#i can’t even remember to sleep i’m not about to remember how a website works

[daisychainsandbowties]

my special talent is forgetting readmores 😂😇

#like every time #to be fair its annoying on the app and also the adhd #i can’t even remember to sleep i’m not about to remember how a website works

[carlgrimesloverr]

sk8erboi

aaron hotchner x fem!super star!reader

summary : when aaron’s ex girlfriend releases a diss-album about him and haley, he’s left with nothing to do but confront her, and tell her loves her, and divorce haley… right?

takes place during : season 1

warnings : this is 100% a sequel to sk8ergirl and i recommend you read that first (#selfpromo😜🤞). also this is some seriously shitty poetry on my half i’m sorry i just get in the feels sometimes. aaron also is lowkey toxic ⁉️

word count : 1,194

“you still released it, even though you’re alone.” hotch hummed to himself, continuing to search you up. single. never married. no kids. doesn’t party much. still went out skating constantly. said in an interview you were ‘still caught in the whirlwind romance of high school’. caught in the ‘betrayal of it all’. you really were the sk8ergirl, weren’t you?

what would you do if hotch reached out? you had left a business email on your website - it would take a fool for you not to recognize aaron’s email address. you weren’t a fool.

would you be upset at the man for so recklessly reaching out? angry that after all these years he finally wanted to talk after he was the one who cut contact?

or would you be happy? so happy you’d want to meet him?

‘can we meet for coffee? - AHH’

god how aaron wishes you would recognize his email.

you did. of course you did.

‘send me the details and i’ll be there.’ was that all you had to say? nothing more, nothing less? just a passive aggressive when and where?

but meeting you was meeting you, and aaron wouldn’t miss out on this chance.

yet, when he sat down across from you, he could see how much you had changed. he still remembered how you looked at graduation; sad, lonely, and angry. your hair was a mess. you had bags under your eyes you tried to hide with concealer. you nearly forgot your cap and gown. you didn’t stay afterwards for photos.

now? you looked healthy. happy. put together. but still angry. yet, the angry was more hidden, more managed. you had gotten out most of your anger.

“hotchner.” you smiled, not making eye contact and instead staring down at your coffee.

“hi-“ he suddenly was at a loss for words. what do you say to the person you betrayed? “i’m sorry, for what i did to you back then.”

“don’t go there. don’t bring that up now, aaron. i’ve moved on. i’ve accepted it. you were supposed to be different… we were supposed to be different, but we weren’t.” you sighed, taking in the disheveled male before you. had he not been sleeping? working too much? not going home? he looked like hell.

“but you wrote those songs-“

“i’m a musician, aaron, it’s my job.” you groaned, rolling your eyes and you slumped down in your seat. “honestly, are you that surprised i wrote music about my life? aren’t you some fbi big shot now? didn’t you see it coming?”

“i never thought- what you wrote was disrespectful. to both me and my wife. i’m here to tell you that.”

you let out a choked laugh, eyes wide in disbelief. “that’s what you’ve come here to say? pathetic honestly.”

aaron went stiff, for some reason fueled by rage. you released a diss-track about him yet you were calling him pathetic? “you can’t always be the victim! you should know that.”

you let out a fake gasp, feigning hurt. “big bad aaron hotchner got his feelings hurt? poor baby.” you teased him, grinning ear to ear.

you were enjoying this - making him squirm. you were happy you were getting under his skin.

“i’m sorry- is that what you want me to say? because i’m sorry.” aaron pleaded, eyes wide.

“no, aaron, you hurt me. you hurt me in ways i can’t even begin to explain.” you spat back, anger filling your eyes as you stared across the table at the male. “i don’t know how i feel, and i do not ever want to know what it is.”

“tell me how i hurt you and i’ll fix it. i’ll do anything!”

“for four years you made me believe you loved me, but you didn’t. and keeping a love in which is not meant to be yours hurts worse more anything else out there. and there is no fixing that pain.”

you were right. of course you were. everything you had said so far was right. so why was he so upset?

“did you just forget everything we shared?” aaron mumbled, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to understand himself. he had no right to be upset, and he knew that.

“forgetting you, aaron, was easy - forgetting the memories is the hardest part. sometimes, i still hear your voice ringing through my head like a broken record i am unable to turn off.”

music references. god, you could never stay away from them could you?

“so you did forget it? all my encouragement, all my love, all of it?”

why was he so upset? you had every right to move on after the years of pain he put you through. yet he was still so upset.

“i remember everything you said to me as if i will stop breathing if i even try to forget. that is not fair to me aaron.”

you were right.

yet, you didn’t stop there. you kept speaking, so clearly angry and hurt by the males disrespect. “i wish with every fiber of my being i was what you wanted, because you were my every wish come true.”

you are everything he wanted, couldn’t you see that? the distressed look on his face, the hurt in his eyes, the downturn of his lips?

“i’m sorry.” was all he could manage to get out, unsure of what would set you off on another angry tangent or what would appease your anger.

“when you say ‘sorry’ it just hurts more… it was me who trusted you, it was me who gave you my heart, it was me who thought we would work out. but trust is such a nasty thing.”

“you’re right but- but don’t you miss it? miss us? because i do- all i have of you is memories. flashbacks that jolt me awake as i reach out for you. the songs we sang together that i listen to daily. i made a mistake, all those years ago. now i’m trying to fix it, so please, let me.”

“i hate the flashbacks. i hate the memories. i hate the songs we used to sing. i hate it all because it reminds me of you.” you grunted, standing up slightly as you went to leave.

you were done with him and his petty begging. the aaron hotchner you knew, you loved, left you that december night. cold, alone, confused. this wasn’t your aaron hotchner anymore. you lost him the same night he lost you.

“i miss you- i miss us. im miserable now, is that what you wanted to hear? i want you back.”

“i don’t miss you, i just miss the feeling i had when i was with you. you’re married now, aaron.” you paused slightly, testing out your next words in your head before speaking. “just like all good songs, we’ve come to an end - but this song will forever be my favorite. goodbye, aaron.”

and with that, you were gone. aaron had lost you like the leaves on a tree, like the petals on a flower, like the warmth of summer during the winter.

he had lost you for good this time.

#aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner angst #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

[anthropologicalhands]

twenty questions for fic writers

tagged by @redbelles !

1. how many works do you have on ao3? 112

2. what’s your total ao3 word count? 497,546

3. what fandoms do you write for? currently, I’m still eyeballs deep in black panther (mcu). I’ll write for whatever catches my interest, but previous fandoms include naruto, yuyu hakusho, thor (mcu), mass effect, and crazy ex girlfriend

4. top five fics by kudos

vigil of the loved tales of the storyteller bring back the baby shoes sleeping arrangements pft, tradition <- biggest shocker honestly

5. do you respond to comments? i’m making more of an effort these days! I might respond late, but i do try to respond because it’s a nice way to talk more about characters and stuff with people.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? probably a frozen pond alight with torches. It’s a hina fic, by nature of canon it’s doomed. I tend not to write straight angst though. Or maybe i stay up all night in your memories, where priya has to let go both of ajay and, worse, of seema so they can all move on.

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? by far don’t need no ammunition, aka the sif goes to midgard au. loki doesn’t fall into madness, thor and jane get to stay in contact, and sif gets a shiny sword that cuts through dimensions. everyone wins! it’s so self indulgent, but i do find it endearing.

8. do you get hate on fics?

almost never, but the only time i remember getting hate is on make me an offer i won’t refuse, where some commenter took issue with how i wrote kay and her and michael’s relationship. they clearly hated kay as a character but still read a whole fic about her, so i wasn’t even angry, i was just completely bemused by it. 

9. do you write smut?

…i do. i have a very limited comfort zone, but honestly i want to write more and get better at it!

10. craziest crossover:

I don’t really do crossovers, except for the ceg fic that ended up featuring jean ralphio from parks and recreation. that was super fun, but i think it’s too tonally consistent to count as crazy. I’m more likely to write fusion fic than crossovers

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as in someone else tried to take credit for it — i have had my fics uploaded onto other websites w/o my permission though

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! In the Naruto fandom, someone translated one of my fics into Vietnamese. that was pretty cool, but i think i lost the link.

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

just for fun! And there was one sasusaku/uchiha family round robin fic i was fortunate enough to participate in. 

14. all time favorite ship?

nah, can’t do it

15. what’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

rip telepathy au. I had so much written but i couldn’t figure out a couple key parts and then i lost steam for writing ceg fic. I’ll never say never, but i think that one is gone.

16. what are your writing strengths?

i think emotions, how characters relate to each other, moments of high intensity and catharsis

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Setting! i hate it, because i loooooove a good vivid setting, but i have such a hard time visualizing places! Especially new places!

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

probably only a good idea if you are fluent. I have used honorifics in anime fics, but i worry that i apply it too inconsistently and not as thoughtfully as i should have, so these days i try to move away from it.

19. first fandom you wrote in?

unpublished, probably teen titans or sailor moon. published, naruto

20. favorite fic you’ve written?

I think understand the edge of this desire is one of my favorite things I’ve written, just because i think i got the voice and the mood right, and it took a long of agonizing over both.

tagging anyone who wants to do this meme!

#meme #ellie writes fic

[omsdoortodoor]

Blog Extra - MS Awareness Week 22nd April to 28th April 2024

This week is UK MS Awareness Week and this year Overcoming MS is running a campaign called #MSUnfiltered.

As part of the campaign, OMS is working with MS Society UK, MS Together, Multiple Sclerosis Trust, MS-UK, Neuro Therapy Network and Shift.ms to survey over 1,400 people in the UK living with MS. The survey results showed us that:

When I was diagnosed the first thing I did was to check out the MS charity websites, as recommended by my neurologist.  When I read the long list of symptoms

I was appalled because I had virtually all of these symptoms to some degree or another. 

Here is the list of symptoms combined from the MS Trust and the MS Society websites:

Fatigue

Strange Skin sensations (numbness tingling, pins and needles, a crawling)

Balance and Co-ordination

Vision Problems

Walking difficulties

Thinking & memory difficulties (brain fog)

Bladder & bowel issues

Temperature sensitivity

Low mood, emotional problems, depression, and anxiety

Pain

Sexual issues

Sleep problems

Speech and swallowing problems

Hearing difficulties

Tremors

So when I read the list not only was I dismayed, I was also rather confused.  Because, some of those symptoms I had been putting down to my age.  So how do I know is it my MS or an age thing?

But I’m really hear to talk about the #MSUnfiltered campaign and what we don’t usually talk about.

While I have been very open about my MS diagnosis, there are some people who chose not to tell their employer for fear of being judged and side-lined at work. And when I chose to give up work, I didn’t tell my clients the full reasons behind my decision.  Which were, that I no longer trusted myself to build an accurate spreadsheet of financial projections or that it took me three times longer that it should to write a simple report due to my brain fog and reduction in manual dexterity at the keyboard.  The reduction in my ability to hold complex ideas in my mind undermined my confidence in my own abilities.  I wanted them to remember me as someone capable of doing everything that I used.

Sometimes I get so overwhelmed by outside stimulus that I struggle to think straight or to express myself properly.  All I can manage is a grunt because I can’t get the words that I want to say out.  I come over as inarticulate and I worry people will think I am rude because I only use a few words and need to go and lie down.

Up to 50% of people with MS have poor mental health – this is something I am comfortable talking about and I am happy to fly the flag here.  However, when I went on an MS retreat in November and started to talk about how MS affects my mental health, not one person had the courage to talk about their own issues. Even though there were 40 people in the room, and we were in a ‘safe space’.  If the stats are right at least 20 people in that room must have experience of poor mental health. For a moment, I felt a bit embarrassed for raising the topic, but only for a moment.  What I really felt was sympathy that no one else had the courage to share.

And finally, my closest friends will know that I use the loo A LOT. I now have a RADAR key but I haven't had to use it YET.

#MSAwarenessWeek #MSAwareness #MS #MSDiagnosis #OvercomingMS #OMS #MSSymptoms

#MSAwarenessWeek #OvercomingMS #MSAwareness #ms #msdiagnosis #oms #ms symptoms

[etherealyoni]

i’ve felt the intensity of death and i wasn’t the one taking my last breath. you can feel your heart breaking in the physical sense, you lose your mind trying to make it make sense, you fall into a wave of emotions not knowing what wave will crash the hardest. i’m learning that there’s millions of ways to cope but don’t have the energy to take action. i’m drowning in my own thoughts and emotions knowing this will take time to heal. this entire month has been rough, trying to find comfort in the little things but nothing fills me up like you do. your laugh, hugs, and presence will forever be stored in my heart. it hurts knowing this is real and i’m not dreaming.

i cry because i’m hurt. our bond was superb, we were only getting closer and you were just taken away from me because someone felt their destination was more important than a life. i struggle to understand the meaning of all this, i keep asking my ancestors what is the lesson? what do you want me to learn from your passing?

your pictures and videos bring me peace, but remembering how you looked when i laid with you on your last day reminds me that i won’t get another chance to prank you, catch you in my room touching my crystals, watch shrek one more time, or even let you cook with me when you got sad and missed your mom.

i’m truly at a loss for words and knowing you’re not returning physically (as of right now) kills me inside. nobody rings the doorbell like you did, i’d know you were here when i heard it being pressed one million times. now that i don’t hear it at all or as often, i get this feeling in my chest. i’m gonna keep going but it’s taking me a minute, idk how to move forward because i’m used to taking every step with you.

it’s only been 25 days since the accident and it feels like it’s been a lifetime. i’m in the future looking back at the past like it’s been years. this has been the longest month, the longest heartbreak, and the longest time i’ve ever been away from you. i’d do anything to get you back but i know it’s already out of my hands.

crying is impossible because it seems every tear i ever suppressed was released, but i definitely shed a tear or two often. i could never forget you, even when my own brain tries to protect me from accepting this reality. you loved me so unconditionally and i can’t thank you enough for it. i feel so lost and i hope i’m guided to a light so i can begin to see things clearly once more. grieving you is and will forever be the hardest thing i have to do.

if it’s not too much to ask, i need help in all aspects. i usually avoid asking for help but this is a time i know for certain i’m gonna need my community because i’ve been forcing myself to eat, sleep, and it’s been exhausting. if anyone would like to join my group chat just to cultivate a safe space for me and others grieving, the link is in my bio. talking has been very therapeutic for me even if it’s about the silliest shit in the world, it’s helping.

my website is currently under reconstruction so i’m willing to accept donations for a reading or any services i offer. my payment methods are:

cashapp: thesacralempress / paypal: [email protected] / apple pay : 2709966971 zelle: ashanti goodnight / [email protected]

you can contact me at [email protected] to schedule an appointment. don’t be afraid to reach out, if anything the work i do makes me feel closer to him and i will communicate if for any reason i’m incapable of providing a service. i’m realistic about my grief. thanks to those that have helped already and for those that do decide know it will never go unappreciated. i’m grateful for those that are simply leaving kind messages or reaching out to check on me, like i said before i need ALL the support i can get right now. peace and blessings to you all ✨

#hoodoo #spiritual memes #psychic readings #astro community #tarot #tarotcommunity #astrology #horoscope #astro placements #self love

[endertender]

Shopping For Super King-Size Bedding

In the event that you have read my post about king size bedding, you realize that I love bigger mattresses and the better sleeping experience that they can give. All things considered, the super king size bed is kind of a definitive articulation of this thought, and it ought to shock no one that I seriously love them too. They can be a particularly extraordinary choice if you and your life partner have small kids or this website creatures that like to go along with you in the bed. The more room you have the better with regards to getting a decent night's sleep, and super king size beds give 'room' in spades.

Despite how extraordinary the sleeping experience might be in a super king size however, you can hope to run into similar issue we discussed with finding standard king size, yet to a bigger degree. As referenced before, sheets are accessible nowadays in just about any example, variety, and material that you can envision. Be that as it may, dissimilar to whatever other size, this isn't generally the situation with super king size bedding. The reality stays that this size just isn't standard, and for various reasons. Basically, these beds are just too huge for most households. Beyond the advanced, cutout manors that exist in the suburbs, houses generally have never been worked with the huge main bedrooms that we see today. This removes a colossal lump of the addressable market for most mattresses, and puts these in light of most families. Obviously, the other fundamental explanation that these are not frightfully normal is cost. As I'm certain you know, bigger mattresses require more work, material, delivering cost, and so on to create and sell. These expenses must be given to the shopper, and in this manner super king sizes are at the external furthest reaches of cost. By and large, a customary king size is above and beyond, and supporting not paying something else for the super is simple... all good.

In the event that you're hear however, you have the space, and you have the mixture for a super king size, yet it's horrible without sheets. We will discuss a couple of things to see while you're shopping for bedding.

A decent set of sheets and bedding is a serious use, and somewhat of a drawn out speculation, particularly with a bed this huge. Thus, you will need to ensure that you require some investment to settle on a very much contemplated and clever decision. In any case, you'll should know that not all that you find that you like will be accessible in super king. Know that going in, and you're more averse to become frustrated while you shop. What's more, remember that there are consistently workarounds - you might find an example you like that isn't accessible in the texture you like. You might find a material you need, yet can't get it in an example that will look great with the remainder of your furniture. Try not to surrender. This is the cross that king size bedding shoppers must bear. It is possible that you have to have the sheets custom made, or it may be the case that you have to converse with a purchaser to get what you need custom arranged. Frequently these choices can be something to be thankful for as it ought to assist with protecting that you get precisely exact thing you need.

Anyway, what do you have to think about? Indeed, thread count, as discussed in the king size bedding post, is considerably even more a worry. With more space, comes an improved probability that the sheets will be extended and pulled, and for the most part tried positively regarding their durability.

#youtube

[artisticbunny]

Alright Bun— bonus ask before I go to sleep because I think I’m getting Whispering Willow brainrot lol (on top of utdr and fnaf rot ough—) Because tbh I sincerely think it’s really well thought out, with the little tidbits I’ve read about. The first chapter of it was cool Yk? I’m gonna guess that you’re new to ao3 writing? :3c am I right?

But, skipping the rambles, Lemme get to what I wanted to say:

Can you pretty please feed give us me Kat lore? Like I love ghosties and everything, especially ones that hang around. Like how does she hang around? We know she got buried alive (must’ve been terrifying seriously my bros buried me in sand once but not my face…) but how does her spirit hang about?

Also, why’d her adventure friends bury her? Was it for a reason or just them being like plain old toxic? I don’t think they’d have to like, bury her tho if it’s the second option… :( maybe it was a sacrifice??

(Thanks for storytelling tho Bun! I’m totally locked in! It’s very interesting so far! <3333)

UWAAAA THAT IS SUCH A HUGE COMPLIMENT THANK YOU!!! Literally I have no idea what’s more flattering than having someone brainrot over something you made!!! I’m so SO glad you like it so far!!!

I AM new to writing on ao3!!! You are correct!!! I actually just made my account about a month or two ago! I actually attempted to post this on a website I made in the past, but 1: it didn’t get any traction and 2: I didn’t like my writing, this is actually the third iteration of this story! I am much more comfortable with my writing now than back then :3

Anywho, on to Kat ;3

Here’s the ref I made for her for visualization’s sake! :D

You may recall on the post where I gave a brief rundown on each of my ocs that Kat was framed for a crime she didn’t commit. Kat was originally a Part of an adventuring group called The Rogues of Justice, though since her death she can’t remember the name of her group or the people involved, or even their faces. The Rogues of Justice were a chaotic good group of jokesters. They were known for helping wherever they could and for their wacky and often nutty solutions that didn’t seem like they would work, but always worked out in the end. They were very close.

On Kat’s final mission, she was framed for a crime that severely broke her team’s moral code. She was made to look like she’d ransacked and destroyed a nearby town. Entire livelihoods and homes were destroyed and burnt. People were severely injured. She was found with valuables from the people of that town hidden on her being, and thus was the one to blame.

Of course, she didn’t actually do this. She would never. She was most likely the one who believed in the moral code the most.

She was set up and doomed to be buried alive by a member of her team. Someone who, once upon a time, she loved dearly. When things didn’t work out between them, in a fit of rage, her ex was the one to have sealed her fate.

He didn’t exactly expect for it to go this far, but he didn’t dare speak up, even as the dirt was being shoveled onto Kat’s face. He stood on the sidelines, watching her last moments.

She woke up days later, memories missing, with only the feeling of once being part of something, a burning feeling of injustice and betrayal, a fuzzy memory of a single face she couldn’t recognize, and a crippling fear of tight spaces that gives her a horrid sense of deja vu. She had no idea where she was or how to leave, stuck in the middle of nowhere with nobody nearby. She had been stuck in those woods, going in circles, unable to escape, losing track of time until the day she would find a way to leave.

So basically what’s keeping her here is unfinished business that she forgot ;)

It’s honestly really really sad, but she copes with humor and distractions most of the time so she doesn’t have to think about her memory gaps and the extreme distaste for that one person she can’t quite remember.

There are quite a few dark themes hidden in the story beyond the found family and fun fantasy settings, sorry haha!

I should also mention that the main reason she sticks around with Brook and the gang is cuz she’s BORED. Like she has been stuck in the woods and these are the first people she’s seen in GOD knows how long and they’re on a quest??? That’s some high quality entertainment there!!! She also gets pretty attached pretty quickly because again: human interaction!!!! And they helped her get out!!!! It’s honestly the least she can do while having hundreds of thousands of years ahead of her of existing.

Fun fact!!! Ghosts are basically the magic sparks of people who refuse to return back to the cycle just yet for whatever reason. They can last a REALLY long time but eventually they will get re-absorbed back into the cycle as everything continues on. :)

#bun did a draw #bun rambles #kat whispering willow #whispering willow book #I’m sorry for any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes or anything I’m typing this before bed so I’m a bit tired hehe #also Moog i want you to know I’m reading all ur tags on the reblogs and every time I do I get all giddy #laying on my bed and kicking my legs like a schoolgirl <3 #i should also mention that these refs are a year old now- I made them for art fight last year #i think they hold up pretty well tho :) #long post

[chickensoup-4-mysoul]

herculean(drrr x f! reader)

chapter 6/7 - Her Savior / Concert Bootlegs and Domestic Arguments

synopsis: you stumble across a mysterious chatroom and password-protected website / you spend a day with an unexpected person!

word count: 4,975 words

a/n: an amalgamate chapter for you! 

warnings: N/A

"after all the things were said the mystery has gone from my head i thought that i had worked it out now i know what love is about,,

mysterious vibes - blackbyrds

....lia......

...m....ly........

..n..c..a.......

.......(Y/N)!

"(Y/N)!"

Your vision returns in waves, spotting in and out like a photo being set aflame. The first sensation to reach your consciousness is the thin layer of paper covering your body. It does little to soothe the shivers racking your body, yet you still felt so so  hot . A face begins to form in front of you. It's so blurry, but you begin to make out the sharp frames of glasses. Sickly pale, almost translucent skin. Thin, shoulder-length hair with scruffy facial hair to match. This was the face of.... the face of...

"I'm so glad you're alright, honey."

Honey...? Who was honey? Was that you? Your name...?

You pull yourself up into a sitting position, taking in how your bones seemed to creak with each movement. A pulse swells in your temple at the sudden exposure to a bright light and you hiss. "Where am I? W-who are you?"

Vision still blurry, the person beside you isn't completely clear. A look of surprise melts into an affectionate smile. You feel a hand caress your the side of your damp forehead, fingers dry and cracked and calloused. "It's me, sweetheart. It's your father, you're at home. Darling, you were hurt very badly."

"It's odd...out of everything that I could have remembered, I do remember getting hit by that car," you reflect, now lost in the memory, "Anyway, Father took extra special care to restore me as much as he could. I met with all sorts of special teachers over video call and he made sure that I read tons of books and watch a lot of TV. I was so busy all of the time that I never really had time to go out and interact with other teenagers. It doesn't completely fill the gap, but eventually it started to feel like I had never lost my memory in the first place!"

You couldn't even imagine the pain that your father was going through. It must have been hard enough as it is as a single father, raising an adopted daughter. With you suffering from amnesia on top of that, he must have garnered so much judgement from onlookers. But he persevered, and raised you back to health in the most intelligent way possible. He gave you a second--no, third chance at life and you owed him the entire world for that.

"I'm really sorry that you had to go through that." Anri's voice pulls you from a trance you hadn't realized you were in.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'm doing great now. And hey, the best thing to come out of all of this? All of those magazines that Father had me read are how I got into fashion! Well, apparently I always loved fashion--but they helped me get my skills back!" You hadn't meant to drown the girl's spirits in your tragic backstory. It had felt good to get off of your chest and it seemed that it didn't change her opinion of you. "So, Erika and I may be some of your first friends, Anri, but technically, you two are some of mine! Instead of worrying about the past, let's make as many memories as we can right now. Deal?"

Anri stares at the hand you offer her, stunned by your spontaneous life lesson. Shaking it off with a smile, she accepts the handshake, smiling with the most determination you had ever seen her muster. "Deal."

...

As the two of you left Erika's apartment, you can't help be feel like you're both taking a walk of shame, donning the same clothes you wore when you had arrived last night. Anri's home actually turns out to be on the way to yours, so you drop her off before heading home. The first order of business was a shower, a cozier set of PJs, and perhaps a couple more hours of sleep. Erika's air mattress was alright, but you would die if you didn't get some time wrapped up in your own sheets as well.

You're proud to say that you only slept an additional 2 hours, and you still had 8 hours until sundown. Maybe you had a bit of a sleep cycle issue. You grab your phone from the night stand, ready for your routine morning-scroll. However, you notice that you have a notification. Opening the bubble, you realize that it was three messages from the same number.

It hadn't been saved yet, you noticed, and there was no history of previous calls or messages. Your skepticism rised at the sight of three internet links. What if it was some sort of virus? You opened up a search engine and looked up the title of the first link: SubaGen. The top result was for an app, one that you could download onto your phone or laptop.

Instant text translator; Type your messages in your language and watch as everyone instantly understands you!

Wow, this seems really useful! You wish you had found something like this sooner. Even with your education, your typing speed during text conversations with your friends still needed quite a bit of work. It seemed that this app would help you type must faster! After confirming that the app itself was not, in fact, a virus, you downloaded it onto your phone and made a mental note to download it onto your laptop as well.

You were now a bit more trusting of the unknown number now, wondering if they were some sort of advertisement robot that had randomly typed your number. The second link has no obvious title amongst the stream of numbers and letters. However, it still had the format of a typical url, and clicking on it opened up your phone's internet browser.

It took you to a page with a simple black background. There's no title anywhere on the screen, just a white typing bar labeled "Screen Name", and a scrolling option menu full of different colored squares and fun-shaped avatars. Was this some type of forum? You randomly pick a purple square and one of the avatars with a cute pair of angel wings on it. After typing in a screen name, you hit the "Enter" button and watch as you're taken to another black screen. At the very bottom reads a simple white text.

Sora has entered the chat.

The screen is not empty for long, however, as an orange icon and speech bubble pop up, followed by blue, followed by black.

Kanra:  Hey, hey, HEY!! Who is this!? Taro Tanaka: Sora...? Setton:  It's been a while since we've had someone new.

The text is in english, you notice, and you wonder if these people are speaking it, or if that app you had downloaded was working its magic. No new messages appear for a moment and you realize that they're waiting for you to say something.

Sora: Hello! Sora: I'm not intruding, am I? Setton: Don't worry about it. You had the link, so I guess you were meant to be here Kanra: Yeah, who did send him the link!? ΣΣ(ﾟДﾟ;)

'Him'? That's funny, they seemed to think that you were a boy. You decide to go along with it, thinking that maintaining a persona would be fun.

Taro Tanaka: So Sora, the three of us happen to be in Ikebukuro. Any chance you'd be around that area? Sora: Yes, I am! What an odd agreement! Sora: Coincidence, I mean. Setton: Looks like you got the writing mixed up, haha. Happens to me sometimes too. Kanra: Still, seems like a rookie mistake that a foreigner would make! Kanra: You wouldn't happen to be a foreigner, would you? (ʘᗩʘ’)

Well, shoot, so much for the persona. This darn app had gone a blown your cover for you! Guess it wasn't always 100% accurate. A small window pops up on your screen, drawing your attention. The black speech bubble alerts you that it's Setton.

Setton: Kanra's always like this. Hope she doesn't scare you off. Not that I'm assuming that you are, but I'm actually a foreigner myself, so no judgement here. :) Sora: That actually means a lot, thanks!

Sora: Nope, just a typo. Just woke up from a nap. Kanra: A nap, huh? Must be in a reaaal peaceful part of Ikebukuro, then! Kanra: Speaking of peaceful, have you all heard? Kanra: There was a gang war today! Taro Tanaka: What!? Setton: Really!? Kanra: Yup, at least, that depends... Kanra: On whether or not Shizuo Heiwajima is really in the Dollars.

There goes his name again. You would have been surprised by the revelation, but it's not hard to believe that Shizuo had gotten into another battle of some sorts. However, the idea that the man was in a gang?? That was ridiculous! Kanra explained how members of the "Yellow Scarves" (Another gang? That name was kinda cheesy) had picked a fight with Shizuo, believing that taking him down would give them some sort of leverage against the Dollars. Shaking your head, you interrupt Kanra's spiel.

Sora: No way Shizuo would be part of something as petty as a color gang. Kanra: Hmm??? Defending his honor are we?? (・о・) Taro Tanaka: Sora, do you know Shizuo??

YOU WERE SO BAD AT THIS. God, now you know that if given the chance, fleeing the country and changing your identity was not a good option.

Sora: Of course not! I just don't see why someone so strong would need the protection of a gang! Kanra: Maybe with a normal scrappy color gang, but with the dollars it'd be different. Setton: What do you mean, Kanra? Kanra: I mean, the Dollars aren't all about showing off muscle and starting fights. They've been linked to a lot of acts of heroism around Ikebukuro! Sure, there are probably a few strays, but it's clear what the Dollars are really about! Taro Tanaka: You really think that, Kanra? Kanra: But even then, they must have done something to really piss off the Yellow Scarves to make them try and target Shizuo Heiwajima!

The way that she said his name irked you, as if he was some sort of urban legend and not a real life person. You avoided jumping to his defense again in fear of blowing your cover.

You spent hours chatting with your new friends. Kanra was a bit of a big mouth and a gossip, but you felt as though you were learning more from her now than you had since you first got to Ikebukuro. Sure, the van gang hinted you about the gang wars and slashings, but Kanra explained them in great detail. How color gangs were making a resurgence about the city. How there was an urban legend about a headless rider that many were recently starting to claim were true. When she described the rider, you couldn't help but picture the mysterious woman you had recently met.

Setton and Taro, probably having heard all of this many times before, made their leave, kindly giving their goodbyes and nice to meet you's before leaving the chat.

Kanra: Honestly, Sora, it's hard to believe that you didn't know about all of this! Sora: I don't get out much. Can I ask you one more thing? Kanra: ఠ_ఠ Sora: Can you tell me about Izaya Orihara??

You were a curious sort...almost nosy, you admit it. Even after Erika's plain explanation, the man's name still lingered on your mind. He was a jerk, right. He had dirt on everyone, true. Nobody liked him, okay. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something about him. An itching to learn everything that you possibly could. It was all of those detective shows you were watching.

Kanra: Hmmm, not really! Maybe you should just meet him yourself!

Kanra has left the chat.

Well, goodbye, you guess. You sigh, letting your phone drop onto the bed and rubbing your now bleary eyes. That much screen time was most definitely not good for you. With how late it's gotten, you treat yourself to another good ole in. After ordering some delivery, you extract yourself from your bed and migrate to the couch in the entertainment space.  As you're scrolling through different movie options, you suddenly remember the third message that the unknown number had sent you.

It seemed that the source was trustworthy. Afterall, it had led you to a really useful app, as well as a way to communicate with new people that were also in the area. Maybe the third link would yield equally pleasant results. As you scroll back to the message, you notice that right under the link is the word "baccano". Maybe another weirdly specific app?

The link took you to yet another black page. However, what was most striking was the white symbol that overtook most of the screen. A large circle with the word DOLLARS on it, written in small multicolored dots. The name instantly stood out to you, identical to that of the gang that Kanra had been talking about. You stare at the page, battling the inner conflict rising within you. You would admit; the app was useful and the chatroom was fun, but what could you possibly want to do with a gang? Granted, it wasn't any old sort of gang if what Kanra said was true. It was a "good" gang.

Besides, the website seemed to be password protected! No way you could have anything to do with it, how could you ever get the password...?? ...

You relent, typing in the one word that might work.

baccano

The bar disappears, replaced by a spinning, dotted circle. Then...

W e l c o m e .

Looks like you're doing this.

...

"but when she made me laugh doom doom right to my tomb i love that it's not hard to be in a place where laughing's easy,,

goodie bag - still woozy

Over the past couple of weeks, you had gotten pretty close to the van gang. While it seemed like Kyohei was the only one with his head screwed on properly, they were all surprisingly wise in their own special ways. You're sure that without them by your side, you would not have adjusted to new life in Ikebukuro nearly as easily. That being said, you had to admit that you may have gotten closer to some than others. Erika, as one of your few female friends, was easiest to get close to. Kyohei was open to you from the moment that the two of you met, and was kind enough to engage in conversation with you whenever Walker and Erika were off on another one of their tirades. Even Walker, who often sat next to you when you were stuffed into the back of the van together, had familiarized himself with you.

Not nearly as much could be said for the driver of said van. Saburo was talkative enough during your group hangouts, sure, but you hadn't gotten any one on one time with him at all. This was all that you could think of as you occupied Kyohei's usual position, sitting at Saburo's left side as he silently drove his beloved van. You had asked the gang about going on one of your usual hangouts, but for what felt like the first time (at least since you had met them), everyone had work. They all had such niche professions, Kyohei as a carpenter, Erika as a jewelry maker, and Walker as an ice sculptor, but they were still oddly fitting. You didn't say this because it was so obviously offensive, but you couldn't help but find it just as fitting that Saburo was...er....unemployed.

When Saburo was the only one that didn't claim to have plans, you didn't see any reason not to just hang out with him. He seemed nice enough, you were sure you guys would get along fine in no time. However, the moment you opened the van door to meet his sharp silent gaze and he greeted you with a simple nod, you worried that there were going to be problems. As you enjoyed(?) the painfully silent ride, you realized that the two of you hadn't even made a decision as to what it was you were going to do. For now, you settled for not so subtly sneaking glances at him. His features were distinct from the other males in his social circle, you noticed. Unlike Kyohei's rugged, masculine features and Walker's boyish, youthful face, Saburo's face was sharp and almost feminine?? but really nice. Framed by the long locks of his hair, you'd call it pretty if he wouldn't be super weirded out by that.

You're foolish to think that just because his eyes are on the road, he wouldn't notice you deconstructing his entire facial structure. His pupils flick over to your direction for a second and of course, you don't look away fast enough for him not to catch you. You force a laugh before he can say anything. "Do you like music? I could really go for some music right now! What kind of music do you like???" He shrugs, tilting his head toward the compartment right in front of you.

"The guys are always talkin', so I don't really have music on that often. Might be a CD in there somewhere."

Taking that as permission, you hesitantly open the glove compartment. It's surprisingly empty, save for a small black book, a thick packet, and a sleeve of CDs. You pick up the sleeve and randomly pull one out, finding the CD slot and pushing it in. It wasn't labeled, but whatever it was, it didn't matter to you, as long as you could listen to something. However, whatever you were preparing yourself to hear, it certainly wasn't this.

The light, melodic jingle of a girl's voice. It was oddly... poppy??? For anything that Saburo would have. "Uh, does Erika keep her stuff in here sometimes?" Saburo quirks an eyebrow in your direction. "No, everything in here is mine." You mutter a quiet 'oh', deciding not to question further. This is the music he liked, huh...? Now that you thought about it, you did remember Walker and Erika teasing him about his apparent obsession with some singer girl. Just how obsessed with her was he?

"It's catchy! I don't think I've heard music like this before," you admit.

"You think so!?" He's the loudest you've heard him since he started cursing out that guy who almost hit him on the road, with a look in his eyes you've only ever seen on Walker and Erika. You deeply concerned by the fact that his focus is very much not on the road, but you relish in the feeling of seeing him so excited. "You're absolutely right! Nobody makes music like Ruri!"

That's it, Ruri was her name! Ruri Hijiribe, you think. You smile, definitely seeing how starstruck he was. You may have just found a way in. "Yeah, she has a beautiful voice. Any idea where I could listen to more of her music?"

The van skids to a stop. You're barely able to keep yourself from flying into the dashboard, yelping in surprise as you lurch forward. Peeking at one of the sideview mirrors, you notice that he's stopped on the side of the road. When you look back at Saburo you squeal. He's leaning over the middle console, not necessarily invading your personal space, but certainly a lot closer than you'd ever expect him to be.

"Do you mean that?" You have no idea why he sounds so serious, or why he's whispering, for that matter. You do, however, notice for the first time how intense his gaze is, the sharpness of his eyes eliciting feelings from you that you would rather not be feeling right now.

"Um, y-yeah!" your voice cracks and you hate yourself. "I'm always down for some new music."

Maybe it was because of the unfamiliarity, or the plain fact that he was a man, but you never really expected to visit Saburo's apartment, let alone have it be the first home of a man's you'd ever visited. It was small and...neater than you expected (you needed to be more forgiving in your standards for this guy). However, you had very little time to properly inspect it as Saburo practically dragged you to the couch (no you were not flustered by his grasp on your wrist) and slammed a CD player down on the coffee table in front of you. From one of the drawers on the TV stand, he pulled out another sleeve of CDs.

You were in for a very long night. It wasn't unenjoyable, you admit. Saburo talked you through hours of Ruri Hijiribe's discography. It was astounding to you that a single artist could produce so much music. When you say this to him, he's very obviously pleased. After CD's, you move on to music videos, and from those, you move on to recordings of her live performance. This segment, now with something for you to look at, was much more tolerable. You even began to join Saburo in his wonder, openly commenting on the designs of Ruri Hijiribe's costumes. He seemed to like whenever you had something nice to say, so you didn't bother holding back your comments.

"I just adore that body piece! It's very girly, but the exposed back and navel adds just the right amount of edginess to it. It's very unique for a pop idol."

This interest of Saburo's was very unexpected, but you came to appreciate that about him. You were just happy to have broken away from that awkward silence. Besides, it was pleasant to watch him express such enthusiasm for something as unconventional as pop music.

"(Y/N)?"

"Hmmm?"

"She's wearing a different costume now, what do you think of this one?" His entire upper body is leaned towards you. His once sharp stare is now owlish and almost childlike, waiting eagerly for your response. It was cute. Very cute.

"Um, I like this one even more than the last one! It definitely suits her hairbow better, and that appears to be her trademark in all of her outfits." The light of the TV screen shines bright onto his face, and the glossiness of his eyes makes it look like he's about to cry.

Oh. Oh he was crying. You panic, awkwardly patting the guy's shaking shoulders. Did he like the other one more!?  Upon closer inspection, you realize that he's still smiling. You don't interrupt him, allowing him to shed as many tears as he liked as you reached the end of your Ruri Hijiribe binge watch. The screen goes black on her shimmering face, drawing attention to how much darker the room had gotten. Saburo silently rises from the couch, leaving the room. You snicker at the sound of running water and someone blowing their nose.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, " he says coolly as he returns. You shake your head, smiling and assuring him that it was fine. "I enjoyed myself. You seem to know your stuff about this girl."

"Of course I do. As one of the vice presidents of Ruri Hijiribe fan club, it'd be shameful if I didn't know what I was talking about." You want to laugh so bad. God, you shouldn't--it would hurt his feelings so much--but it's so tempting.

"Wow! She sure is lucky to have gained such a dutiful following." After the binge of all of her music, performances, and videos, you feel like you were technically now a part of said following. You notice how his chest puffs out, obviously bolstered by the validation.

Without the pop idol to focus on, the two of you were forced to come up with more points of conversation. However, there is significantly less tension (you did just watch him cry his eyes out) with only the occasional awkward break. Because of all of your group hangouts, a lot had already been revealed about you, so you tried to focus on learning more about him. You ask how life was growing up, how he met the van gang, how he had gotten into Ruri Hijiribe's music. Thankfully, he didn't seem put off by the focus on himself.

He was... the scrappy sort. The first encounter he had with Kyohei was when he challenged him in a fight (apparently Kyohei had been quite the delinquent himself--you snicker at the thought). However, after Kyohei actually saved him after he was attacked by a color gang. Later down the road, Walker and Erika joined the fray, and they've been together ever since. They even joined a gang called the Blue Squares together, but they're not in it anymore. You stare at him, wide-eyed with wonder.

"Erm, (Y/N)? You good? Sorry, guess it is kinda boring."

"No, you're so cool, Saburo!" His past was so... badass! It was like straight out of those action movies you always watched. You could practically see it, a wounded, bleeding Saburo back to back with a bruised but steady Kyohei, fending off an evil group of delinquents. They're briefly overwhelmed, but just at the last moment, they snatch victories from the jaws of defeat--kicking the delinquents to the curb and walking away with just a few scratches and a beautiful friendship.

"Geez, you sound like Erika with your weird fantasies." Oh wow, you were thinking out loud. A chime rings from Saburo's cellphone. Just as he checks to see what it was, there's a knock at the door.

"Hey, Togusachiiii! We saw your van outside, we know that you're home!" You'd recognize the voice of Erika anywhere. You chuckle at the girl's exuberance and smile at your friend.

"Looks like they got out early!"

...

"Saburo told me you were quite the ruffian back in the day."

Kyohei huffed from beside you, shaking his head in amusement. The guy was kind enough to walk you home after the five of you enjoyed a lovely takeout dinner at Saburo's apartment. After noticing the stack of Ruri Hijiribe memorabilia on his coffee table, Kyohei shot you an apologetic glance. You shake it off with a smile, however, assuring him that you've enjoyed the past couple hours with the superfan.

"You could say something like that. I don't want you to think that I was some sort of bully or anything, but trouble always seemed to follow me, even when I didn't want it to." That made sense. The idea of Kyohei in a school uniform, donning a pompadour and swinging a bat at anyone who dared to look at him the wrong way was hard to believe (Wow, Erika and Walker had showed you too much manga). "That's right! You went to the same school as Shizuo and Izaya, didn't you?" you ask. His brow furrows, most likely at the taxing memory. "Yeah. You'd think that with those guys causing all kinds of trouble there wouldn't be any room for anything else. Fights kept happening, gangs kept rising."

"Gangs sure are a big thing here! The whole color coding thing is so odd...Yellow Scarves, Purple Gambles, Blue Squares. For people so rebellious, they sure do fall in line."

"Yeah, I guess. But those guys are all about showing off, and having a color makes it easy to show that."

"That's true. That's what makes the Dollars so different, huh?"

You're a couple more steps ahead before you realize that Kyohei's not walking with you anymore. He's not necessarily glaring at you, but there's a fire in his eyes that pins you to the floor. "Something wrong?" you gulped. Was it in poor taste, what you said? Perhaps it was a sore subject to him. He seems to snap out of whatever state that he's in, shaking his head with vigor. "No, sorry. Just...didn't expect you to be that interested in all this stuff," he admits. However, he doesn't keep walking, just stands in place, gaze flitting to the side. "W-Well, it is happening all around us, isn't it? I can't help but notice the tensions that have been rising...between--."

"Does it matter to you all that much? I mean, this situation is sort of beneath you, dontcha think?"

There's no hostility in his voice. It's quite the opposite; delicate and advisory. It was almost patronizing, to be honest, and it irked you. It's as if you weren't a young woman, how naiive did he think you were? You sigh through your nose, hands parking themselves on your hips. "Beneath me? You might be saying that to be nice, but I'm certainly not too good for anything. Y'know, I could be a lot more involved in all of this than you'd think."

Despite your increasingly bratty tone, he's still patient and calm (and you hate yourself for admiring that about him). "So could I; and I'll be the first to tell you, it's not all its made out to be. It's dangerous. It's unfair. You don't deserve to get caught up in that." His serenity is working on your nerves. It's annoying, how he was so obviously underestimating you, but something else was distracting you; something that was keeping you from getting too angry. "You care about me," you realize. Even from under the shadow of his beanie, you notice how his eyes widen. His flustered silence is so endearing that you can't help but grin.

"You do!! You're trying to protect me," you laugh, before composing yourself for his sake,"I understand what you're saying, Kyohei, and I know. I'm not made of glass, and I'm definitely not a fool. You can trust me, kay?" He's having an internal battle right now, you can tell. One side seems to give way and he continues to stroll, returning to your side.

"Well, I can't tell you what to do."

You happily continue your walk home, glad that you had won the little debate.

"Guess it's just another way you'll be joining the rest of us."

Wait, what?

#durarara #durarara x reader #drrr x reader #drrr #anri sonohara #Izaya Orihara #Mikado Ryugamine #Celty Sturluson #Saburo Togusa #saburo togusa x reader #kadota kyohei #kyohei kadota x reader

[potato-jem]

Hi Nero!! <3

how are you doing honey?? i’ve been mia for a few days because i was on a very last minute trip!! i went to see louis tomlinson singing in a freaking greek theatre in sicily!!!

i honestly still can’t believe it, between my obsession for greek mythology and culture and my love for louis i can’t believe i really was lucky enough to see him sing in a place like that. the place was the teatro antico in taormina and it was so intimate and beautiful!! and i literally found the ticket like a week ago!!

all the dates here in italy went sold out months ago but a week ago i was just casually checking the ticket website and someone was reselling their ticket so in like 20 minutes i had a whole trip to sicily booked and a concert ticket!! i don’t even know how i managed, i literally stayed there 48 hours and then stayed on a bus for 15 hours to go back home, which was horrible, but it was so worth it

this was the venue, and i mean, isn’t it breathtaking??

now i’m gonna stop annoying you with this concert, i was just so so happy to be there, it meant the world to me!! i always feel at home at louis’ concerts <3

anyway now i’m back home and i feel really old because i need like a week to recover for all this back pain i have because of jumping around all night and sleeping on a bus for 10 hours 😂

how are you nero?? catch me up on anything i missed in these few days!!

also, in regards to our last letter, i just want to say that that tattoo artist who had heartstopper tattoos is my new hero and i just want to fly to australia to get a tattoo there!! also say hello to the strawberry cow for me, i’ve missed him!! <3

i’m hugging you real tight and giving you a forehead kiss <3

hello cece!!!

i do remember you mentioning you had a last minute trip booked, but you didn’t say it was for a louis tomlinson!!

the venue is beautiful, oh my god. my jaw is on the floor! it is so so so stunning!! i’m glad you had an amazing time (horrible bus rides are worth the happy memories) it sounds like it was meant to be! and don’t ever feel bad about annoying me about anything, i would read paragraphs and paragraphs about anything you are passionate about <3

yes, please rest. your body needs to recover after all that jumping around. you need to balance the fun with some chill time

i am doing alright!! i have seven days of work in a row (boo!), but i have my trip next week that i was telling you about! (yay!) i finished all my midsemester essays, and i was surprised at how well i did them (despite the fact i did them the day they were due, i am never doing that again)

i went to the bookstore and found a book i didn’t even think i would ever find here, AND IT WAS THE LAST COPY! i snatched it before my friend even knew what i gasped at. and i also visited my friend at his job! he works in a cute little bubble tea place and he made me a drink, which made my day! other than that, i have been trying to relax in between shifts and planning out where i want to go on my trip!! i will obviously tell you all about it

he really is super cool, i’m definitely booking with him at one point!! and terry the berry cow says hello and is giving you a hug! please say hi to simba for me!!! <3

i’m sending tight hugs and a forehead kiss <33

#nero attempts to socialise #i saw your little url pop up on my watch at work and i was like :o #i think i confused a few people but that’s okay #cece my beloved!!!

[arijensineink]

ari jensine ink 2022 writing wrapped

2022 was by far my weirdest year for writing. 

Honestly, this is less of a “wrapped” post and more like a reflection of what I began to build and rebuild this year, as well as what I did not give up on.

The Wolfena

Putting this manuscript aside for 2 years while I focused on healing my body was the hardest decision I ever had to make. The Wolfena is my heart-story, and the characters in it give me strength, so reaching a place where I couldn’t work on it... wasn’t heartbreaking it almost destroyed me. Tbh if I hadn't found BTS when I did, I'm not sure I would be here.

But this year I was able to pick The Wolfena (and myself) back up. I had a goal for NaNo to rewrite all of Jimian’s chapters, but didn’t accomplish that because I got so focused on my blog/website. Even so, I’m really excited for where the manuscript is headed, and this is going to be a clean rewrite/edit with all sensitivity reader and alpha reader feedback already applied.

What matters most is that I’m organized, and the moment I want to hop back on that WIP it’s ready to go.

Rotten Candy/The Candy King

I started developing these stories both within the last 6 months so they’re super fresh, but I’m somehow proud of what I accomplished in terms of brainstorming and rough drafting for this world though it's minimal. 

Rotten Candy will be the main novel and I have a three characters for it—Cherry, Seujinne, and Mezereon—who I think have huge potential. I'm still working on developing them.

The Candy King is an Ateez (K-Pop) fic I’ll rewrite into original fic and man… I have to say. I think it’s actually something. I haven’t felt so inspired on a rough draft since I started writing again, and I didn’t even realize it was the perfect prequel to Rotten Candy until I was already writing it. A couple of my favorite lines from Captain Hongjoong:

"Feed him to the squids!"

"We need some fuckin' horses."

Fighting For Writing Blog/Medium

Truthfully, my biggest writing accomplishments this year had little to do with fiction. My experience as an SEO Ghostwriter isn’t exactly glamorous, but the tools it provided for me to launch my website and blog were invaluable. 

I set up a project for my blog to write 10 articles based on how to maintain your writing practice and integrate it more deeply into your life, and I accomplished that. I’m in the process of revising those articles right now, and I am beyond proud of them and excited to share them with the amazing writing community I’ve rebuilt around myself in 2022. 

On top of that, I reactivated my Medium account and have been publishing consistently on there. This is just… such a huge accomplishment for me. Again, it might seem small to others, but it means a lot to me. I remember looking at that account a few years ago and thinking “100 followers to the Partner Program? Puh. I'll never be able to do that.”

Now I’m at 142 followers on Medium and counting, and am approaching my first dollar of revenue made from people reading my articles.

2022 - Year of the Phoenix

2022 was all about rebirth for me and my writing. In a lot of ways I felt like I was starting from square one. I have to say, it means a lot to me that others in my Discord server are also working on getting back into writing regularly.

I realized this year that I have no one to place a silver spoon in my mouth, so it’s up to me to polish all the metal in my life until it’s glowing. I got paid to write, I picked my big projects back up, I reconnected with my writing community and made tons of new amazing writer friends, started a blog I’m deeply passionate about, won NaNoWriMo, and submitted my first short story to a pub in 4 years. 

I often refer to writing as my Ikigai, but only now that I’ve committed to it in all facets of life do I truly understand what that means. Some nights I literally can’t sleep because I’m just so excited to work on my book or blog. 

I don’t know what more I could ask for on my way into 2023. 

#writeblr #writing wrapped #writing wrap up 2022 #writing wrap up #writing community #writers of tumblr #queer writers #queer writing #queer authors #fighting for writing blog #fighting for writing #creative writing #fantasy writing #fantasy writers #fantasy world

[wildbornsiren]

null

I’m at my absolute breaking point.  Cw: medical issues, family death, money problems, displacement, general whining and bitching. 

I am safe.  This is also a fucking safe space for me to brain and trauma dump, because frankly I know two people on this website in meat space and only one of them I’ve met in person.  I’m at the end of my fucking rope. This year has been a test of how much can I fucking take, and the answer is not a whole lot more. 

January: I have to call EMS for my father because he can’t breathe. I can hear him literally dying as they’re wheeling him out of the house and let me tell you that is a sound that fucking sticks with you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to unhear it. He has a major massive pulmonary embolism event. HIs lungs are chock full of clots, and we nearly lost him several times. He’s released from the hospital, but now is severely immunocompromised and has to change everything in his life. My best friends dad (i called him dad) died. He died at the same hospital three doors from where my dad was sleeping. I am still dealing wtih the guilt that my dad came home and theirs didn’t. Not that i want my dad dead. I can’t explain it. February: still dealing with the life changes that come with dad’s new medical issues, adjusting to having him home, getting myself registered as an at home care worker, managing his appointments and the like. My brother and sister buy a house and are in the process of moving in and needing help with that.  March: My brother and sister in law get covid. I’m sure something else happened I can’t fucking remember.  April: I think I had a health issue, but I’ve blocked it out. Yay trauma.  May: My parents let it drop that they were underwater on their mortgage. They were unable to tell my brother, sister in law or myself, so we couldn’t fucking help. The house fucking sells on the 27th, because apparently the bank could make more selling it (and with real estate in washington, i believe it but fuckssake) June: I spend the entire fucking month packing a house up that we’ve spent 20+ years in. I have no help, nothing. I pull my back to the point where I can’t even sleep sitting up, the dog is acting out because she’s panicking and I have no where to go.  July: Mom and dad move in with my brother and sister in law, I, with my dog land with a friend who is graciously allowing me to stay until I get my feet back under me. My parents get covid (which is a potential death sentence for my father--he’s fine and recovered now), My mother’s car gets broken into and her work bag is stolen (she works for the government btw), I have a double ear infection, cellulitis and an abscessed wound on my hip because I fucking excel at taking care of myself. I’m 99% sure I’ve got rona because I feel like fucking ass warmed over. AND THEN? TODAY? MY BROTHER CALLS ME AND TELLS ME MY UNCLE DIED.  I am at my literal breaking point. I don’t have anything in control, I can’t help anyone, and I’m fucking utterly useless. And I’m mocked openly by real life friends because I’m taking joy in a fucking movie, fucking fictional characters and writing fucking fic about them. 

#shelly rants #shelly will delete #pay no mind to the shelly

[nicetrynicetry]

186

Wednesday and I find myself looking longingly at screengrabs of the website Silk Road, the few that remain from 2011. I remember visiting and using the website myself, cupping my hands around the computer screen at my dad’s house to stop the glare of sunlight compromising my vision. My dad had had a conservatory built on the back of his very narrow Georgian house, which he called an “orangerie” because he sought so badly to cast off his working class upbringing, and thought conservatories were tacky. Reader, it was a conservatory. The house was one of many on a street owned by divorced men. Women and children would come to stay, and leave in tears. Herb gardens were grown and meticulously tended to while each man waited for someone to die nearby and score a coveted allotment membership, hoping to graduate to vegetables. Alliums, brassicas, squashes. My dad did eventually get an allotment spot, which I’ll never forget visiting. I asked to borrow his iPhone to take a photo of a courgette blossom and upload it to Facebook, and as I flicked through to find the best shot, I accidentally scrolled to find both my dad’s penis and his then-girlfriend’s pussy in the camera roll. Worse still were my father’s accusations that I’d sought these photos out, and that this is what I get for being a pervert. Kind of an amazing 4D chess move on his part if you think about it, turning something that scarred me for life into a mere symptom of my Electra complex. And it turns out I *am* a pervert, just not where it concerns my dad’s dick pics

But I digress. Sigh. Before my Silk Road nostalgia spree I get some texts from W telling me he has good news, that the engineer he wanted to mix my songs has taken time out of his love triangle with two Haitian strippers to agree to the job. W asks for more songs to work on, but I can’t think of anything worse than willingly entering into another 7 month professional entanglement. “Let’s get these two over the line first”, I write back, copy and pasting the paragraph of notes I sent for each that haven’t yet been actioned. Before this, I sit in an office with two wealth managers and a frazzled assistant who pours me new water faster than I can drink it. I am shown things on laptops and large wall-mounted screens and am asked things about my properties, peppered with questions about how the art world works. The main guy both grilling and somehow schmoozing me thinks that when I refer to “my galleries”, I am talking about actual buildings I own. He then breathes a sigh of relief when I clarify

Before this meeting, I do an exercise in Pilates called “snake” that threatens to break my ribs and wrists. It is the first time in a long time that I have refused to obey orders, instead removing myself from the machine and glaring at it. The older woman in the class with a new ailment every week says her memories are giving her anxiety. “It only happens when I lie down”, she explains, “and I only lie down when I’m here”. I don’t ask how she sleeps, even though I want to, very badly. Before Pilates I am sound asleep, dreaming that most cliched of dreams where my teeth are coming loose in my mouth. I am googling emergency veneers and telling friends I don’t know which dentist to trust. Nobody else’s teeth seem loose, and I ask to check their stability vs mine. I know I am in Miami because there is art deco architecture and Swarovski Crystal Mickey Mouse sculpture everywhere

Before I go to bed I watch a YouTube video of a divorce attorney giving his thoughts on love and marriage. He says he would like to be invisible for a day and go into the homes of around 8 of his clients to find their wedding albums. “I’d like to see what it looked like when these people loved each other, because now they’re weaponised against each other…in fact they’re trying to kill each other and they’re taking every secret, every intimacy……you know marriage in legal terms fits the definition of negligence. And by this I mean the burden of not doing it is LOWER than the potential for harm in doing it. It’s like owning a lion: there is a very high risk of someone getting very seriously hurt. And yeah I still get misty-eyed at weddings and part of me thinks oh you know maybe it’ll work out but I’ve been doing this 20 years and I find that love and marriage have very little to do with each other”. I am rapt. It helps that this attorney is extremely charming, just arrogant enough, foul mouthed and Waspy and wise. It crosses my mind that he might be on Adderall for this interview but I choose not to dwell on this because I want to remain enchanted by him. Adderall really cheapens charisma, which is why Americans are so rarely charming and so often creepy or domineering. I am both taking notes on the concept of prenups for my own hypothetical future marriage and the ways my parents’ marriage may have disintegrated. He recalls asking a client if there was a moment she knew her marriage was over, and she said yes, there is this granola I’m crazy about that you could only get from one store in the city. And whenever I’d get to the end of a bag I’d find a new bag in its place the following morning because he’d noticed and gone out to get more. He didn’t ask for credit, and yet it was always there. And then one day I got to the end of the bag and it didn’t get replaced. “That’s when I knew”, she said. The divorce attorney asked her if there was an equivalent of that gesture, one that she used to do for him and later stopped doing, and she said, “probably blowjobs”

[thefoxlingsontherun]

Chapter One: These Dreams Pt. 2

The woods were colorful and dense as three small figures walked amongst the bramble that felt as though it belonged in a children’s fairytale. Neither three knew how they even arrived in such an oddly whimsical location mainly because they had been tucked in for the night after a long day of assisting their maker. One of the three, a small animated dog plush whose ears were long and fluffy with white fur spotted with black, had looked over towards the other two. The dog was dressed in yellow and orange bell bottom pants with flares that resembled butterfly wings with a puff long sleeve top in buttery yellow along with a newsboy’s cap to match. The two other figures from the glancing over were a pair of two small plush doll foxes. It was clear from first glances that the two animated fox plush dolls were very much identical twins, the only two ways of telling them apart being were their eyes and the color of the zipper on their backs.  Like the dog, the twin foxes had fur of white and black with trimmed fur on their faces styled like fluffy bangs.The one fox with wide round eyes was clothed in an a-line dress with scalloped edges of pink and mint green, short puffed sleeves in off white with a small beret to match. The other fox with the narrow eyes had a dress that mirrored the other in periwinkle and soft blue, small puffed sleeves in black with a mirroring small beret as well. The dog motioned for the twin foxes to get over to where he was, a neighborhood beyond the shrubs they stayed hidden for a moment.

 “It looks just like the website..” The fox with the wide eyes said as she looked out in awe that her favorite horror media was real. “It can’t be..” The other fox with narrow eyes looked down at the golden brick road wondering how exactly did this happen. “But it is..I mean look right there, that’s the bodega!” The dog pointed out with fluffy, fingerless paws at Howdy’s Bodega.

 “This…this isn’t rooted in reality..” The narrowed eyed fox looked at the village of Home in pure shock that this was even happening to begin with. “Avalon, we’re poppets, magical familiars inhabiting doll forms. I don’t think reality applies here exactly.” The wide eyed fox said softly as she patted her sister’s back.

 “Okay that’s a really fair point Babylon, but still, this is supposed to be a work of fiction, not an actual plan of existence.” Avalon stated as she looked around the village entrance, unsure about this. “Upside, it’s not Dr. Seuss, the Grinch would’ve been horrifying to encounter. Besides, I’m slaying these butterfly bellbottoms right now.” The dog went to pose in the new outfit that he and his sisters had arrived in, pretty impressed with the style. “As lovely as these clothes are, Curly, I think we should be figuring out how we got here.” Avalon started to pace in a circle, trying to think over how this even happened and if there was a way out.

 “Avalon, don’t be such a wet blanket. We got three heads here, we’ll figure a way back home to Dolly. Like you, I don’t want to leave Dolly alone for too long, she’d be scared if we’re missing. For now though, we need to make due with what we got at the moment.” Curly said as he took a quick glance over at the bodega, debating about making a run for the food stand out in the open. “I know, I know, I can’t help being a bit of a wet blanket at the moment. This is a horror based media we’re evidently stuck in, there’s really no telling just how far south this could go if we made the wrong step.” Avalon calmly said before giving Curly a sharp look upon noticing the very bad idea in making. 

 “Avalon, in this case, I think we should reach out for help. We can’t stay in the woods at all, especially after nightfall. Remember the Halloween update?” Babylon pointed out gently as she tried to look for the clock tower to check the time. “Oh right…well I’m game for sleeping in a tree or a cave, that should be fun.” Curly had changed his game plan from food theft to outdoor survival. “Curly, we are not doing that. We need a shelter that has a door to keep whatever is here outside and not merrily munching on our little poly fiber filled bodies.” Avalon gave Curly a look of a very annoyed older sister would’ve, especially given the circumstances.

 “Hey, I care to argue with that, I’m not entirely poly fiber, I have rice and tea spices too inside.” Curly was more than happy to point out that little factor to get under Avalon’s faux fur skin in typical younger brother fashion.

 “Well that’s good to know that the monster here is going to have a well rounded meal instead of just eating poly fibers and faux fur.” Avalon sarcastically responded before being hushed by Babylon who was looking over at the bodega.

 “Avalon, Curly, someone is coming out of Howdy’s...” Babylon whispered, forcing both of her siblings to be quiet and remain hidden.

 As the three siblings hid in the shrubbery, Frank, who had seen better days, had exited out of Howdy’s with their groceries held tightly. Things had stopped being the same since the show’s cancellation, having lost Eddie, Poppy, and Barnaby as well as Julie still being in hibernation for the past fifty years. The only ones left for Frank to interact with had been Sally, Howdy, and Wally, the latter of whom Frank had been avoiding. Frank pulled up his brown cardigan that Poppy had made them all those decades ago tightly for security upon thinking about Wally and Home. Sally had continued to play a rather dangerous game of pretending around Wally, keeping track of him and what Wally might be getting into, something Frank wasn’t happy about from the start. Howdy was still the same very business oriented caterpillar he had been even after the loss of Barnaby in their collective lives in Home. Frank wasn’t even sure how Howdy was managing to pull himself along the way he had for so long after losing his favorite customer. On the top of the grocery bag was a canister of tobacco, the stresses of this current way of life had driven Frank to pick up the pipe as Barnaby once did. Back in the shrubs while Frank stood trying to get some of the tobacco into his pipe, Avalon and Curly silently debated amongst each other about what to do next. Babylon could only watch for a moment as her two younger siblings debated on what the best route would be before making the decision on the spot. Slowly and nervously, Babylon left the protective coverings of the shrubbery as she approached Frank, hoping this was the best route as her two siblings watched on in shock.

#Welcome Home #Fan Fiction #WH Fan Fiction #Writing #Shadows of the Night #Frank Frankly #Wally Darling #Home #Sally Starlet #Howdy Pillar #OCs #WH AU

[j-graysonlibrary]

Heartbeats; Paradise XVIII

Title: Heartbeats; Paradise

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 112K

Genres: Psychological thriller, drama, sci-fi, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: Melvin Hardy and Kade Axel appear to be a match made in heaven. After a meet-cute in the rain, the two quickly find themselves in a burgeoning, wholesome relationship.

Yet, things feel…off. It isn’t the ghosts of their pasts that resurface to test the strength of their partnership—no—it’s something nebulous. Something indescribable. Melvin can’t put his finger on it but, the more time he spends with Kade, the more he starts to wonder what’s real and what’s pure fiction. 

XVIII:

Cameron is away at college and I suppose it’s something like empty nest syndrome that rears its head. But, before Gavin and I swing by the local animal shelter to make a life altering decision, we decide to have a road trip the likes of which we always talked about but never committed to.

We may be old now (especially according to our son and his hip, young peers) but we aren’t dead. And a lot of items still remain on that bucket list we drafted during our first year of dating—back in ye old high school days.

Our goal is to drive all the way down the east coast, stopping in Florida to see some tourist spots, and then come back. We have some other interesting stops along the way ranging from a bigfoot museum in Georgia to a hotel on the ocean in North Carolina.

I’m looking forward to a lot of our stops, even as I struggle to stay awake in the passenger seat.

It’s still early but at least the sun is starting to come out. We have the radio playing softly and, as I flutter my eyes closed occasionally, I hone in on the music. An oldies station is playing. It’s some rock band from the early two thousands. I remember my uncle really being into them back in the day.

“Getting to be about time to stop,” I hear Gavin mumble to himself.

I crack open an eye and peer over. The tank is almost empty and we’ve barely gone far from home. We’re in the next state, sure, but considering how much farther there is to go and how long it’s scheduled to take us to get to our first stop, it’s not an impressive distance.

But, I suppose, that’s also what we get for breaking out the old gas guzzler from the back of our garage.

Cameron has one of our electric cars and the other is too nice to take for a road trip—Gavin spent years saving up for it. Plus there’s a more plain, aesthetic reason in that the gas car just looks like the type of car one should road trip in.

We’ve got to be one of the few people who even still own a gas car, I think as Gavin cranes his head at the next exit sign, looking for gas stations nearby. I know they still exist—I see them sometimes in town. They’re always empty, yes, but they’re there.

“Ah ha,” Gavin keeps his voice down as he finds one. He must think I’m still asleep so he’s just talking to himself. “Now, to see if they’re open…”

I smile to myself and lazily watch the scenery pass me by.

The sun may be out but everything is a pale gray color. Many of the trees remain barren but some have the first signs of spring nestled in little buds and bright green leaves dotting their branches. I feel cold just by looking outside.

There is no one at the gas station, as expected, but there hadn’t really been anyone on the road either. It’s about time most people are headed to work so I’m surprised to see so little traffic.

Gavin mentions it as he pulls in as well. “Empty, huh?”

I finally rise, letting him know I’m awake but I stretch my arms up as if I’ve just emerged from a restful slumber. I can feel his eyes on me as he parks by a pump.

“Sleep well?” He asks with a smirk.

“Just a little nap.” I shrug.

Gavin nods and turns the key, shutting off the car. He glances from me to the building. “Should we grab some snacks? Coffee?”

That doesn’t sound too bad—especially the coffee. I nod and already start thinking about what I want. “I wonder if they’ll have those big cookies.”

“I can check,” my husband offers, his grin growing in size.

“I’ll pump gas then,” I say.

We accept our assignments and I, begrudgingly, leave the warmth of the car. It’s actually not as cold as I had thought but my cheeks are hit by a brisk wind and I shiver. I check behind me, out of instinct, to watch Gavin head into the shop.

It’s just us out here so there’s nothing to be concerned about, I remind myself. I keep my head down, blocking out as much of the wind as I can while I get the pump set up.

I lock in the lever and then promptly tuck my hands into my jacket. The screen on the gas pump plays some movie from early 2020 and I smile in fond remembrance. I actually recall seeing it with my mother when I was in middle school.

The nozzle clicks, letting me know I’m done so I risk the chilly air to put it up and close the tank on the car. I give the old girl a little pat in appreciation and then stare over the top of her to see if I can spot Gavin inside the store.

The glass is too dark to tell and I let out a sigh before allowing my eyes to wander. The area we stopped in is pretty barren—a few shops are down the street but, directly behind the gas station there is a grassy knoll and, seemingly, endless woods. I’m sure there’s a road through the other side of the trees but it gives the illusion of wilderness.

At the top of the hill, I catch sight of what I think is a bird at first. My eyes narrow as it barely moves, suspended in the air. If it is a bird, I think, it’s, for one, huge, and two, in trouble. But as I continue to stare, I get less and less convinced it’s anything living.

I get more curious, however.

Gavin is taking his sweet time getting us snacks and coffee and I’m already outside in the cold, I may as well have an adventure of my own. It’s not that far anyway—if I can easily see it from the car then Gavin will be able to easily see me when he comes out.

I step onto the grass, hearing a satisfying crunch under my boot. A few real birds fly from a nearby tree to one in the distance and I guess I disturbed them. “Sorry,” I mumble under my breath as I carry on.

The hill is much steeper than it looks and my thighs burn by the time I make it to the top. I’m really out of shape. All those jokes Gavin and I keep making about needing gym memberships are starting to seem less funny now.

I take a deep inhale, the cold air burning my lungs.

“Geez,” I huff and take a few more breaths to try and calm my heart down, “At least going back will be easier…”

I let out a final, loud exhale and then train my eyes on the phenomenon that brought me over in the first place. The strange object floating in midair.

It’s still bird shaped—kind of—or at least I can see how I mistook it from a distance. The actual shape, now that I’m in front of it, is impossible to say. It’s got a lot of edges and nothing looks like anything I’ve seen before and, when I move from side to side, it goes from looking dark to light and, sometimes, metallic.

I’m tempted to call it alien.

“Liam?!” Gavin’s voice reaches me and I look back toward the car. He’s holding a bag of snacks and a travel tray of coffee.

I wave him over dramatically and I can tell he’s laughing by how he moves. But he sets everything on the roof of the car and starts to head my way.

“It’s a steep hill!” I shout out as he begins the climb.

About halfway I can already see him regretting his decision. “No kidding…”

I chuckle and help him up when he gets close enough. I let him catch his breath, knowing how tough the climb is myself. And, when he’s better, I point to the strange, floating object. “Do you see this?”

Gavin scrunches his face as he leans forward to get a better view. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly before reaching my hand out. “Should I touch it?”

My husband snickers. “Why not?”

I grin and press my index finger to it’s surface. Only, there is no surface.

As I begin to pass through the object, I try to pull my hand back but it’s already too late. Gavin must see the look of concern flash over my face because he grabs me almost immediately.

And, in the next instant, we’re somewhere new entirely.

It’s not cold anymore, I notice that, and it’s much brighter and more colorful. I’m also sitting rather than standing and, under my palm, there is greener grass that’s a little wet but I think that’s due to how much moisture is in the air.

I look to my side to see my husband, throwing his head back and forth, taking in the strange scenery. “What in the..?”

“Did you not see what happened?” I guess based off of his reaction.

His head snaps to me. “Did you?”

I shake my head. “No…”

We stand up and start to walk slowly around this place. A bird flies in front of my face, squawking as it goes and my heart starts beating like crazy in my chest. I rub my hand over my sternum and frown. If this is some weird hallucination, it’s lasting too long for my liking.

“Did we get…teleported…somewhere?” Gavin asks as we part the huge, tropical leaves that hang down and block our path.

I frown. “That’s not possible.”

“Well…?” He gestures around at our surroundings. I see his point but I know there must be some, more reasonable, explanation.

We were just at a gas station, topping off for our road trip—this doesn’t fit.

I hang my head and don’t respond. I don’t have anything to say and I keep hoping that I’ll wake up and be back in the car. That would make sense.

Gavin pushes past the last bit of foliage and we are met with a wide open space. I can see a rock formation far into the distance and I hear the flow of water but I can’t find the source. A few more birds fly overhead and there is a faint rainbow in the sky.

The strangest thing, however, is the humongous plant in the center of the field. The roots of it stretch out in all directions and are as thick around as my torso while the stem is as wide as our car. An even larger, red blossom rests at the top and, because of it’s massive weight (I’m guessing), it rests on the ground.

I look toward Gavin and see a very complex combination of expressions on his face ranging from confusion to wonder and, finally, to horror. More than likely, I would guess my face looks the same.

“What…in the hell?” he mutters under his breath.

As if activated by sound, the flower begins to move. I stumble backward, nearly tripping and falling due to the roots all around us. I throw my arms out and catch myself but I have no time to celebrate the small victories—not when such a monstrosity is rising up in front of us.

The blossom points down toward us as if looking at us. As illogical as it is, I get the feeling that’s exactly what’s going on.

“You do not have permission to be here,” a voice booms from the plant.

If logic wasn’t out the window before, it is now.

I feel my body begin to tremble as I stare up at this red bud that’s now, inexplicably, talking. I have no idea how to respond—if I’m even capable of doing so.

This must be a dream.

It has to be.

As real as this fear feels, I can’t wrap my mind around the possibility of this actually happening.

“You…talk?” Gavin finally manages to squeak out.

The flower ignores my husband and asks, “How did you come upon this place?”

I try to answer—I want to—but nothing comes out. Thankfully, Gavin is able to talk for the both of us.

“We found this weird floating object and touched it. Next thing we knew, we were here.”

The flower makes a low rumbling sound as it moves about again. I feel the ground shift under me and I glance down, only for a second, to see some of the roots twitching and pulling.

I fear this thing is irate with us for some reason.

“A tear in the reality…?” The plant’s “voice” lowers as if it’s thinking aloud.

“Look, we don’t want to be here,” Gavin has a tremor in his words. I look at him and see how stiff his body has become. He’s terrified. “If you could show us the way out…”

That rumbling sound grows louder and I’m nearly thrown off balance again. “You have committed a great sin by coming here. It cannot go without punishment.”

My heart stops and I can’t make myself move even though I’m screaming at my body to start running. Whatever this thing is…it’s dangerous. But no matter how much I acknowledge that, I’m glued to my spot.

Gavin isn’t though.

He runs over and throws his arms out, using himself as a shield in front of me. “You won’t hurt, Liam! Just send us back!”

“You wish to fight me?” The flower asks and rises higher into the sky. The stem looks almost serpentine as it winds upward and, as I think that, I’m reminded of the roots around us.

Finally, I’m able to move and I lift my feet up as the roots attempt to circle around my ankles. “Gavin! Watch out!” I shout as I leap to the side.

He turns around to look at me, his mouth parted to respond to me but no words come out.

Blood does though.

My eyes widen and a scream sticks in my throat but doesn’t leave me. I trail down his body and see a bright green tendril protruding from my husband’s stomach.

Gavin winces and, slowly, reaches out for me.

I throw my hand out to try to grab him and our fingers touch but the flower doesn’t allow us more than that. Gavin is flung across the field—his body bouncing up from impact and rolling even farther away.

I watch him, mortified.

This can’t be real, I keep chanting in my mind, hoping to force myself to wake up.

That low rumbling is the only thing that gets my attention back on the flower. I don’t really want to look at it but my instincts are screaming at me to keep fighting despite my will leaving my body.

I stare up at the blood red petals, closed into a bulb, and I see a glint of light shining from within. It’s all I have time to notice before a vine screams through the air and I’m on the ground.

Red floods all around me and I zero in on my legs which are a shocking distance away from me.

I can no longer deny this as reality—it definitely hurts enough to be real.

And that’s the last thought I have.

#heartbeats paradise #my novel #my writing

[lightspren]

my chest hurts from coughing

i haven’t slept properly in two days bc i was holding my muscle relaxer so i could take the prescription cough medicine safely

the prescription cough medicine is no longer helping my cough

i am stressed and worried over *redacted real world things because it would potentially betray what state i live in* and how these things relate to people i love

i’m upset because i feel like i’m failing my sister, because she had a shitty week and didn’t even tell me until I asked why she was being quiet, which makes me more reluctant to complain to her about MY shit because it’s not like I’ll ever know if she’s going through too much to deal with it at the time. but regardless she didn’t tell me, so I wouldn’t even have had the opportunity to try to come help her. not that i really could anyway since i’ve been sick but. god i don’t know.

i am stressed over a conversation i probably need to have with a doctor at work tomorrow that she is Not Going To Like. and her not liking my solution to her problem will potentially cause me more problems but i literally have no other ideas to try to fix her issue.

i’m stressed and worried bc i think there’s other stressful shit on my to do list tomorrow that i can’t remember

i’m REALLY worried that going to work tomorrow is going to make me sicker, again, and make the cough even worse, again, but i can’t just call in because i will get so behind on everything, AGAIN, and there aren’t people to help cover my shit.

and YES i realize getting sicker and needing more time off will not be helpful in the long run. i KNOW. i KNOW i should be prioritizing my health over my job. but i can’t. i’ve unfortunately wrapped my identity up into being Good At My Job (kids don’t do this) which includes being reliable and being like, actually there to do my job.

and this is all just piling up into a pit of awfulness compounded by money worry, and worry that i’m not living life to the fullest potential and that i’m just kind of coasting by instead, and horrific loneliness bc i don’t have close friends, and anger at myself bc i don’t know how to make friends, and anger at myself because even though i have friends on here on this website i don’t know how to engage and become actual close friends because i just end up drifting away or holding myself at arms length because I’m not GOOD at actually opening up to people when i’m talking directly to them. i can word vomit here under this read more all day long. but i can’t have this conversation directly with any person.

just. augh. i’m such a tangle of emotion tonight and i think i only covered like half of the things bothering me lmao. i just don’t wanna go to work tomorrow, i don’t wanna deal with any of this. i wanna play video games and sleep.

#kit talks

[clandestineheart]

it’s been four weeks, thirty days, seven hundred and twenty hours, give or take, forty three thousand and two hundred minutes, and two million five hundred ninety-two thousand seconds.

it’s been four weeks, thirty days, seven hundred and twenty… can you hear the clock ticking?

it’s been four, long, excruciating weeks since i have had a full night’s sleep.

i don’t get it.

i open the internet app on my phone, and i type “insomnia”—the word that only makes my eyes roll out of their sockets at this point—into the search bar; as if reading about it some more could help me cure the problem. i tend to do that a lot.

it’s just that nothing seems to work anymore. i do what they tell me—i work out before bed, even though i hate working out. i stop eating three hours before i plan on going to bed. i drink all kinds of magic teas, stay off caffeine… and when that doesn’t work, i do the exact opposite, websites and internet are useless anyway, and you’re better self-medicating than reading and actually going through with what some wannabe-doctor-reporter writes you should do; but still, no effects whatsoever. and when none of the sleeping pills i get prescribed work… there come the sedatives.

see, i’m not the biggest fan of self-medicating. or medicating in general. i have some strawy bits of medical knowledge scattered around in my head, from hearing it here and there and remembering it; so, accidentally overdosing is not even a thing that crosses my mind when i take any pills anymore. and don’t get me wrong; it’s not that i don’t like the effect benzos have on me, it’s that i like it too much. and if i know one thing it’s that i don’t need to add a benzodiazepine addiction to my platter on top of everything else, especially since i have no one to get the pills prescribed by. they’re not a long-term solution. i know it, everyone knows it. i can’t live off off speed and xanax, no matter how hard i try to believe it.

so, i put “insomnia” into the search bar, pretending, almost, that i’ll find something new entirely, even if only twenty minutes have passed since the last time i searched it; but what else is there for me to do, when i can’t sleep, and can’t write, and can’t read.

“persistent problems falling and staying asleep,” says the top of the page in a font smaller than i’d normally think it’d be written in. “problems falling and staying asleep.” great. as if i couldn’t tell what the symptoms were already, after four weeks, thirty days, seven hundred and twenty hours… but i digress. “very common,” it says, right below that first sentence, “more than three million cases per year in the US, alone…”. i huff under my nose, because, however common it may be, no one i’ve ever known has had this kind of problem before… this, or they just drunk it away, and that won’t be the route i’ll take. i read along the page, line after line, and i think i probably have it all memorized by now, the whole page. i close my eyes, and out of sheer curiosity try and repeat all it says. “persistent problems falling asleep and staying asleep,” i say, and my voice sounds strange to my own ears, “very common, more than three million US cases per year, self-diagnosable,” i continue, feeling proud of myself for getting it right so far. sad, how when everything around you feels like a death sentence, you feel good about accomplishing things even as small, and as useless as this one. “treatment can help, but this condition can’t be cured.”

i open my eyes and am faced with these same words i just said out loud to no one but the empty space around me, staring me back in the eye. i quickly look at the upper left corner or my phone—twelve am, it reads, in fat, white numbers. another day has gone by, a new one has already started. one more to add to the no-sleep list; because two hours is nothing, if even a joke of a time to rest.

i blink. twelve o’one. another minute gone, and wait, there’s one more, and more, and i blink once more, and the minutes keep passing, time doesn’t stop for me. i don’t expect it to, yet i still feel like it should, when i think about it. i feel like it does, because i’ll blink once, twice, three times… and before i know it, it’ll be three in the morning and i’ll have spent yet another sleepless night, staring at the wall. with songs unwritten in my notebook, lines unsung onstage, ideas for new stories never seeing the light of day.

and how could i know? maybe they could be great? maybe they could change the world, cure cancer or end hunger. or maybe even just make a few people smile? they probably wouldn’t, but how could i know? i can’t. because they’ll never leave the stone cold walls of my head, never break free of the prison that’s my mind.

before i’ll know it, my whole life will have passed with me doing nothing but looking up ways to solve problems you know can’t be solved.

it’s been thirty one days, seven hundred and forty four hours, give or take, forty-four thousand, six hundred and forty seconds…