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cellarspider · 2 months

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17/?? Inappropriate relations between hugger and face

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We return to the movie that is a menace to itself and society at large, Prometheus.

Content warning for gore, death, orifice invasion, and, unsurprisingly,

Time to kill the sacrificial side characters! Well, at least, kill the ones that have names and distinct personalities, so that you are expected to feel somewhat bad for them. And I do. They didn’t do anything bad enough to deserve this movie.

I mean, they’re going to die because the movie turns them into morons to make this scene work, but hey. They’re still doing better than the guy who managed to insult his life partner’s father, faith, and infertility in the course of two minutes.

This part of the movie, in fact, leans fully into 80s-90s slasher tropes. The people who’re having sex are all going to have various bad things happen to them throughout the movie, with their severity and dignity depending on whether they display traits considered virtuous. But Fifield the geologist has committed the cardinal sin of hotboxing his suit’s air supply while they wait out the night in the creepy alien structure, so he shall be among the first to die.

To make this work, they have decided to spend the night in the room right next to the decapitated alien body they refused to get near before. They do not seem to mind it now, nor do they find it worrying that the room on the other side of it is full of the black oil from the X-Files.

This is one of the other infamous scenes that everybody remembers about this movie. Millburn is not doing anything that a morally punitive slasher movie would declare worthy of death, but he is going to behave like a moron.

Remember I said ages ago that there was a cut scene where he apparently showed real reverence for the existence of non-humanoid, unintelligent alien life? That was meant to provide context for why he’d be so excited to see the world’s most genital-faced snake.

We, the audience, know that this is probably what’s become of some alien worms last seen being exposed to the Ominous Black Goo. Why didn’t it fully melt them like the Engineer at the start? Not explained! We, the audience weird enough to remember Prometheus twelve years after it came out, should also know that when a snake-like creature rears up, flares open a hood, and makes hissing noises, you should not try to get close to that critter. That is an angry critter, and it is going to do angry things to you.

Millburn is presented as the kind of herp-lover who finds a snakey critter cute, so he should know this too. He does not. That is impressively bad. The one impressively good thing about this scene is that the creature is largely a practical effect, save for in moments where it needs to move in ways a puppet can’t. At the same time, it’s unfortunately hard to tell that it’s real, due to its texture. This helps hide the transitions to CG, but it also leaves you less convinced that it’s there. Sometimes a more obvious puppet can still feel more threatening, because they are indisputably there.

Still, this scene is, despite the stupid context, effective at most of what it wants to do: creating a sudden, brutal spike of violence, with one small creature managing to act as an unstoppable force. Millburn’s arm is broken, Fifield is sprayed with acid blood as he tries to help and falls face-first into the black ooze, leaving Milburn to be killed by the creature as it breaks into his suit and crawls down his throat. It hits two of the usual beats of an Alien movie: acid blood, and overtones of sexual violation.

It made me feel squeamish, although that might have something to do with the fact that it has a weird parallel to a sci-fi comedy movie that had some unpleasant marketing back when I was a wee Spider: Evolution. Apparently, back in 2001, it was considered comedic to watch a giant mosquito crawl under the skin of a man’s thigh and imply that it bit him in the balls. Wee Spider did not agree with this assessment, and so now that’s burnt into my psyche.

The crew of the Prometheus is none the wiser, because nobody kept a watch on the two of them. The last interaction they had was Janek saying ‘hey, we detected movement in there with you, probably just a glitch tho, nbd’ before wandering off to have sex with Vickers.

I want to remind everyone that this is the movie that wants to deal with themes including but not limited to:

The creation and purpose of humanity

The ethical implications of creating human-level artificial intelligence

How religion intersects with science and crises of faith

Are we truly capable of grappling with any of the above

Genocide

This movie is an absolute mess. It is beautifully shot, and a competent shock-horror film when it feels like it, but that accounts for a fraction of its runtime, and basically none of the dialog.

It also fails at building tension for scenes like these, because it undercuts Alfred Hitchcock's principle of cinematic tension:

youtube

[Video description: An excerpt from a lecture by Alfred Hitchcock:

"Four people are sitting around a table, talking about baseball, whatever you like. Five minutes of it, very dull. Suddenly, a bomb goes off. Blows the people to smithereens. What do the audience have? Ten seconds of shock. Now take the same scene, and tell the audience there's a bomb under that table, and will go off in five minutes. Well the whole emotion of the audience is totally different, because you've given them that information. That in five minutes time, that bomb will go off. Now the conversation about baseball becomes very vital. Because they're saying to you, "Don't be ridiculous, stop talking about baseball, there's a bomb under the table!" You've got the audience working. Now the only difference is--and I've been guilty of, in the picture Sabotage, of making this error, but I've never made it since--The bomb must never go off. Because if you do, you've worked that audience into a state, and then they'll get angry because you haven't provided them with any relief. That's almost a must. So a foot touches the bomb, somebody looks down, says "My god, there's a bomb." Out of the window, then it goes off, just in time."

]

Prometheus tells you, over and over again, that the characters are in danger. Why are they in danger? Because they deliberately put themselves there. It's like they're a bunch of ordinance disposal experts sitting around Hitchcock's table, one of them nudges the bomb with their foot, and they look down and say "Huh! That's neat. Hey, take a poke at this, guys!"

The last bit of Hitchcock's principle is moot in this type of horror film, because there are only some characters that are positioned as being worthy of real worry on the part of the audience, which Prometheus also undermines--but not entirely. We still have a ways to go before they take his advice on that, though.

Next time:

Many posts ago, I responded to Holloway’s behavior with an invocation of Clue:

The tables shall soon turn!

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Citations for alt-text rambles

https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/thats-a-penis

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tooms

https://www.buzzfeed.com/adambvary/something-terrible-has-happened-here-the-crazy-story-of-how

#Prometheus 2012 #Prometheus (2012)#did you know this critter is officially called the hammerpede #despite “pede” meaning “legs”#none of the official names for the critters in this movie make sense #yet another thing to drive me to madness

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noodlefluid · 1 year

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Random headcanons about the ✨Dumbass twins✨ that no one ask for

Tw: mention of death, anxiety (separation anxuety to be precise), swearing, minor spoilers from the movie, tcest dni

English isn't my first languge, if there's any grammar mistake please lmk, I'm dumb and is 4 fcking 30 in da morning omg I should be worry about my sleeping habits

☁️Fluffy ones☁️

Leo has says dumb shit like "The sun is a planet" with a straight face just to start a fight with Donnie, Raph try to calm Donnie saying that he just wanna see him angry and to not mind him

They actually have the closest relationship among the brothers they just don't wanna admit it

They shared a room when they were kids, they still do it time to time, even when they complain for months to splinter about having separated rooms

Leo call themselves twins, Donnie say that it is imposible because of them being different species and how he would rather die that share another singular dna particle with him

Absolutely go to eachothers room to stared at them say sometime like "Fuck off" throw some shit at them and just leave (Leo close the door a little and the just smash it open when leaving)

There's a show that they watch together, if the other find them watching it without them, they would throw the most dramatic tantrum of history

Donnie: I swear is not what you think

Leo: *sobbing*: How could- *sob* and I thought of you as my brother

Donnie confused: but...we...we are bro-

Leo: DON'T TALK TO ME YOU CHEATER *leaves dramatically*

Raph who just enter the room to grab something: the hell is goin on?

Neither of them know who is the oldest, Donnie says it him cause he is smarter, Leo says is him cause he is the "handsomest"

They absolutely adore team rocket as kids, they always would say "prepare for troubles and make it double" whenever they enter a room (mikey was meowht and Raph wobuffet)

We all now that Leo's straight as a circle. Donnie was the first one he came out to, inmediately went to his brothers screaming "You guys owe me 20!!"

The brothers make a bet about Leo's sexuality and when he would come out, Donnie won both

They didn't wanna share a birthday as kids, but neither of them wanted to be the youngest twin, so they choose 2 days and they rotate who's birthday goes first (like, one year Donnie gets the first day and Leo the second, next year Leo gets the first one and Donnie the other and so on) Now neither of them mind having the same day but they think that the other one wouldn't like to change the tradition

They send dumb memes to eachothers

Donnie can sleep whenever he wants, it's his super power, however he often won't sleep because of his projects

Leo has insomnia and can't sleep, he has to be knocked out

There's a 3am twins reunion in the kitchen, they make a whole pizza party once, Raph ground them

They both know ASL, well...something similar, both have non-verbal episodes, so one time they found some ASL book or something, the thing is that neither of them fully understand them and since they have just 3 figers there were sign that were imposible to make, so they kinda made up they own sign lenguage (they call it TSL turtle sign lenguage), they teach Mikey and Raph, Splinter try but couldn't figure it out, and April knows the basic

Even without the TSL, they can tell what the other think right away without any form of comunication, they just look at eachothers and kinda know what the other wants

Leo looking at a non-verbal Donnie: sup?

Donnie:

Leo: Oh really?

Donnie:

Leo: mmmh...sucks to be you, sorry bud...anyways, want sum pizza?

Donnie:

Leo: what? but we had that one the last time

Donnie:

Leo: ugh, fine. But only because you sound pathetic

Raph who once again just enter to grab something: seriously, what the hell?????

Leo loves kpop and somehow convinced Donnie to practice some choreos with him (Donnie loves Twice but he would not admit it in front of Leo. Leo's favorite groups are BlackPink and Everglow)

🧅Angsty ones🧅

Both of them can feel when the other is in danger

They have something similar to "littermate syndrome" (is when two puppies from the same litter are adopted together and develop a really strong bond, to the point to become dependent to eachothers and have horrible separation anxiety, to thw point to stop eating if the other isn't around for a few dahs) when they were kids if they couldn't find the other they would start crying in one place until someone bring them together

Of course they calmed down as they got older, they were fine knowing the other was alive, but after all the Krang stuff happend they went back to how they were before, sobbing and shaking if the other wasn't around and they didn't know where the other was

In the Krangified future after Donnie died Leo didn't speak to anyone for a whole month, and didn't eat until Mikey or April forced him to, he was pretty much an empty vessel for a while until he decided that Donnie would wanted to see the end of this shitty situation

When someone ask him why he kept fighting his answer was "For Donnie's honour"

One of the things Casey Jr love the most about his time travel is seeing Donnie and Leo together, joking around and just being brothers, just how it was

Leo didn't want to used any of Donnie's tech after he died, cause he was afraid to break it and it was everything that was left from him, sometimes he stoped other from using it unconsciously, he stop once he realize that Donnie make them because he knew he would eventually die, and wanted people to use it

When Casey told the others about their deaths Leo went "I'm the superior twin lmao", everyone just stare at him with a what's wrong with you face "what? That's how I cope" he say while waking up from the 38 hours of sleep he had after defeating the krang

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chuuya4040 · 5 months

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PART 2 - continuation with dazais pov! enjoy <33

part 1 is here.

Longing is within human nature.

It is within our genetic makeup as human beings, to want things we simply cannot have. To desire, to crave for something that is unattainable, with yearning pulling the arteries and veins of your heart to make it beat and scream: /I want him, I want him to be so irrevocably mine that no one will ever take him away from me./

Too bad Dazai was the one to let him go first.

Dazai does not regret his choices of leaving a place that did nothing but fester the darkness within his own sorry excuse for a heart, until his own veins were bathed with blood he no longer recognised. Although, he can’t help but feel his blood stained hands aching to feel a familiar body wrapped around his again.

A heart he does not have, yet those moments when he was around a familiar redhead, all fiery and blue painting his world, something that resembled a heartbeat roared in his chest till he thought he was going to die.

Most nights surrounded with bottles of sake in his quiet and lonely apartment, the detective dreams of hues of red and blue; the flurry of colors brightening his sky until he thought he might explode from it all. He wakes remembering a smile so bright, of hands so gentle and tender accompanied with harsh words with a soft tone.

In those 4 years spent in hiding, Dazai felt as though none of it was real. That he had simply dreamt of nights full of tangled bodies, with mornings spent in arms that made him feel more alive than any drug could ever.

Although he took what he could, even if it meant opening up the show curtains and layering on his true feelings with masks he longer recognized, with makeup and costumes he loathed to wear all to spend time with Chuuya, then Dazai would do anything. /Anything/ to feel the familiar warmth that he has been craving for 4 years swimming in his bloodstream, to feel high when he watches the deep hue of red take over the sky as the world crumbles around them.

/Anything./

“He’s my partner,” Dazai had simply told Atsushi one day before the Lovecraft fight. “He’s my annoying chib-sized dog that cannot think for himself. I can’t think of anything worse than seeing that tacky hat again.”

Atsushi had fidgeted on his seat, when he reluctantly asked “it’s been years since you last saw him.. Aren’t you worried he’ll betray you because you’re on opposite sides now?”

The detective softly chuckled, “oh, don't you know, Atsushi-kun? A dog always answers to their master, no matter how many years they’ve been apart for.”

Dazai supposes he was talking about himself in this instance. He sat with his imaginary tail wagging behind him, swaying swiftly with excitement awaiting to see the only man that could ever beacon his call.

It felt like flying, when they had finally stood side by side once again; it felt like his defective heart had finally pumped again after years when he saw the beautiful destruction of his partner and corruption.

It was a drug he couldn’t get enough of, and it was in the form of Nakahara Chuuya.

Seeing Chuuya in that port mafia bar where they used to go as teenagers and watching his (ex) partner laugh and smile softly among others, made the aching in his heart unbearable. His veins itched to feel the familiar high, to be so wrapped around in the redhead’s world that he saw him and him only.

The pinching of his heart directed him to follow the executive into the alleyway; the hole in his chest that has been growing for 4 years pushed him to hold onto the redhead; the roaring of his heart convinced him to press his lips to the familiar slope of his shoulder.

“I missed you,” he whispers against his jaw.

You make me feel so alive, he wants to scream from the top of his lungs, I had to leave, I’m so sorry, but please come back to me, Chuuya.

How did he ever let this feeling go? The feeling of someone so powerful that could tear him into shreds in seconds, that deserved someone so much better than him, that loved him like it was as easy as breathing air?

Bandaged hands dig into the amble waist, he imagines his nails breaking through the flesh until he’s bathing in his lover's blood until no one could tell them apart. He imagines peeling back the flesh, delicately opening his ribcage and making a home near his heart.

“Osamu,” Chuuya pleads, a leather glove holding whatever is left of his heart in his hand.

Tears prick in his eyes, his heart roaring in his chest hearing a name that he hasn’t heard in years coming from the man he is so irrevocably obsessed with. Say it again, he begs in his mind, say it again and tell me that I can be yours again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–

He watches the way azure eyes stare at him, with so much agony and sorrow that all Dazai wants to do is jump through his iris and swim within his mind, if only it meant he could always be with him. To die by those blue eyes would be an honor.

Seeing that weak smile accompanied with “congratulations on leaving. You did what you had to, trust me, out of everyone I fucking get that,” made the ghost of a heart in Dazai’s chest ache with agony, the hollowness in his chest spread into his limbs until they hung on by a single tendon ready to be cut off with gloved hands.

He wishes he had taken those gloved hands that night and whisked him away into the light. Though it would’ve been difficult, and the brightness of it all would’ve burned and scarred their very skin, they would’ve done it /together./ They would have figured out how to be gentle, tender and kind in a world that had only ever rejected them as children, learned how to bathe in the light rather than keen away in fear.

It would’ve been beautiful. It would’ve been magical.

The night that Dazai Osamu fled the mafia, he had only taken the clothes off of his own back and a leather choker.

If Dazai Osamu, one half of soukoku, and dubbed as the Demon Prodigy, fell asleep in those years in hiding clutching a familiar leather choker with tear stains on his pillow and his black heart spilling across the sheets; that was only for him and his four walls to know.

It was bound to happen, Dazai muses over as he watches the flurry of red and black disappear out of the alleyway.

/Everything worth wanting, is lost the moment I obtain it./

It had happened when he so foolishly believed he had found his own little safe corner in the mafia with Odasaku and Ango.He had so foolishly prayed that whatever gods that observed him from above would at least give him the decency to keep Chuuya in his life.

/You will,/ his heart roared, /you will get him back./ Dazai vows that he will do whatever it takes to get his partner, his one and only, back into his life.

And in the end, his heart will finally beat on its own, beating in all its glory and it will be beautiful.

#bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #bsd #bsd fic #nakahara chuuya #skk fic #thread fic #skk angst #soukoku fic #skk fanfic #soukoku #they make me miserable #inspired by still got it by troye sivan

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zuffer-weird-girl · 1 year

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Warnings: overhaul x reader drabble, involves heavy topics like suicide, death, vomit, self loathing, character asking to be killed and among other mental health issues since this is Chisaki, so be aware of this before you read it. Not recommended to minors to be honest.

"So many years wasted... throw inside a trashcan...." he murmured to himself as he stared at the image that appeared on the mirror in front of him.

He shouldn't be felling sorry for himself.... after all he has done. After all he did to the boss... he didn't deserve it. The pain on his chest and soul wouldn't go away. Ever. Not even if he was allowed to apology to the man in coma and begrudgingly to the little girl he had taken advantage of.

None of this would have happened if he just listened to the old man. None of this would have happen if he had put his pride aside... None of this would be real if he wasn't welcome in inside the yakuza.

"Such... a waste... of human garbage." he hissed the last words in disgust as he dropped his head... if he still had his hands, probably they would be gripping the sides of his hair by now.

Oh, right. He would still have fucking arms and hands if he wasn't such a idiotic asshole.

He couldn't even bring back the man he had as a father figure. What the hell was he even worth for now? The shie hassaikai was ruined, because of him. He had.... nothing.

"Hey.." he widened his eyes at the sound before slowly lifting his head to see your figurine leaning on the doorway, a small and tired smile plastered on your face... as usual. "I was thinking of maybe karekatsu for dinner, what do you think?"

... another thing he wasn't worth for...

You.

"... do whatever you want." He whispered harshly and tried to ignore the pain in his chest at hearing your sigh.... which he couldn't tell if it was from annoyance or just plenty up tired with his bullshit.

Despite everything he made you go through, you had somehow manage to convince the heroes that his condition in tartarus was impossible to live. Convincing the authorities that despite being his fiance, you would keep him at house arrest all of the time until his sentence was done.

He had this metal black thing on his right ankle that was a painfull reminder on the day you finally saw him out of tartarus...

You had those... eyes. Disappointed yet worried ones. He does know how much you loved children, so hearing of his abouts must be horrific for you.

Yet you were still there... still with him...

How...? But mostly important... why?

He let himself fall on his back on the bed he was sitting on previously... staring at the ceiling in numbness as his ears capted the backroom noise.

After a few minutes or so, he could hear you approaching and then softly knocking on the door frame.

"Is done. Do you want to eat here or..?"

"... to be honest, I am not hungry." He spoke nonchantly while he could tell by his peripheral vision that you had crossed your arms over your chest.

"You're not hungry or you don't want to be fed?"

Shit. You knew him well.

Being spoon feed made him feel like a newborn... made him feel worthless and vulnerable... he didn't liked one bit.

"... perhaps... both."

"Kai, you need to eat something... I don't want you to become skin and bones only..." You pleaded and he finally had the courage to turn his head in your direction.

"....wouldn't it be easier...? Wouldn't be easier if you let me die...? Or if that shigaraki had killed me instead of-"

"Stop." He closed his mouth at your sharp tone "Stop depreciating yourself. You're alive and will be alive for a long time." You stormed out and he inhaled sharply before returning his gaze to the ceiling.

Being alive sounded more like a punishment nowadays....

He almost flinched when the bed suddenly stopped a bit with your weight as he stared up at you with wide eyes.

Despite wanting to end it all, he still flinched at sudden movements or even the smallest brushes of skin to skin contact... he had fallen so hard... from a powerfull and fearfull yazuka to a mere quirkless, disable, worthless and a scared cat man...

Such a shame...

"Sit up." You ordered gently and he couldn't help to just follow your orders for once... in the past it would be a bit of resistance, but who was he now to decline a order if he couldn't do absolute nothing for himself?

With your help, as always, he managed to sit up with his back resting on the mattress of the bed as he eyed the bowl of karekatsu you had brought.

"You-"

"I did cut it so you wouldn't choke. Yeah. Besides a I brought a spoon this time instead of the hashis." You smiled sheepish as you shaked the utensil in your hand between two fingers.

He was jealous for a second...

"Ready to be my taste tester?" You stopped up some food and held it to his face as his nose scrunched up...

The humiliation...

He hesitantly opened his mouth to allow the food to enter.... he hated being taken care of, but you were right... he was famished...

The flavors almost exploded on his tongue as soon as his taste buds registered that it wasn't the usualbarley rice and miso soup he was obligated to choke down as the guards madenhim swallow it... no. It was yours doing. He missed the familiarity of your cooking all times he had to eat the tartarus meals... it was so rich in flavors that he almost let a moan escape...

"Good? Was my first time doing it..." You asked after he had swallowed it.

"... is... " usually this time his pride would make him say stupid things like: 'is alright' or 'is food'

But now, he let it slip the silent word perfect in the quiet room...

"I'm so happy to hear that!" You smiled... how long has it been since you had smiled at him like that?

.... wait. No.

No he didn't deserve to miss that freacking smile. He didn't deserve you treating him like glass. He didn't deserve to be breathing the same air as you are.

Such a gentle and sweet soul like yours shouldn't be with him.

He suddenly threw himself out of the bed and rushed to the bathroom, kneeling harshly on the ground as vomit traveled from his stomach to all the way out of his mouth as he coughed violently.

"Kai!" He heard your voice from afar and cringed when he felt your soft hand rubbing gentle circles on his back as he spilled his guts out... "Is alright... don't force yourself, let it all out..."

Your gentle murmurs only seemed to worse his state of mind and body... he noticed how he started to tremble, his jaw seemed like it was going to fall apart, his stomach hurted like a bitvh along with his chest... he was hot... so hot in his head that it felt suffocating...

The disgusting taste of the bile of his stomach, the way he had harshly threw up hurted.... as soon as he had finished, he felt something burbling on his chest as he furrowed his eyebrows at the feeling before slamming his forehead against the toilet and shouting in the loudest volume he could... just to see if the pain lessened for a bit.

It did not.

He felt your fingers brushing his hair back and he couldn't help but to let out the loudest sob he had ever heard as you picked a wet napkin and wiped the corners of his mouth while suushing him.

"Calm down you just need to breath love..." You spoke and he inhaled sharply at the way the nickname you gave to him slipped so easily and smoothly from your lips... he gagged at the horrific smell of vomit as you helped him up the best you before leading him out of the bathroom from his sake.

He was brought to the bedroom once again as he could tell you were internally panicking at his state...

"O-ok... take a big breath in and out, I'm going to get some water and-"

"Kill.. me..." You froze and looked at him like he had grew another head.

".. what?"

"Kill me... please...." his shoulder shook and soon enough you were embracing him so strongly he let himself fall apartly completely "P-Please-! I don't deserve to live!"

"No lov-"

"DONT CALL ME THAT!" He wailed before lowering his face on the crook of your neck "I'M A WASTE OF HUMAN BEING! LOOK AT ALL I HAVE DONE! NOT ONLY I AM USELESS BUT I AM A FREACKING MONSTER! WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN HERE STILL?! YOU DONT DESERVE THAT!" He wailed loudly on your neck as he felt you carrying the hair on the nape of his neck as you stayed in silence.

"I-If I die... than it would be better. Pops and erj would have their revenge for what I did to to both of them, the ex members of the hassaikai would feel revenge as well... you won't have to deal with a disable and worthless husband any longer... "

"Kai dont-"

"Don't lie... I know you have no feelings for me... you're here out of pity... I don't deserve it... I don't deserve none of it..." he hiccups as tears traveled down from his face to your shirt "not your pity and specially not your kindness..."

It was silent for a bit as he tried to recover himself form the sudden attack before he felt you cupping both cheeks and making him look at you..

You had tears of your own on those eyes... your lips were chapped due to constantly biting them and your hair was a mess.

Yet you looked... so beautiful.

"I'm not gonna lie, what you did was extremely fucked up and I don't feel a single hit of pity towards you for it." He didn't wanted to but he flinched at that.

"But I'm not lying when I say everything is going to turn out OK sooner or later. I am not lying each morning when I check of you are alright and check how are your arms.... I don't lie when it comes to me worrying about you 24 hours at day and certainly not about my love for you."

"... how? How could you still love a man like me after everything I done..?" He asked, his voice rough due to him throwing up and shouting a few minutes ago...

You brushed a tear away with your thumb before placing a gentle kiss to his lips, not caring if he had brushed them or not.

"I just do... no one is 100% bad or good.... and your beauty never really scared me..."

He blinked and stared at you like you were the craziest person he had ever met.

Or maybe you were...

"What beauty...? I am no longer the man you married.. I am no longer a boss that had the confidence and power .... I don't even get to pick something for myself due to my arms being ripped off of me..."

"First, you still are the man I married. Different? Sure, but him no less.... second, power surely does not mean beauty... don't you remember I found you the hottest man alive by only wearing boxers?"

"Pervert-" you shush him with a skile when you got the glimpse of small one growing on those lips of his.

"Third and final... your arms. Kai it will take longer for you to get used to this new life-style and probably much longer when we get those prostheses... I can't promise you it will be easy, but what I can assure you is that I will not leave your side. I promised that on the altar, didn't I?"

"It means nothing if you no longer hold feeling-"

"Kai I love you." You grabbed his face and made his golden eyes lock with yours "I love you, and I will say it as much times you need me to convince your stubborn ass that."

He blinked a drop pf tear away as he almost whispered the question.

".. how?... why?"

And you answered once again

"Your beauty never really scared me..."

(A/n): this... turned out like shit. I am sorry.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai #overhaul #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha villains x reader #kai chisaki x reader #bnha villains #zuffer writings

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panicatthediaz · 4 months

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Tar on a mound of snow

Sequel to day 1, Runaway, aka more werewolf Munsons. Or what's left of them :') Written for @eddiemonth, because I said I would so I will, don't mind me. It's Day 07 - Wayne + Warm (for once, I got another part of the prompt included. Small victories.)

Warnings: The death of Eddie's mom caused changes Eddie's overwhelmed by. Talk of parent death. (But this is mostly... comfort? An attempt at comfort? I dunno, it still feels pretty sad.)

Wordcount: 1859

Things had changed far too quickly. A group of hunters had invaded their pack home, and Eddie had to see his mom die — or, technically, get shot, but he wasn't stupid.

He was already a shifter and knew what silver did to their kind, and Eddie had no doubt that that bullet had been silver; things wouldn't have been this chaotic in the aftermath if it hadn't.

“You ready, kid?” Wayne asked, appearing at the door of his room in the pack house. His uncle had a saddened expression, his mouth pulling into a frown as he stood there, patiently waiting for Eddie to take one last look around.

It felt like his entire life had been packed away and put into the back of a moving truck, no trace of him remaining to ever tell anyone that a ten year old boy had lived here. The walls were bare and repainted, back to the white they had been when Eddie was first allowed to decorate his own room.

Eddie shrugged in response to his uncle's question; he wasn't ready, they were going to be in a car for hours, moving two states over, because his dad had sent them away.

Al Munson had explained it many times at this point, but all Eddie got from it was that he'd lost his mom and his dad was leaving.

At least, he was pretty sure Wayne had tried convincing his dad not to go anywhere.

“Come on, then,” Wayne urged him, not unkindly; the room probably looked depressing for everyone that was still around. With a warm hand on his shoulder and the other ruffling his hair, he led Eddie back to the room they were going to share on this last night before they left Tennessee altogether. “We gotta wake early tomorrow.”

—

Hawkins was… weird. There was something about the town that unsettled Wayne as well, so his uncle got in touch with a couple of local witches, to try and figure out what was so different about the town they moved into.

One of them lived in the trailer park, in the trailer closest to the woods; they were pretty much next door. Granny Ecker insisted on feeding them both, but at least Eddie made his first friend in town, Granny’s granddaughter Ronnie.

(Eddie didn't get to meet the Buckleys for a few years, but Wayne had said they were the ones to go to if he ever needed anything for silver wounds, so Eddie had made sure to know where he could find Melissa Buckley.)

—

Hawkins had a considerable amount of nature surrounding its borders, and Eddie assumed that had been why Wayne chose this tiny little town as their destination.

No one else from the pack had followed, though, so the runs he sometimes spent among cousins, and uncles, and aunts, and even his grandparents? It would become a run of two. Not a pack, not even close, but it was enough to settle the part of the young wolf that demanded family.

Wayne wasn't unaffected either. Wolves and werewolves, they were all social creatures. They lived with families, by blood and by choice, they led loud and happy lives, provided they could stick to their own and let their wolves loose for a bit.

But they'd lost that when the Beaumont-Flynn pack disbanded and everyone scattered. Eddie sometimes wondered what happened to the big house they all lived in on the edge of the Appalachian mountains, but most of the time, he tried not to think about everything they left behind.

Sometimes, trying to ignore it all worked. Other times, not so much. People would ask him about his parents, and Eddie would freeze, leaving Wayne to answer their questions and deal with the resulting awkwardness. It was a small town, though, and it didn't take long until no one else needed to ask them about Lauren and Alan Munson.

—

Eddie knew this would have counted as abnormal behavior for him. He didn’t really sulk or stomp around, no matter what his uncle said, but it was like every little thing was pressing in all around him. Too loud, too bright, with scents too strong. His skin felt too tight on his body, but somehow he felt stretched thin at the same time.

He was overwhelmed.

Eddie hadn't noticed September passing by, hadn't felt the need to shift, not with all he and Wayne'd had to do before they could move. But, well, he was feeling it now, after school on October 26. The day of the full moon, and three days before his birthday. The Harvest Moon passed by unnoticed, and his body was letting him know just how much skipping a full moon sucked.

And with that itch had come the realization that a month had already passed since their old house was attacked mid September.

He spotted Wayne's truck on the school parking lot almost as soon as he walked out, waving at Ronnie as she moved to the bike rack; she'd have gotten a ride with him and Wayne, but she had some club or another before going home.

"You okay, kid?" Wayne asked, frowning at the way Eddie was frowning at everything. "Something happen today?"

Eddie shook his head. "Jus' loud," he mumbled, throwing his head back against the cushion and closing his eyes. "Full moon."

Wayne hummed. He probably felt just as shitty as Eddie did, but he'd managed to call off work today, getting everything sorted for tonight. Eddie distantly wondered what went into "getting everything sorted out", since he usually just had to show up. Food, maybe, but Wayne had never been much of a cook, so he probably got their blankets out. Or whatever they managed to bring from the old house.

He ended up dozing on their way back to the trailer, and Wayne gently shook him by the shoulder to rouse him. The routine of it all helped a little; get home, have a snack, change out of school clothes, homework — or the portion of it the two could figure out and was more urgent tonight — help his uncle set up their bags for being outside until late at night.

But the electric whirring was still buzzing in the back of his head, seeming louder now that night was falling, and even Wayne's breathing was getting on his nerves today. Eddie hated it.

"At least you ain't a vampire," Wayne joked. "They get to hear people's heartbeats all the time."

That, Eddie thought, would drive him crazy really fast.

—

The run had been a short one. They didn't know Hawkins enough to really let go yet, to really run all they could, so they kept to the area they were sure surrounded the trailer park. Branching out and adventuring could come later, once the town didn't feel so unsettling and different to them.

On their way to the trailer, Eddie looked back into those woods, cataloging the ways it differed from the one back home; the plains in place of the old mountains, the animals... Hawkins wasn't that much smaller than his old town, but being the new kid sucked anyway.

It wasn't home. Not yet, and Eddie wasn't sure it would ever feel like home, but it was where he would be for the foreseeable future. He had Wayne, and he loved his uncle, but the joy of running with a full pack was incomparable, and two wolves didn't make a pack. But that was where they were, and they could only have each other, and the only thing Eddie could do was map these woods to the best of his ability. He could learn trails, how to keep away from people.

So he turned back around, ignoring his uncle’s calls as he circled the trailer park and its section of woods once more. It would take a long time to actually memorize how far the woods stretched, where the woods thinned to make way to roads and to the houses in the fancier part of town.

On the other hand, he knew he could learn scents, wouldn't have trouble memorizing those, or the shape of the trees they would run among for most of the time. He would be able to tell when something was wrong this time.

Eddie didn't know how long he took on this second lap of their corner of the woods, but Wayne was waiting for him just where they had separated. His uncle stood out against the trees, his coat of fur a lot lighter than his dad's — a mix of gray and white, aged when compared to his dad only beginning to gray last month.

Wayne made a questioning noise, poking at Eddie with his nose to ensure he was okay, unhurt, only stopping with the whine Eddie let out at his fussing. His uncle watched him carefully for a moment, time Eddie spent with his eyes closed, breathing fast because of more than just another lap of a run.

Eddie felt himself being lifted off of the ground and hugged. Wayne was warm, shielding him against the cold breeze as he ran a hand up and down his fur to try and calm his breathing down, but there was more in Eddie's mind than his breathing.

Wayne started walking, though Eddie wasn't sure where to. His uncle didn't demand Eddie shift back to human nor did he shift back himself, so he was comfortable simply resting against him and trying to mimic his much calmer breathing.

His uncle's meaningless grumbles, low in his throat, were the same Wayne would hum and sing while human; soothing. It was familiar. And Eddie thought they needed familiar right now, in some small town two states over from home.

He wanted to go back but he knew he couldn't. Even if they were to return, who would be there?

The whine escaped unbidden from Eddie's throat, one he knew he'd used to call for this mom however many moons ago it was that he'd fallen down a ravine.

He hadn't been hurt then, not really; scrapes healed overnight, for the most part.

But it did hurt now, with yet another realization that she was gone, dead, that his dad hadn't come with them, that he and his uncle were two strangers in a small town that seemed closely knit in everything.

Eddie only realized he'd been put down on the ground when Wayne, back on all fours, circled him before lying down, effectively blocking him in and forcing him to lie on top of his body.

It was like a drop of tar on top of a mound of snow, the way Eddie's own fur contrasted against Wayne's.

Time passed, uncounted, before Eddie eventually shifted back and started crying. For his mom, his dad. For Uncle Wayne. For changes he didn't know how to handle. For knowing that, most likely, he wouldn't see anyone from home in a long time, if ever again; when werewolves scattered, they spread far.

But Wayne was wrapping himself around him, keeping him warn. They had each other.

For now, that had to do.

#Stranger Things #Eddie Munson #Wayne Munson #werewolf Eddie Munson #werewolf Wayne Munson #eddiemonth #day 7 #WeresWriting #parent death tw #parent death #we WILL NOT talk about how long these are taking me.#At this point I know Eddie's mom is called Elizabeth but I'm too attached to Lauren now #Now onto part 3 of that fluff fest

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sixminutestoriesblog · 4 months

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St. Lucia

I'm a little behind on this one. St. Lucia's Day is December 13 but since I didn't realize that until too late, we're going to do this a little bit belated.

St. Lucia's (or Lucy's) celebration is, for the purpose of this post, going to be about the Scandinavian side of things. On December 13th, the shortest day of the year according to the old Julian calendar, young girls dress in white robes with red sashes, set a wreath of holly on their head, crowned with - if they're old enough and trusted enough - lit candles and hand out coffee and sweets, often saffron buns or ginger cookies, to members of their family or nearby neighbors. Cranking it down a few years, small children dressed in white robes carrying, again if they're old enough, candles, also form a parade and sing as they too hand out treats or follow an elected Lucia who does that herself. Lucia means 'light' and this tradition is supposed to help you shore up enough of it for the coming winter months as well as to mark the Winter Solstice.

How did this all come about though? St. Lucia is from the Mediterranean.

Let's start at the beginning.

St. Lucia was a Christian martyr who was born in Sicily and died in 304 at the age of 25. During her life, she brought food to either the poor or the Christian martyrs hiding in the catacombs depending on the story you read. She wore a candle on her head so that both of her hands would be free to carry more food. Her mother arranged a marriage for her, since Lucia's father had died when she was young and the mother, dying herself of bleeding issues, feared for her daughter's future. Lucia however was a Christian woman that had dedicated her virginity to God, something many early female saints seemed to do, and after her prayers brought about her mother's healing, she convinced the woman to call off the engagement. Instead, she dedicated her dowry to Christ and distributed it among the poor. This did not go over well with her ex-fiance who snitched like a little bitch to the governor. Since Christianity was illegal at the time, Lucia's arrest was ordered, with her punishment being service in a brothel for daring to break up with a man. When the soldiers rolled up to take her away however, they found they couldn't move her, even after they'd hitched ox to her to try. Strangely dedicated to their work in the face of the miraculous, they then heaped wood around her and set her on fire.

This, also, did not work.

Finally, some go-getter in the group got creative and ran her through with a sword (or spear).

This worked.

Or it didn't, depending on the story because at least one of them says that she didn't actually die until she'd been given Last Rites. Honestly, whoever gave her Last Rites should have just kept their mouth shut and she'd probably still be around today.

During the period between the 8th and 12th centuries, Scandinavian countries gradually adopted Christianity and St. Lucia came with it. The St. Lucia that became known in Scandinavia however wasn't entirely the woman she'd been in Sicily.

You see - before St. Lucia came to Scandinavia, there was Lussi Lagnatti, Lucy Long-night, and she also claimed December 13th, except she claimed its long, dark hours instead.

If St. Lucia brought hope and healing with her, Lussi brought terror, punishment and the dead with her in the dark of the longest night of the year. On Winter Solstice, everyone stayed locked safely inside their houses where they hung axes, scissors and knives over their doorway and marked crosses on their houses to keep her at bay. During the Winter Solstice the veil between worlds grew thin and things leaked through. Lussi was accompanied on her travels by walking dead, evil spirits, trolls and other shuddery creatures. It was a Wild Hunt of its own, with Lussi as its leader and woe to anyone they found outside. If the victim was lucky, they would be found miles from where they'd started, confused and beaten.

If they were unlucky, they were never found at all.

Lussi, like many winter creatures, had a penchant for naughty children and workers, especially women, that hadn't finished their winter chores by the time of the Solstice. She and her hoard would damage their houses, their barns and sometimes even snatch them up to carry them away forever.

Little wonder that light-giving, hope giving, generous Lucia took her place in the hearts of Scandinavia. Or perhaps Lussi simply reformed into the light side of her dark coin. The young girls that wake up early to dress and feed their family do so before the sun, moving in the darkness of the house after all.

There's one more piece to our puzzle however. Germany also had a white clad woman that wore candles in her crowning wreath and gave out gifts. Her name was Christkind. She was supposed to represent the baby Jesus and was accompanied by Hans Trapp, a stand in for the devil.

So there you have it. Sweden is said to be the start of St. Lucia's Feast in the North, a famine there in medieval times saw a boat miraculously appearing on Lake Varern, headed by a woman of glowing light who handed out food and then vanished with the boat directly after, but it quickly spread to the neighboring countries, even more so in the 1900s. These days Lussi and the Christkind are almost entirely forgotten but St. Lucia still walks the early morning hours, bringing the light with her and giving out her food with both hands, reminding everyone that the winter is long yet but there is also warmth and hope even in these darkest of days.

youtube

#st. lucia #december 13 #winter solstice #sweden #norway #denmark #finland #lussi #christmas #merry christmas #folklore #cottagecore #Youtube

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bagellu · 4 months

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had a burst of inspiration and have been writing this for the last half a day, so have a little read of something stupid.

(The voice in bold, i’d like you to imagine it sounds like Johnny Chiodini of Oxventure doing the skeleton voice and if you don’t know, please look it up on youtube or something bc it’s a great voice)

Many ages ago, in a time almost unthinkable to the modern man, archaeologists aside, magic worked a little differently. This was not to say that it was primitive or vulgar by the standards set by scholars, but things were understood in a manner less academic. It was just known, rather than being written down somewhere.

Of course, it had many a purpose in that time as it does now. Salves and slaying, along with any interest between.

As most societies eventually figure out, a rule of law is devised to deter would-be wizards from practicing arts that people view like curses. Necromancy was almost always viewed with disdain, outside of a few niche moments when having hoards of undead soldiers ready to die once more for their descendant’s homes.

Use of magic to cause malevolent harm was also frowned upon, dire need aside.

But there was one kind that people always projected more harshly onto than any other. Seelemancy, at least how it was known in these parts, went against gods and common sense alike. To touch the soul of another was an unthinkable act; sacred even to those who spurned religious practices. Manipulation and use of another soul was grounds for expulsion from all civilised society, and there was plenty of that to go around. It would make you an outcast among outcasts.

When the practice was developed it rarely bled further than master and apprentice, learnt in secret in the dead of night. That makes for a difficult relationship, as the student is more often than not eager to acquire power, and the master must temper such ambition.

The result, as I am in no doubt you could infer, is the soul of the master trapped inside some bauble to serve as a reminder of how powerful the student has now become.

There are some that broke from this magistricidal tradition, forging a path of discovery that charted untested waters in the field. Syphoning became a subtle tactic to forge the energies into something substantial, taking bit by bit from unsuspecting masses made up for the lack of individual subjects. For a time, this fuelled the intrigue of those who sought more answers.

An even smaller minority, mastering the craft to an unheard of peak, began to caress the very boundaries that held their own souls in their mortal forms. This did not come without accidents. Some were found as puddles of gore in their own laboratories, others as husks resembling deflated bladders.

Knowledge always came with the risk of an immediate and messy death.

Those that succeeded began to experiment with how their souls could be manipulated further, often with one goal in mind.

Immortality.

Some viewed it as an unachievable ideal; theory rather than practical magic. They relented and focused their talents on shaping themselves as they saw fit, gaining aspects that extended their lives without trying, but not indefinitely.

One mage became obsessed with it. He was convinced that it was indeed possible, as surely the souls that drifted off into the afterlife remained as permanent fixtures in the cosmos? With many years of practice, he could shape his soul to whatever was required, but he knew it would not be enough to complete his work.

With the knowledge of another fallen seelemancer, he sought to succeed where they had failed, leaving behind an assortment of chunks.

It was clear that inanimate objects could house the soul, or part of it, given enough space with which to store something that powerful. He heard word of another mage trying something similar some years before him, using gemstones to store the souls stolen from unsuspecting victims and then used at a later date. It was then a measure of finding the best solvent to contain them.

Many years of experimentation followed. Diamonds, despite their allure and price, were a poor container. Too clear as he reasoned, easy for the souls to slip out. Opal was tried and it worked for a time, but the fragility of the stone made it difficult to hold more than minute amounts of a soul, let alone a mortal one in its entirety.

Eventually, and with the unwilling help of many, he settled on an unrefined gem known as Terabite. It was robust but conducted the flow of souls very well. Not to mention, it appeared to have a remarkably large interior, capable of storing multiple souls within stones as small as a fingernail.

He was elated at this discovery. No doubt revealed itself that he was truly the pinnacle of all mages in his time.

He commissioned a band to be worn around the neck, a strap rather than amulet, with the raw crystal adorned upon it. The work could now begin to ease the boundaries of his soul to accommodate the stone and find a way to perpetuate his own life indefinitely.

At first it was like dipping a toe into unknown waters. It was warm, despite his hesitation, but could feel the pull from the stone. It was not unlike that sensation of pulling souls from others, the stream of energy that slipped into his control. With ample effort, he found he could slowly increase the expansion of his own boundary, and he hoped the continued growth would fuel him for many years.

When he stretched the barrier between, widening the opening, a fly chose that precise moment to zip around his head in search of something to do. Once, twice and then thrice it flew close to his ear. He remained as composed as possible, knowing that the spell required his utmost attention.

Then the insect perched itself on his nose.

He reactively waved a hand to budge it from his face and too late realised his mind had irreversibly wandered. The fine control he had evaporated, magic abound in the second that he removed his focus from casting the spell without direction. His soul felt as though forced through a straw; much more malleable than it should ever be and reshaped into a new container.

The trouble came when he attempted to move his arms, but quickly realised that he no longer possessed a corporal form. At least, one that was not a necklace.

Years worth of curses were spewed into the nothingness, unheard by any that would care. A single damnable fly had scuppered decades of finely tuned research.

He had no senses other than the tempest within himself, swirling inside a gem that sat neatly on the leather. No doubt his soul would sustain it, but finding something to possess would now be the most logical step forward.

And so he waited and decided to commit this tale to memory.

Many ages ago, in a time almost unthinkable to the modern man…

***

Mohore brushed her teeth without enthusiasm. The monologue had woken her some hours earlier, as it so often did, and she essentially ignored it as best she could.

Brushing her dark hair behind pointed ears, she gazed at her face in the mirror. The bags beneath her eyes were dark and heavy as usual, but no other concerning marks grabbed her attention.

The necklace, a leather strap that sat firmly against her neck, remained as it always did. It was such a pretty gem, which was part of the reason she had chosen to wear it in the first place. Oh to be so unbothered once again.

She perched herself onto her armchair. There was the scroller for this morning, but it did not feel the right moment for the news. Perhaps she would continue with the book she had been reading before going to bed. It was a novel with considerable attention to romance, which helped keep the noise inside her head to a minimum.

We reading this again?

“We’re continuing with it,” Mohore answered.

You sure it not too dull?

She shushed the protest. “You love it. Penelope is so secretive and witty, how could you resist?”

The voice remained silent for a moment in thought. Okay. But we not going too fast. Take time with it.

“Of course.”

For a while she sat, slowly reading the words on the pages. It was not her favourite genre, but it sufficed for the little routine she had devised.

At Penelope’s smart remarks a throaty chuckle echoed in Mohore’s head.

It was an hour or so before she was disturbed from this relaxation.

Fly.

She rolled her eyes, ignoring it for the moment. About to turn the page, she was halted by the word once again.

Fly.

“We’re reading, remember?”

Hmm. No, I missed words. Sort fly.

“Can’t we just pretend it’s not there?” Mohore pleaded.

Fly.

She groaned expertly and placed the book back on the side table. “Where is it?”

Kitchen.

Rising from the chair, she went quickly to the kitchen and pulled one of the many swatters from a hook. She held her breath for a moment, trying to hear the damnable thing.

There. Ceiling.

Mohore craned her neck and looked up to find a single bee, trotting around one of the many flowers painted onto the ceiling.

“That’s not a fly,” she explained. “It’s got stripes and is too big.”

Fly.

“No.”

Kill.

She set down the swatter on the counter and reached for a cup from the cupboard. “We’re going to help it out the window, not kill it.”

The voice grumbled once more. Why not just squish? Done quicker.

“Because it’s not a fly.”

I heard fly.

“Maybe you were wrong?” She scooped the bee carefully, using a nearby coaster to trap it before releasing it through the open window. “There, see? Easy and less mess.”

As she turned and intended to return to the comfort of the armchair, a black dot buzzed past her face and made for the pantry.

See, fly.

Mohore grumbled in her own, guttural manner. She grasped the swatter once more and swung at the fly.

As though it had predicted the attack, the fly hovered to the left and continued on its way, unscathed and unbothered by the attempt on its life.

Fly.

The swatter whipped the air once more, but failed to find the minuscule mark.

Fly.

Consecutive slaps echoed around the room, wooden cabinets like firm drums in a percussive melody. None struck the target.

Fly.

Mohore steadied herself and eased her breathing, letting the bug settle on a handle.

Fly.

“I can see it!” she exclaimed. “You try hitting it for once!”

She could feel the bulge of magical energy attempt to move her, but to no avail.

Fly.

“Gods above.” With a swift flick of her wrist, Mohore caught the enemy off guard and confirmed it was no longer a living problem to the voice. “What do we say?”

No response came.

“What do we say?” She rolled her eyes again. It was like trying to teach a toddler manners at times.

Thank.

That will do.

#original writing #i do want to explore this idea further bc i love the potential it’s got #just utterly stupid but in a good way

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jessicanjpa · 2 years

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So you know how Edward has this thing where he tries to work himself up to playing the "bad guy" just to make it easier on the person he's convinced he has to hurt? And you know how he's terrible at it? (OK I suppose we only have two examples of this in canon but bear with me)

So... flashback to 1927 and Edward is just spending hours in front of the mirror, practicing. He's got this down. He's spent years among petulant human teenagers and he's had time to prepare. Hurting Carlisle and Esme is inevitable—he knows that. It's just another weight around his neck, another reason he has to leave. But if he can make them angry, so angry they can forget to hope... That's all he can hope for.

He can give them that, if nothing else.

He strolls out to meet them as they return from hunting, careful to keep the scowl in place. The hands shoved in the pockets just so. The swagger loose and reckless.

Carlisle and Esme are already on edge. They'd spent the past hour sharing their worries with each other about... him, naturally. The guilt flares in both their minds right on cue as they assume he is angry because he's overheard them. Perfect: he couldn't have asked for a better entrance.

"Edward," Esme says, reaching out to him. "Can we talk?"

He draws in the sharp, final breath, reviewing his lines on last time. No more talking! I've had your sickly sweet thoughts blaring in my brain for years and I'm sick of it! I'm sick of school and moving and pretending. And I'm sick of your saintly patience (This part was for Carlisle) and your perfection and your silent lectures! It's a wonder anyone can breathe in this house! I'm through pretending to be something I'm not. I'm going out there and I'm going to drown myself in everything you've forbidden. No, don't touch me! You're the one who damned me to this misery in the first place. You should have let me die when you had the chance.

... But when Esme's hand touches his face, when Carlisle's anxious thoughts envelop him like a blanket, the breath rushes out with sobs instead of words, and the hands leave the pockets to crush his family to his breast. Carlisle and Esme smother him with assurances of love and promises that things will be better, and he only manages to squeak out garbled apologies for the crime he hasn't committed yet. His only source of relief is that he's too much of a coward to confess what that crime will be.

He finds the strength at the last possible moment. He realizes that Carlisle was steering the three of them back toward the house, and he can't bear to go through this again. He whispers one last "I'm sorry" and squeezes their shoulders one last time. And then he runs like the coward he is, letting the acid of their shocked thoughts burn through him until he can't hear them anymore.

The sudden absence of their pain produces a numbness so deadly that when his own pain arrives right on schedule, he eagerly embraces it. The extra weight of guilt for how he'd ruined his performance is no more than he deserves.

He isn't even any good at being a villain.

#Edward #Carlisle/Esme #Fanfiction #1927 #Tale of Years if you squint #(this is actually pretty similar)#Rebellious years

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nickgerlich · 7 months

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Staying Alive

Sometimes a brand just won’t die. In spite of its best efforts to fade away, someone comes along and tries to resurrect it. Such is the story of Toys ‘R Us, the once-venerable big box toy retailer.

Toys ‘R Us shuttered in 2018 after a bankruptcy filing the year prior, leaving behind hundreds of empty stores. Even though their distinctive lettering was removed from those stores, weathering and fading occurred in many cases, leaving behind what is known as a “label scar.” You could still read the name even after the letters were removed.

But thanks to a variety of owners and partnerships, the company has managed to stay alive, albeit barely. Last year a partnership with Macy’s was forged, thereby allowing 400 stores-within-a-store to open inside the department store chain nationwide.

And now comes word that its owner is staging a major relaunch of the brand with 24 new shops opening, primarily in airports and on cruise ships. Apparently, they are convinced there is still enough brand equity remaining to be able to pull off the unthinkable.

That’s a tough one. While most Americans over the age of 15 have memories of shopping in Toys ‘R Us at some point in their lives, either as kids or as parents, the painful reality is that most of us also moved on to other store formats. That would include mass merchandisers like Target and Walmart, as well as online at Amazon. The grip that Toys ‘R Us once had on toy retailing was disabled by new competitors who were not worried about disrupting tradition.

I have many fond memories of going to Toys ‘R Us as a kid. Actually, it was known as Bargain Town back then, but there were still a few dinosaurs wandering the streets of Chicago, it was that long ago. Who needs a candy store when you can survey and dream about all of those toys? Of course, I never got all the things I wanted, which was probably a blessing in disguise. Still, through the years my parents bought me a nice variety of Tonka trucks, Hot Wheels cars and race tracks, games, and Hardy Boys mystery books.

When my daughters were young, we took them to Toys ‘R Us as well, and I could see in their eyes the dreaming that they were doing. It’s an entirely different experience as a parent, but just as rewarding. I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.

But at the same time, I think it’s important to just let a dead brand stay dead. As it stands, the brand is being propped up by nostalgia, not relevance. I am sure that Macy’s shoppers experience a similar rush of the feels when they come upon the Toys ‘R Us section, but I am not convinced that makes them buy things.

Worse yet, airports and cruise ships are not exactly destination shopping points. In both instances, would-be shoppers are being held captive, one while they wait for a connecting flight, the other while they are floating from port to port. Souvenirs maybe, but not the kind of shopping one normally does for birthdays and the holidays.

As much as I love my Toys ‘R Us experiences, I let go of those feelings long ago. Heck, there was even a time when Toys ‘R Us hired Amazon to run its e-commerce side of the business, because Amazon was among the few who actually knew how to do it. Long ago I made the shift to Amazon and the mass merchandisers, and was often guilty of using Toys ‘R Us as a showroom to gauge my kids’ interests and photographing items so that I could purchase them later somewhere else.

Nice try, folks. I’m just not buying it, no matter how many times you try to revive this one.

Dr “Toys In The Attic” Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #toys #Toys 'R Us #retail

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convxction · 1 year

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ooc. im sorry sorry sorry for the spam buuuut ... my brain decided to figure where the heck i stopped on the a/ncient magus bride and ideas overflow time...

listen. dont judge me i judge you XD

what if au. every 1000 the big scawry gwima comes back and to stop that humans offer a ....bride ? ? or idk groom XDDDD to grima's vassal ?? that year either the bride/groom can convince grima to nah fam dont kill use this year or they cant. i feel like few who managed but mostly maybe not in a sense of romantic way?? yes they were offered as a partner but hey, it is grima who decide if they want to 'partner' them up or not. thats just a whacky idea but i understand if you dont understand because i dont haha. some years grima does destroy humans and warn them next time they will come back and goes back to slumber because humans are boring this year. skip forward to emmeryn time. it is her time to figure out an offering ... she offers herself because lets reason with grima yes? i bet they are nice if we managed to have a heartful conversation, yes? chrom is like big sis u sure? lissa offers to go instead because ylisse needs emmeryn!! she says nah. prepares herself but the cult of baddies grimleal were like nah we dont accept you so die. in that moment grima is revived, sees dead emmeryn, grieving chrom and lissa and is like wtf is this party i was just summoned to? chrom is like alright bitch this ends now. fuck talking nicely i will end you even if this is the last thing i do. grima is like ....bruh...i just woke up. insert fighting scene here but grima is somewhat weak cuz freshly woke up from long sleep. they are about to kill each other and lissa dramatic yells at them to stop because cant we not just fight????????/ emmeryn wanted to create peace and not this. chrom looks at his hand horrified that he just defiled his sister's wish and walks away. grima like bitch u thought this is easy? i chose to wreck your life now. you are my partner. chrom is like: ummm excuse me??????????????? i didnt say yes. grima like: mmm pretty sure u did when you came at me so fiercely~ chrom is just ..................ok now kill me. grima: nope i will torture you ~

oooooooooooooor to end the curse, one of the exalt blood must marry the one of the fell blood. this was something they tried to do perhaps years ago???? but when grima--their vassal actually found someone they loved, humans felt scared that grima, this creature would walk among them normally afterward and they have to accept it, so they band to kill the exalt member who accepted to marry grima and blame it on ...................um. the grimleals??????? or something hahaha. this is why grima remembers the pain and betrayal--when they tried to open their heart, they were wounded in the ugliest way. in chrom's time, perhaps this comes in a meeting at the castle of this way to perhaps end this 'fued' or whatever is called lmao.

anyway my brain now is just farting to communicate more ..thats as far because i saw food and i will go eat weeeeeeeeeeee

#ooc.|| faty speaks #[my brain is like sPIKE UPPPPPPPPPPPPPTHEN DIIIIIIIIIIIIVE DOWWWN WEEEEEEE

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awkwardpariah · 1 year

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It feels like its starting to sink in with more people on the left and even among a few centrists that the Republicans aren’t joking and have every intention of launching another civil war. What worries me is that almost nobody seems to appreciate just what that means. Many people on here seem convinced that the worst thing that can happen is that liberals/leftists abandon the Red States, or rather the persecuted peoples living within those states, to their fate. Others have a downright infantile attitude, and think the war will be won relatively quickly (this is unfortunately a pretty common belief among conservatives and liberals). Lets make two things abundantly clear right now: 1.) The Blue States aren’t going to abandon oppressed people in the Red States/allow the Red States to secede and the reason is:

2.) Secession, or even widespread violent insurrection within the Red States would have disastrous consequences for global supply chains, and people nowhere near the fighting would die as a result if we did nothing.

In a highly interconnected global economy, hardly anybody is capable of being self sufficient at the drop of a hat, and that’s true within the borders of the United States. Most of our cereals and livestock feed is grown in Iowa. Most of our oil and gas is refined in Louisiana and Texas, and a lot of it is sourced from North Dakota. Most of our produce is grown in California, our dairy comes mainly from California, Wisconsin, and New York, and most of our Beef comes from Canada but is fed using Iowa grain.

So, what happens when war breaks out and the most complex supply chain on the planet gets interrupted? People die everywhere by the score. Let’s say we get lucky, and the garrison at Fort Cavazos (formerly Fort Hood), manages to secure at least everything south of I-10 and the Marines land and retake New Orleans in the opening months of the war... they’re not gonna be able to secure the oil and gas supplies from East Texas and North Dakota. Even if we get alternate supplies from the Persian Gulf or by reactivating every well in the Gulf of Mexico and California, there will be severe shortages just in time for winter. The worst cases will be in contested territory, where neither side has reliable supply lines (most likely the Midwest). People facing a Midwestern polar vortex with no heating fuel will freeze to death in their own homes, burning garbage just to stay alive. Untold millions will try and flee, either to one of the loyalist zones or into Canada. Its worth mentioning that Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, and Pennsylvania have a combined population of 65.9 million people and Canada has a population of 38.3 million. Ontario on its own has only 14.6 million. During the worst days of the Syrian civil war, about half of the population was displaced. Ottawa would have no way of managing even 10% of the Midwest flooding into their largest province. The government would collapse, and that’s assuming its not already overburdened from a white nationalist rebellion in the western provinces. In New York and Eastern Pennsylvania, the population will be barely holding together as it is before having to deal with tens of millions of refugees. So they’d have no choice but to fight. But even willing to fight, armies don’t advance purely save civilians, especially when facing supply shortages. Now, the Red States will be facing their own supply shortages, but they have plenty of refineries in Oklahoma to fuel trucks and trains to take people to the concentration camps they’ll open about 5 minutes after declaring rebellion/independence. They’ll round up everyone who isn’t a White Christian, yes even the collaborators. The rest of the world will watch this in real time thanks to phone cameras and be powerless to do much about it for however long it takes to restructure the economy and supply the military for an advance into the South and Midwest. This war will last years. The bad guys will lose because the Blue States have the ports and (you better vote to make sure this stays true) the loyalty of the military. But, that victory will come at great cost. The last two civil conflicts (the Revolution and the Civil War) killed between 2-3% of the population. That would be between ~7-10 million people, and there’s no reason this war wouldn’t come in that range, especially with the Red States executing their own holocaust and people freezing to death or starving due to supply chain interruptions. And that’s just in the US. Around the world, many countries will be facing their own food shortages and famines from the interruption in grain and livestock feed being exported out of the US (America is the number one exporter of Wheat post-Ukraine war, and the number two exporter of animal feed or around 8.9% of global supply). The Republicans are going to get tens of millions of people killed in and out of America, probably over losing another election. Countless millions will be left to cope with PTSD, battlefield injuries, and respiratory diseases (they come with every war) for the rest of their lives. There will be nowhere to run, and we’ll all have to stand together to end that nightmare as soon as humanly possible.

#civil war #civil war ii #maga republicans #democrats #centrists #liberals #leftists #marginalized groups #disabled people #transgender #queer #jews #holocaust #freedom

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guardianofrivendell · 1 year

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Ik heb in 2022 1.332 keer iets geplaatst

267 berichten gemaakt (20%)

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Ik heb 516 van mijn berichten getagd in 2022

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Longest Tag: 100 characters

#my hugs are so strong i sent my husband into a coughing fit this morning because i squeezed too hard

Mijn populairste berichten in 2022:

💚 with

Me being predictable as always 😄

Eh, it's what I love about you - among many other things of course 😄 Thank you for your request @aduialel, and sorry it took me so long!!

(the sleepover was back in January, so the gif requests are closed right now!)

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote for Thranduil in this way, it was a welcome change! I tried to write a romantic fluffy drabble, but... it is me so yeah, that didn’t happen :)

Sindarin used: - aran nin: my king - edlothia nin: my flower

DANCE WITH ME

Your face scrunched up in disgust after you swallowed the last bit of Dorwinion wine from your glass. How all of your friends and kin could be so hooked on the red fluid, you’d never understand.

You didn’t care for these celebrations. Elves found any reason to party, it could be the Feast of Starlight or a celebration because the guard had returned from their weekly patrolling. It wasn’t for you. Not the dancing, not the music, the people or the food and wine. Definitely not the wine.

The only real reason why you were here - and at every other feast, gala or celebration for that matter - was currently dancing their heart out on the floor, laughing and clearly having a much better time than you were. Your younger sibling who couldn’t go out yet without a chaperone, and who you loved so dearly, you were willing to tolerate this year’s edition of… by Elentári, you couldn’t even remember what they were celebrating.

One of the guests of the party came towards you and stood by your side, silently watching the Elves on the dancefloor twirling about, but you were so focused on keeping an eye on your sibling that you didn’t pay him any further attention.

“You do not seem to enjoy yourself,” he stated after a few moments.

The snort you couldn’t hold back was muffled by the cheering of the guests when they brought new barrels of wine in the room.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked, stepping aside a little so you could see where your sibling was headed. Ah, of course… Wine.

“Perhaps I can ask you to join me for a dance?”

You waved your hand at him in a dismissive way, shaking your head to emphasize your refusal. “Oh no, I don’t dance.”

“Are you sure?”

“Believe me, no one could convince me to go on that floor.”

“Not even your King?”

“Not even King Thranduil.”

“Is that so?”

You couldn’t help but notice some amusement in his voice. How dare he? Why did everyone have a problem with you not wanting to dance? And what did your King have to do with all of this?

You finally looked towards the Ellon next to you and if you hadn’t placed your empty glass on a sidetable already, you would’ve dropped it to the ground in surprise.

Thranduil turned his head to look at you and couldn’t help the smirk on his lips, before he gave you a genuine smile that made you a little weak in your knees. Not that you would admit that to anyone.

“King Thranduil!” you gasped, before you remembered your manners and made a small curtsy. “Forgive me, I-”

He took your hand in his, effectively silencing you before he leaned in and asked, “If you do not dance and you are clearly not enjoying the festivities, may I invite you to join me outside? My gardens are especially beautiful under the starlight.”

You looked back at the party, trying to locate your sibling. Once you saw they were still enjoying themselves and very obviously not in need of your assistance, you nodded, accepting his invitation.

Thranduil guided you through the gardens, your arm hooked in his as you admired the beautiful flowers and plants. You completely missed the loving looks Thranduil gave you every time you smelled a flower or asked him a question, curious about a particular flower you’d never seen before. When you came across a little arbor covered with white roses, you paused for a moment to take it all in. You were walking through the Royal Gardens, with none other than the King himself on your arm.

Thranduil let go of your arm and took your hands in his.

“Dance with me?”

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399 notities - Geplaatst 22 mei 2022

Drunk in Love

Fíli x wife!reader

Requested: yes, by @carnotaurus-celeste, back in January for my 2022 followers sleepover. Sorry it took me so long! This was a gif drabble request (that got a bit out of hand), the gif they chose is similar to the one I put underneath.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, drunk Dwarves, adorable Fíli, not proofread

A/N: this was my last request from the January sleepover, only about 8 months late lol :) It was a way to try and get out of my writing block. Enjoy drunk Fíli!

Still half asleep you turned on your other side, clutching the sheets and furs in an attempt to keep the warmth inside your little cocoon, and scooted over to Fíli’s side of the bed in search of his body heat.

Being married to a Dwarf meant you never had to feel cold anymore, his body your own private furnace he was more than happy for you to use at any time. Every night you fell asleep in his arms, your cheek pressed into the soft curls of his chest, inhaling his intoxicating scent while you let his heartbeat guide you to the land of dreams.

But your searching fingers didn’t find the heated skin you were looking for, instead finding a cold and empty spot where your husband was supposed to be sleeping.

You opened your eyes and sat up straight, looking around the dimly lit room for any sign of Fíli. The fire was still smoldering, which meant it had to be in the early hours of the night, too early for breakfast, but too late to be waking up to an empty bed. Where was he?

Fíli and you didn’t go to bed together that night, for the first time since well… your wedding night. The reason for this change of pace was very simple: last night marked the seven year anniversary of the reclaiming of Erebor and almost five year anniversary of the rebuild, and as the newly set tradition went there was a grand feast to celebrate.

Even though you had been enjoying the festivities - the sight of the Durin family and Company members being happy and carefree warmed your heart every time - as the feast went on, you grew rather tired.

When the clock struck midnight, you’d left Fíli in the company of his brother and their friends in the Great Hall, and that’s where you probably had the most chance of finding him at this hour. Or you hoped so, because the last thing you wanted to do was roam the halls of Erebor in your nightshift in search of your husband. You could only imagine the rumors that would go around at the breakfast table!

You stepped out of bed and shivered when the cold of the night greeted you, so you quickly let your feet glide into your thick fur boots and threw your winter robe on to cover yourself.

Fíli was most likely still celebrating and simply lost track of time, nothing to worry about, but you couldn’t suppress the tiny voice at the back of your mind that kept repeating something was wrong.

What if he was so drunk he lost his way or he fell off one of the many bridges or stairs? When you’d suggested railings for them during one of the many construction meetings, everyone bursted out in laughter. “The first Dwarf to lose their footing on stone is yet to be born, lass,” they’d laughed, wiping the tears out of their eyes. You never thought about asking again.

You kept your pace steady but fast, a little slower when you crossed a bridge or stairway, making sure to check every corner and every nook in case your husband decided in his drunken haze that it was a perfect place to settle for the night.

But the hallways of Erebor were abandoned and eerily quiet, as they should be at that hour.

As you reached the corridor that led to the Great Hall, the sounds of careless laughter and chatter swelled. The celebrations were definitely not over yet, and just like you guessed, your husband wasn’t done partying.

Fíli was standing on top of one of the long dining tables, feet firmly planted between dirty plates and empty beer mugs, his brother Kíli at the other end, their friends scattered around the table, watching them dance and perform a drinking song.

You leaned against the heavy open door and watched the scene with mirth. Up until now you hadn’t had the pleasure to see your husband so inebriated and… well, carefree.

“Fee, catch!” Kíli yelled and next thing you knew, one of the dirty plates flew across the table right into Fíli’s outstretched hand. The crowd surrounding them cheered and encouraged by their fans, Kíli started another song, one you knew quite well.

Blunt the knives, bend the forks!

And just like that you were thrown back to that cozy hobbit hole in the Shire, when you’d first laid eyes on your husband, at the time a total stranger to you. Even though the last few years had taken a toll on him - both mentally and physically - he was still as handsome as ever and he still managed to fill your belly with butterflies as his rich baritone filled the great hall.

Both brothers had some difficulties getting the song right, their words slurred and lyrics in the wrong order but there was no denying they were having the time of their lives. By the time the song had ended the tableware stood perfectly stacked in the center of the table and everyone in the hall burst out in laughter and applause.

You applauded along with everyone else and it didn’t take long for Fíli’s eyes to meet yours.

“Amrâlimê!” he exclaimed, his face splitting in a wide toothy smile, his mustache braids dangling under his nose as he moved towards you. They’d grown a few inches in the past years and you wondered if he would keep them as they were, or maybe start braiding them into his beard.

Fíli threw his arms around you and lifted you from the ground, spinning you both around until he started to sway and he had to let you go in order to grab the door frame.

“Everyone! Thiz iz my wife!” he yelled, throwing an arm around your waist. “Kíli!! Come and meet my w-wife!”

You had to hold back a laugh. “Fíli, your brother knows who I am. Everyone here knows me.”

Fíli’s eyes widened at that and his features turned from incredibly happy to heartbroken in a matter of seconds. You patted his chest in an attempt to comfort him, but it made him stumble again and you quickly grabbed a nearby chair for him to sit on.

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502 notities - Geplaatst 25 september 2022

So I’ve been throwing up all night and day, to the point ever water makes me sick and I just wanted to feel some warmth, how would the company react to a sick modern-reader?

A/N: Since I was stuck on every other WIP I had (joy) I opened this request again in search of something else to write. I felt like the company reacting to a sick reader has been done so many times, so I didn't really know how to write this while still being original. I figured I'd do it headcanon style, because people seem to love it when I do that. Besides... laughter is the best medicine right? Although I haven’t made that many jokes in this one, I’ve been a good girl :)

Requested: well yes, there is an ask at the top of this post isn't there...? @that-teen2003 this one's for you

Warnings: mentions of being sick, throwing up (non descriptive), awkward dwarves, everyone brings out their inner Dori at some point, green (both the word and the colour)

How the Company Reacts to a Sick Modern Reader

it's not like you were doing it on purpose, getting sick

even though most of the Company thought you were at first

the Dwarves weren't hostile towards you but they weren't exactly friendly as well

you couldn't blame them since you kind of ambushed them, appearing out of nowhere

popping into Middle Earth straight from The Modern World™

you gave each and every one of them a heart attack

a lot of high pitched shrieks were heard when you fell into their midst

none of them wanting to admit you startled them

insisting it was you who had screamed like a little girl, not them

extra deep and low voices and rumbles for a few days after

even if they agreed to take you with them, planning on leaving you at the first human settlement they passed, it didn't mean they were happy about it

you weren't exactly a useful addition to the Company

no battle experience

no fighting skills

hardly any strength compared to theirs

no beard

no equipment or weapons, not even a blanket or an extra pack of clothes on you

you were wearing sandals for Durin's sake, having to stop constantly to get little rocks, pebbles or twigs out of them

questioning but mostly disapproving looks about your choice of wardrobe

which was a shirt with shorts, and the sandals

tHe sANDALS

"I was enjoying my day at the beach, it's not like I planned on ending up here!"

but Dwarves are Dwarves, their hearts still in the right place

some might be a little off center but they're trying

everyone giving a few spare items so you were a little more protected against the elements

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663 notities - Geplaatst 9 mei 2022

How LOTR/Hobbit characters react to you fainting ~ drabbles

Fíli - Kíli - Bofur - Aragorn

Requested: no

Warnings: talk about fainting, collapsing, food, pregnancy, injuries etc, worried fictional characters, blatant ignorance of how bodies actually work - fainting only lasts a few seconds but for the sake of these stories it takes minutes and minutes and... you get the idea - not proofread because who has the time

Prompt: they get a message about you collapsing/fainting during their absence or you just drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes at a market sale when they’re with you, how do they react?

A/N: this is one of my guilty pleasures: tropes where reader is in distress and in need of a heroic rescue, strong arms to catch them or a worried character doting on them. This is a completely self indulgent post and I won’t take any criticism. Enjoy. I know I will.

FÍLI - A DOTING HUSBAND

Fíli was in the middle of a closed meeting when one of the guards came in and discreetly handed him a small note. Thorin raised one eyebrow in question, wanting to know what was going on and if perhaps his nephew had forgotten the meaning of a ‘closed meeting’, but Fíli didn’t give him the chance to ask out loud. As soon as he read the words written down by Oín, the screeching of his chair being pushed roughly over the wooden floor silenced everyone around the table and twelve pairs of eyes followed the Heir of Erebor as he bolted out of the room.

Oín was waiting for him outside the infirmary, which only added to Fíli’s already worried state of mind. ”What- How- Did she- is she-” he rattled through gasps of air, trying to open the door to see you but Oín stopped him. He assured Fíli you were going to be fine eventually, if you would finally listen to them and give your body the rest it needed like they had told you too many times before and yes... the baby was fine too.

Fíli released the breath he was holding, rubbing his face with his hands before he rested them on his hips and started laughing with relief. You were too stubborn for your own good sometimes, everyone had told you that you needed to take it easy and let others help you this far in your pregnancy, but you wouldn’t hear any of it. So today your body finally made the decision for you. While you were running the errands you could’ve easily left to your maids, you’d collapsed, frightening everyone around you.

You opened your eyes to see your doting husband at your bedside, your hand in his, his other hand softly wiping a few stray hairs out of your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek. A surge of panic went through you as you realized where you were. “The baby?” “Is going to be perfectly fine, ibrizinlekhê,” he reassured you, “if...” You rolled your eyes. “Let me guess, if I stay in bed all day and do nothing?” Fíli chuckled lightly. “It would make me worry a lot less about the two of you.”

(Kíli, Bofur and Aragorn under the read more cut)

KÍLI - FRANTIC FRIEND

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959 notities - Geplaatst 28 juni 2022

Mijn #1-bericht van 2022

Me writing fics

1.037 notities - Geplaatst 28 maart 2022

Bekijk je jaaroverzicht van 2022 →

#tumblr2022 #jaaroverzicht #mijn jaaroverzicht van 2022 #je jaaroverzicht #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Long post

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skins-california · 2 months

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Boy, it’s been awhile since I stepped in here.I only step in here because I’ve come to the realization that I need to step away from all social media apps and delete them. I should probably delete them for good, the irony resorting to tumblr lmao.

I’m turning 27 this year.

I’ve made a lot of great accomplishments these last few years but I also endured so much. I don’t give myself enough credit for all the hard work and commitment I’ve put into myself, my relationship, and with my family.

I finally got a car under my own name and I just finished my first year paying it off. I got an apartment with my girlfriend and we just hit our 1 year living together, paying bills and all that adult life stuff. It was hard sometimes but never to the point we thought we wouldn’t make rent and always kept each other secure. When I step back and take a moment to let that sink in, it’s really nice. I stepped it up with my work and got into a manager role. I hate my fucking job though, also adds to the stress and bullshit I go through everyday but the fact I’ve changed into this person to commit to that role I need to give myself way more fucking credit for that.

Moving out of the bay has been the best decision I’ve made and I love it. But I hate the commute, and this is where it all falls hard on me. I get stuck feeling I’m at a dead end with my job cause I know how hard it will be to find a job that would match my salary out here where I live now without some degree or school under my belt. But I’m staying strong because the amount of effort and life I’ve built to live more comfortable cannot go to nothing. I’m working hard to find a moment to take a break from work and do my nursing program. Or even just CNA.

I feel like I can list so much good things I’m happy and grateful for my life yet I’m always finding myself buried underneath and feeling so stressed that I cannot have a normal day without panic disorder. And most of the time , it’s for no reason at all and I’m feeling so helpless. I’m starting to hate that Lani has to see me go through this. It’s not fun, I hate feeling like I’m bringing the both of us down. But no matter what’, she sticks by me and I’m so thankful to be loved and cared for.

Being diagnosed with severe depression on top of my severe anxiety was pretty unexpected but I guess I’m not so surprised. Then I wonder what’s leading me to this? I’m blaming social media as a big factor among other things. I know it’s important to be woke but I know for a fact , every news I hear and my heart feels their pain is starting to kill me mentally, drain me mentally. I’m constantly in a war with my mind and I feel like I’m losing. I refuse to keep feeling like this and I’m glad to took the steps to get treatment for it again. I really can’t wait for the meds to help me get through a day feeling normal again.

Every time I see myself level up, the work and the pain just gets harder. I get stressed so easily, I know I’m working too damn hard. I have been working 6 days a week nearly since October of last year. And I didn’t think losing two pets would fuck me up so hard but it did and no one around me comforts that besides Lani. I don’t expect them to. But I didn’t think how hard it would be to cope through the days and it’s been so hard.

It’s hard cause watching whiskey die was watching my mom’s heart get broken all over again. No one wants to see their mom cry like that. It hurts me to see my mothers routine gone, worse that she found him pass in his sleep. And that was my first dog, I watched him grow old and I will never forgive myself cause I feel like I’m to blame for his death. I’m convinced I gave him a heart attack for getting that excited the night before and all of a sudden he looked so weak. Not even 2 minutes apart, I know in reality it can’t be my fault. None of us knew it was coming; but still I cannot help but feel that way. Losing a pet just is a ugly type of sad because this pet has never once looked badly at you, all they have is joy and excitement when they see you and all they know is you for their entire life and they’re just a chapter in yours.

And not even four months apart, Kitty had just passed before. The pain was different but just holding her during her last moments fucked me up. Losing both of them felt like losing my teenage hood. I know that’s been done but them no longer here really sealed the chapter off.

Anyways. Maybe I just needed to let that all out. As much as I’m struggling in life, I will always remind myself I’ve come such a long way. I’m almost 3 months free of nicotine and I’ve only drank twice since the new year. Ain’t perfect but it’s a real improvement than the damage I’ve done to my body the last 2 years.

Next step is to get my PCP and HRT reevaluated.

This is the year I focus on my health, my mental health and mind state.

We’re getting ready to build our family and there is nothing more I want in this life than to become a father. I need to better myself if I wanna stick around and be here for that. I know I can do it.

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drowninmiserylake · 6 months

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I have so many thoughts that have overcome me as of late. at almost 11pm when I have 3 assignments due in 25 hours and over 50 pages to read to get those assignments done I'm stuck in my brain. My fingers hurt and I don't know why, do I clench them in my sleep? is it arthritis? Is it all just in my head?

I keep thinking about how I truly have nobody. I mean I have my dog, but no human. To laugh with, to make dinner with, to plan trips with. A lover or best friend. None of those things. Everyone is too preoccupied with their lover or best friend and that's fair enough, but I can't help, but long for my own. A woman or a man. Anyone.

I can't help, but think about how I messed up as a teenager or a young adult. I never wanted that committed relationship when offered because I was convinced I'd be dead by now. I didn't want anyone to go through the pain of loving someone with cystic fibrosis and see me wilt away. I think those boys loved me in the only ways they knew how, one I miss and he was never bad to me, but it was more of "what could have been?" That one was really on me. This last one I know for sure did not love me and it's my "Would've, Could've, Should've" It haunts me day and night. I'm constantly thinking about everything he put me through so it's not this longing or missing of him. It's this anguish, this pain, this grudge. I want for it to so desperately go away, but it's hard when you have OCD. I can't help but think he doesn't think about me...not even longing for me rather doesn't regret the atrocities he committed against me. He thinks he is always in the right. I know the word is thrown around a lot, but my therapist truly thinks he is a narcissist and I mean well I can definitely see that. I really think he hates women because his soulmate is a man. no shade or hate, just the record shows that among other signs I've noticed.

I can't help, but think what would be different if my father actually loved me. It drives me crazy that I decided to end my relationship with my dad and 3 months later he was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. forcing me to drown in waves of guilt for setting boundaries. even towards his death I set boundaries and he died a week later. here's a secret I was dreading his visit to me and he ended up not making it because he died. my mother turned to me and told me I got what I wanted. I'll never understand how she forgave him, sure, forgive him for cheating on you, but how can you forgive someone who traumatized your children so badly their codependent emotionally unstable individuals?

are all men cheaters? are all men that bad? you see these perfect family type pictures online and you then hear these stories about how men dog the shit out of their partners, not even just by cheating, but there are many ways they hurt and betray women. they put all the work load and responsibility on the women too. As a disabled woman I definitely need someone who would help much more than the average man I hear about puts in the work. I don't want to live like that if I end up with a man.

I'm tired, but I really need to read this content for class. I don't know why I've been procrastinating for the last 3 weeks to do my assignments the day before. It's annoying as fuck of me. I'm stressed. I worry for others. I'm frustrated. I'm lonely as fuck. I think about it often how people say we die alone even when we are around our loved ones, but I watched my dad die for 3 days I felt more alone than ever after that.

man, I really miss my Nonna, she died 3 months after my dad. In fact I lost 3 people in a year. It's hard mourning multiple people. I'm not sure what feelings are for who at times. Sometimes I wish I hadn't been so mean. I wish I got the help I needed. I wish I was actually loved as a child. maybe I'd have more love in my adult life.

anyway I should really get back to this reading. maybe I'm so committed to helping people because I am so desperate to be helped.

#personal #cystic fibrosis #cf #life #daddy issues #problems #lonely #scared #tired #stressed #angry #grief #anguish #betrayal #abandonment #hurt #pain

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