the night before the show was set.

To this day, the cause of his death remains in dispute. Some say he was shot dead by the man of a paramour he'd messed around with. Others say it was a poison that killed him. His death certificate, however, officially states that his cause of death was Syphilis. Still, whether literally or figuratively, there are those who believe that the Devil did in fact collect his due.

At the time of his death, his grave remained unmarked thus no exumation effort could ever conclude with 100% certainty that the uncovered remains are his. Today, what has long-since been presumed to be his remains, is buried in Little Zion Baptist Church's cemetary, in Greenwood, Mississippi. 

"I pray that my redeemer will come and take me from my grave" - Robert Johnson’s final words

We pour libations & give him💐 today as we celebrate him for his legendary contributions to the art, history, and lore of Blue's & Black Culture. May we elevate him in light & healing.

Offering suggestions: listen to/share his music, play Mississippi Delta Blue's , & menthol cigarettes paired with dark liquor

*Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.

#hoodoo #hoodoos #atr #the hoodoo calendar #atrs #Hoodoo History #Hoodoo Folklore #the crossroads #crossroads #devil at the crossroads #juju #Mississippi delta blues #king of delta blues #blues music #black history

[3-2-whump]

About the Author, or Adoption Trauma and Whump

Hi dear readers, this is 32W. Author, casual artist, and transnational adoptee, and as we reach the 28th anniversary of my adoption, I’m here to talk about adoption trauma and how it relates to whump.

TW/CW: adoption trauma, geopolitics, religious trauma (briefly mentioned/implied), gaslighting (briefly mentioned), objectification (briefly mentioned, sexual acts against a minor (briefly mentioned), metaphorical light gore

NOTE: The experiences of 32W with adoption are their experiences alone and cannot nor should be representative of every adoptees’ experiences. I love the people I call my parents, and I will always see them as such, but that does not change the basic facts that I will lay out below. This author also does not claim to be a geopolitical expert, nor a communist party expert, nor a Chinese spy -my god, I can’t believe I think I need to write that! Reader Discretion is advised.

I have been writing whump stories since my high school days back in 2010, and I have been writing pretty much the same story on and off for the past fourteen years. The names have changed, the faces have sort of changed, and the contexts have varied widely depending on what genre I had a phase in at that time, but a few core elements stayed the same:

Loss of culture

Loss of family

Loss of country

Loss of mother tongue

Forcibly living with someone who, though they could be worse, is still being forced to live with someone

Forced assimilation

Objectification

Losing trust in someone you trusted, respected, and loved

And while I have been writing whump with these themes for the past fourteen years, it only just occurred to me a couple months ago that all of those elements are also present in my personal experience with adoption. Basically, I process my adoption trauma through whump.

My parents wanted a baby. They wanted a baby after they had finally gotten my brothers out from underfoot, those problematic and troubled young men who are now strangers to me. My parents wanted a baby, preferably from another country, because of a recent court case in which the birth mother won back custody of her blood child and broke the adoptive parents’ hearts, so they wanted a baby from a place far away, where the chances of that happening were basically zero.

My parents wanted a baby.

And they got one.

From 1980 to 2016, the Chinese Communist Party implemented the One Child Policy in order to curb their country’s ever-climbing population. Consequentially, for many rural, agricultural, and often traditionalist families, this meant prioritizing sons over daughters, and thus hundreds of thousands of children –mostly girls- were scattered like stars, eventually landing in the arms of the richer, affluent Western countries. Though our circumstances of “abandonment” varied, we were all dispersed across the globe, unwilling, unaware, and now with different names and with parents that looked nothing like us.

Some of us ended up in good homes. I know I certainly did. My parents adored me, and I loved (still love?) them. They were a little weird sometimes, borderline objectifying me since I was a toddler and using religion to gaslight me into believing everything about our family situation was fine, but they also taught me about my culture, made me go to Chinese language school as a kid, and overall did their best. I’d like to think every kid, adopted or not, can say that about their parents. They did their best.

That said, this does not change the fact that they essentially bought me. This does not change the fact that I was forcibly separated from my home, my family, my culture. This does not change the fact that I have no official records and all but cease to exist until they got me. This does not change the fact that my birthday is a guess. This does not change the fact that they severed my tongue and stitched it back on, training it to speak their words, so that even after six years of Chinese school, I still cannot carry a conversation in what should be my natal tongue. That does not change the fact that I deliberately tried to lighten my skin with heavy makeup during the more cringe years of high school. That does not change the fact that my grandpa tried to molest me when I was eleven, and to this day, I am absolutely sure he never would’ve tried that shit with his blood grandchildren.

Their love and good intentions do change any of it.

So, I write whump to cope!

Please don’t feel sorry for me. I am not writing this for random internet strangers’ pity, I am just explaining rather graphically why I write the kind of whump that I write. Writing whump is cheaper than therapy. Exploring dark themes through fiction is a safe avenue for me to discover truths about myself that I did not even know before. And hopefully, my perspective may shed light on issues other adoptees may be facing that they did not have the words to express. And to those adoptees, I hear you, your feelings are valid, and my inbox is open if you want to talk. So, with that, I will conclude this essay, and promise you more good 32Whump content! Stay safe, yall!

#whump community #whump author #about the author #adoption trauma #whump #tw sa mention #tw minor #tw light gore #even metaphorically speaking #gaslighting #tw religious trauma #tw objectification #writing is cheaper than therapy #and once again i do not speak for the experiences of every adoptee #please keep that in mind as yo read this

[nvastars]

I often think of Sasha James and I cry. She’s such a devastating character and I. I need to talk about her because I am the number one Sasha James fan and this has been rotating in my brain since SOPH’S recent video on TikTok ( go check it out if you haven’t already )

SPOILERS FOR s1 OF TMA ( MAG 162 AS WELL ) FROM THIS POINT ON !! PROCEED WITH CAUTION I GUESS ??

.

.

.

Let’s put this into perspective. The only way you’ll be able to understand my thoughts for her is putting yourself in her shoes.

.

Imagine you’re her, like you’re in her position. You are Sasha James, and you are in a room you absolutely hate. The only reason you’re here is because you need a place to hide from the thousands of worms that have invaded your place of work, and were attacking you, and are currently after your friends. You’re wondering if your friends are okay. If they managed to escape. You’re rambling now about Elias, how you got separated from him, how you wanted to quit but couldn’t, just nonsense. It’s a fear response though. Now you’re staring at that weird table, you know the one, the one with the strange fractal pattern that everyone freaks out about. You don’t get what the fuss is about. Just a table with a weird a pattern…basic optical illusion…you think to yourself. Nothing special about that. You stare at if for a while until you realize that someone else— no. Something else. Something else is in the room with you.

You are Sasha James, and you are about to die. You’re about to die wondering if your friends are okay. You call out for Jon. You call out for whoever—whatever else is in the room with you. “I see you! Show yourself!” You scream.

You are Sasha James, and you’re dead now. In the blink of an eye, the real you is gone. Just like that. Because that thing that killed you changed everything about you, the pictures you were in, changed to look like whatever that thing looks like that claims it you, all recordings of your voice are gone too now. Everyone has forgotten the real you. Everyone—well almost everyone, remember the fake you. It’s hard to believe that you were even real if it weren’t for the few recordings of your voice on tapes that were sent to Jon. Celebrating Jon’s birthday in the Archives with everyone else, and that one conversation you had with Tim. He’s making a joke, mocking Jon. “In fact, based on the evidence, I find it highly unlikely that Sasha ever even existed at all!” He jokes, and you joke back. “No. You took it too far! I’m unforgettable!”

If only you knew.

.

.

.

Do you understand how terrifying that has to be? To be Sasha James? To be her and be in that position? Oh and don’t even get me STARTED on TIM! He’s as equally devastating as Sasha. AND THEN YOU PUT THOSE TWO TOGETHER? GOD. DO NOT GET ME FUCKING STARTED. ( I will get started I’ll literally make an entire post about those two when I have the time . )

Anyways Sasha is a devastating character I miss her everyday. She deserved so much better. Keep kayaking up in heaven with Tim queen. Till death do you two part am I right?

#the magnus archives #sasha james #i miss her #i miss her everyday #she deserved better #tma #tma spoilers #tma rambles #tma rant

[allthatisleftinthedark]

"You know Es, have we ever gone out on a real date? I mean...I ain't the fanciest person around but if you wanna go somewhere nice or anything , all you have to do is say the word and I'll take you there."

unprompted asks | always accepting | @offrozenmemoirs

Estranha twists the longer left strand that frames their face between thumb and index finger, aided by the sparking of flame from latern overhead. The spine of a big book on their lap hisses as they start yet another dive into their extensive studies. Unlike Argyll, Letheia, and Kanalea, the Nihiranian continent originally presented little significance to the students' extensive reading and study. What is written on paper, however, is not the truth; there is no ignoring the gatekeeping of knowledge that spoils academia.

There are stories in the ruby sands of Nihiran that she can hardly fathom, but the fact that there are depictions of the desert once having white sand dating back over a thousand years is enough. Unfortunately, those anecdotes are outside the scope of their dissertation and may paint them as a target for survivors and supporters of the former Graneyean Thaumatocratic Empire.  Estranha may study in peace thanks to the huge tent of the traveling caravan. As they dig deeper into their investigation, they scan over an older manuscript that records the times in the early hundred years of the former floating city, Drakeshadow. They frown, eyes rolling. Another recollection of Drakeshadow! Wonderful; this is about a city that didn't even exist by my 8th birthday. Nothing is even important anymore, and I already have my own copy of 'The Account of the Rise and Fall of the Graneyean Thaumatocratic Empire'. 

They sift over the text, hoping to locate any useful information among the repetitious descriptions of Drakeshadow. Momentary hope gives way to early irritation; a recurrence of monotony is discovered in the pages, and the narratives are twisted, considering the previous pieces Estranha has read.

Grumbling to themselves, they slam the book shut and get back onto their bare feet. They look around at the other hammocks and sleeping rolls prepared for their long rest. To thank the kind bookseller who allowed her to borrow his personal copy, Estranha quietly returns to the man's belongings in his reserved spot in the tent. When he returns from the fireside conversation and drinking, he will be happy to find it returned, Estranha reasons.

Stretching their arms over their heads, the student concludes that it is back to searching in the dark with a dying torch; their hopes aren't as high or intoxicating when on the road, but they have more clarity and rationale about the rare breaks they can find just from casual browsing. 

However, retiring for the night does not come readily.  Someone who proves the rarity of a breakthrough peeps through the tent's folds.

A young, tiefling woman, far too large for the tent, with long red hair and a similarly red complexion, peers through it. Right above her brows are her black horns, which curve back. As the latern light warms the deep orange scelera, black-slitted eyes narrow. 

"Creed," Estranha twists their wrists, arching their arms over their head, revealing a healthy midriff. "I thought you were going to enjoy the late night and all the pretty women outside like the devil you are," tired laughter seeps through. Their hands reach down, grabbing the hairbands in their twin buns and pulling them off, revealing their mid-length plum-colored hair. 

The hair falls around their shoulders in soft waves, contrasting beautifully with their soft skin. With a mischievous grin, Estranha shakes their head, and their plum-colored locks dance in the lantern light. 

The monk approaches, her stature growing as the tent's height climbs towards the middle. Oft, her attitude is frequently at ease yet raucous, always on the front of uncomplicated expression; the complications reveal themselves more when the tiefling finds herself alone. Not that Creed would let anyone see that. 

Estranha observes Creed scratching behind her neck, her eyes disgruntled but fixed. The longer they stare at one another, the more their sly smirk fades and their half-lidded stare turns wide-eyed. 

"You know, Es, have we ever gone out on a real date? I mean, I ain't the fanciest person around, but if you want to go somewhere nice or anything, all you have to do is say the word, and I'll take you there."

Have we ever been on a date?

They look aside, their hands on their hips. Their brows crease as they squint in thought. Their meadow green eyes meet the burning gaze of Zarin, affirming, "No, we haven't. We have never been."

"We usually bump into each other whenever our caravans happen to be in the same town or we find ourselves in the same traveling group. We intercede, but we just meet briefly." 

Are late-night rendezvous where only the stars and moon witness drinking and dancing dates? Are disrobing bodies, passing kisses, and physical teasing dates? What breaks the too-friendly character of their relationship—past friendship, at this point—for them to contemplate going on a date?

What makes us so different from the rest of them?

"I know you would; you're not at all someone who would decline an invitation when it comes." Sheepishly, Estranha grabs the ends of their sleepshirt and shakes it, ridding it of the crinkles. 

They see themselves in the mirror; are there hairline flaws in the glass? What would be the breaking point—a lingering glance, a stolen touch, or an unspoken confession that ignites the idea that there may be more between them? 

Is it genuinely because you like me or is it just fancing me? Is it because your loneliness is getting hungrier and it's starved now that you'll take anything to sate it? 

Estranha contemplates, unsure of the true motives behind their growing attraction. A genuine connection or a result of desperation—which is it?  As they ponder this, a wave of uncertainty washes over them, hesitant to explore the depths of their feelings further. 

"Y'know, it's getting pretty late." They almost croak out the words, trying to move on from the topic. "The hammock I got set up," they nod behind them, "has enough space for two people to spend the night talking about things." 

"No specific things, just anything those two people can find to talk about before they fall right to sleep." Estranha turns on their heel, facing away from the tiefling. They cross their arms. Hiding from Creed, they frown, their chest tightening. 

The silence between them is heavy as they work to keep their emotions in check. They take their time and turn back to face Creed, hoping to restore their composure. 

Their sihoulettes are painted on the canvas walls of the tent, shadows with no apparent emotion, just as their hearts are. 

Only a minute passes before Estranha looks back, smiling as always. 

"Join me?" 

#( estra ic tag ) #( estra ask tag ) #offrozenmemoirs #[ ooc: will it surprise people if I say I love relationships that are like so deeply romantic between - ] #[ ooc: two people who are very unsure or hesitant on exploring/admitting the - ] #[ ooc: connective tissue of love between them? ] #[ ooc: it shouldn't!! ]

[cchapsticck]

j - cchapsticck

series - metalhead (a stranger things eddie lives au)

UNTITLED RECORDING rcd ca. 1987-1988 - steddie [M] 13/13 35.3k

Steve’s been at every show since Eddie’s been back. Back from the nightmare dimension and induced coma and the staples in his stomach and the couple pints of other people’s blood in his veins.

ANACRUSIS ca. 1987 steddie | character study [M] 1/1 6.3k

Like, Eddie was just some guy. Like, at the time, depending on who you asked, Eddie was the guy who’d show up at parties uninvited and you just kind of dealt with that because Eddie was the guy you bought weed from between the ages of 15 and 22.

RED ATMOSPHERES rcd. 1995 steddie [M] 15/15 30.7k

He dropped the box again, bottom down this time, precious cargo safely intact. Grabbed the belt loops at Steve’s hips, bones colliding painfully, shitty ol’ bat scars matching up like the world’s most traumatized mirror. And it wasn’t goodbye because it hadn’t felt like goodbye, but life can surprise you like that sometimes.

THE UNENDING HOWL EP rcd. 1999 steddie | character study [M] 1/1 11k

In the way that a partially fictional version of his own life exists as public record, he’d passively written entire fucking anthologies about Steve Harrington in his head in those 11 years apart to match. Substituted fact for fiction of his own making. And man, he’s usually pretty good about guessing where a story might go (except his own, but Steve’s part of that story so maybe that’s where he went wrong) but it is routinely arresting to be so fucking wrong with the kind of frequency he’s been wrong since spring of 1986.

STAND ALONE

sunflower broke st | canon compliant character study [M] 1/1 5.5k

And god bless him, sweet baby angel Dustin Henderson introducing him to Steve Harrington through his aggressive-cornered-dog-that-bites terror with the assurance that “he’s cool” as though he isn’t blindingly and precisely aware of who Steve Harrington is and as if that isn’t exactly why he’s got a broken bottle to his throat.

phlegethos: the 4th hell (or: honesty, a similar hell) st | dnd au [T] 1/1 2.3k

It's all planning and logistics and it turns out their whole thing is they were trying to bust into Hellgate Dell to pick up some dead wizard shit, which is insanity just on its face. So of course the whole thing goes sideways no matter how good that intel they had was and how much arson one can muster in a single afternoon so they have to turn tail (as the only affiliated party with a tail) and run. That was months ago.

wait, runner st | character study | steddie [M] 1/1 7.5k

It starts when he’s sliding Videodrome across the counter at Family Video for the 7th time this month hoping to god no one’s noticed but reassured no one cares enough about his miserable ass to see it as a cry for help which it assuredly is not.

head line st | getting together | steddie [T] 1/1 6.6k

Like there’s diminishing returns with getting older and the days that denote it - old enough to drive, old enough to die in a war, old enough to vote, old enough to drink, end of list, exciting birthdays over - not that he’s got a lot of room to talk re: time spent maturely, considering his hobbies largely consisting of a very elaborate game of pretend but like you grow out of this particular kind of thing eventually, right? Just like, one day you’re gonna stop feeling no different than you did when you were 17, right? Like some threshold of adulthood achieved surely exists, and there’s some point when you know you’ve crossed it?

dog at the door st | come back wrong | steddie [M] 1/1 31.9k

Even before Hawkins received its Major Disaster Declaration he remembers Robin saying three fifths of the town’s population had vacated. Not “been evacuated”, not “relocated”. Vacated. Left. Which is kind of funny to him, well, not “ha-ha funny” but like, funny - it's funny to him that the majority reaction to something unexplained and dangerous is simply to leave. To remove yourself from that situation of your own volition for your own safety and well being.

bury me further down bg3 | character study | tav/astarion [T] 1/1 3.3k

He doesn’t like him. He doesn’t like him instantly. (It doesn’t matter if he likes him.) Doesn’t trust him.

of or pertaining to the body cr c2 | character study | blumendrei | [M] 1/1 4.8k

Know what that clawing emptiness feels like, remember what your inhibited self was once, what you were before you knew yourself in the margins of other people’s plans, know that you are better now and know with certainty what tools remain to you when what makes you uniquely extraordinary has expired. What you are when you are a beast.

wips || prompts || fic recs

#fic: head line #fic: runner #fic: phlegethos #fic: sunflower broke #fic: metalhead #fic: dog at the door #just some navigation #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fics

[wind-becomes-lightning]

Tenzo. 10.8

Kakayama week :) But unfortunately I can't take part all week, I'm way too busy with other things (I'm sad but what can I do!). I will do 3 days tho, and this is the first one :)

Hatake Kakashi & Yamato | Tenzo (this is very platonic really, so I don't think it needs the shiptag)

2993 words

Ao3 link [x]

warning: one mention of underage drinking, as in Tenzo had one cup of sake to try it and nothing else.

for @kakayamaweek2022 Day 1: Birthdays & You deserved it.

Kakashi introduces Tenzo to many things after he has left Root. One such thing is the concept of a birthday party.

Because he had no recollections or records of his birth, Tenzo did not know when his birthday was. Not that he cared. For the first six years of his life he was stuck in either research facilities or tubes and that was already horror enough, imagining the passing of time by “celebrating” birthdays would have probably been too much.

From there he neatly went into the Foundation. Some kids there remembered their previous families or the clans they used to live in. Some remembered their birthdays and would tell you about them at random times if they felt like it. Those kids never survived long in the Foundation. Danzo-sama hated weakness and being excited about your own day of birth was one of such weaknesses. Tenzo did not have a birthday either when he was in Root.

Naturally, the entire concept seemed strange to him. Who wanted to celebrate their own day of birth, he’d ask himself. Maybe it was his harsh upbringing, the absence of love and support in his very early years, but he didn’t see birth as something that needed to be remembered every year. He knew he was growing, he could see it in mirrors and hear it when he spoke, but he didn’t need a dango or a cake to remind him of it. Who cares if he was 15 exactly or 14 and a half or older or younger. He was just who he was.

On top of all of that was that Tenzo was nothing but a vessel to be used. Birthdays were for humans, for people with families and personalities and existences that mattered. He didn’t matter beyond the scope of his abilities, beyond the fact that he had been in a freak accident that should have probably died young. No, Tenzo was not special enough to know or celebrate his birthday, so he didn’t even waste any thought to it.

Once he left Root many things stayed the same for a good while. He was still sent on dangerous ANBU missions that could be gruesome and leave him with nightmares. He was still expected to do his job flawlessly, even though the punishments were less severe. HIs skills were very much needed and often used. He was a vessel to be used, even if it was by a different master now and with a different captain.

That was the biggest change in the first place. Hatake Kakashi, the boy, who was almost a young man now, had been instrumental in not only showing Tenzo that there was a future for him outside of Root, that he deserved more than he already got, but that had also pulled the strings to get him out of the Foundation. Kakashi was his squad leader, he was his friend, he was his mentor, and Tenzo admired him more than any other person he’d ever met.

Gruesome missions and nightmares were so much easier to take with a person standing right next to you making sure you were ok. Kakashi showed Tenzo how to cook, Kakashi helped Tenzo with his fist laundry alone, Kakashi brought food and sweets and other Jounin into Tenzo’s life. He had gained so many new things just by being allowed to be part of Kakashi’s life. It was an immeasurable gift.

One day at a birthday party for a different squad member, Tenzo felt tipsy for the first time. He was almost sixteen and it was not like they had given him much alcohol to drink, just one cup of sake, but it had hit him like a truck immediately. Right there, shoulder to shoulder with his captain he mentioned off handedly that he technically did not have a birthday. At least not that they knew of.

“You don’t know your birthday?” Kakashi- senpai said over the noise, turning his head and looking at the younger man with his usual soft, grey eyes. It made Tenzo blush when Kakashi looked so fondly over him in this kind of way that he couldn’t quite describe. Kakashi had always had this magic over him, ever since they had met for the first time two years ago.

“No. I - I don’t think experiments get such a thing”, Tenzo replied shyly. Kakashi frowned as he always did when Tenzo made himself look like he wasn’t a real human worth of dignity. 

“Nonsense,” he said back immediately, “Every human on earth has a birthday. It's your choice whether or not you want to celebrate it.” 

Tenzo didn’t know how he could reiterate that he technically did not have one, or at least one he was aware of, so he just averted his eyes. It was once again Kakashi who spoke. “Don’t worry, the next birthday we will celebrate will be yours.” 

It sounded like a promise, but Tenzo didn’t dare hope.

Kakashi was a good person, way too good of a person for what Tenzo deserved. He was a busy person too, someone who knew many people in many places and got solo missions to do even without his anbu squad. Then there were also the periods in which he would just disappear without a word, spent nights and strangers' houses or out of the village, the times in which Tenzo didn’t dare ask where he went or where had come from. So all things considered, Kakashi was busy and his mind full with his own worries, so Tenzo did not think anything would come of the half promise.

He decided to just forget about it.

But with so many things in life, when it came to Kakashi-senpai, Tenzo was completely wrong about everything. Maybe two days had passed when there was a knock on his door suddenly. Since leaving Root, Tenzo had moved into this small ANBU apartment that was provided to him. He didn’t own anything, so Kakashi had helped with that too. It was the height of summer, which meant that his little place warmed up more than a hot spring could and he was laying flat on his back in his bedroom, a summed up branch of leaves fanning air into his face, when someone was on the door.

Tenzo at first didn’t even think of the promise, at least not when he opened the door and Kakashi was there, a bag stuffed under his arm. “Senpai,” Tenzo said in surprise, “Have you said you’d come over? “

It could be a mission, or it could be that Kakashi hat just decided to show Tenzo another recipe to cook, especially considering that he had apparently brought a box of groceries. The silver haired man took off his shoes wordlessly and only after moving passt Tenzo into the apartment did he finally turn around: “Well, yes you should have expected me, don’t you think?”

He made it sound like it was the most obvious thing that could have ever happened, but Tenzo’s face was just a big question mark. “Hm? Did you mention -”

“Because you spend birthdays with friends”, Kakashi cut him off, “And today is your birthday, so you should have known i'm coming over.”

Tenzo’s face fell a little and he didn’t know what to say in response to that. The promise came back into his mind “Today?” Tenzo said,voice a little shaky.

“Today,” Kakashi nodded. “August the 10th. Happy 16th birthday, kouhai.” He handed Tenzo the package he had been holding, and when the boy opened it he noticed that it was a round chocolate cake.

Not often was Tenzo thankful for his rigorous training in Root, that kept him from showing emotions too much, but right now, when his entire body wanted to fall over like a house of cards and sob, he was clad that he could push it away. “This is.. the nicest thing someone has ever done for me.. '' Tenzo articulated his thoughts out loud and was proud that he still did not burst into tears, even when he felt like doing so. “Thank you.” He didn’t know what else to say.

Kakashi smiled beneath his mask. “It’s just what you deserve, Tenzo, after all the hard work you’ve done in the past year.”

Tenzo took the cake and walked over to his kitchenette to put it down. His hands were shaking, but he was still successfully fighting off the tears. No matter what his senpai was saying, he didn’t feel like he particularly deserved this more than any other person, this attention Kakashi had been paying him ever since they had met. He knew that his Senpai had lived through some tough times before they met, that he was maybe hellbent on making sure they wouldn’t repeat themselves, but still, this was too much.

“There are others coming” Kakashi said casually and sat himself down at one of the only chairs that the tiny room had to offer. “They’ll bring some more things to eat and then we will have a proper party.”

“N-Nonsense, Kakashi-senpai, you did not have to do that at all.” Tenzo’s mind was racing with happiness and embarrassment. Had his complaining about not having a birthday led to this? He hadn’t really tried to force Kakashi’s hand, he wasn’t the type of guy that complained about stuff. If they hadn’t given him that one sake cup, maybe he would not have even thought about it. IN his mind Tenzo swore to never drink alcohol ever again.

The other man looked over and raised a brow. “You’ve never had a birthday, as you said” Kakashi tapped his fingers on the table. “I looked into your ANBU records, the ones that exist anyway, and it seems that you have not been lying about not having a recorded birthdate. So I thought, Let's just do it tomorrow.”

He stopped for a second, then: “And I invited other people, who all agreed to come immediately by the way, because you’ve never had one. Technically, there are 15 birthdays to make up for in only one and I don’t think I can provide that, but I can at least make your first one memorable.”

Tenzo leaned against the counter, eyes looking everywhere but Kakashi. He could not deal with compliments very well, the root training too ingrained into his mind, but he could especially not deal with Kakashi compliments very well. There was something about Kakashi that just made them extra special, as if a compliment done by his Senpai was worth ten compliments from someone else.

“Tenzo”, Kakashi got up and walked over to the other. Tenzo tried to go further back, escape his towering presence a little, but only hit the counter behind him. “The whole squad thinks you are doing a great job working with us, and we all like you, as a person, not a vessel. It was easy to convince the others to come, because they like seeing you happy.” A pause as if he was considering his next words. “I  like seeing you happy.”

He could feel the warmth on his cheeks burning, but Tenzo’S heart felt so full and excited and happy in a way it rarely had before this. Every day Kakashi was showing him new things and taking him by his hand into this new world. One day maybe he would be able to repay that gift.

“Alright”; Tenzo said and his eyes moved into a smile, “Thank you for surprising me for my birthday. I like the 10th of August, square middle of summer. I am a summer child.” He went through it in his head. The idea that the only memory of his mother that he held onto like a lifeline was maybe a summer memory, when it was hot out and the cicadas were screaming in the background like a large orchestra. 

“Sure, summer child. That is why you are always so upbeat and excited” Kakashi said a little sarcastically. “It’s almost like you are the most outgoing person in ANBU.” Tenzo punched him into the shoulder.

The rest of the squad arrived about half an hour later, by then Tenzo had thoroughly collected himself and adjusted into what he assumed was adequate for his birthday. Team Ro was not small, around 6 or 7 people led by Kakashi, but they were a constant revolving door as far as Tenzo could tell. People died all the time. So birthdays were celebrated bigger than maybe other squads did. Another year survived!

They brought more food, another cake, and sake for themselves. Kakashi looked with his stern captain's eyes at Crane who lifted the bottle out of the bag and said: “This is the birthday party for someone underage, put that away.” And if Kakashi said something in his Captain's voice, nobody objected. So this was surely not another afternoon in which Tenzo would try out alcohol.

What they also brought along was another stable of birthday celebrations: presents. Tenzo hadn’t even spared a thought about them, maybe because he had really never gotten one, other than the cake Kakashi had brought earlier, but when they started handing him things and patting on his back in friendship, he had to put all his willpower in not to cry again.

Most had bought things he could use on missions, bandages, special kunai, someone brought him wood works that he could have probably carved himself, someone else just bought him a plant for his apartment. Tenzo took all these presents gladly and placed them in front of him on his coffee table, admiring them like he had just found the treasure of a lifetime.

The best gift however, was given to him by Kakashi himself. Not that Kakashi would have needed to give Tenzo a gift, as he had already given him so much, but of course he did anyway, because that was just the kind of person Kakashi-senpai was. It was wrapped in paper sheets that looked like Kakashi had found it at any regular craft store in the civilian area of the village. When Tenzo what it was out of the paper he couldn’t hold a gasp back.

A new happuri, adjusted to his changed head and face. Lately he’d had a growth spurt and more and more had trouble with it not fitting quite right anymore. He’d loudly considered where he could go and get a new one, but then had never done it. Navigating the normal village world was still a little nerve wracking to him. But now here it was, a little big, but beautiful and shiny and a gift by his senpai.

Tenzo turned it in his hand speechless and then noticed that on the other side, the one that would link to the left side of his face, there was an engraving. Three little symbols and a date. Tenzo. 10.8. He rubbed his finger over it as if he couldn't believe it was there. Kakashi had engraved his name, his new name, and his new birthday. Seeing them both side by side on metal almost made it seem real. As if he was a real person that had always existed with this name and this birthdate.

They exchanged a look. Tenzo could feel the tears burn in his heart even if they did not burn in his eyes and Kakashi nodded slowly and then smiled. There wasn’t a word exchanged between them, because their faces said everything that needed to be said. Kakashi could see that Tenzo was touched and that was what mattered.

For the rest of the afternoon Tenzo’s eyes always went over to the happuri again, laying on the top of the gift pile. He didn’t know how long it would take him to grow out of this one, or if it would even survive that long. Even metal things could break on missions or get badly scratched, but still, it filled him with excitement to know he’d carry something Kakashi had picked for him from now on everyday.

It took a while for the first people to leave. Everyone was just too happy to sit around and eat cake and other sweets. Tenzo sat in the middle of his squad, all of them older than him, and listened to their stories, let them tease him and joke with him. He wondered if birthdays were always like that, happy and carefree and wonderful and how his life would have been if that fateful day he had not met Kakashi how his life would be now.

The sun had already set when the others left one by one. Tenzo was stuffed full with food and in a good mood, whistling like a child when he cleaned up the dishes they had used. Kakashi helped out with tidying up wordlessly, letting Tenzo whistle away in his own little world. Everytime Tenzo caught him in the corner of his eye he was smiling, which in turn made Tenzo smile even wider.

“I will go now too”, Kakashi said eventually, putting on his sandals at the door. 

Tenzo walked him the two steps to the door as if he wouldn’t find his own way out. “Thank you for everything-'' he began, but was cut off immediately.

“I told you not to thank me. What I did today is nothing special and something every person deserves, especially if they are as hardworking as you are. I hope you enjoyed yourself, that is what matters.” Kakashi put his chin forward in a motion that showed he wouldn’t accept any discussion about this.

“I did”, Tenzo then said and opened the door for his Senpai. “I really, really loved it.”

Kakashi smiled. Even if you could not see his mouth he always looked good when he smiled. “Goodnight, kouhai.”

“Goodnight, senpai.” 

Before he left Kakashi stood at the door and turned around one more time: “And oh, don’t expect me to come up with such a good gift every year from now on Tenzo. I’m a terrible gift giver, better get used to it.” Then he left.

#fanfiction things #kakayamaweek2022 #kakayama week 2022 #kakayama #hatake kakashi #yamato tenzo #oh ill just make this a quick 2k story she said #and writes 3k #askhdfdlksf anyway #au: ikigai

[let-the-living-beware]

Recording

Character: Shu Sakamaki

Type: x reader

♪(/_ _ )/♪♪(/_ _ )/♪♪(/_ _ )/♪♪(/_ _ )/♪♪(/_ _ )/♪(/_ _ )/♪

It was almost sunrise when you found Shus mp3 player under one of the wardrobes you were trying to empty into some cardboard boxes. Your husband lost the electronic device quite a few weeks ago and up until now he just used yours. It was a matching set you got him for his birthday last year and he always held it dear -- so dear in fact that he wouldn't even let you listen and if you wanted to listen together you always had to use yours.

Nervously you looked around the room before, naive as you are, putting in a pair of cable earphones and taking a listen. You were sure you audibly gasped as you heared moans coming from it, not any girls moans but yours and you even knew when it was recorded. It was the night of your honeymoon or more like your wedding night. Between said moans you could hear the music you played only minutes, while taking off your make up before your newly wed husband came in and made a total wreck of your entire existence.

After standing there in shock for at least ten more seconds you paused the recording. You weren't entirely sure how he recorded it but you needed to find the micro and destroy it before the vampire came out of the shower.

Hastily you looked around the room for anything that he could use. It needed to be near the bed and always with him. "Near the bed, not easily recognisable and always there.", you recited the thought in a faint whisper. While doing so, you looked around the room and hoped that it wasn't in any of the cartons that would be transported to you house tomorrow but then it hit you. Between two of your many pillows a little teddy sat comfortably there, looking at you. You never understood why the little plushy was one of Shu's main priorities when it came to travel but you always put the thought aside as just a cute gesture at the present.

Now you watched at the teddy like is was your new found nemesis. In a way it was because it seemed to record your most intimate moments so your husband could get off of listening to it.

Promptly you grabed the mp3 player, teddy and went to the person -- you for sure knew, had a laptop and knew how to get the audio deleted from existence.

"Laito!" you shouted as loud as you could before storming into his room. Your brother-in-law looked kinda surprised at you storming into the room but you only threw the two items at him. "Delete the audio that is on those two things, please." You tried to command but in the end decided against it for your own safety. "So you found out?" Laito laughed right at your face.

"YOU KNEW?! ARE YOU CRAZY?! That's just perverted to the core! Make it go away or I will do things to you!" you screamed, your anger finally getting to you. You didn't even know why exactly you were angry, probably because no one ever told you about it. The man infront of you only laughed at your, for him, pathetic attempt of scaring him. "Come on. You know I am stronger..." while saying it he slowly creeped towards you, "...After all I am a pure blood Vampire and you only a half turned Vampire, basically a Human." he was now right infront of you.

Only now did you even recognise the threatening aura around the room and you immediately wanted to run. Laito was about come just a bit closer when you were pulled away by something -- more like someone. Shu stood behind you glaring death stares at his younger brother. "Stay away from my wife." he growled and left the room with you right beside him. You tried to break free but he seemed quite angry.

The second you entered your shared bedroom Shu threw you on the bed before crawling over you. This wasn't something you saw very often since he preferred you on top most of the time. Before you could even attempt to speak he shoved his tongue into your mouth in a hot and passionate kiss. This was the last thing you thought would happen after he practically dragged you across the floor. You were so surprised in fact, that you didn't even kissed him back.

After a while he pulled away with a smirk and held his, now broken mp3 player above your face. "Since its broken I fear we have to record every little audio new." he whispered into your ear while putting the little device away and clipped his lamp on the side table on. The lamp he never put on except if your having intercourse and that was the moment you realised that it was never the teddy alone.

" Oh, no. Oh, no no no Shu please."

#A quicke drabble I wrote #I didn't have anyone except me reread it so I appreciate every bit of criticism :3 #diabolik lovers #shu sakamaki #my writing #He had everything backed up in the end #Just saying :3

[twistedtummies2]

Christopher Lee: A Sinister Centenary - Number 29

Welcome to Christopher Lee: A Sinister Centenary! Over the course of May, I will be counting down My Top 31 Favorite Performances by my favorite actor, the late, great Sir Christopher Lee, in honor of his 100th Birthday. Although this fine actor left us a few years ago, his legacy endures, and this countdown is a tribute to said legacy! Today’s Subject, My 29th Favorite Christopher Lee Performance…or rather, group of performances. My Number 29 spot goes to All of His Metal Albums.

Yeah, for those who don’t know, Christopher Lee was involved in metal music, of all things. In fact, music was always an interest of Lee’s: in all of his career, he got very few chances to sing and show off his vocals, which is a shame because he was actually a VERY good singer. Indeed, Lee had aspirations at one point of performing in opera, with one of his dream roles being Iago in the opera version of Shakespeare’s Othello. While Lee’s acting career gave him precious few opportunities to flaunt his singing chops, and his operatic dreams never came to proper fruition, he did find other outlets to embrace his musical side. In 1998, he released an album called “Christopher Lee Sings Devils, Rogues, and Other Villains,” in which he performed various villain songs from operas and musical theatre alike (including Iago’s famous aria, “Credo in un Dio Crudel,” translated “I Believe in a Cruel God,” as well as the “Epiphany” song from Sweeney Todd). This was just the beginning. He would go on to do a studio recording of “The King and I,” another solo album called “Revelation,” and many other musical performances on CD, vinyl, and digital release. Heck, I talked about one of his musical album appearances in the Honorable Mentions, with “Visionen!” Perhaps the most famous of Lee’s contributions to music, however, were his symphonic metal albums. I think this is mostly because…well…no one ever expected this guy to DO them. Let’s face it, when one thinks of the charismatic, debonair, extremely proud, and often highly dignified actor and his many roles, as well as even behind the scenes, one just doesn’t anticipate his voice to be backed up by pounding drums and cymbals with a side order of electric guitars. But, of course, that’s part of what made these releases so impressive! Well, that and…you know…THEY’RE REALLY COOL. Lee first got into performing metal music thanks to the group “Rhapsody of Fire,” whom he collaborated with several times over the years. However, Lee had actually become a fan of the genre as early as the 1970s: famously, he was a major fan of Black Sabbath, and cited them as one of his chief inspirations in his own musical releases later in his life. Funnily enough, guitarist Tony Iommi, one of the leading members of Black Sabbath, once said that Lee was HIS inspiration, as it was the Hammer Horror films that led to the style and tone that he and the rest of his band put into their music. It wasn’t until the actor was in his 90s that he began to release full-blown metal albums on his own accord, producing two concept albums that told the life story of Charlemagne, and a string of annual Christmas-themed metal albums. The Charlemagne albums, in particular, are highly interesting not only for Lee’s sheer existence and creation of them, but also for their subject matter and how it is related. Notably, the albums led to Lee actually winning a few awards for his devotion to the genre, and landed the man in the Top 20 on the music charts. The only great downside to Lee’s metal releases, frankly, is that because they came so late in the man’s life, there aren’t even more of them to enjoy. Tomorrow the countdown continues with My Number 28 choice!

#christopher lee #sinister centenary #countdown #list #best #favorites #music #happy birthday christopher lee #may special #number 29 #charlemagne #heavy metal #rhapsody of fire

[the-most-lamentable]

finish the murder mystery i double dog dare you. are there any fun facts or lil details that you couldn't fit in and/or are totally irrelevant but definitely exist nonetheless?

>:( well now I gotta finish it

Random shit that was cut, didn't make it, etc:

James and Keith live in Croydon since getting out of prison in small and very cluttered flat.

James had been homeschooling as a kid to keep up with his father's show schedule, rip to his education it was very neglected. Could he tell you about the war of 1812? Absolutely not but he can infodump about cardistry for hours on end.

The Bullet Catch has gone through like 4 different interactions including; scooby doo sort of armor that almost beheaded someone, a civil war canon that fires, narrowly missed because he saw a coin and tried to grab it, and one other I can't recall.

An exchange cut for pacing sake in Shock Blanket for 2 was the paramedic congratulating James for having the weirdest overdose she's had to help, he asks if he gets a prize and she gave him a sticker of a gecko.

Kevin's sister mentioned in epilogue is the most aggressively boring woman ever. Whole wardrobe of khaki suits. They are such wildly different people but they send post cards back and forth about their escapades (Kev sends one about his hospital visit after a failed stunt, she sends one back about office drama at Bethanys baby shower)

Additionally Kevin's accent got cut down, he's got a natural southern cadence usually buried under Generic American that turns up when stressed.

Bär is the reason Kevin lost his arm but it was an accident, probably. Throughout the show they had a contentious relationship as Kev used her utter lack of English to vent his frustrations onto her because she couldn't understand a word of it. In return she accidentally stabbed him on more that one occasion, impaled both hands, and accidentally shot his arm off. Kevin subsequently considered them even.

Mickey is a major fan of 90s boybands, which sadly doesn't come up.

Eugenia has a labyrinth for a backyard, full out hedge maze. Sadly doesn't come up cause of Locked Room Mystery. Additionally her house is full of fucking wild shit like there's a scrapped room that's just wall to wall accursed taxidermy beasts with a Bär Bear joke.

Finale was originally going to have one of those medieval torture things with the swinging axe that slowly descends, you know the one, then a saw trick that was also cut.

When a Door Closes was originally titled Secret Tunnel?

Most of the specifically named curiosities are things me or my relatives own such as my aunts umbrella stand full of swords.

A good chunk of stunts and magic tricks in there are things that I myself tested to make sure it made sense mechanically. This included me convincing my best friend to ties me up and time my escape, or pulling from my own experience drowning for the scuba stunt. Likewise Kevs aside about walking 4 blocks to 7 11 in a hurricane because he ran out of coffee is something I did, it was pretty bad coffee but I got a donut so.

James has no idea what his exact birthday is, his father just guesstimated a date. The only holdover he has from his mother is his first name. Fun fact his middle name is Aleksi, also not relevant. Either way he never really celebrated birthdays growing up (unlike his sisters who got their own parties each year), also based on personal life RIP.

Of the two times James has been arrested they learned to just zipcuff him as whenever they turned around he'd be out of the handcuffs. He figured out how to get out of the zip cuffs too (also something I tested, well prior when working a show where we somehow stole a pair of police handcuffs for a prop and I got handcuffed to a table right before a cue and had to learn escapology Very Quickly)

The Blades record for breath holding is 7 minutes drowned accidentally, 4.22 when not drowned. (Mine is 3.37 suck it houdini)

Here's the Playlist btw, each song correlates to chapters in order and boy howdy can I infodump about my song choices for that one https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5CgZY3wghYlxw15pruHBow?

#the great imposter #my drafts

[desert-bluffs-and-me]

WTNV Quick Rundown - 25 - One Year Later

This episode marks a year since the debut of WTNV. So let's see if it's got any lore, facts or quotes of interest!

Today's opening mirrors the Pilot's, which is also touching.

The quote 'mostly void, partially stars' debuts (comes from?) here. It is related to Jeremy Godfrey sadly looking out of a window on his ruined 50th birthday at the DGBAandAFC (so...long...). It's ruined because it seems the people from under lane 5 are finally on the attack.

Carlos has decided to get to the bottom of things whilst everyone else over-reacts. Cecil really heaps on the descriptions of Carlos as perfect here, especially remarking that his hair has been 'fixed' by time. He is extremely worried about Carlos and attempts to ground himself by reminding himself that Carlos 'will' attend the ceremony he invited Carlos to in order to celebrate Carlos' first year in NV.

Carlos discovers and announces, quite triumphantly, that the city is not a huge city hundreds of miles below NV, but a tiny city about 10 feet below NV that has spent a year making spires towards the upper world which (when stood in the pit) only come up to Carlos' knees.

Carlos is then attacked by the residents of the little city, who are able to draw blood and cause him to fall. Cecil, extremely distraught, goes to a pre-recorded message (which mentions the house that doesn't exist and how scientists are offering $5 to anyone who will go up and ring the doorbell) after cursing everyone and everything for letting Carlos die. Carlos is however, fine, rescued by the Apache Tracker. He is mortally wounded doing so and dies in this episode. Cecil remarks that he is still a racist and a jerk but also a good man with NV's interests at heart. His dying words (in Russian) are "It's ok. It's ok. I knew this would happen. You can have my car."

Teddy Williams is a licenced doctor.

Carlos asks Cecil to meet him outside of Arby's. Cecil cuts to the weather to do this, which must have lasted a long time for him to go there and get back. Carlos is there in a flannel shirt and jeans, sitting on the hood of his car. He muses about how he's coming to understand NV more and how he just wanted to see Cecil. Carlos puts his hand on Cecil's knee (to communicate his affectionate feelings) and Cecil rests his head on Carlos' shoulder.

Weather: "Sunday Morning Stasis" by Joseph Fink

Cecil may have the ability to teleport, as he manages to get into the locked house of Becky Canterbury to interview her about an airliner which briefly appeared in her hallway whilst she was taking a shower and may or may not be the same one which appeared in the gym before, mere seconds after the event happened (this freaks her out considerably).

The local chapter of the NRA has begun market testing some possible new slogans. These include: “Guns don't kill people. Blood loss and organ damage does.” “Guns don't kill people. People kill guns.” “A list of things that kill people: 1. Conceivably anything. 2. Not guns.” “Guns don't kill people. We are all immortal souls living temporarily in shelters of earth and meat.” and “If you say guns kill people one more time I will shoot you with a gun and you will, coincidentally, die.” To vote on the new slogan, simply fire a gun at the object or person that best represents your choice. (fun fact, some of these are/were available as bumper stickers at the store!)

'All children in Night Vale are missing this week, so there’s no current safety issues. Hope we find them!' (lmfao)

'We understand the lights. We understand the lights above the Arby’s. We understand so much. But the sky behind those lights, mostly void, partially stars, that sky reminds us: we don’t understand even more.' (often quoted and very sweet) He then signs off as usual.

#wtnv #wtnv quick rundown #welcome to night vale #wtnv ep 25

[arsalamsyah]

On Being Viral

Today is the only Friday the 13th of this year. My Instagram followers are 21.3K and I want to write about it.

Exactly 3 weeks ago, while I was in the office, my mom sent me a video that my grandma noticed I was on the TV. The interview was actually recorded way long before -- just a day after Oscar event with that Will-Smith-slapped-Chris-Rock-in-the-face scene. Little did I know because no one told me it would be on air on my Grandma’s birthday and she’s the one in my circle who knew it first. Little did my family know that I would be flying to Indonesia that same night.

My day was packed wrapping up projects and delegating tasks as I would be off for two weeks. My departure was full of drama ever since I left the office that it would be one other whole chapter than this. That’s when the followers counter started hitting up and little did I know because then I did not connect to the internet for 19 hours on the plane and was coping with this-and-that. In fact, I immediately shut off the notification because I wanted to make sure that I would have a good time with my family and friends that I had not seen for at least 3 years.

The number of followers began from 1818 increased to 3K, 5K, 10K… what.. is.. going.. on..

Once… twice… thrice… but then tenth, twentieth, thirtieth…. the news is kept being reposted without my consent tens of times I don’t even count, I don’t want to see, and deep inside I scream “can you stop? staahppp.. sthaahpp.. help..” You might think “why don’t you put your account on private” because then I have to click ignore whenever a person comes stop by. I also don’t want to temporary delete my account because I need to connect with my friends. I don’t even know how to stop this snowball effect of people thinking of me as admiring, proud, genius, etc – because frankly I am not that person.

Dude, I am not an influencer, a genius, a public figure, or some sort. I am just a regular human being who work Monday to Friday just like the majority of people do, and having a very simple traditional lowkey life when it comes to make friends and maintaining my social media. The spotlight feels odd to me. I am not used to this kind of exposure. I am not used to seeing so much of a praise and compliment, having countless of connection requests on all platforms, and receiving hundreds of DM requests asking for interviews and talk invites. I am not used to being reached out by celebrities with millions of followers, national TV channels, and newspapers. I am not used to ignore people but with all due respect, I am sorry for now I intentionally don’t even want to respond those that I’ve never met in-person (no matter how far popular they are - except Elon if ever lol) as I don’t even have the capacity beyond my existing daily activities and I simply have a life to live. What did I do to even deserve those flattering messages? To date, I honestly don’t understand what makes the news special to millions of audience, meanwhile to me it’s a “business as-is, no big of a deal”.

Behind that viral curtain, I am still me -- a kid who questions life and tries to make a peaceful living. It’s not even half year yet, but I’ve been brought to the extremes in a split second. And, I am here, hanging. Dear God, I am thankful yet hopeful.

[midnightmadness98]

The Untold Stories Behind Idols.

Nowadays, fandom and fan culture have steadily gained public attention. Many individuals are interested in how this subculture contributes to society. However, their existence appears to have attracted more public notice than ever in recent years. With the advancement of social media, which acts as a convenient platform for fans to engage with their idols and organize and carry out various events, fans' scope and diversity of activities are expanding.

Fandom technology is evolving as well. The firms behind some of K-top pop's performers are paving the road for a new method to commercialize them. They've created online channels to give K-pop fans the impression that they have direct access to their favorite idols. This access influences how these fans connect with the idol as a kind of friendship, as well as how they interact with other fans.

To be honest, there are excellent admirers of pop celebrities and some who pursue them, give strange presents, and even attempt to abduct them. Generally, fandoms are cheerful and stress-free communities. From setting up on-ground fundraising drives to hosting record-breaking internet events, their devotion to and excitement for supporting their heroes frequently earns our respect. While there is no dispute about their dedication, the cruel fact is that sometimes it is the most fervent admirers that endanger their heroes.

Calling the idols' personal phone numbers, hacking their social media accounts, stalking their idols' group, overcrowding at airports, and, in more extreme cases, camping outside their idols' dorms or houses, installing secret cameras, placing recording, or tracking devices in hotels or in cars, sending disturbing gifts or fan letters (a female fan reportedly sent a love note written in menstrual blood to OK Taecyeon, a member of K-pop group 2PM).

Fans prefer to examine those who engage closely with their celebrities, and dating scandals are the pinnacle of their internet digging. If a K-pop artist, for example, has the same Instagram poses and captions as a person they're close to, or wears similar clothing, this can already spark relationship rumors among fans. Some fans get carried away with their strong feelings and emotions for the artist, causing bouts of jealousy whenever their favorite artists interact with the opposite gender or are involved in a dating scandal.

This is why, for them, it's essential to be aware of one's own limitations as a fan, especially when it comes to personal life. Off-camera/off-stage, respecting their privacy, personal space, relationships, and identity ensures their safety and demonstrates to them that they are more than just entertainment robots for you.

Know where you stand as a supporter. Just though you know their birthdays, allergies, and pets' names doesn't imply you know them. And, if you truly want the best for them, demand adequate security to ensure their safety.

References:

Stitch (2021). K-pop’s fandom platforms are changing what it means to be an idol. [online] The Verge. Available at: https://www.theverge.com/22589460/kpop-fan-cafe-weverse-universe-lysn-bts-idol-fandom-group.

‌Jia, B., Li, J. and Ma, J., 2021, December. Transformation of Fan Culture Under the Influence of Social Media. In 2021 4th International Conference on Humanities Education and Social Sciences (ICHESS 2021) (pp. 2173-2178). Atlantis Press.

#mda20009 #week9 #fandom

[mrmallard]

Hello! I read your toxic beer pong post and am not looking to redeem your ex-bestie at all but i'm curious

Did you two share any pleasant times??

So I'm gonna quickly mention that the beer pong post was me being toxic in that situation. In relation to that post, my former best friend was fine - even with the "drinking too much to cope with the boredom" bit, those party nights were a lot of fun. I tagged it as toxicposting because I was gloating and being an asshole in that post, and when I'm being an asshole I tag my posts "toxicposting".

Also, I do want to highlight right off the bat that my former best friend is just a neutral-ass dude - no need to worry about "redeeming" him, because ultimately it was just life happening and two different people having two different reactions to that. He's not an irredeemable bastard, he's a neutral-ass dude who did a subjective thing based on differing personal values - I don't like him, but I can take a step back and acknowledge that he's just A Guy.

That being said, there is a lot of animosity there, so I thought I'd go into all that.

---

There were plenty of pleasant times, honestly. And despite my constant complaining in retrospect, there are also large swaths of that friendship where I was a bad friend and he was basically a minder for me at my lowest points, and there's really no way I could ever repay him for that.

Like before I say anything else, I did want to hash this out for the record: my former best friend changed my life for the better, and a lot of my anger is retrospective, extremely self-righteous and involves wallpapering over a lot of my own toxicity while ignoring a lot of good stuff that came from our friendship - the good times we had, for one, but also the undeniably positive effect he had on my life.

So to elaborate - what were some good times we had as friends?

We played a lot of video games together. He had a second Xbox One set up in his room so we could play multiplayer games - we played Paladins, Life is Strange, For the King, Mass Effect 3 multiplayer, the Telltale games, Borderlands, Diablo 3, Minecraft etc. There were times where we would start a new game, like Diablo 3 and For the King specifically, and then we would check the time what felt like 45 minutes later and we had been playing for six hours.

We could both do like the THX sound effect build and hold the same note, completely out of nowhere, and then perfectly cut off at the end at the exact same time. We were pretty in-sync and it was awesome when stuff like this would happen.

At my eighteenth birthday party, I was having a small gathering at my place with a firepit. My mum's partner came out and started like taking it over despite the fact that nobody there liked him, and I think I got way too drunk and internally freaked the fuck out about it because I have issues with that guy at the best of times. My former best friend took me down the street to his house at 1am and put some birthday candles on a cake, and he and some other people sang happy birthday to me. I was too drunk to remember, but I saw the video.

I escaped from home a lot by going to his place and watching TV and movies and stuff. There was a lot of being taken care of in that friendship that I really needed.

We didn't necessarily see eye to eye on everything, but we had a remarkably similar sense of humour. One thing that we could unfailingly do was make each other laugh.

And there are countless days and specific events that were great fun, which helped to make a lot of good memories.

That exists alongside the knowledge that the first time we spent time together outside of high school - where we went to the town pool - he and a friend made a game of stepping on my hands and arms to stop me from getting out, to the point of running around to the other side of the pool to step on me and subsequently stop me from leaving while I tried to swim across before they got there. Like taking it further than the point of a joke, making a game of keeping me in the pool.

And then eight years later, after the final straw came and broke the camel's back, realising - almost like the punchline of a sick joke - how much that event had built the foundation of our friendship and set a negative pattern of behavior into effect that existed the whole time - even with the good.

Like just as an example - there were a lot of times where he would make me the butt of the joke and like really hammer it in to make other people laugh. I could take a joke, but when the same joke got hammered in four or five times and I couldn't even get a word in without being laughed at, it'd start to really get to me. He'd then be like "sorry Mallard, it was just really funny, I'll stop now" - and then he'd say it again if he could get a big enough laugh out of it. He did that shit hundreds of times.

I could shrug that off in time, but there was one joke that he always took too far.

I had a really messed up relationship with a girl when I was 16 and she was 17. He would tell people who she is because she has a reputation, and then he would claim that her youngest daughter was actually my kid and I was a deadbeat who refused to admit I was the father.

I don't like talking about that time of my life, so it really got under my skin - and he'd use that to keep insisting it was true, so I would react more, which he would use to further paint this picture of me as this deadbeat who refused to take responsibility for getting someone pregnant. In front of brand new people who we were meeting for the first time. Past the point where they felt like he was joking, and to the point where they would genuinely begin to believe that I was a deadbeat dad.

He would at least clarify when he was making any other joke at my expense. He never clarified the deadbeat thing, because not knowing whether he was joking or not was the joke. And he did that knowing that it was the one joke he made at my expense that I outright HATED. After all, that heated reaction was crucial to the joke.

I value all of the good times I listed above. But they existed alongside all that other stuff I just talked about. It was a mix of good and bad, and I was only able to contextualise the bad in hindsight which soured a lot of the good - that, or I just came up with a reason to justify my decision to be angry at him. It's probably a little of both.

---

There's a lot of blaming myself and blaming him, and accentuating the bad in hindsight while choosing to bury the good. The fact that he was a bright spot in a very grim time of my life exists alongside the fact that he would single me out at times to have fun at my expense and talk down to me when we weren't on the same page, from the start of our friendship through to the end.

That's why it's still such a raw wound today - there was a lot of bad that really added up in retrospect, but it came with a lot of good that was invaluable to my personal development as a person.

In short, it's a very complicated and messy sort of situation.

I don't expect myself to look good while talking about any of this. I have a lot of regrets. But to answer your question - there were plenty of good times. There's just a dark shadow hanging over a lot of it that I've decided to reinforce rather than trying to shake, because that last straw I talked about was a real fucking doozy on my emotions and for better or for worse, I genuinely believe that things are better this way.

#messyposting #toxicposting #long post #sorry it took me so long to answer this ask #i started writing it when I woke up at 9.30 this morning. then I had work where I would edit and reword and elaborate during my breaks #and now it's nearly 9pm and I'm laying in bed and I finally have something that isn't too repetitious. it's still very raw #maybe more than it should be - my apologies #but yeah that's my answer

[jeannahas]

Midnight Musings - Loss and Legacy

For some context to my thoughts this particular night, I have some major memory issues. I have theories about why this might be - a particular brand of inattentive ADHD, problems in recording memories, or information not actually leaving my sensory memory to make it to short term memory, or a breakdown from short term to long term - no idea. Could be all of the above, could be none of the above.

What matters, for tonights thoughts, is the fact that I lose memories, I lose time. Anything can and will be forgotten, as I have told many friends and acquaintances. My name, my birthday, important life changing events and even people who have in the past been deeply important to my life. Just... gone. Faded away like a printed image left to soak in water. Barely discernable, a blur of muddied ink - it has affected the page, and the page has been forever changed, but the details are gone. I have even recommended songs to people and romantic partners, and then have forgotten that the song itself even EXISTED, barely being able to recall it as a familiar thing when that same person plays it back to me.

This loss is spotty, and unpredictable, and does leave some random memories crystal clear for frequent re-visiting and examination, but the experience as a whole leaves me... hollow.

This has led to a couple of compounding fears. There are diseases that run in our family ( which I have not been able to test for) which could end a life by the age of 50 - 60. Cancers, ALS, Muscular Dystrophy, etc. So, there is a fear of wasting away, of losing the activities and things I love to do most one after the other. There are few things I love as much as martial arts, writing, and drawing, and with some of those diseases, you lose what you use the most first- the activities you love most are the first to go. There is a fear of losing memory of my own life, as I have mentioned in other posts, and massive chunks fall away with time.

This has led me to one overarching motivation, which I only recently realized was important to me - the desire to leave some kind of impact, some kind of legacy, that will last longer than I do. And it feels, every time, like I have failed. I haven't stopped trying- but I have watched things that I have worked hard to build crumble the moment I have stepped away from them time and again. I repaired a piece of landscaping important to my home town, and when I drove by last summer, it was worse off than when I had begun to repair it. I tried to build a small film project with friends in college, and it fell apart after our first semester working on it. I tried to build a martial arts school in the first city my wife and I lived in, and It never got off the ground, and collapsed within days of my leaving to accept a job, my former students scattering to the four winds. For the past three years, I have been trying to build and improve a martial arts school here in the city I reside in, and at our peak, we had 84 students , a crowning acheivement, a brief moment where everything was looking up for us.

And then... everything began crumbling. One after one, our students left, as fewer and fewer people began to call us, as the recession that's settling in began to hit luxury markets like martial arts. Money began to be tight, and fewer people had extra funds to spend on martial arts. Pay cut after pay cut, rescheduling after rescheduling, and the decision came to downsize, after it was established that I would be leaving the area.

And the losses began. Each day, as we get closer to the day I am supposed to hand the studio over to the new instructor, more people leave. People I have grown close to, people who's lives I have become invested in, who I wish the best for, and have been thinking about and trying to help improve their training for the past two and a half years. Young Kids I have come to adopt as temporary family, adult friendships that have been a rare oasis in a life largely devoid of actual friends, devoid of positive interactions, teens with such talent and progress that it HURTS to watch them stop training RIGHT before that finish line of their black belt.... it keeps going, it accelerates, and it's reached apoint where I don't know If I can do anything about it.

And I watch another thing, another project I have poured my heart, soul, blood, sweat, and tears into, collapse around me like a temple colapsing in an earthquake. I begin to doubt if this effort I have labored on for the past three years will survive beyond my leaving the city, if these people who I have helped to train, who I have helped to get their black-belts, will carry on this martial arts legacy, or if my effect here will die and end with them. Am I... just going to be forgotten? Will the school last the year? Will anything I've done or taught here matter in three years anymore?

The crushing weight of the thought that nothing I have built has lasted even a decade weighs on me, drives me to claw desperately for some way to leave a memory that will outlive me, that I contemplate how to carve my name into steel, to make some piece of something that will outlast me as I have seen happen to some other items.

It's a peculiar agony of the soul. Hoping someone else will remember your life because you are not sure that you can - hoping that what you did mattered enough to someone for them to hold onto what you taught them when you are gone, that they will build on it. Leaving feels like a funeral, made worse by the fact that I don't know If I will be able to make something of myself where I am going, even though I have multiple plans to try to do just that. I know what I want to do - I know mostly how to do it, but the risk of failing again - the knowledge that what I will try to build next could fail before it even gets off the ground, is daunting.

Naturally, I am moving forward. I am stubborn, and I haven't given up yet. I will try agian, and again, and again, to do good, to leave wherever I am better than I found it, even if that effect doesn't last for long. Existential dread aside, I will keep trying, however I can.

Hopefully it matters to someone.