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spinningwebsandtales · 1 year

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Imagine Helping Vash Get Cleaned Up After the Incident in July

Vash the Stampede X FemReader

Rating: T

Warnings: Suggestive themes, mentions of nudity, angst, mentions of deaths, and steam

Word Count: 1k

(A/N:) I am drowning in Trigun Stampede feels. I needed to write something to make me feel better (it helped a little bit). I want Vash to be happy, somebody please stop writing bad things happening to him!! He deserves good things and I just have all the Vash feels. So I have SEVERAL ideas in my drafts for both him and Nicholas so my fellow Trigun fangirls be on the lookout as I keep working and hopefully get around to posting more often! Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

After the disaster of July, your heart ached horribly for the lives lost in the incident. But you found yourself worrying more about a blond haired man more than anything. Once the news of the destruction was done an announcement followed about the raised bounty of the person responsible for such a horrific act. Vash the Stampede now had a sixty billion double dollar bounty stamped across his name and every bounty hunter with the guts to go after him on his tail. You worriedly waited for the fateful moment that he would find his way at your doorstep every night. You didn’t have to wait long as a week later Vash stumbled right to your door, collapsing at your feet.

You struggled getting him inside before you were finally able to get him in and shut the door. Vash sat limply in a chair, a ragged cloth draped over his form leaving him in shadow, while his normally styled hair hung limply in dirty knots. He didn’t speak or even look at you, keeping his eyes down to stare holes into the floor. You sighed tiredly, knowing that he was blaming himself for everything. Nothing was truly his fault, but Vash always took the world and it’s problems on his shoulders. He probably didn’t understand why he brought himself to your door as he worried about bringing destruction down upon your home. You shook your head grabbing his arm and tugging him up to his feet.

“You don’t have to talk,” you started walking while tugging him along, “or explain anything. But you will follow me and do what I tell you. No arguing.”

You brought him into your bathroom where you started running water into an old wooden tub you kept for your baths. He started to protest, Vash’s voice rough with disuse but you quickly shushed him, continuing on with your work.

“Get undressed,” you stated with no room for arguments. “I’m going to get you cleaned up.”

Vash just sighed in defeat as you turned back to focus on getting the tub filled and the necessary items to get him all clean. Bashfully Vash stood in the middle of the bathroom waiting for you to finish with the running water. You didn’t focus on that the man you cared for dearly was standing naked in the middle of the room, but the sight of all the scars and metal marring his flesh made you gasp in concern.

“Vash,” you whimpered. He stood there stiffly before looking away as you got closer to him. “Oh Vash.”

You reached out and he flinched, ashamed that you were seeing the sad state his body was in and what he had done to himself all for the sake of his ideals. Still you didn’t let his embarrassment stop you as you traced the metal across his pectoral.

“Sorry I’m so hideous,” he grinned sadly which just made you glare at him.

“You aren’t hideous,” you stated a little angry that he thought that way. The look in his once bright blue eyes had you tugging him into your embrace. “You’ll never be hideous to me. Now get in the tub, you’ll feel much better once you’re all clean.”

“Yes ma’am,” Vash chuckled entering the water. He watched you for a couple seconds just waiting for you to leave. You stayed there staring back before making your way back to the tub. Kneeling down you grabbed the wash cloth, dipping it into the still warm water and rubbing it across his grimy skin. You traced all the scars, leaving tender touches to each one as you went along. Vash shivered at your touch despite the heat of the water. The water grew murky quickly as you made sure that all the dirt was washed away. You wished greatly that you could scrub away guilt as easily as the sands of Noman’s Land. Vash relaxed a little at the attention you laved upon him, all thoughts of the scars he hated so much melting away at every touch you gifted them.

You knew Vash had always seemed a little flustered around you, but you were happy to see him relax. Normally you wouldn’t stick around and watch or help him bathe, but when you had seen him so exhausted at your doorstep that he wound up collapsing at your doorstep you couldn’t leave him alone. Bringing him back to his fun and goofy self was your newest mission. Vash stiffened when you leaned forward, placing your hand in the water to use the tub as leverage. He felt your fingertips brush against his bare thigh, making his eyes widened. You brushed your lips gently against his chapped ones.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you whispered.

Vash continued to stare before he placed a damp hand on the back of your head and brought you closer. Before you could ask what he was doing, his lips were on yours. You melted into his embrace, letting Vash do whatever he needed to take from you. He stood up taking you with him as water splashed onto the floor in large puddles. You groaned tangling your fingers in his hair, ignoring the fact that your comfortable clothes were quickly becoming soaked. Vash held on tightly your smaller form fitting against his like the perfect puzzle piece. He hadn’t been able to relax or feel at peace one day since the destruction of July, but now that he was here with you he finally found that comfort he had been longing for. He held on tightly not wanting to ever let go as you saw him as he wanted to be seen. You didn’t judge him or force him to open up, you quietly stood by just waiting for the times he needed you. He loved you greatly and he was thankful that he found someone like you. All cleaned and freshly dressed, Vash watched you fall asleep against him, your warm breath puffing against his neck. He held on tighter letting himself relax for the first time in so long.

#Vash X Reader #Vash / Reader #Vash the Stampede #Trigun #Trigun Stampede #Vash Imagine #Trigun Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

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emmathemandelaresident · 1 month

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So…Let’s talk.

I am absolutely disgusted, appalled, disappointed, and overall devastated as a hardcore Mandela Catalogue fan. I cannot believe Alex Kister would be doing such horrific actions, especially to his victims.

I absolutely love this series with all of my heart and I have been a HUGE fan of it since around August 2022. I love the lore, the characters and the atmosphere of this series.

When I heard these news on Twitter last night, I was devastated and I wanted to cry so bad because I had thought Alex Kister was an amazing talented person with a golden thumb of kindness and chillness. I began to think to myself, “Why would Alex Kister and every other content creator turn out to be horrible people?”. It’s like this is a fucking trend in every creator of their amazing work.

I am witnessing so many fans quitting their work of the series and many actors such as Ty Osborne departing from his acting work as Adam Murray. And I can definitely understand that.

What even more sucks is that there may be no more Mandela Catalogue. Which means no more Vol. 5 or Vol. 6 or any other extra episodes to dive in the lore…

I vented to my sister about this and she understood everything about this situation and that she had been through this once before (props to you, Ella). As a result, she gave me such helpful advice about this. She told me to continue loving the series just as long as you understand and acknowledge what the creator has done. But don’t focus too much on the creator, focus more on the series.

And to all of you victims that have been through this, I am deeply sorry that that has happened to you. You are loved by the entire world and you are never alone.

That being said, I wanna make a decision. I still love the series with all of my heart and I wanna continue writing the Mandela Catalogue Mirth series on Wattpad and post all of my Mandela Catalogue Mirth chapters here in Tumblr.

But with this situation in mind, this decision is hard to choose. Should I continue writing the book series on Wattpad and post all of my chapters here in Tumblr? Or should I just give up and move on to something else?

I hope you all have a fantastic week.

-EmmaTheMandelaResident

Here’s the link of the entire context of what Alex Kister has done:

#my blogs!#the mandela catalogue #mandela catalogue #i am still currently disappointed by this #idk what to do #wifi sucks ass #why is every content creator doing this #alex kister #tmc

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andorerso · 7 months

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Rebelcaptain Whumptober: Day 6

for the prompt recording (warnings: recorded torture, nothing too graphic)

When Cassian’s tracker was turned off, Jyn could tell something was very wrong.

Let it be known, she was against this from the start. When one of their agents discovered an underground crime syndicate called the Glorious Dawn before going MIA soon after, it fell to Cassian to find out more. It wasn’t an extraction mission; Agent Varga was presumed to be dead. But what little he’d disclosed about the Glorious Dawn before his disappearance was unsettling enough to warrant a thorough investigation.

Kidnapping people to be tortured for show. Broadcasting their death-struggle over the holonet. Letting viewers bid and choose what happens to those poor souls — and if that wasn’t horrific enough, large parts of that money went into the Empire’s pocket to fund their weapons and tech development. Bad news all around. An operation that needed to be stopped. Jyn understood that.

She also understood the horrible fate that had more than likely befallen Agent Varga, and she was damned if she let it happen to Cassian.

She couldn’t shake the ominous feeling that churned in her stomach on the whole journey to this small, backwater planet, but she dismissed it — tried to dismiss it as natural. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to worry about Cassian’s safety on a mission; it’s just what happened when you loved someone. Perfectly normal for her to be antsy. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was somehow different. Dangerous. Foreboding.

Jyn resolved to bite her tongue and keep her thoughts to herself. Cassian was an intelligence officer, and he didn’t need her to baby him. He was a far cry from a novice; that’s why Draven had chosen him. Because he was the best for the job. And he certainly wouldn’t have resigned from the mission regardless. Jyn didn’t think he’d ever told the rebellion no (Galen Erso and Scarif notwithstanding.) He’d happily carve out his own heart from his chest and serve it to the figureheads of the Alliance on a platter if that’s what was required of him. She’d only make it worse if she expressed her fears.

Because someone had to do it.

But why did that someonealways have to be him?

With mounting resentment towards Draven, towards the rebellion, towards this entire fucking operation, Jyn sent him off with a kiss and a plea to stay safe. She’d wanted, so badly, to ask him to check in as often as he could, but knew it would be too risky. He’d give sign of life when it was possible without compromising himself. And she’ll wait until he returned, or…

Well.

Jyn was just back-up, only to intervene if something went wrong.

Something like his tracker getting disabled a few weeks into their assignment.

The first thing she did was pull up that forsaken holosite on her datapad where they broadcasted their sick little game to their bloodthirsty audience. The site was strictly exclusive and carefully hidden on the holonet, not something you could stumble upon by accident — or at all. The password changed every week, but Cassian had forwarded the latest one in his last encrypted transmission two days ago. Which meant Jyn had access.

A part of her wished she didn’t. Because for the first time since they arrived, a new show had been announced.

An image of Cassian strapped to a chair greeted her. He was unconscious, his head lolling forward and his hair shielding his face from view. The buttons on his shirt were undone, sweaty skin and dark wisps of hair peeking out from underneath. But he seemed unharmed. For now.

Various tools and gadgets and syringes lay scattered on an equipment table next to him, and the words under the feed read “Show starts in two hours! Place your bid now!”

Jyn nearly threw her datapad at the wall, wanting to hurl.

Two hours. Two hours was all she had to find him before…

She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed in deeply. Tried to push down the fear and panic rising from the core of her, threatening to overtake her executive functions. She needed to keep her head clear. Stay alert. Figure out an action plan. But all she saw behind her eyelids was Cassian’s figure strapped to that chair, helpless and vulnerable, and the comments she read under the feed. Asking for him to be drugged, to be beaten, to be hurt.

It started out tame, as it always did, but the worse ones… The ones she couldn’t even speak.

A wounded sound rattled in her chest, her entire body shaking so bad she nearly dropped the datapad. She didn’t need a weapon, she would slaughter them all with her bare hands.

She just needed a location.

And she knew where to start. Agent Varga’s contact on the planet had to have known something. Jyn would make him talk, whatever it cost.

Opening her eyes, she ran her finger across Cassian’s figure on the screen and tried to summon all the strength she possessed even as she felt like crumbling to the floor. She couldn’t lose her composure now; he needed her.

“I’ll find you,” she whispered, a promise he wouldn’t hear. “If it’s the last thing I do.”

xxx

Agent Varga’s contact was a Rodian male who was proving to be rather unwilling to talk when asked nicely.

And Jyn had tried. To ask nicely. But time was limited. She wouldn’t leave Cassian to be cut apart piece by piece like a slab of meat.

So if violence was the only language the Glorious Dawn understood…

The Rodian squirmed in the chair she’d tied him to, blood dripping down his face from a large gash on his forehead.

“Tell me where he is,” Jyn said again.

“They know who is,” the Rodian spat, ignoring her question. “A spy for the rebellion. They’ll make it slow. Your man is coming home in tiny boxes.”

He laughed, loud and gleeful, and Jyn clenched her fists as she tried to control her rage. He was egging her on. Trying to get a reaction.

She had to be in control here, even if all she really wanted to do was beat his face to a pulp.

“If they know who he is,” Jyn said through gritted teeth, every word an effort, “then they know an intelligence agent is not the ideal target. They’re trained to withstand pain.”

The Rodian laughed harder, something almost maniac in his tone.

“What’s so fucking funny?”

“You’re mistaken. That makes him more interesting. Makes it fun to see how far we can push him before he cracks.” His mouth curled into a wicked grin. “The other agent cracked easier than we thought. Maybe this one will be more resilient.”

Jyn punched him, foregoing her batons this time. The idea of beating him to a pulp was looking more and more appealing by the second.

“Where is the base?” she snarled, no more room for the illusion of patience.

The Rodian spat a mouthful of green blood at her feet, but this seedy little motel room was so dirty, it hardly made a difference. “They’ll kill me if I tell you.”

“I will kill you.”

“I’m more scared of them.”

Her lips curled into a sharp, threatening smile. He had no idea what she was capable of. But he’d find out.

“Big mistake.”

xxx

Jyn twirled the bloody blade in her hand as she watched the last rays of the sun cast the landscape in a pinkish hue. She was losing time. The show would start soon, and Cassian would not survive the night.

He might hold out for a while, but she didn’t want to take the risk. Didn’t want to let anyone touch even a hair on his head.

Behind her, the Rodian was coughing and gasping for air around the blood in his mouth. She had to slow down before he actually died on her.

“So? Still nothing?” Her voice was coldly detached. She’d shut down, stopped feeling anything about twenty minutes ago. The only thing that still sparked a flicker of emotion was the thought of Cassian. Her partner. Her love. Her home.

If she didn’t find him soon…

“It’s too bad you’re a rebel bitch,” the Rodian wheezed, “you’re good at this. You’d fit right in with us. Not so different after all, huh?”

A cheap shot. Jyn let it roll off her like water.

“Don’t deflect. Where’s the base?”

“How much time can you waste on me? The show starts soon, and they’ll tear him to tiny pieces. Varga squealed like a little pig, you know. I wonder what sounds your man will make when they’re digging in his guts. I can get you VIP seats if you want.”

He laughed, though it was a strained sound. No longer so confident; a dying man grasping at his last semblance of control. Jyn tuned it out, her gaze trained on her datapad which lit up with a notification. A signal.

Heart hammering in her throat, she watched the pulsing red dot on the map. Hope flared in her chest, tentative but persistent. Cassian’s tracker. They turned it back on.

Which meant it was a trap. She wasn’t stupid. They were baiting her. But she had to go.

It was her only lead; and regardless… It might as well have been guaranteed death.

She’d always come for him.

“You’re right,” Jyn said, cutting off the Rodian mid-sentence. She had no idea what he’d been saying, but with a flourish, she turned and fired a blaster bolt between his eyes. “I don’t need you anymore.”

xxx

It took her less than fifteen minutes to arrive at the location where Cassian’s tracker had pinged outside the city limits. An abandoned imperial compound greeted her, imposing with its high walls and tall towers.

Jyn hopped off the speeder she stole and listened. Something was off.

No guards posted at the entrance. No movement from the yard. No sounds from inside. Only the wind whistled through the trees, raising the hairs on the back of her neck.

Ghosts were the only thing frequenting this building now.

But there was one window, on the third floor, where light streamed outside into the brisk, darkening evening. Jyn eyed it warily, that feeling of wrongness only expanding. The light seemed to almost beckon her, — come closer, come see — but she couldn’t shake the thought that this whole thing was off. The tracker being activated, the absence of living beings anywhere, that single light spilling from the window…

Jyn swallowed, shook her head. There was no time to waste. Blaster in hand, she made it inside the yard, more and more unnerved by the lack of resistance she found.

Trap, trap, trap, her mind screamed, but she ignored it and kept going. Cassian needed her. Her brain latched onto the thought of him, lending her strength and ignoring everything else.

She was furious enough to put up a good fight if they did ambush her. Let them try, let them fucking see what the daughter of Saw Gerrera was capable of.

She, too, was more than ready to give them a show.

More silence greeted her inside the compound. Jyn crept through the quiet halls, eyes flicking in every direction, but no one was hiding in the shadows, no one was trying to stab her in the back. Her footsteps were almost soundless as she made her way up the stairs towards the room where she saw the light. So close now. But as she reached the second-floor landing, muted sounds interrupted the eerie silence.

Heavy panting. A struggle. Something creaked.

Then, a cry of pain.

Jyn picked up her steps, no longer caring if someone heard her. There was only one objective hanging in front of her: find Cassian. Get to him before he was hurt. Protect him. The urge overshadowed everything else.

Perhaps that’s why she didn’t realize what was happening until she pushed the door open with her blaster.

The room was empty.

Jyn’s blaster slowly lowered as she stared at the scene before her with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Only a single holoprojector stood in the middle of the room, showcasing a sight she never wanted to see. Next to it, a forgotten tracker lying in the dirt.

It wasn’t a trap. It was a distraction.

Cassian was awake now, still strapped down in that chair, his chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths. The world tilted around her, her legs trembling, but Jyn couldn’t take her eyes off him. Unable to stop seeing what they were doing to him. One of his fingers was trapped in a vice, and a masked man wearing dark robes was in the process of tightening the tool.

Jyn stood, rooted to the spot, unable to move or breathe or think. It felt like it was happening to someone else. She stood until she heard the crunching of bones, the tearing of skin, and another pained shout tore free from Cassian’s mouth.

With an angry scream, Jyn kicked the holoprojector, sending it flying against the wall. The image cut off, and dead silence followed.

Time had run out.

“You fuckers!” she yelled before crumbling to the ground, all her strength gone. She’d failed. She didn’t find him in time, and now he was… Now he was…

Shivers wracked her body, the image of Cassian’s hand in that vice burned into her mind. That would be far from the worst of it, she knew. They were just getting started. The Rodian wasn’t kidding when he said they’d tear him apart bit by bit.

She’ll burn this fucking city to the ground —

Lightheaded, Jyn buried her head in her hands and allowed herself to weep. Though it hadn’t been her who was taken, who was tortured, she felt like her hand was in that vice too, crushed under its cruel grip. Paralyzing fear weighed down her limbs, making it impossible to think straight. For a wild second, she thought she might throw up, but she pushed the bile down, her fingernails digging into her own leg as she tried to find some sort of anchor to hold onto. Something to ground her. Anything.

She’d give anything —

Her thoughts spiraled.

She had to find him. She had to. It wasn’t too late, she could still — she could still save him, she could still bring him home and make sure he was safe, make sure he recovered, make sure nobody ever hurt him again. She had to find him. She had to.

Jyn lifted her head, taking deep shuddering breaths to get her pulse under control. Back to business, no time to fall apart. Get yourself together. She wiped away her tears, her hand coming back smudged from her eyeliner. Her heart rate slowed, a little bit. She needed a plan.

As appealing as it was to burn down the city, it wouldn’t help much. She couldn’t go knocking on door to door either, and the Rodian was dead.

It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. She didn’t have time to find anyone else associated with the group; let alone capture and interrogate them. But she had access to the live feed, though her stomach revolted at the idea of bringing it back up. Maybe she could get some clues from the show… Maybe she could pose as a bidder? Try to wrangle something, anything from the comments?

As her brain whirled with ideas, each one more desperate than the other, something else on the ground caught her eye.

Next to the tracker lay something small… Something purple.

With a frown, Jyn stood and examined it closer. It was a flower. She picked it up, turning it in her hand. A pang of familiarity washed over her as she stared at the purple petals with pink streaks. She’d seen that flower before.

Varga’s last transmission. Made from a room in a brothel downtown. The flowers on the wall behind him. Morning glory, it was called. The whole place was decked out in them.

Morning glory… The Glorious Dawn?

Jyn crushed the petal in her hand, determination hardening her features. Cassian had left her a clue, and she knew where he was.

She was coming.

#rebelcaptain #rogue one #therebelcaptainnetwork #dailyrebelcaptain #my fics #rcwhumptober

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chemicallywrit · 6 months

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Happy Audio Drama Sunday! What a delightful and spooky Halloween week. As usual, this list is not comprehensive, but this is what stood out to me this week. Some spoilers ahead, in the shape of vibes~

🩸Hemophobia did NOT disappoint. My word. The strange disconnected way the story was told; the fact that the sermons were more coherent and clear than the action; the Extremely Teenage Teens. Man. I cannot wait to listen to this next episode.

🦀 THE SILT VERSES. Every day I think about Faulkner. The person he is. The apostle and the fool. Jeez louise. I can’t tell if he’ll save the faith or obliterate it and take everyone down with him. @thesiltverses

🌊 Modes of Thought In Anterran Literature - is that Felix Trench??? On the one hand, hearing a familiar voice does break the immersion a little, like the most unnerving part of this show is how real it feels; on the other hand, Felix did such a good job, the immersion break didn’t last long. This new character sucks, i love him.

👻 Palimpsest!!!! New palimpsest!!!! Easily one of my favorite single-narrator shows, and this one is set in the 1920s, which is one of my favorite historical periods. They’re also very good at a horrible subtle twist, so I can’t wait to hear more about this ghost.

😈 Kakos Industries is literally always good, but I really feel for Corin being like “PLEASE leave me alone on Halloween.” Man, this show is funny. Why isn’t it more popular. Please listen to Kakos Industries. They’re on hiatus, there’s no better time to catch up. @kakosindustries

🍔 Mayfair Watcher’s Society always knows how to get to me. It’s like, the absolute corruption of the Normal into something horrific and wretched is the point of the show, especially when it’s something you always suspected was messed up. Like a fast food job. I shudder.

🌲HALLOWOODS JEEZ. Mx Wellman did in fact try to kill me. I survived. I WISH SOME OTHER FOLKS HAD. @hellofromthehallowoods

❄️ Red Valley. Man alive. One of the things I love about this show is how there are no real heroes, but this season from the POV of the villains—the architects of the apocalypse, in a lot of ways. Creeps. It’s delicious. Today’s episode, watching Clive finally reaping what he sowed, was absolutely glorious. @redvalleypod

🦷 Welcome to Night Vale - HOBOY. Idk if the return of Kevin is going to be a plot point, but it’s the perfect idea for a Halloween ep. Chilling work as always, Kev! It’s also fun to listen to him seethe about his loss of power.

🅿️ Podcube is always a delightful treat, but this week had a fantastic little bit of sound design, which I’m told is this sound designer’s first attempt at such a thing. He did a great job! I love this show, everyone listen to PodCube. @podcube

👑 Malevolent: We’re Back To The Horrors. I’m honestly relieved. Arthur having friends and family is so scary, I keep waiting for something horrible to happen to them. And now something has! Which is not to say more terrible things won’t happen, but i feel like the other shoe has dropped. This is not a criticism at all, Harlan is so good at this.

🌞 I finished Fall of the House of Sunshine this week and…it made me cry? This goof goof show made me CRY? It really is just You Make Your Own Meaning The Musical, isn’t it? If this show had to have a moral, then “even if all you can do is something small, it matters” is a pretty good one. The fact that there was a moral at all is pretty miraculous. I’m going to go listen to the soundtrack a million times now.

🧛🏻‍♂️ Re: Dracula is coming to an end in just a few days and here is a secret: i haven’t heard these last few eps yet. Tal and Stephen finished working on them while I was in the thrall of New Job, so I get to hear their excellent sound work new with you. I am so excited for the final showdown, let’s GO. @re-dracula

🧟‍♀️ The Dead premiered this week! Go subscribe to it, it’s about to get REAL WEIRD. We did some table reads for the next story this weekend (and we have one more today!) and if you think zombies on a plane are scary…

Go check it out!

Now that all is well on the job front, I hope to get back to recording Inn Between soon, because I Want It To Exist. If you want to help us out or you just like what I got up to today, please drop by my ko-fi!

#audio drama sunday #audio drama #audio fiction #fiction podcast #freaking podcasts

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densewentz · 2 months

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exhausted health update because I have to rant somewhere lol

So we're ending day 12 of my mysterious right-sided numbness. It's moved from just my torso all the way down my right leg to my toes, so now I'm just hobbling around half numb rip. And now the torso numbness feels like im being vacuum sealed or something, just a horrible tightness and lack that makes it impossible to ignore. Went to the ER the other night and had 2 panic attacks within the span of the several hours I was there, got my bloodwork redone and a cat scan which all came back with a big Nothing on them. They told me I needed an MRI but that I'd have to go through my Primary Care and after I told them my primary wouldnt see me until May they referred me to a new primary not in my network so that's been a dead end rip. So far everyone is pointing at my horrific anxiety as the cause but not one doctor has actually offered me help for the anxiety despite me having the active panic attacks in the office lol. My Primary wont see me for several months despite the severity of my current condition and none of the mental health programs I've reached out to will get back to me so for now I'm just. Existing in this anxiety Ouroboros where my anxiety causes my numbness which causes anxiety which causes numbness. I'm trying stupid home remedies to try and minimize the active anxiety attacks but so far we've just been circling around alternating Holy Basil, Benadryl and literally just drinking Rum and going to sleep, which sure all help my anxiety a little maybe but also make it almost impossible for me to function normally during the day. This is making art difficult so commissions are going slow which is obviously making me more anxious lol. I also am home alone most of the week managing the household, which is made more difficult since right now the numbness in my foot/leg makes it dangerous for me to drive and difficult for me to get around my house to do daily tasks. Idk man I'm just tired as all hell and I seem to vacillate wildly between full anxiety breakdowns and depressive/dissociative episodes. At any rate during the week I'll just be constantly calling and harassing every doctor/therapist I can get a number for trying to find someone who will be able to either address my anxiety directly or can at least get me into an MRI to rule out MS or anything else that ISNT anxiety. I'm going to become the bane of the medical profession for a while. Wish me luck!

#personal #dense rants #medical stuff #ive been really absent headed and floaty today so im a little concerned im heading into a full dissociative episode but #guess we'll see #i moved from my temporary space in our spare room back into my normal room so that'll be interesting #and my weighted blanket idea backfired since i can only find my 30lb and not my 15lb #and the 30 is a little too constricting when im already half numb #my knee also feels like gelatin so walking has become.... precarious #but it is what it is i guess #here's hoping it goes away eventually #if anyone has any other weird back alley ways of handling their chronic and extreme anxiety hmu bc im basically ready to try anything lol #if nothing else i got the satisfaction of giving the double middle fingers to every family member and health professional #who couldnt FATHOM that all of my test results came back as a big No for diabetes #because as a fat girl obviously that's the only possible thing it could be #like im not even pre-diabetic im literally healthy as a horse aside from the numbness thing #so suck on that health and diet industry

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demonbirdsforever · 1 year

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Emotions by LadyLark

Raven:

I spent my entire life being in control. It wasn’t easy or fair, but I new it had to be done. I understood. It’s just always so exhausting. I’m so… tired. I want to feel something. I can’t though, not any extreme emotions at least. The common emotions are safe. It’s the extreme ones that are dangerous. Love, despair, rage… these can’t be released. These can’t be truly felt. It doesn’t help that as a planet level empath. I feel all of these. All the time. Especially when a person dies. That’s the worst, cause each and every time. Feels like losing a friend. Some days I can get though it. Other’s… not so much.

Today is one of those bad days. Today, unfortunately we also visited the Justice League. My family know better than to do certain things, when I’m having a bad day. The Justice League… not so much. They are aware of how powerful of an empath I am. I guess it didn’t really register what that actually meant. So after my curt conversation with the League, I left. I just couldn’t stay a moment longer.

Damian:

Raven’s curt words & hasty exit are a clear indication. That she was having a bad day. It’s generally best to leave it. Some thing’s just can’t be fixed. All you can do is take one step at a time.

Hours Later:

The Titans are heading out. When they end up crossing paths with Black Canary and Green Arrow. How they walked. The redness in there cheeks. The giggling…

Damian: “Unfucking Believable.”

Black Canary: “Excuse me?!”

Damian ignores her and continues to walk away.

Black Canary: “Hey! Show some respect!”

Damian rounds on her.

Damian: “You first!”

Black Canary: “What the Hell is that supposed to mean?!”

Green Arrow: “Maybe we should do this in a more private setting?”

Starfire: “I concur this isn’t the place, Damian.”

Damian clenches his fists.

Damian: “You know what? I disagree! I think this is the perfect place for this conversation! After all, if they truly wanted privacy. They wouldn’t have done what they did.”

Green Arrow: “Now wait, just a damn minute! We didn’t do anything in public, but in the privacy of our room here at the League!”

Damian: “Behind closed doors doesn’t always mean privacy. Especially when certain people visit the League.”

Black Canary & Green Arrow start to redden with both embarrassment and rage.

Black Canary: “If this is about Raven visiting. She should know better than to poke around. Especially when a married couple is having alone time. That’s not our fault for something she did!”

Damian: “You two are truly more stupid than I thought. Raven’s abilities are attached to her emotions. As a planet level empath she’s even more sensitive than most. Sometimes no matter how well trained you are, slipping occurs. Especially when big incidents like a certain earthquake causing many tragedies. Can cause even the most talented people, moments of vulnerability. The meeting was planned weeks in advanced. That earthquake wasn’t all that long ago. You’d think two capable adults would at least have the decency to respect a sensitive empath like Raven. By simply keeping it in there pants for a few mere hours.”

Green Arrow: “Well when you put it like that. It makes us look like complete jerks. Looks like we’ve got an apology to deliver Love.”

With a horrific look on her face.

Black Canary: “Yes it looks like that.”

Starfire: “I don’t think that’s a good idea, right now.”

With questions on there faces. They wait for Starfire to explain.

sighing Star continues.

Starfire: “Other than the fact that it’s embarrassing to Raven that she lost control. As well as being horrified that she invaded your privacy. Something she takes very seriously. Raven is no doubt in a state of jealousy.”

Black Canary: “Jealousy?”

Starfire: “With her powers being connected to her emotions. Raven can’t ever not be in control of her emotions. Feeling the freedom you two have and knowing she will never experience herself. Is probably a horrible thing to experience.”

Black Canary: “oh…”

Green Arrow: “I guess we’re gonna have to be more careful next time. As well as discreetly let the rest of the League know not to repeat our mistakes. It’s the least we can do for Raven.”

Damian: “tt! At least you have some brains in that skull of yours”

Though very furious Black Canary chooses not to punch him. Just this once…

Raven:

I feel my family enter and Damian especially. His worry and angry is particularly strong today. He must have realized what had happened. Eventually he walk into my room. We stare at each other. Than he sits behind me. We proceed to cuddle.

I may never be able to truly experience the full spectrum of emotions, but I can feel contentment… peacefulness. I take it with relief.

The End

(Hey all! I hope this one is a good one. Enjoy!😁)

#raven roth #damian x raven #damian wayne #damian al ghul #raven teen titans

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thetardisisnotourdivision · 9 months

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Is it just me who's seriously worried about the fact that they're not even imprisoning the migrants in a secure, safe, on-land building, but on a boat? I have a horrible feeling about where this is going. They're literally imprisoning people who just wanted to be safe and live better lives, and on a boat, no less, which feels at best like a cruel joke ("they come over here in boats" rhetoric) and at worst feels like a setup for a horrific "tragedy"... I genuinely wouldn't put it past the Tories at this point to do something like that, and the scry thing is how many people would be unbothered. One of my mum's friends, who has always been generally left-wing, the other week said something about immigrants being WORSE than ACTUAL CONVICTED CRIMINALS. It's scary how easily people are falling into this trap, I've said it once and I'll say it again; it's terrifying how many parallels there are between modern Britain and Nazi Germany. THIS IS FASCISM. First prosecution, stripping them if their human rights, then "rounding them up" and putting them in camps. We know where this goes. We know what comes next. WE CANNOT LET THIS HAPPEN.

It frustrates me how powerless I am - I can't even vote yet, so here I am desperately shouting into the void on Tumblr, hoping that someone with some semblance of power and influence will read this. Even without the "migrant issues", this country is falling to fascism - I've just started questioning my gender and I'm terrified by the new laws being put in place. Up and down the county, more and more people are in danger, are vulnerable, homeless, struggling, in poverty, in the town I live in - a very white, very middle-class town, so you can imagine what it's usually like (there's like four churches too, whatever you're picturing as the average citizen before the cost of living crisis is probably accurate) - people are having to shut off rooms in their houses and sleep in their living rooms because there's mould or damp or other things that are making their children ill. This country is in chaos, people are dying, there are fucking fascists in government and yet STILL PEOPLE INSIST THAT THERE'S NO POINT VOTING ANYONE ELSE IN. Let me tell you now - Starmer might not be great, but at least he's not a fascist - and his party are a thousand times better than the Tories. This country is falling apart.

If you live outside the UK, you might or might not know all of this. It's awful. It's chaos here, there's basically Nazi's in government and no one gives a shit. There are a few people who quietly talk about where this is heading, how we've seen this before in every genocide in history, but nobody else seems to care. We have a whole generation of people starving, unable to afford to live, and no one cares. Innocent people looking for a safe place to live are being forcibly imprisoned - their children are being stripped of any sort of comfort DELIBERATELY - for the crime of fleeing danger.

I don't know. I really don't know. I've forgotten what my point was. I hate this country. I hate these fuckweeds in government who think they can do what the fuck they like. I hate it I hate it I hate it. And I hate that there's nothing I can do.

#uk politics #britain #united kingdom

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hypnolurker · 11 months

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“Maid”

ORIGINAL IMAGE FOUND HERE

Bree was seriously freaking out right now!

She went to sleep safe and comfortable in her bed last week and when she woke up the next day she was at this facility. She didn’t know where it was or even what they were doing but she knew something was wrong. The injections, the subliminal messages played to her on the screens, the surgery, the training, the outfits…everything about this place was reminiscent of some kind of fetish porn video.

They would put her in a chamber every morning, where she was fed only if she repeated the words in the videos which were on screens surrounding her. Everything they said was sexual and degrading and disgusting. Porn played whilst words like ‘slave’ and ‘fuckdoll’ flashed up and she had to repeat them or she would starve.

The woman who was in there with her was creepier though. She looked like a doll with perfect skin and enhanced tits which were just an unreasonable size. She even acted like a doll, not showing emotion, simply observing her with those dull eyes and ensuring she was paying close attention to the strange screens.

If she wanted to drink she had to beg like a little girl and then they would insert a phallus with a small tube in order for her to drink from. Often they would make her suck it until they felt satisfied before letting any water flow flow into her dry, waiting throat.

After the chamber had sufficiently fucked with her mind they took her to a new room which was always dirty. She was forced to clean. Mind numbing manual labour of hoovering and dusting and polishing for hours and hours. It was the least scary part of the whole experience. She could almost forget she was at this horrible place temporarily whilst she let her mind go blank with the trivial task of cleaning. They would have her clean seemingly for the only purpose of their satisfaction as they kept her in there, dusting the same spots over and over with no point.

Whilst she cleaned her mind would empty. Sometimes she wondered if that was dangerous, as she could swear that when her mind emptied the subliminals form the videos in the chamber would echo inside her head, bouncing and shattering other thoughts. Then again, they did that anyway after the hours upon hours she had spent listening…repeating….learning…

No! Learning wasn’t the word! She had to get a hold of herself. Every time she thought about anything those words slowly got louder and…denser. Their gravity pulled her mind towards them, crushing her thoughts.

‘Fuck’

'obey’

'maid’

'blank’

Images of the porn flashed through her mind. This was the worst part of her time at the facility- bedtime. She had a bed and it even seemed like it may be comfortable, however she couldn’t sleep in it properly. The Problem was that they would strap her up in the most ridiculous outfit every night with her arms tied behind her back and legs apart. It made it impossible to lie down and so she was left in this degrading position all night, struggling to sleep.

It meant that she had time alone with her thoughts. That was the scary part. Each night she had more horrific memories of this place and other memories were more distant. She felt her mind moving slower, fantasies of the porn replacing what other thought she might have. Tonight she had caught herself absentmindedly whispering the words from the videos to herself. She tried to stop but she couldn’t…

All night she cried and whispered, programming herself for them. She got louder and louder as her mind emptied, her own thoughts getting quieter and quieter until she could no longer hear them, only repeat the words.

Maidslut Bree had been fully programmed.

#fake title #story #mindbrokensluts #not mine #Reconstruction

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always-rolling-my-eyes · 1 year

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I'm so disturbed by a lot of what has come out about Healy. I knew he was an idiot that was known for saying something stupid every other week, but how many times does a fanbase have to apologize or justify their fave saying something racist before they admit he's just racist.

It doesn't matter if he occasionally says the right thing when he casually makes problematic statements like he's going for a world record.

And the p*rn he casually mentions. It's horrific, and he watches it to get off?!

I've seen so many celebs called out for things that in comparison were so SO minor. And she's giving him a platform. Making him more famous.

I'm seeing Swifties defend him to defend her and I am disgusted.

Christ, poor Twigs. That piece of human garbage watched white men do horrible things to black women on that website, and he dated am abuse victim. I just can't help thinking he got off on being her white savior and I'm so heartbroken and disgusted.

He’s a disturbing individual, that is for sure. I think he’s one of those guys who likes to be a contrarian and thinks saying / doing offensive things makes him artsy or edgy. Basically he does stupid shit for attention and to seem interesting without caring about who it might hurt

In general, I stopped being surprised a long time ago about fandoms defending problematic behavior men engage in a long time ago

He’s momentarily more famous because everyone is talking about the new coupling. Once this is all over he’ll fade back to his original status, I’m sure

I just hope FKA Twigs got whatever she needed out of that relationship at the time and is in a happy, secure and supportive place now 💗

#ask #anon #taylor swift #matty healy #fka twigs

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kats-chaotic-wonderland · 5 months

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The tiny town of Merin Falls [Part 1]

(this is repost of my original reddit story so it's still structured for reddit. TW: mentions of blood, violence, gore, assault, and stalking. Nothing too graphic, but this is the set up for a horror story.)

Today had been a pretty slow day, so when I eventually found myself on Reddit, I whittled away my shift by reading through some of the posts in this particular sub. As I was on some post, about fifteen stories in, my coworker pointed out that some of the stuff we've seen would probably be interesting for some of you here. He suggested that I put a few of the more...bizarre? Creepy? I guess horrific? Stories about weird shit that happens in our small new England town.

So, as I'm sure you've heard before, I'll start by saying I live in a small town. It's settled in the northeast, a ways up from the Bridgewater triangle, and on the hill above a small bay. It's old, and has a history of witch trials and war battles. If you've ever seen a horror or Hallmark movie you've seen a town just like it. From calm summers to colorful falls, with old Victorian homes settled in old neighborhoods, complete with soccer moms and honor roll kids. This place is chock full of the American dream.

For context, we're small for this area. Like really small. One school, town square, a few neighborhoods, some mom and pop shops. We have a few docks down at the bay, but nothing bigger than a small motor boat. We do have one guy who lives on his boat, but it's a single room ship. Officially our population is about 1000-1500 on a good year. Unofficially, we stand about 2000 consistently. We'll talk about why at a different time, for now I just wanted to put it in your mind how small we're actually talking.

This place looks and operates like a normal New England town on the surface. Of course, I wouldn't be here if it actually did. There's a lot wrong with this tiny town of Merin Falls.

I spent a while today rolling around in my brain for what story really works for a start. See, we get a lot of weird, dangerous, unexplainable stuff out here. But starting off with true horror is a bit of a challenge. After six years, and for some other reasons, I’ve become a bit numb to some of what happens here. Not all, but some, and the ones that stick with me really aren’t something I want to dredge up just yet. But after some thought, I settled on one that I think will serve as a good look into what living here is like.

The day in question was a pretty typical day, maybe four or so years ago? I had gone into work, had a total of four customers. I remember because Iian still has a polaroid of each one tucked away and dated in his portfolio. This is one reason I started to hang around with him, his need to take way too many photos means I have easy access to memory triggers. But we’ll talk about that on a different day. For now all that matters is I had four customers. Holly Baker, came in the early hours right at open, she bought three binders, a sharpie, and a roll of yellow duct tape. I rang her up with no issue, my coworker Iian took her photo as she was checking out. She left and we were dead until around four o’clock. That was when Mrs. Miller came in with her rat dog and her spineless husband.

Mrs. Silvia Miller, is a rather irritating thorn in my side. From my first day working here she’s come in at least once a week in order to make snide comments about my appearance or moral choices, and make laughably bad attempts to return items she never purchased. She’s every retail worker's nightmare. (And no, unfortunately this is not the story about her being a horrible monster) Her antics have gotten so bad over the past six years that we have rules specifically for her. I’ll explain them in more detail in a later post, but she’s not allowed to shop when it’s just me on shift. We do not accept returns from her. Ever. And all of her receipts have a stamp that says “Non returnable. All sales are final.” These rules extend to her husband, a short stumpy man who looks like a frog next to his witch of a wife. As well as her kids, on the off chance they take the time to visit the old crone.

I remember this interaction clear as day, without the need for a trigger. Silvia had come in ranting and raising holy hell about some folders she had purchased from Arthur, on a day when I wasn't working. I listened to her diatribe as she gestured rapidly with her free hand, her faux pearl bracelet looking like it was going to snap off her knobby wrist. After five or so minutes I just stopped her, took her receipt, and pointed at the massive hot pink stamp that was glowing in the black light. With a look that I can only describe as, complete and utter entitled bitch bafflement, the look a Karen gets when the manager doesn't give them free stuff. She turned up her crooked hooked nose and snatched the receipt. Then she turned on her heels, a cheap pair from the thrift shop, of which she had painted the soles red with what I can only assume was cheap spray paint. Then with the fury of a western wind, headed for the door in a huff. Her shaking bug eyed rat and amphibious husband in tow. The former clutched in her cheaply manicured claws, and the latter being dragged by the scruff of his threadbare suit. The Millers are what you would call high class white trash.

The third customer was a guy I can't remember, but since Iian has a photo with the same date, I'm gonna assume he was there. From the photo, I can see he was an inch or so taller than me, gaunt face with some dark stubble, thin lanky limbs, and curly dark hair down to his shoulders. He was wearing some casual shorts and a tee shirt, and….round Ozzy Osbourne sunglasses indoors….for some reason. What strikes me as off on this one, is we have a lot of photos of him, but Iian doesn't remember ever taking them. And, for my weird memory issues, I can't bring up a single image of him in my mind if I'm not looking at a photo. It's like he just blinks from existence when we look away. There's a lot of photos of him actually….I wonder if he’s a regular? I’ll check the cameras for him at some point.

The last customer came in just before close. I call her Thelma, but I don’t actually know her name. She’s not local, but she is a regular. For whatever reason she drives out to this podunk to buy her music sheets from us. Thelma is always dressed in a similar outfit, just different colors and patterns. Always a top with 3/4 sleeves, a skirt that fits her closely but not tight that ends at the ankle in a ruffle. Sunglasses, sometimes she keeps them on. And her wiry gray hair is always up in some clip ponytail, updo thing. The top is always solid or stripes, and the skirt is always some kind of floral. Her shoes are either sandals, heels, flats, or sneakers. I wish I had more to say about her, but she never says much. Just comes in, wordlessly gets her blank sheets, checks out, pays cash, and bails. She did the same thing that day. Not a word more than needed, sunglasses on the whole time. Have I mentioned my store is lit up mostly by black lights? Yeah she makes no sense to me. But she doesn’t cause problems so I like her well enough. After Thelma left Iian and I cleaned up, locked up, and he headed home. We waved as I was taking my key from the door. We go in opposite directions, save for the off day when he walks my way with me so he can stay with Ryan for the night. That night was not one of those nights.

So there I was walking alone. It was a warm night and I was in a pretty good mood after everything that day. I’d made it a good six blocks when a car pulled up next to me. They rolled up real slow and kept pace with me. I didn’t give them any attention. Instead the hand on my opposite side was reaching for the knife I keep on my belt. I have a few on me at all times, I lived on the road for a while before I landed here. You figure out a lot about how to keep yourself safe in places like truck stops and roach motels. My knives won't save me from a bullet, learned that the hard way. But guns are rare in this area, instead kidnapping and other person on person crime is higher. But when they rolled their window down and I heard a whistle, my eyes just rolled.

Travis Heartly was the star of the football team back when he was in high school, now he was a community college drop out who could not understand the word no. Or fuck off. Or I will stab you and not feel bad in the slightest. He’d taken a liking to me just a few weeks after I had moved to Merin Falls. Unfortunately for him, I had sworn off guys. Not love, just guys. After getting abused three times in a row, I realized that me and guys romantically just don’t work. Travis didn’t get the memo apparently. He would come into my shop, near daily, and ask me out. Waste my time with his small town bragging. Act like a general Neanderthal. When Luther finally had enough and banned him from the store, he just started waiting outside for me to leave. Wait in my favorite coffee shop, bar, library, you name it he stalked it. His car was an old beat up sedan his mom gave him. He cleared out the back and put a bed in there. Needless to say that didn’t help his case when he busted into the shop excited to show me his new ride.

This car he was in however, was a rather nice Lexus. He was still beside me, calling out for my attention. I of course would not be giving him any. So he opted instead to move up the block and park right in the next street I needed to cross. Because of this move, the idiot gave me enough time to pull my larger blade from my boot. It's a good three inches longer than the belt knife, and an inch broader. See, my boots are clunky steel toed work boots. I don’t really need them, but old habits die hard, and hold big knives. I stopped a few yards away as he got out. We were close in age, though he had a good two years on me, but I had about six inches on him so I guess we're even. Still, after his flunk out, he’d taken up booze and dropped his work out. So his once toned body was slowly fading into the start of a beer belly and unkempt stubble.

He closed the door and leaned against the car,”Hey! How was work?”

“Leave me alone Travis.”

His expression dropped,”Come on, what did I do? Was it the roses? Look I just thought maybe-”

“Oi.” I cut him off, ”Shove it. I’m not interested. Now beat it.”

“Come on Am.” his voice was pitiful. He had his choice of girls when I moved here. He was pretty, young, fit, and locally famous. But when he clung to the freaky new girl, they all moved on after a year or so. A fair amount of his classmates were hooked up with someone new. Iian liked to gossip about his school a lot at work. In a small place like this most of the kids never really leave. But, his problems weren’t my issue.

“Move.” I ordered

He was looking at me like I’d just kicked a puppy.

“Fine.” I started to cross to the far side of the street. He panicked and ran toward me, closing the distance in a moment as he grabbed my upper arm. He'd learned not to try and grab my forearm. I always hold my knives down, with the bunt to my arm, blade out. In the event I need to block, or get grabbed from behind it's quicker to defend myself. Think Rambo or Hunter from the bad batch. Say whatever you want, but it's saved me more times than I want to admit.

“Wait!” he pleaded,”Please just one chance! I promise, I can-”

I ripped my arm away and rounded around with my free hand. The fist collided with his nose, I felt a crunch and heard a bone snap. Travis stumbled back and grabbed his now gushing nose. Tears welled and fell in rivulets as he looked at me in shock.

“I told you not to fucking touch me.” I spat and stepped back several feet. I kept my eyes locked on him and my guard up,”Try that shit again and I’ll do worse than break your nose. When a woman tells you no for two straight years, believe me she is not going to change her mind dumbass.”

He just looked at me, tears and blood running down his face. I’d always told him no. No maybes, no waffling. Always a direct no. And I’d put up with his stalking, but he’d never touched me before. This time he crossed a line he hadn’t realized was there. The look in his eyes was either rage, or passion. And I really didn’t want to know which. He’s the kind of guy who wants a woman to ruin his life. I guess he thought I would fit that bill.

He was right, but not in the way he wanted.

This standoff lasted for maybe a minute before headlights came slowly up behind us. Travis made the connection before I did. He saw the red and blues and bailed off into his Lexus. I watched him peel out from where he had been. I didn’t move until officer Lison parked and stepped out of his car. I lowered my knife and slid it into my boot as he walked over to me.

“Amber? Was that Travis I just saw?” he asked, he sipped on his coffee, getting a few drops caught in the edge of his salt and pepper mustache.

I turned and rubbed my hand, it was bruising from where I had punched him,”Yeah. He tried to grab me when I went to walk away this time.”

“Shit.” Lison chuffed with a bushy browed scowl,”What an ass.”

His reaction was so flippant, I just...I busted out laughing,”That’s all you got Boris?”

“What?” he asked confused,”He is. Plus he’s getting thrown in lock up tomorrow anyway.”

This made my laughter stop, it was my turn to be confused,”What did he do now?”

Another sip of his coffee,”Grand theft auto.” he shrugged,”Lexus was stolen from a lot east of town. That's why I stopped.”

“You’re kidding.” I asked slack jawed.

“Nope. I don’t think he even realized he was on camera.”

“So what? He just took it in hopes of a date night?”

“Looks like it if he was here for you. He’s a desperate man.” he shook his head,”Wanna lift home?”

I thought about it for a second,”Sure. Thanks Boris.”

We hopped in his cruiser, and made light conversation for a few blocks. Three blocks from my house though, a call came over the radio. Some mix of cop lingo and garbled static that I couldn't really understand. He did though, Boris looked concerned and stopped the car. He gave me a look I couldn’t really place,”Look, kiddo. I gotta respond on this one, but it’s back that way,” he gestured behind us,”It’s an all night type deal. Are you good for the last few blocks?”

I nodded,”Yeah, you go do what you gotta man. Thank you for the help, and the ride.”

“Any time Amber.” He nodded, his face looked a bit forlorn,”You should be safe from here, but be careful.”

“Always.” I smiled as I slid out of the cruiser, my boots hit the pavement and I walked behind the car to the sidewalk. Boris took off a moment later, back down the way we had come.

I should have asked how he knew Travis wasn’t around. I know now that's what he meant when he said I was safe. The look in his eyes should have clued me in, but I just figured it was part of whatever call he had gotten. I was right. Doesn’t make it easier for him though.

He’d get six calls of the same nature that night. And he wasn't the only one, a total of twenty eight similar calls came in one after another. None of them could be explained. He still blames himself for the two that survived, and the rest that didn't.

Boris Lison had lived in Merin Falls his entire fifty seven years of life. And he’d known Travis for all twenty one years of his. He’d been close with the football star's grand dad. But after his spiral, the officer just felt bad for the kid. That made it hard for poor Boris to pick him up off the pavement that night. The official story was that he crashed the Lexus into the retainer wall because of his erratic behavior. Some of the officers even insinuated that it was on purpose after my rejection and breaking his nose. That he had finally snapped and tried to end it all. Claiming mental illness was easier than trying to explain the gaping hole in his chest. Or how he had been dragged out of the car through the back windscreen. How he ended up a good half mile from the car. Or why he was frozen almost cryogenically with his heart yanked halfway out of his ribcage by the time Boris had found him. How he survived for the following week is beyond all of us. Not that he was any help in explaining anything. By the time I was ready to leave the hospital myself the following week, Travis tried to use his bed sheets and window for his own way out. I can’t say I blame him. I probably would have done the same after what happened. He spent the next two years in the Merin Falls psych ward. His time there was a horror show of its own.

What happened that night scarred a lot of people in this town. Unfortunately, myself included, both physically and mentally.

Boris had just gotten out of sight and I started making my way down the block. My body was still on high alert from my encounter with Travis. Every noise, flash of headlights, each passing car made me freeze. I'm not a skittish person. Anxious sure, but it's a quiet anxious. Not jumpy. Something in the air had me on edge. It felt like each step dragged me through a slurry of static and shaved ice.

My feet trudged onward. Alarm bells flagged in my brain, each thud of my heart sent a scream from the back of my mind. They all called me to turn and run. But….I didn't.

I should have.

The further I went the worse the feeling of unease got. Then, after a block, I saw something. A dark figure crossed the street ahead of me. I watched as it moved from my side to the other, then back again. Stopping in my tracks, my brow furrowed. It was like looking at something dipped in Vantaa black. My brain wanted to warp around it, like it was a void between two images that should be touching but weren't.

The way it moved, it wasn't….it wasn't right. Like a shadow blinking in and out of existing, but never moving all at the same time. I was frozen the moment my eyes caught it. My skin prickled as ice slinked in a slurry through my veins. I could feel the sludge crawling up the back of my neck as the thing turned to me. Whatever this was, I wasn't supposed to have seen it.

Thoughts raced in my mind, 'I've dealt with weird shadows before, if I tell it to leave it should right?'

'No wait, why isn't my mouth moving?'

'Hold on why can't I mo- wait is it getting closer!?'

A scream was lost in the void of my throat as I realized that the creature was moving in static flashes toward me, or was it? It was close, then it was miles away, a few yards, miles and miles, feet, then inches.

‘Shit!’

Freezing blood pounded in my ears as this...this thing...I couldn’t form a real thought as it neared me. What should have been it's face, instead just a chasm of inky blackness, was inches from mine. If it had eyes I couldn't see them. But I could feel them. It felt like a numbness trailing over me as it tried to understand what I was. Panic clutched my chest as the numb feeling hovered over my heart. The ice in my veins rushed to the center of where it was staring. A choked groan seeped from my throat as I felt the muscle in my chest freeze to a halt.

'How am I even still breathing?'

'Wait...am I?'

I couldn’t tell anymore.

It’s arm moved as it flashed back several feet again. Looking at this thing hurt. Like I was watching a game character glitch in and out as it tried to move. Just rapid, glitchy, morphing, shapes of shadow. It looked humanoid, but entirely not at the same time. Raising its arm I felt cold static touch the skin over my heart. My top was probably fucked, but I quickly didn’t care as I felt it slowly pushing it's claws into my flesh. I couldn’t scream. Gods I wanted to. I wanted to cry out in pain and terror. This creature was ripping my chest open. Claws in the shape of a perforated circle were digging, boring their way to my heart. Determined to remove the icy lump of muscle and sinew from where it was caged in bone.

Silent tears rolled down my cheeks, so hot they burned like flames as they fell. As they left blazing trails, it occurred to me as the heat faded, I couldn’t feel anything but the pain in my chest anymore. A sickening ‘*CRACK’* sent a new wave through my body. White spots floated and flitted around the edge of my eyes. Like sick fairies drawn to the scent of blood. This thing was taking it's time.

It enjoyed watching me suffer. Frozen in fear and pain.

The next thought that crossed my mind was so horribly clear,’I’m going to die here.’ I wish I could say I had some awakening and I snapped out of it. Or that in that moment my life flashed before my eyes and I saw the error of some choice in my life. But no. In that moment, alone with that thing, it’s claws reaching for my frozen heart, I just wished for one more moment. The image that did come to my mind just as the white began to take my sight wasn’t something deep, or wise, or heroic. It was a smile. A smile I knew would never look the same if I died. From that day on it would be tinged with sadness. Of not knowing what happened. Maybe she would think I just left. I prayed, for the first time in so many years, a silent thought,’Please, let her hate me. Don’t let her linger. Don’t let her search. Forget me and be happy.’ And that was it.

Everything went white.

I woke up two days later in a hospital bed. The nurse beside me was changing an IV bag. His eyes caught mine as they fluttered open, with a professional manner he told me I was in the hospital and to not move. After calling the doctor and running a few tests. Things like asking me for information, grip strength tests, stuff like that. They told me what happened. Just as I passed out, before I was gored by a shadow thing, Ryan had found me. He said I was just collapsed on the sidewalk cold, with a ring of stab wounds on my chest. He called 911 and they rushed me to the hospital. I had a few cracked ribs, and they said it was nearly impossible that all of the stabs had missed major arteries. But it wasn’t. That thing wanted me alive to the last second. Ryan found me two hours after I left the shop.

It had frozen me there for two hours.

I was in the hospital for recovery for a few days. Iian and Ryan checked in on me every day. Arthur and Luther came by a few times too. They even paid for my bills. I really love them so much. I don’t know where I’d be without them all. Once I was released, Iian stayed with me till he believed I wouldn’t keel over. Within two months I was healed up, a perfect ring of five exactly matching scars, centered right over my heart. As soon as the doc cleared me, which took a bit, she’s a thorough woman. I was in the tattoo parlor the next day getting a new piece to accent my new scars. That thing tried to kill me. But, I’m no coward. I was scared shitless, I’d only felt fear like that once before that day. Despite that, I lived. Somehow. So I’m owning it. Just like the one on my back. My shoulder. The bullet scar in my thigh. And the bands around my wrists.

Each scar is a memory. Each tattoo, a way to take back control in a small way. Every horror story leaves a scar of some kind. Mine were physical this time. Next time maybe we’ll look into the ones on my mind. But for now Iian is bugging me to check in, I didn't realize how long I've been typing. I’m Amber Haze, and I’ll be back soon with more from the tiny town of Merin Falls.

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Part 2

#merin falls #horror #creepy #creepypasta #r/nosleep #amber haze

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thedawningofthehour · 6 months

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Hey...

I've been thinking about this for a while, but how do you feel that your war in the fic will sync up with the one in real life? I'm not trying to be funny or anything, but it's still interesting.... To say the least. It's just that it's been over a week now, and it's hard... I remember at the beginning of all this I got into a very stressful fight with one of my super religious aunts, I was raised catholic, made my first communion and everything, but yeah, it was a mess. It doesn't help that my family is prone to go by what the media says.

(I still can't get over that time when my mom told me that popcorn caused cancer because she saw it on a facebook post or something).

I talked a bit more about my religious background in a Castlevania post I reblogged not too long ago.

This current big conflict does not affect me directly, my country has nothing to do with it the closest we came to this conflict was a long time ago when our former president cursed Israel on public television.

But it is still hard, to see all those images, glimpses of those videos, all those news and people justifying and lying shamelessly about it and not being able to do anything, but express an opinion on the internet and hope someone will see it, and on top of that not even being able to talk to your family about it because it would be a disaster again.

We are at the end of 2023 and everything sucks.

I've been kind of avoiding talking about or even reblogging stuff on my main about the Israel-Palestine conflict because it's just...it's so much. Everything is terrible everywhere in the world and I am exhausted. I dislike the notion that everyone needs to 'speak out' about every travesty that goes on, I find it very performative and ultimately unhelpful and even distracting at times, especially considering most people do not have the knowledge or tact to address something like this, even as a performative gesture.

Like, I've read a lot, and I do remember having a unit on Israel-Palestine back in high school, but that would have been 2010-2011. And it was one unit, in a high school level social studies class. I am not nearly informed enough to talk about it with the tact it deserves or say anything about it that hasn't been said already. It's difficult to even get into because so much is Zionist bullshit or anti-Semitic propaganda-though the racists have seems to dispose of the anti-Semitism in favor of Islamophobia for now. (I mean, not surprising, they also buddy up with Muslims when it comes to oppressing gays and pretend to be friends with gay people when it comes to trans people) It's just...a lot. And it hurts.

I obviously did not plan for there to be a real-life war with honestly sort of unnerving parallels to Draxum's war-I just had very, very poor timing. Same thing when I was writing my Dishonored fic and COVID happened. I mean, the Ukraine war was also going on when I started this fic, but that still felt very different and by that point we were all feeling very hopeful about Ukraine. Part of me feels like it's disrespectful to even talk about this stuff in relation to my shitty fanfiction. But at the same time I still cite other conflicts and genocides and all sorts of horrible shit in my world-building, and those people had names too.

I don't plan to sync anything up specifically with current conflicts. Some parts are going to feel relatable considering what's going on now, because this conflict really doesn't teach us anything new about war. The horror, complexity, and ultimately futility of war is a major theme in my work, and I strive to portray it with the weight it deserves. War is awful. People die. They die horrifically, they die quietly, they die unheroic and undeserving deaths. They die needlessly and they die inside even if their body survives. War has always been the same. It is suffering and death and filth. I will not co-op what's happening in Palestine to talk about my fanfiction. But if aspects of my story makes you relate to what's happening over there, I'll consider that a mark that I've done my job right. Ideally, that's what fiction should strive to do.

#sorry i usually keep the overtly political stuff on main #i've been thinking i should say something about the parallels but it didn't want it to sound like i was making fun of it #especially considering i do have a very dark sense of humor and i know that often doesn't come through well over the internet #doth asks

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realthoughtsreal · 1 year

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Unstable

I struggled with my depression and suic!dal ideation, and actual PLANNING OF MY DEATH for 90% of 2022. I wrote notes, recorded videos and audios for my loved ones. I did the research; I knew exactly what would kill me and how much of it I’d need. This was every week. I was struggling like never before, with suic!dal ideation and self-harm urges.

I only started to get better during and after Christmas. I was hit by very strong, overwhelming, and confusing feelings; because I had not expected to live to see Christmas, nevermind New Year’s. I spent a large part of the 24th and 25th sobbing, bawling, wailing like I haven’t in a while, feeling inexplicably overwhelmed. For the first time in my life, I felt grateful for being alive. I actually was feeling good. I felt grateful for getting to see my family and spend time with them.

And my good mood lasted for a while. My bad thoughts disappeared entirely, until February 7th, when my dad accidentally triggered me, after I was already starting to feel increasingly anxious and vulnerable. The 7th I actually put the blade to my skin and pressed; I was seized by the urge and sudden desperate need to do something, anything to release the pressure in my chest, my pain.

It was a wakeup call. I’m saddened, disappointed, but not surprised. It seemed too good to be true, for my depression and problems to suddenly just disappear entirely, like a Christmas miracle.

Dad spoke truth, harsh, cruel truth. And what bothered me the most, was that I knew it to be true. Disgustingly so.

And he did it without understanding me. It’s not his fault, but it hit hard.

Waves of self-hate and disgust hit me instantly and I closed off. The currents took me and I was helpless. I cried in my room, quietly. Put the blade to my skin and perhaps for the first time actually put pressure to my skin with the intent to cut for real. I barely caught myself and immediately threw away the blade, and curled into a ball, forcing myself to look away from it.

I felt horrible, all over again. The urges to self-har have been awful, but so far I’ve held myself back and found alternatives to actual cutting.

That day I felt like a storm broiled and simmered inside my chest. I was furious, hurt and sad. I considered seriously going for a run in the morning (something I’ve never done before because I’m scared of going out on my own so early and dressed in sport clothes) and disappearing for a few hours to give him a scare. (I was too tired though, couldn’t wake up early to actually do it. Shame).

I was still pretty quiet the day after and barely spoke a word. Dad didn’t poke, or approach the subject. I was still so mad and hurt, and to top it, I had to go to night classes on my own.

Going to night classes on my own scares the fuck out of me because I was born as a female. And I’ll never be safe. It’s just fact. To make matters worse, the area I gotta walk by on my own late at night to get to the bus is NOTORIOUSLY DANGEROUS, people have gotten killed, harrassed, assaulted, etc.

To my fury and discomfort, dad has expressed 0 understanding or sympathy towards my anxiety and concerns when it comes to going outside on my own. Then again, he’s a man nearing his 60s who has never been assaulted in his whole life. He’ll never understand what it is to fear for your life, your dignity, your everything everytime you step out if your safe space. He doesn’t, and will NEVER TRULY understand, what it is to live in one of the countries with highest r4pe rates in the WOrLD. All women I know, all my friends, have horrific stories to tell and have suffered terrible experiences of assault or abuse or harrassment or r4pe by men. Dad can be such an idiot when it comes to this, and it infuriates that he can be so clueless and insensitive sometimes.

These last 2 weeks I’ve been hit by a strong feeling that I need to talk to someone about this. My problems. The depression, the suicide, the self-harm urges. All of it. It’s like the words are flooding my lungs and trying to choke me. Yet everytime there seens to be a chance for me to open up, I close up. A vice tightens around ny throat and I cannot speak. I cannot bring myself to say it to anybody.

For some reason, it feels… almost humiliating. Denigrating. Shameful. To speak of this. Of how deeply I fell. And I’m afraid of being brushed off, not taken seriously. That’d hurt me worse. I’m scared of more pain. I cannot tell anyone.

But I know I must. I need to go to therapy for real. But I don’t want dad to waste money on it. Isn’t it just a temporary fix anyways? It’ll come back. It always does.

I don’t want dad to waste money on a useless cause, when he could spend that money in a house.

I need help.

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