#this post is brought to you by my recent realization that i’ll very likely never see anyone in my classes again after this quarter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

firein-thesky · 15 days

Note

Why is it that dc such as r@pe, sa, and incest is totally okay to write about and romanticize but y’all draw the line at racism, fat phobia, and homophobia *talking about the writings creators make, not personal beliefs*? Whats the difference between these things? All of them are hurtful and affect people in real life, so why is everybody on here choosing and picking one and not the other? Do writers on here think that they are not comparable or that one is okay to romanticize and the other is going way too far?

Im just genuinely curious as I have seen this topic be brought up again and again, which has made me realize this and Id like to see it from someone else's pov.

hi! there is a lot to answer and unpack here and i have every intention of doing so underneath the cut. forgive me if this gets long, but you’ve asked me 4 very massive questions that i think warrant detail, nuance, and thought. there is a lot i’d like to say here.

that being said, mind the content warnings and protect yourself.

cw: mentions of rape, incest, racism, homophobia, fat phobia, discourse in general

firstly, i am going to choose to give you the benefit of the doubt in assuming you are actually curious in hearing another side and you are not simply looking to stir a pot or pick a fight with beliefs you have no intention of changing or having an open discussion on. your accusatory tone in the first half indicates otherwise and kindly, i am not an idiot. but i want to earnestly talk to you about this and again, will think better of you than you perhaps have indicated you think of me.

secondly, you do not have to censor words like rape in my inbox. that sort of censorship has become wildly popular because of tik tok and other money-hungry social media that also desperately want to silence people. do you know why you have to censor words like that on tik tok? or words like genocide? suicide? racism? 1. so that they can make money and market and push their squeaky clean algorithms but 2. and perhaps worse, so they can silence victims. if social media platforms and capitalism and the systems of powers had it their way, you would never utter these words again—whether to call someone out for justice or to have an open discussion like this one. i encourage you greatly to think critically about this and how you choose to use censorship and why.

now, to your questions.

to preface, i am interpreting this ask as being anti-dark content in fiction as you state that ALL these subjects harm people in real life. or at least, you are being critical of all dark content in fiction and the way writers engage with them, effectively ‘picking and choosing’ which are deemed acceptable and which aren’t, when they are all hurtful. i apologize if that wasn’t your intention/what you believe, but regardless, i’ll endeavor to answer you.

i personally have drawn no lines about dark content nor spoken about any of these topics specifically really, which indicates to me you have a different narrative and/or are coming from more inflammatory arguments that are always circling fandom lately. in the post i most recently reblogged, i spoke mostly of violence. which, of course, all of those things can be. but i didn’t name one of those topics in particular.

regardless, i don’t believe in the censorship of any dark content in art, but rather advocate strongly for critical analysis on a case-by-case basis. in general, i encourage thinking critically about every aspect of the world around you.

i do not believe that rape, incest, and sa are okay to write about or create art about but racism, homophobia, and fat phobia are not. i believe all of those topics are ones that can, should, and will be explored in the safety of art. all to varying degrees of success, earnestness, impact, and intent. you’re right that these are real things, that can hurt people, and the fictional work about them can have impact on our society that is tangible but the actual art or fiction created is not real. and again, this is all to varying degrees on a case-by-case basis.

art and fiction also historically and massively do discuss these dark content topics and have actively swayed the public’s opinion on matters, whether for better or for worse. throwing away all dark content in art and fiction because it is ‘harmful’ is deeply, deeply dangerous and reductive. a lot of art that engages with dark content actually makes very succinct points about it—i think of vladimir nabokov’s lolita or octavia butler’s bloodchild or speak by laurie halse anderson.

this is where we must exorcise critical thinking. some pieces of work will handle dark content poorly—white saviors making art on racism. men making art about a woman’s experiences that (as you are so interested in) romanticize her pain. etc. etc. and some art will handle it’s dark content incredibly and be transformative, perhaps even revolutionary in how we talk, perceive, or acknowledge systems of oppression, violence, and dark content in this world. some dark content in fiction will have damaging beliefs and effects on society, some will not—we must also look at scope for this, at the writer perhaps, the historical moment, their audience etc.

(for example, there is a significant difference in a main stream male writer, writing of a woman’s experience with rape in a published book in a way that makes it sound romanticized, sold to thousands and thousands of general public vs. a woman using fanfic to explore rape, take control of it, or whatever in a fanfic for a small online community where there are warnings on it. indicating she is aware of its potential damage in a way her male counterpart is not…)

but i still believe in dark contents’ existence in art. of course there is differences between all of these topics you brought up, but i don’t think their differences matter in this answer. i believe in their right to be explored in art. i am talking broadly of media/art here, which i think is the more relevant conversation, but i think you are actually more interested in a much smaller scale of people. ie. fandom. ie. mostly marginalized people in small communities online writing and creating dark content.

people will choose and pick which ones they’d like to create art over and which ones they don’t, which ones they read and which ones they don’t. there’s no ‘hard line’ drawn anywhere. and i can’t control it and neither can you. perhaps you think violence is okay to be explored in fanfic, but racism isn’t. someone else will have different preferences. i do not believe in its censorship.

now, let’s move onto your interest in romanticization and what i think you are more pointing to, which is fandom. you are specifically referring to people in fandom who write about rape, incest, etc. and ‘romanticize’ it—ie. they write about it in a way that is a fantasy. it is perhaps supposed to be horny or sexy. so let’s talk about it.

i must remind you that these topics you’ve brought up (rape, incest, sa) being written are fiction and it is (most often) done by someone marginalized who has either experienced this or is in threat of experiencing this under a patriarchy. i assure you, they are aware of its harm. hence the copious warnings in fandom spaces.

if i can be candid, sometimes i think that people forget how systems of oppression work when discussing fandom and whether dark content being created should be allowed or not.

for example, i sometimes think people who are anti-dark content in fandom believe that a woman or afab person writing a fictional fanfic about rape or sexual violence then influences people to go out and rape people or that women actually like it. when the reality, in fandom spaces, is that rape and sexual violence happen frequently under the patriarchy and then these women in fandom write fictional fanfic in response to cope, explore, take control of, etc. etc.

to insinuate that women or afab people (which fandom mostly is) exploring dark content safely in fiction then causes their own oppression and harm or trauma is rather victim-blame-y to me. fandom exploring dark content does not cause these things to happen in our society….these actions (rape, incest, sa) happen in our society or systems of power and fandom reacts to them in their art by exploring it in dark content. do you understand what i’m trying to say?

it’s not a matter of what is ‘okay’ to romanticize and what isn’t. i do not think the romanticization that fandom does with dark content (ie. my kidnapper actually loves me! or this sexual act that i did not consent to…maybe feels good) is not actually romanticizing but coping because of the systems of power that i described above. and this can be coping with anything—shame of sexuality, shame of fantasies, trauma, fear, etc. etc.

as i said in my tags in that post i reblogged and as plato said, dark content in art is a safe place to explore what would otherwise be harmful and dangerous in real life. it is cathartic. potentially even, a purging.

and even if it isn’t all that—maybe it just is trashy fantasy. it is still playing pretend. it is still fiction and in fandom spaces, it is still most likely being created by a marginalized person. and again, even if it isn’t, we don’t get to censor it. we can be critical of it or wary or whatever, but to censor it, is a slippery, slippery slope. do deem some topics as “acceptable” and others as “unacceptable” is dangerous.

just like kids play pretend where they ‘fight’ or ‘kill’ or ‘kidnap’ or ‘shoot’ each other in games of cops and robbers or heroes and villains, they are safely exploring adventure, dark content, fantasy, tragedy, and higher emotions. adults can do the same in fiction and with adult topics like sex.

and at the end of the day, we don’t get to demand the credentials to do so either. we don’t get to censor them or control them and nor should we be allowed to. i cannot stress enough that i encourage you to be critical of censorship or the absolute disgust in dark content and at those (again—often marginalized people) who engage with it in fandom. i believe it is deeply puritanical, conservative, and dangerous.

you don’t have to like dark content or consume it at all and fandom makes it easy not to with all the warnings and tags, but you cannot control others or police them. nor should you want to.

and at the end of the day, i have some questions for you. you don’t have to respond to this, perhaps they’re just things to think about. what is the end goal here? what is the point in harassing, shaming, attacking, criticizing, or interrogating people in fandom spaces who create or support dark content? do you believe that if it is purged from fandom, it will be purged from our society? if you want it purged from society—shouldn’t you start there rather than in the inbox of marginalized writers in fandom? people in fandom did not create rape, incest, and sa nor do they in their exploration of fiction…they are merely reacting to a world that did create it.

i hope at no point i came off as rude to you, as was not my intention. i intended to stand up for myself and respectfully state my opinions and thoughts on this matter. i’m sorry it got long, but also i don’t believe in being brief on such complex matters. i am a writer who engages critically with the world around me and sometimes, things cannot be made into short, snappy answers. sometimes, we must unpack.

genuinely wishing you well.

#i cannot guarantee that i’ll have the time patience or energy to answer every ask like the one above in such detail #going forward #but i do support open discussions and i wanted to be kind to this anon #these are just my 2 cents on all of this #cw: rape #cw: incest #cw: racism #cw: fat phobia #cw: homophobia #discourse

372 notes · View notes

darnell-la · 7 months

Text

Toxic Kooks get what they want.

word count: 2.1k

paring: dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader x dark!Topper

warning: cnc, dark content, rough face fucking, public cnc, hair pulling, gagging, humiliation, etc.

note: If you do not like anything that involves SA/CNC, do not continue, and do not think differently about the stories you like that we post. We have different authors on this page. We apologize if this is disappointing.

This is a mini-series as well so like, comment, and repost if you guys would like a part two!!!!!!

I DO NOT CONSENT TO OUR WORK BEING TAKEN.

————————————————————————

3rd person pov

Living the life of a Pogues is hard. Especially when you only catch feelings for Kooks. There’s only one type of Kook and those are the ones y/n recommends no one falls for. The cocky and stuck up Kooks.

You see, y/n used to lead Rafe on. She wasn’t sure about what she wanted you to do until she realized that he was not for her.

He’s argued too much about not being able to have sex with her, or even touch her. She wasn’t ready for someone like Rafe to touch her. They usually leave after they get what they want.

It became an everyday argument, so she decided to stop talking to him. That’s when she started talking to JJ. Rafe grew mad and threatened her through social media and even at parties or whenever he saw her.

Scotlynn's pov

“Are you scared yet?” JJ asked as John B parked in front of the outside movie theater. “I love scary movies, JJ. I keep saying this,” I playfully rolled my eyes, knowing he’s the one who’s actually scared.

“Well see when you ask me or Pope to sing you a bedtime story, later tonight,” JJ joked as we all laughed. “Ha ha, very funny,” I said as we all got out of the car to make our way to the best spot on the grass before the Kooks got here and took up space.

Me and JJ continued poking fun at each other as we grabbed our things to set up in the grass. JJ offered to carry most of my things, and I let him. He’s been trying to get at me and I’ve been accepting it.

I’ve caught myself staring at him a lot recently. I’ve also felt like I couldn’t go a day without seeing him. I hope he hadn’t noticed, but it’s pretty obvious I like him back. Probably more than I think I do.

“When a man’s around you, you shouldn’t be paying, y/n,” JJ said as he gave the lady who gave me my food, some cash. I put my wallet away with a sigh because he knows I hate when people pay for me.

“Don’t worry. You can pay me back with a date. How about that?” He basically asked me out, making me smile. “Fine, but only because I have to pay you back,” I rolled my eyes as he chuckled.

JJ and I walked back to the group and began to eat and talk before the movie started. JJ was already scared but accused me of being scared, so he pulled me into him. Now we’re cuddling, and Sarah’s smirking at me from the side.

After several sips of my drink, I decided I had to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered to JJ as I slowly got up and ducked through people sitting down in their areas so I wouldn’t disrupt the movie too much for them.

I quickly made my way through the big parking lot and to the bathroom, I didn’t know was this far. I hate when people put bathrooms far away from outside movie theaters. Anything can happen.

I quickly went into the mini bathroom building and did my business. I flushed and washed my hands, then fixed myself up in the mirror, hoping to look more presentable to JJ when I came back.

“I should have brought gum with me,” I said to myself as I made my way toward the front door of the restrooms. I opened the door, just to meet Rafe and Topper waiting outside of it.

“Jesus Christ. What now, Rafe?” I asked, annoyed that he always finds a way to catch me alone. “Date with JJ Maybank? Really, y/n? Couldn’t get any lower than that?” Rafe asked, seeming upset for absolutely no reason at all as always.

“What does that have to do with you? I’ve never dated you, and even if I do, I can do whatever I want now since I’m single. Now, piss off,” I said then went to pass him, but he got in my way.

“Topper, don’t tell me he got you into this. Sarah is literally one of my closest friends. She’d be upset,” I said, hoping Topper would talk Rafe out of this like usual.

“That line won’t work anymore, princess. He’s on my side. Especially after the deal I offered him. It’s hard to say no to it,” Rafe said as he tilted his head to get a look-up sundress I was wearing.

“You’re sick, Rafe. Sick in the fucking head,” I said, then rolled my eyes and went to take a different way out of this mess until Topper got in my way, which is very surprising.

“Don’t, y/n,” he said, sounding slightly threatening, but I didn’t care. I didn’t catch it too fast. “Topper, don’t fuck with me, okay? I’ll have Sarah on your ass, and I know how much you hate that shit. Now get out of my way,” I went to walk past again but he slightly pushed me back with a chuckle.

“All the times I’ve helped you out of his situations. All the times I prevented something from happening, and you still give me that bitchy attitude. Shows how much of an ignorant bitch you are,” Topper surprised me with his words.

“Thought I was the only one who noticed,” Rafe joked, making me grow angrier. “Fuck toy both,” I said. I didn’t even get a chance to my feet before Topper gripped my neck and pulled me close to him.

“Straighten that shit up, before I do it for you,” he threatened, surprising me even more. “Topper!” I tried yelling but his hand was too tight around my neck. He’s so strong.

“Don’t start, y/n. I’m giving you a chance to behave and accept that someone like you, isn’t for JJ. You’re for me-“ I went to say but I quickly kicked him hard in his crotch. As soon as he let my throat go, I took off.

“Fuck,” Rafe cussed under his breath, not wasting time to run after me. I ran through cars and around them to make more space between us, knowing he was way faster than me. He almost had me when we first started running.

I just hit the grass, close to the people sitting down but not close enough. The movie’s too loud for them to hear me if I yell and it’s too dark for them to see me running.

I went to try and yell until I was pulled back and my mouth was covered. “Ah uh,” Rafe said as he dragged me backwards. I kicked and screamed but they were muffled. I went to kick more aggressively but he quickly pushed me off of him, grabbed a handful of my hair, and threw my face into a tree.

I fell to the ground and whined in pain as tears filled my eyes. I’ve never felt pain like this before. I touched my forehead, hoping a scar might not be left. I felt blood…

“Rafe, what the fuck!” I cried out. I tried getting up but felt dizzy and fell back down. “Be if you didn’t pull that bullshit, I would have been easier. You’ve pushed my buttons enough,” Rafe said as Trooper walked up from behind him.

“My truck. She pissed me off for the last time,” Topper said as he came up to me and grabbed me. “No, let me go you bastard,” I whined, feeling pain every time my brain worked too much. Topper threw me over his head and then walked off with me.

Rafe smirked at me behind Topper's back, knowing he was up to no good. “Put me down! Where are you taking me? Let me fucking go!” I tried being loud but they just laughed.

“Trying to stay tough? We’ll see how much of a tough girl you are once I break you,” Rafe said. “What?” I asked, confused but they ignored me since I didn’t really give a full question for them to ask me.

“Open it up,” Topper said, sounding heated, but that’s not my problem. He put his hands on me and got what he deserved. Now it’s Rafe’s turn once I get a hand of myself.

“Give us a hard time, and it’ll get worse, do you understand?” Topper asked right after he dropped me in his back seat. “Fuck you,” I said, full-heartedly, making him grab my ankles and pull me out of his truck.

I fell to the ground, hitting the back of my head on the way down, making Rafe laugh in disbelief. He couldn’t believe how Topper was acting. It’s like he loves seeing this side of him. Like he’s been waiting.

“You’re gonna learn some fucking manners,” Topper growled under his breath as I heard him fondling with his belt-hand jeans. “I thought you had some, but you clearly don’t Kook,” I said harshly as I tried to keep my vision focused, but couldn’t.

Seconds later, Tooper harshly grabbed my hair, causing me to whine in pain but they were soon stopped by his cock being forced into my mouth. I screamed, trying to wiggle away, now noticing what they’d been trying to do, but it was too late. I’m here now, alone and far away from the crowd.

“You talk a lot for a girl who struggled taking cock,” Topper thrust his hip harshly to force himself further into my mouth. I tried begging him to stop but he only pushed further until he was completely down my throat.

“Fuuuck!” He groaned as he hunched over to rest his hand inside of his truck. “Shit… This is cheating,” he said, going to pull out but his knees bucked as my lips moved along his shaft.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said under his breath as Rafe came up. “Just do it. You’re already here. Besides. We ain’t tell Sarah. I’ll make sure of it,” Rafe basically threatened. “Y-You promise?” Topper stuttered at me trying to relax him in my throat, but couldn’t.

“I promise bro, just fuck her mouth. It doesn’t even count,” Rafe said, which is a lie. “Fuck! Thank you, bro,” Topper thanked before he continued his assault.

“No, no, no!” I tried screaming and pushing him off, which made my headache worse. “Finally putting that bitchy little mouth to use,” Topper looked down at me as he tighten his grip on my hair, causing me to yelp in pain.

“Better be glad I’m not stuffing your pussy full of my cum. Otherwise, you’d be a whore stuffed twice tonight by two different men. Maybe three times if JJ gets to action and realizes what a useful slut you are,” Topper said some hard words that Rafe would only say. Now I know why they’re so close.

“Should take her back to the house to do what we really want to her. Maybe then she’ll realize how easy it is to get what we want,” Rafe said as he came up and rubbed a tear off of my cheek.

“No, no, she needs to go back to the group. Don’t want them getting too suspicious,” Topper struggled to say. He’s close. And he’s going to make me swallow everything.

“True. I’ll get my chance another time. We see how easy it is, after tonight,” Rafe chuckled as he backed up and Topper’s thrust got sloppy. I squeezed my eyes shut as Topper groaned loudly and slammed all the way down my throat to release.

“And you swallowed it. How pathetic,” Topper said as he pulled out. He pushed my head away, causing my body to lay out on the floor once again. I thought it was over until Rafe pulled me up to my feet and then sat me down on the edge of Topper's trunk.

“Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll have all of Figure 8 after your pretty ass, do you understand?” Rafe threatened again. I nodded as tears rolled down my cheek.

Rafe stuck his tongue and dragged it across my face, licking up all of my tears until he reached my mouth to make out with me. I didn’t want to. He made me. I stayed still and stiff and didn’t move my lips as he went to work.

I can’t believe he’s huffing and puffing while doing this. He’s turned on and gripping my waist. How could they be okay with this?

I’m now at home, lying beside JJ after the long night out. I had to tell him the bathrooms had long lines. He asked me about the blood on my face, and I lied. I told him “You know how I am? I hit my damn head on the bathroom stall,” and he believed it…

Part two!

part three!

272 notes · View notes

insomniac-101 · 7 months

Note

What do you think of those who think the doctor fell in love with Madame de Pompadour ? I see tons of people take this story for one of the greatest romances of Doctor Who and I just don't understand why ? I mean, the doctor has a casavona personality, partly because he modeled himself after the type of man he thought Rose would like. Most of her flirtations are also all blondes, like Rose. The episode follows when he realizes that one day Rose is going to die and that he loves her, as he agrees to take Mikey, Rose's current boyfriend on board ! The doctor is not in a relationship with Rose at the time, but clearly loves her and having accepted Mikey on board, must have tried to be a minimum of respect. Especially since good... me too if Madame de Pompadour in person had kissed me like that I wouldn't have said no, and probably flirt.. It's literally like meeting one of the celebrities you have a crush on !

Hello! First and foremost, thank you for the question!<3<3 I absolutely love seeing all these perspectives and I feel truly honored that you chose to ask me:)

That being said, the reason why that story interpretation is so popular is partly because the episode's writer, Steven Moffat, stated it was so (in the confidential I believe, though I could be misremembering). Thus with him being the main writer for the episode, people take it for what it is.

I think it all comes down to personal interpretation/ how much agency one gives to the intention of the writer- so for that very reason, I don't really feel any sort of way towards people who feel otherwise (unless they use it to invalidate the importance of Rose as a character, in which case, I do get annoyed haha) because there is indeed a drastic difference in the way that both RTD and Moffat interpret the character of the Doctor. So I think this episode being so divisive, is kind of a testament to that drastic gap in interpretations that occur (which is an interesting conversation in itself, but i’ll save it for a later post lol).

My take, is much like yours- I don't think the Doctor ever fell for her in return. Funny enough, how charitable I am towards the overall story of this episode, in particular, tends to change depending on my mood but I think I've seen it enough times to come up with an interpretation of my own that I feel flows well with the overarching narrative of the RTD era. (Though I must preface this by saying I have not recently rewatched the episode, so from here on out, I'm going straight off what I remember lol)

What some people see as love, I see more as a tragedy. Yet another unfortunate situation for all those involved because the Doctor is yet again left to face the inevitability of loss– how his duty as the Doctor does not lend him the same leniency that other mortals seem to have with their decisions.

I always felt the Doctor’s motivations for fighting for Reinette’s approval stemmed more from a place of trying to stroke his own ego. With his low self-esteem, he tends to gravitate towards people who challenge the negative perception he has of himself. To have someone so pretty and important fawn over him is flattering, and the fact that she doesn’t know him deeply is even more tempting- as it almost guarantees the last impression she’ll have of him will be positive rather than negative.

But that's just it- he likes the attention, and it serves as a temporary distraction from what he has with Rose, who's currently showing Mickey around. Another person who was partially brought along for a similar reason, to kind of serve as a buffer until he’s inevitably forced to confront what has yet to be addressed between him and Rose.

With the Doctor insisting on saving her, without the context of knowing she will become a major figure in history, she confuses his interest as attraction and acts accordingly. His appeal is the mystery surrounding him- how he's this figure who's heroic and caring, and she grows a fondness for him but never the real him, just the image.

I find it interesting how terrified the Doctor looks when she enters his mind, for that very reason. I think his fear is partially driven by the sudden vulnerability she takes out of him unwillingly, and it’s her lack of reaction at his horror that kind of drives the reading that she doesn’t really see him as a person but a fantasy. Because here he is trying to help her, and she takes the chance to violate a boundary of his without stopping to consider how he might feel about it in return.

For this very reason, I always thought their pull towards one another was more out self-serving reasons rather than a genuine connection- because if one wishes to stake their love on that little interaction they have, there’s never anything after that suggests that they genuinely like one another. Moreso, the fantasy the other seems to satisfy for the other.

So when he sacrifices himself, it's more to quell the guilt of messing with her timeline than love itself. Because with having left an impression on her since childhood, he now has to take responsibility for feeding into the belief that his reason for saving her is a selfless one.

Even if it is unintentional ( according to Moffat’s personal input, at least) some moments in the episode seem to validate this reading (that what Reinette and the Doctor feel for one another is not really love), mainly through the inclusion of Rose and the way she is used in this episode.

When he's on the other side, for example, and they're drinking wine- he never seems as invested in Reinette as he was when she was just another historical figure he was showing off to. He seems sad, and almost regretful of his decision, and you see him longingly stare at the stars, which coincidentally mirrors that of Rose's own scene, where she too blankly stares upwards.

Though it's not stated, the framing of this particular moment does seem to suggest that they are thinking of one another. To me, it cements that the motive to save her was not really one motivated by the prospect of living with Reinette but more, because it was the only real way to remedy the situation. He’s there out of duty, not out of free will.

When she leads him to her room, he seems distracted- not at all invested in what's happening. It's depressing how neither seems entirely content with the situation because even Reinette notices this shift in behavior. It breaks the fantasy, and when she prods and he refuses to admit what is quite obvious, that realization pushes her to show him the gateway that still remains. Because, in a way, it was a test to see if he’d choose her, and evidently, his reaction is brutally honest and nor one she wants if her expression is anything to go by lol.

His lack of interest in living with her is no better exemplified by the way he lights up (a stark contrast from the prior sadness he was seeping in) when he realizes there's a way back, and he goes to the other side, not even considering how Reinette would feel about it. The genuine confusion when he sees her sad- he seems to realize how callous his relief must have been and tries to find a means of remedying it. His offering to take her to see the stars is more like an olive branch of sorts. Something to distract her from the undeniable truth that he will never stay. Because if he had the choice- the person he's chosen to spend his life with is not her, but Rose.

Being stuck, with no means back to Rose, is what heightens his insistence to keep her with him in the episodes that follow. Because being deprived of the one person he loves, even for a moment, seems to make him realize that Rose is simply not someone worth losing and so he stops running. Or rather, where he runs, will always be alongside her and though he never voices his feelings, he shows them in other ways. Ways that only Rose, the person who knows him best and loves even the most flawed facets of his being, understands.

When he reads the letter, I always felt the expression on his face was more likely that of guilt than love. He feels guilty for having wasted so many of her years. Of having had Reinette wait for him to fulfill a promise that could only do so much to make up for what was a delay of the inevitable, her death.

His reason to mourn her is most likely spurred on by the realization that he never really knew her, considering how he spent most of his time with Reinette showing off. It must be sobering, even horrifying, to realize that someone put so much faith in him, only for him to disappoint them. How in the grand scheme of things, their absence doesn't change anything because they were put aside just as easily as they were including. Putting into perspective just how something as simple as the desire to be validated, could often have devastating consequences on those around him. It restricts him further, hardening his resolve that he must deprive himself of his temptations for a human life out of fear and in turn, only further drives his natural cynicism.

I think the major reason why I don't really like looking at this particular trip as a love story is because I feel it lacks a lot of substance. There's not enough evidence to convince me that they were ever in love, especially when competing with the overarching plotline with Rose that stems back to series one. Instead, I find the episode is far more compelling when one views it as a character study- where we see the Doctor stripped of all his more favorable qualities and indulge in something so selfishly human- his ego, only for the episode to end so tragically as a reminder that he's ultimately not human and can't get away with such a simple temptation.

(also I wish to clarify that when I say ego, I don't mean it as a bad thing. I think one of ten's more human qualities is that he often struggles to choose between the selfless and selfish choice, and it is something that is partially responsible for what drives his eventual spiral we see happen later on. His need for validation is human, and it's all the more tragic, given just how removed he is from humanity. It adds to the loneliness of his existence, where he is left to pine over what he can never have even if he so desperately wants it- which if you know me, I love that haha)

Had the story been anything other than a love story, I feel like it would have been more interesting and would have removed the troubling implications behind certain aspects of their romance. My biggest grievance with the episode is partly due to that, how half-baked a lot of the characterization feels (because there are many moments where you can almost see Moffat intentionally or unintentionally challenge Reinette's faulty perception of the doctor, as if shedding the rose-tinted glasses, but he never follows through. Which personally, only goes to fuel my dislike for the episode as a whole because what I love about the RTD era as a whole is that the Doctor is portrayed as imperfect. He's not above being criticized for his actions, yet this episode seems to only go on to glorify him as this saint and I just don't think that fits with what we've seen of this era but I digress), but I also think that’s why I partially enjoy talking about it. The beauty of fiction is that we can make do with certain aspects of a piece of media we like, and mold it to what we see as more fitting to the story. I may disagree with the notion that they were in love, because to me they never were, but I can make sense of them in other ways.

Hopefully that answers your question<3

#rtd era #doctor who #tenth doctor #the girl in the fireplace #10th doctor #doctor x rose #timepetals

42 notes · View notes

soukokumychildren · 7 months

Text

Scarf

So I uh, got inspired by @carrotkicks (or, @ccarrot, since I don't know which is used more often) posts about Beast Chuuya (Link 1, Link 2 and Link 3), and I decided to write about it! Hopefully its as angsty as I want it to be. Enjoy! :D

He sat in front of a mahogany desk with nothing but a pen and a few stacks of paper to occupy him. He looked over to a portrait that was set near the edge of the desk, but only briefly glancing at it. He tried to ignore the want to look back at it again, a man that used to be his age with his arms wrapped around the redhead, both laughing in the photo. Days like this, he rarely left his seat. Some would say he was practically glued to it, having to fix all the messes that Da—...the last Port Mafia leader had left before he…alledgedly committed suicide.

Just endless silence. Suffocating silence. He tried not to get distracted by the fact the only person that he ever cared about used to sit in this very seat up until a few days ago.

Nobody will ever know this pain, he thinks, determined and stubborn, despite all the 3 billion people on the planet, or atleast, roughly, they would never account to the grief that Chuuya was suffering. He never felt more alone. Standing by himself, barely holding an organization together, with nobody to truly support him other than the man that had died just recently. He dropped the pen. His arms were shaking again. Chuuya pushed the chair back and grasped at his scarf, a pounding headache making his way into his brain. He’d been ignoring the fatigue that had been hovering around him so he could focus on work. I’m fine. He tells himself, scooting the chair back forward, and placing the pen neatly beside the paper in its own holder so it wouldn’t accidentally leave ink blotches. “He doesn’t matter anymore.” Chuuya said it aloud, but it didn’t feel more wrong to announce those words. Chuuya tried to distract himself, closing his eyes briefly. The pounding headache eased when he did. It also renewed the exhaustion he’d been fighting for hours, and this time it made sure to sink its teeth in and not let go. The redhead wavered in his seat, pushing the paper away and crossing his arms, resting his head snugly across them. Just a few minutes, he convinced himself. And I’ll get back to work. Were his last thoughts, before he drifted into a deep, weighty sleep. * * *

The door creaked open. I slipped in. Easing the door shut behind me I lock eyes with the sleeping shape of the Port Mafia Boss. I grin. There couldn’t have been a more perfect time. I quickly cross the room and end up at his desk, making sure not to accidentally let my shadow pass over him, since the small change in temperature could startle him awake. Many say that taking Chuuya-san’s scarf was an impossible task. You’d die trying. But I wasn’t so sure. Just catch him off guard, and he wouldn’t be able to stop you. Slowly, I brought my hand to the blood-red fabric, tracing it with my finger, and carefully hooking it under some folded layers. I gave it a gentle tug, and the Boss shuddered, stirring but not waking.

So I continue. Unraveling it from his neck was a little bit of a task on its own without startling him awake. But I somehow manage. I hold the fabric tight in my hands, grinning from ear to ear psychaotically. Goodnight, Chuuya-san. I think. You won’t be finding this for a while.

* * * A knock on the door woke Chuuya up with a start, his head snapping upward and swaying for a moment. His immediate reaction was to respond with an authoritative, “Come in.”, despite it sounding a bit softer than he meant to.

He realized it was a bit cold, but disregarded that fact as Atsushi came in, carrying a bundle of papers, looking at the sheets cradled in his arms. “I’m sorry for the interruption, boss, I know your busy, but I need a little help with…” When Atsushi met eyes with Chuuya, he broke off. The door closed behind him. “Oh…um.” Atsushi blinked like a deer in headlights. “What?” Chuuya asked, trying to focus his hazy mind back into its natural order, eyes sticking together as if held by duct tape.

“C-congradulations?” The boy said, a small smile etched upon his features, and Chuuya squinted at him, the redhead wrapping his arms around himself, shuddering at the cold. “What do you mean, congratulations?” “Well…you stopped wearing it.” Atsushi impatiently bounced from foot to foot, promptly avoiding Chuuya’s eye contact as he looked out the window. “I’m glad you’re not dwelling on him anymore.” Chuuya flinched, but he first had to make sure they were talking about the same man here. “Who’s he?” Atsushi blinked at him, finally meeting his gaze. “Well, Dazai-san, of course.” Chuuya froze, and he suddenly started to feel some sort of crushing presence around him. Immediately he went to grasp at his scarf, starting to feel a traumatic attack ganging up on him, intent on smelling the fabric so he wouldn’t lose it. Except… His hand. Grasped on air. The room dropped several degrees. Atsushi could feel it. Could sense it. Hackles raised, he quickly excused himself in a rush, terrified. While Chuuya didn’t move for several seconds, eyes wide and unblinking. He didn’t breathe. He couldn’t. Harsh, cold claws raked down his spine as he slowly looked down.

Dazai’s scarf. ...Was gone. I was thinking of ending it here XD But if y'all want me to continue until he finds the perpetrator, I'll be happy to :} (I like writing shorts for the life of me I can't stop bhsahghs)

30 notes · View notes

mrsmiagreer · 3 months

Text

Alright. Little big rant because i’ve nowhere else to turn :)

Edit: Omgggg this is lengthy asf😭 sorry for those who are actually reading…i don’t think I realized I would be talking n writing for this long and i literally won’t br offended if nobody reads this all the way down. Mb😭

so… some of you may know, I am very easily hyper fixated on things. Right now my top two hyper fixations are redacted ASMR (as you know), and the Sturniolo triplets (as you also recently know.)

I was watching the cut the camera podcast on YouTube and I went all the way back to their very first episodes of it because I want to watch from the beginning and catch up. I was watching episode three where they brought on their first guest speaker, Baylen Levine, and it was pretty inspiring to me because they talked about doing a lot of the stuff that I aspired to do as a kid.

For example, they talked about how they have always known that they wanted to be influencers from when they were small, and they’ve recorded a large portion of their lives, and they’ve made sure to document just being themselves, and they realized (from vine or jake and logan paul or people in that genre) that they could make a fortune of it. They talked about how they would post on YouTube or post on TikTok and after they started getting lots of likes and views they committed themselves to it and that’s how they are where they are today.

I have always wanted to be an influencer. As a kid, I have made multiple YouTube channels and Musical.ly and Tiktok accounts with videos of me just talking or singing, or dancing, and in 2020 during quarantine I was literally posting TikToks every single day, hoping that I would blow up like Charli or Addison. Those days I was obsessed with the New Jersey boys (Kairi Cosentino, Mattia Polibio, Alejandro, Rosario, etc.) who are also famous on TikTok, and I wanted to be famous too, so I can meet them and even come close to being in their league.

I wanted to be famous… Well, I didn’t want some of the stuff that came along with being actually famous, but I did want to be impactful enough to be considered famous so like Internet famous, not actor famous or singer famous (even though lots of people told me that I should be a singer because I can sing). I think I just have anxiety around the fact that I’ll always be watched and judged, and I’d have to watch what I say or filter what I do from the Internet and separate my life from my business. especially as a teenager, being famous seemed really difficult. and I was also really lazy so I didn’t wanna have to do the work of uploading every day, recording every day, editing, coming up with my own ideas every week, etc..

watching their podcast videos also confirmed my fear of not blowing up as easy because I was alone. I have a little sister but she’s six years younger than me, and so the content and the way I wanted to portray myself wouldn’t have been as suitable because of our circumstances as a family and our age gap. The triplets were talking about how they’ve never had to really feel alone while coming up in this social media business because they’ve always had each other, so not only are they brothers, but they’re also best friends and business partners. Baylen was talking about how he started his channel with his friends because they were doing funny stupid stuff normally in their everyday lives and one day they just decided to film it and it blew up. especially in the social media industry, it seems to be “the more the better” because it gives people the option to pick a favorite of the group or want to know more about somebody in particular or just explore the different personalities and how they complement each other and all that stuff (The NJ boys, The Sturniolos, Team 10, the Hype House, etc). I never had anybody to record these videos with me consistently or anything like that, and I think I figured that I would just get boring and that I’m probably not really enough on my own.

watching their podcasts and watching their YouTube videos always makes me feel like I want to return to content making, but I always wave it off. For starters, I kind of feel too old to start. Not that I’m old or anything but I wanted to start when I was like 11 and really had a chance at like 15 so now I feel like I would be starting in the game too late which is deterring me. I think I also only want to start up my content creating dreams because I really want to meet and be friends with these people that I’ve looked up to and the only way I can do that is by also being famous which sucks because it’s a very low chance that I’ll ever be their friend as some normal person who is technically considered a fan. in the episode with Baylen, they were talking about how now that they’ve met Baylen and they’ve met the cuff boys, They’re only waiting on a few other people to meet before it’s a full circle moment, and they’re content with the progress they’ve made in their career, and the people I want to meet if I were to ever have this platform are the triplets, the New Jersey boys, Berleezy, Coryxkenshin, and probably even Erik because redacted ASMR has literally changed my life so much. it’s opened my mind to how many possibilities there really are when making your own stories because of how many different rules and lands and governments and races there are within Dahlia, and how complex a character themselves could be because they are in fact people before any of their abilities, and it’s given me ideas and inspired me to be a better writer or to be more creative because Erik is literally one of the most creative people I have ever seen in action and i adore his work.

I am one of those people that do have a lot of opinions to say. I have a lot of random thoughts and a lot of ideas that I want to bring to life. When I watch the boys’ car videos, I find myself wanting to add to their conversation, or say something that I feel applies to their situation that could help or that would make them laugh or that I just relate to in general. it makes me almost kind of sad that I would have to put in the work and the grind that could possibly take years, just to become Internet famous, just to join a conversation of theirs, with no guarantee that we’ll even become friends or stay in contact like I’d hope we would.

Also, I’m trying to decide what I want to do in life as a career and YouTube sounds very fun and def brings in a lot of cash but I just don’t know if I can. I just don’t feel like I’m in the right position to do that.

right now I’m thinking about doing something towards psychology, social work, child development, or child therapy, because being in high school made me realize that there are tons of kids that need help badly and there’s not enough child therapists around (or nobody takes school counselors seriously) and so I want to help change that, and I can’t do YouTube and go to school for being a child therapist because that’s

An overload of work and

Two different pathways that I don’t really want to mix.

I feel like there’s a lot of familial pressure around going to college too, especially because I would technically be a first generation student. I feel like my goal with child therapy is very honorable and something that the world definitely needs but I feel like I would genuinely enjoy my life more if I could make money from Vlogging and having fun and going through my life with a camera. and I know that life‘s not all about fun, but it would just make a lot of my internal dreams come to fruition. Like on episode two of cut the camera (I believe) Chris was talking about how being famous allowed him to start the clothing line that he’s always wanted to start, and I’ve always always always wanted to start a clothing line as a kid too. I even have a hoodie with my name on it in my closet right now because I started a clothing line journey and wasn’t consistent. not only would a youtube career allow me to express myself through clothing or conversation, but it would also expand my understanding of technology, business, social interactions, travel, and you never know who you’ll meet or what you’ll end up doing if you don’t start.

people in my life keep telling me that college is the best thing that they’ve ever experienced and that there’s no experience like college, and I completely trust them and understand that it is probably a great experience because it’s basically big high school, but with more legal freedom. I also have no doubt in my mind that I’ll make a lot of connections and meet a lot of great people and learn a lot of things from college because you meet people from everywhere in college, however, being in college would definitely get in the way of me doing YouTube I feel.

and it’s not even that I really even want to do YouTube anymore (Or at least as much as i used to want to), I just want to be big enough to be able to meet these people without looking like some random fan girl… am I delusional? Is this too much? Could I just like their content like a normal human being?

#mia makes a statement #rant post

7 notes · View notes

pomegranates-and-blood · 2 years

Text

Vows (500 Celebration)

500 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Prompt: From the Quotes category: “To you even betrayal can sound like a vow.”

Word Count: 5083 (😬)

Warnings: My writing (I haven’t written anything worth posting for Ivar in ages, it is worth warning that this is probably very OOC or just plain bad). The usual warnings associated with Ivar. Abduction/forced marriage topics. Angst disguised as fluff. Lying, I guess, if that counts as a warning. Greek/Byzantine Reader. My inability to keep the plot and characterizations of Nostalgia from bleeding into the rest of my work. By extension, Hades/Persephone themes.

A/N: So, one of the AUs that I have always wanted to write for Nostalgia was Praxidice (you can find the reason behind the name and a snippet in the AU’s masterlist right here), but I never quite got into writing it as a fully-fledged series, and I’ve always had these scattered thoughts about scenes in this AU. I have recently come to the realization that I can actually just write and post what I want lol, so I’ll be writing those scenes as drabbles, and yeah, here I am.

You obviously don’t need to read the monstrosity that is Nostalgia (over 230k words and counting ffs), this just happens to have the Reader character from that series and some plot elements, but it deviates pretty early on (Ch8), so you won’t miss anything.

Sorry, this is entirely too long, both this author’s note and this piece, and I took entirely too long to post something new. I’m working on that, but it takes time, I’m rusty.

Anyhow, I had a lot of fun writing this, and I like this AU so much (not at all because Ivar being lied to about being loved is a thing I am apparently obsessed with, what do you mean?). And also, the weird ass way this dude acted when he met Freydis in Kattegat lives rent free in my head, because while it is almost endearing, it has the potential of being terrifying if you know who he is/what he is capable of; and I tried working a bit of that into the beginning of this piece, hope it isn’t too bad.

Sorry for the ramble!

You walk inside, and try not flinching at the sound of the doors closing behind you as the guards escorting you leave you alone with Ivar. You haven’t been here before, this spacious place of dimly lit fires and candles, this room of wood and furs bereft of anything to speak of life.

It feels cold to you. Everything in this kingdom does, even the people, but this room feels the coldest to you. And you gather it is because your very heart shudders in its slow beats when you realize where this room leads, when you understand why the guards that follow you like dogs since Ivar brought you to his kingdom in chains stopped at the door.

They led you -he ordered them to lead you- to his room. Past the arch you can almost see up ahead you imagine you’ll enter the section where his bed is, and dread churns at your stomach.

Dread and something else, something that poisons you all the more, something that hurts all the more. Because when you first met him, when you refused to give him your name or acknowledge his in some old hut in a besieged Saxon city but still met with him day after day, you thought -foolishly, childishly, helplessly- that you could trust him; and now betrayal lodges itself in your chest, right next to your heart, and it sends pangs of pain each time fear of this new place and dread of its mad king make your heart quicken its beat.

But none of that matters now, the past does not matter any longer. And neither does the future, neither does what your worst thoughts warn you is to happen past that damn arch in that damn bed. Because try as you might to pretend otherwise, you do not have a choice.

You do not have a choice but to be here, and so you are. You do not have a choice but to step forward to meet Kattegat’s King, and so, after a deep breath, you do.

He smiles at you when you walk to him, when you make yourself seen. Strange, really, since you both know he heard you walk in, and heard the silence that came after as you battled dread by the closed door.

But still he smiles. A rushed, somewhat insincere smile. But not insincere in its coldness, or its cruelty, no. Insincere because it trembles on his lips as he stands taller to greet you, because even as he smiles his eyes give away something boyish, something like nervousness.

For some reason it unsettles you all the more, and you can do nothing but stare back, saying nothing, giving nothing. It is unnerving, to find humanity in him, to find it bared so foolishly, so carelessly, so helplessly; when you find it so much easier to think he lacks such humanity, such vulnerability, in the first place.

Ivar clears his throat, and motions with the hand not on the crutch for the table where food awaits you.

You do not move. You know an order when you see one, and you know it takes a very special kind of stupid to ignore Ivar the Boneless’ commands, but still you do not move.

“I have been thinking of what I’ll tell the people about you.” He starts simply, as if this is but another conversation you shared on that city that smelled of despair.

“You dragged me to your home in chains. I’d gather they can put together the rest if they are too curious about what brought me here.”

“They are curious about you. You are-…”

“Just another prisoner.”

You know it irks him when you remind him of what he made of you, and you have a feeling it is because he knows it makes him your jailor.

There’s a refreshing harshness in his eyes when he meets your gaze now, a clear tell of gritted teeth when he clarifies, “A foreigner.”

It is enough for you to have forced him to once again on this pointless battle even if for a moment, to have reminded him of what he has done even if he wants to pretend it never happened to try and escape the consequences of it; and so you only shrug.

Your eyes remain on him, though, studying him. You linger on the way he stands tall by that table set with elaborate foods, shoulders squared and pride coiling on his spine, and wonder if he is hoping you are impressed by this display; you linger on the way he grasps with his free hand at the iron encasing his right leg to approach the table, and wonder why when you have seen him walk without needing to before.

You linger on the way he is acting so unnaturally mellowed, attempting such artificial charm, and wonder, not for the first time, if you have actually managed to understand the reason why he insists on arguing he never made you a slave, a prisoner. You wonder if he is attempting some sort of normalcy in your meeting, if he is expecting you to play the part of a woman willingly spending her time with him.

You once were that, though, you once were willingly spending your time with him, allowing yourself to foolishly trust him, but he couldn’t handle the possibility of not being in control of it all, the possibility that one day you may choose not to spend your evenings with him any longer; so he took your choice from you.

And now he seems to expect nothing to change, he seems to want to return to what was before, now certain he holds control tightly in the same hand with which he holds invisible chains still set on you.

As if he could hear your thoughts, as if he could sense realization dawning on you, he confirms your suspicion by gesturing with his free hand once he sits by that table and prompting,

“Have dinner with me.”

“I thought-…your people dine in the great hall.”

“Not tonight. Not us, anyways.”

You move limbs of lead to sit on that chair, eyes still on him, trailing over his features, lingering on the movements of his hand when he pours you a drink. At the tip of your tongue are demands of honesty about what he wants out of you, about why he chose to take you here against your will instead of asking, about anything other than this strange domesticity, but he speaks before you have a chance to.

“Just a man and a woman sharing a meal, nothing more, hm?” Ivar presses, gesturing to the plate in front of you again, ordering you to eat. To play along.

You bite back words about how once you might have been just a man and a woman to one another in that besieged city, and it was nothing more than a shared meal the many times you at by low fires with him and ate and talked until your eyes threatened to fall closed; but now…now it cannot be, not anymore, not since he captured you like who does an exotic beast and brought you to his cold home.

But that isn’t what he wants to hear, and while you never feared his rage, aware from the beginning of how easily prone to anger he was and yet never hesitating to push him; now, facing this brittle calm, this staining certainty, this eager unpredictability, you cannot rid yourself of something quite close to fear.

So instead of arguing, you agree to the unspoken rules, and you reach for a piece of cheese on the table, taking a bite and swallowing before you quip,

“A Greek Priestess and a Viking King, why would I dare think this is anything but ordinary?”

He smiles at that, a softer smile, almost crooked, but less performative than before, more honest, and your foolish heart does this strange little thing in your chest when you earn the same smile you did when you first met him.

“What would make this ordinary for you?”

“Stone walls, the warmth of the sun, speaking in my own tongue.” You list out, before taking a sip of mead, looking at him over the rim of your goblet, making note of the slight softening of his features as he notices you are playing along, keeping up with him even if only in this small interaction.

“Teach me your language, then,” He orders without hesitation, leaning forward, elbows on the table. At your answering look, he shrugs, a downward curve of his mouth in a gesture of indifference before he clarifies, “Stone is expensive, and I do not yet command the sun. We will speak in your tongue then.”

“Your people already suspect me a witch, Viking,” You remind him, letting slip the title you used on him before, when you pretended not to know who he was, when of you he knew your secrets but not your name. Steeling yourself against the foolish way you let down your guard, you forgot of what brought you here, you continue, a tad more reserved now, “If their King starts speaking in another tongue, they’ll see their suspicions proven right.”

“You care what they say about you?”

“Don’t you? Have you heard what they say about me?” You ask instead, eyebrows raised, almost a dare.

“Have you heard what they say about me?” He retorts, rueful smile curving at his lips, the same dare shining in his eyes.

You concede to his point with a reluctant smile of your own, taking another sip of the sweet drink.

“Yet you made of yourself something far greater than the things they may whisper you are,” Because your stomach churns at the mere idea of giving praise to the man that lied to you, that betrayed you, that chained you; you add, “Now you have even made yourself the captor of a Greek witch. They are sure to be impressed.”

“I didn’t bring you here because of them.” He argues, once again giving away something in that strange way of his, unwillingly yet almost confrontationally. And your eyes narrow as you cannot help but think, almost accusingly, almost pityingly, just how many things have you done because of them, because of what you want them to think of you?

“Why did you bring me here then?” You ask, a colder edge to your voice that you do not care about hiding. “You promised me my freedom, you said I would be free to go, yet you brought me to this town and left me alone for days, followed around by those brutes. I think you owe me the tr-…”

“You still think you are in a place to make demands, don’t you?” He interrupts, a mocking edge to his chuckle and an anger he doesn’t bother hiding rising his voice, giving an edge to his words. After a few moments of silence, he offers, irritated, as if you are the one in the wrong, “I promised you freedom and I do not break promises. You are a free woman, but I have to keep you here.”

“Why?” You ask, the question leaving your lips in a tired breath. “What difference is there between now and when you had iron chains to my wrists?”

“Because you now know I didn’t bring you here with the intention to make you a slave.”

This is madness. He is mad and this entire situation is sure to drive you mad as well soon. You force yourself to take a deep breath, and instead of butting heads with him for any longer, you instead ask,

“What then? A witch? A healer?” You press, because you will probably surprise the Gods themselves the day you learn to shut your mouth.

For a few breaths he stays silent, and you are reaching for the goblet again -not too bothered about drinking yourself numb if this madness intends to continue- when Ivar answers,

“A wife.”

Your chest tightens, as if an unseen smoke has clouded your lungs, and your breath quicken so sharply that you have to force yourself to control your breathing, force yourself to focus on nothing but regular breaths in and out.

Still, your eyes, widened at the realization of what Ivar wants to make out of you, stinging with the fear that has haunted you since you were a child, follow him,

“Wh-What are you talking about?”

“I will make you my wife.”

A nervous laugh that sounds manic and uneven to your own ears leaves your lips, heaves your chest.

Dragging your hands over your face, you mutter a quiet, “This is madness,” Before turning back to him and asking, almost pleading, “I don’t-…why do you-…why?”

“You have already been given to me, Priestess,” He tells bluntly you past the clear tell of gritted teeth, with an entitlement that surprises you even though it shouldn’t, considering how you got here. “I am not asking.”

“And I haven’t given an answer,” Because you haven’t done anything but demand, are the words you save, letting the half-truth serve as a reassurance even if you do not mean it. And leaning closer even if all you think of doing is running away, you press, “After everything, don’t you think you owe me the truth?”

“I was born cursed, you know.”

That was certainly not the explanation you were expecting.

“What?”

“I was born a cripple, and all…all my life I have been in pain. I can’t even walk properly; everything has been a…a damn struggle. With myself, with others,” A twitch of anger curls at his lip for a moment, furrows at his nose, and you wonder if the anger is at himself. He continues, “So I have always been so angry, so jealous of everyone around me. And I…don’t know how to be any other way,” It seems that only after a breath he realizes of what he has said, of how quiet his voice has become, and he looks away with a huff of what once would have been a bitter chuckle. You wish you were someone else, or he was, so you could tell him not to dismiss truths he gave away with a scoff, not to retreat back when faced with silence at the baring of a wound. But before you can be someone else, or he can, Ivar meets your gaze again, faint smile on his lips. The bitterness is still there, as is the resentfulness at Fate, as is the grief of something never had, and you understand that smile more than any other. Ivar continues, “Nothing has come easy in my life, and since I was a child I have asked the Gods why.”

And they never answered, did they?

You too asked the same thing, to different Gods or perhaps just uttering different names, but you too asked the same thing; and you cannot help the part of you that wants to offer truth, that wants to stretch out a hand and say something honest, something that when you were just a woman and he was just a man in some cabin in Wessex, you would have said.

But not now, because you remind yourself that he is, beyond anything after what he has done, your enemy, your captor. And you refuse to offer him anything truer than whatever it is he deluded himself into wanting out of you.

So instead you offer something less human than truth, and you whisper,

“I don’t have an answer, Ivar.”

But an answer wasn’t what he expected from you apparently, for he shakes his head with a small smile so reminiscent of the almost soft look he had before, when he was just a Viking and you just a Priestess, that it hurts at some foolish part of your heart.

“No,” He argues, more softly than you would have ever thought a man like him to be capable of, leaning forward, as close as he can get to you from where he sits. Pale blue eyes look into yours, and you’d think he is the one searching for answers and not you from the way he seems to seek something in your gaze. Quietly, he sentences, “You are the answer.”

The coldness of this land returns to you as if you had jumped -or were thrown- into freezing waters, and your breath catches in your throat as you lean back in your seat.

“You aren’t-…that doesn’t make any sense.”

If he hears you, he shows no sign of it.

“I was once told that the Gods mark us for pain, that some of us are…chosen to suffer, to be pushed to the ground, over and over again,” His head moves with his words, gaze deviating to the side before he leans forward, meeting your wide eyes again. “To test if we endure. And I did, I still do. I have done much more than any of my brothers, than any man my people know, ever did. I give Odin and Freyja warriors to take to their halls and wars to rejoice in,” You aren’t so sure anymore that it is only you he is attempting to convince that this isn’t madness. Regardless, he continues, “And I understand now, that when we become what the Gods expect of us, when we…endure, we are rewarded,” A small smile curves at his lips soft even if manic, “The Gods have sent you to me.”

“I don’t…I don’t follow your Gods, they…they have no power over me.”

“That does not matter. It was Fate that you and I met,” He explains without hesitation. “It is Fate that you remain at my side, however I choose to have you.”

All air leaves your lungs in a shuddering gasp that sounds like a death rattle to your own ears, the cold of this land seeping into your very bones and taking from you the last of the spring and life of your homeland you kept with you.

And the woman you know you are supposed to be is screaming that you demand to know why he thinks Gods you do not worship would send you to him, why he think his Norns are to rule over your Moirai and decide your Fate instead.

But the woman you are supposed to be is suffocated, extinguished, under the weight of all this madness, of the coldness of this place, of the death of your home.

And left behind in the wake of the life that will not be, that cannot be, all you hear are the echoes of the life that led you here.

Many years ago, the Seer spoke to me about you, you know, Sieghild told you one day, when you were still a child, still learning the ways of the world, still enjoying the freedom of belonging nowhere, to no one. A part of you wanted to tell her that you did not care about what her Gods had to say about you, but you couldn’t help the curiosity, and so you stayed silent, waiting. Unaware, you think now, of how her words, her prophecy, would haunt you for the rest of your life, he told me that I will return home with you; when the throne is empty, when the witch reigns, when the temple burns. It is Fate, little one.

You always argued with your mother that it wasn’t Fate what made such prophecies come true, but people’s blind belief in them, their resignment to their inescapabilty weaving those words into the threads of their Fate.

And realization dawns on you, crushing your chest with the pressure of it and forcing the words past your lips in a whisper,

“Sieghild is the one who told you my name, who I was.”

“She didn’t.” He argues, but it isn’t a denial of having met your mother, and that is enough of a confirmation, enough of a sentencing.

“But she did meet with you,” You state, not waiting for an argument, not sure what you will do if he chooses to lie now, unwilling to hear from him the truth. Still, your voice betrays you and you push, “My mother gave me away to you, not that Christian.”

“She said it was Fate that you were…left to me.”

Venom clogs your throat, an anger older than you can remember makes your hands tremble as you close them into fists on your lap, a hollowness you remember from when Sieghild first took you with her away from Greece returns to your chest at her abandonment; and for all that you are, all that you believe, you want to retort to his certainty, to her betrayal, to their certainty in Fate, with denial, with anger, with…with something alive.

But there is nothing alive left, not here, not in this kingdom of iron and coldness, not far from the Roads you once made your home; and even your Gods have no life to offer you now, with the Persephone not far from her descent now and her mother not far from her grief as winter approaches.

And there is nothing left to give life to the woman you ought to be.

Survive, until spring comes.

With your mother’s last words echoing in your mind, with her advice finding a home somewhere in the hollowness her abandonment left in your chest; you lift your gaze to meet Ivar’s pale eyes.

Sieghild would have never parted from you with such an order if she didn’t count on you to understand its meaning, she would have never left you alone without a plan to have you reunited with her.

You will only survive Kattegat for the winter if you have Ivar, you aren’t yet proud or blind enough to believe otherwise, and you know…you know you will only survive leaving Kattegat once spring comes if Ivar is blinded enough not to see your betrayal, your escape, coming.

“My mother often spoke of this, you know. Of you,” You tell him, reminding yourself that spring is merely half a year away to keep the waver from your voice. “I just didn’t understand at the time. She was told by your Seer that she would bring me here, I just…never believed her.”

This time it is him who draws back, though he catches himself before doing so completely, and remains hunched over the table you share, searching your gaze for a question he isn’t asking. You notice the way his shoulders are rising and falling slightly faster with his quicker breaths. His breathing give him away, it has since the beginning.

He wants to believe you. You know he does, and you’d venture to say he knows you are lying, just as he knows what he is pretending to be convinced of is madness. But he wants to believe, and you finally understand what you were once told about blind men and those who do not want to see.

In the short time you have known him, you have learned to think of him and think of an open wound, think of all the times you worked on healing an exposed nerve, a fresh wound, and with but a sweep of wind over the tender flesh, in more instinct than anything else, you earned anger and threats, and frantic hands pushing you away to keep themselves from the pain of such injury being revisited.

And that is what he is, at the end of it; at least to you. Exposed nerves giving way to anger at the slightest push, a beast snarling in a tongue you do not understand for you to keep away lest you bring pain, an open wound. But it is also something else, it is a shiver running down his spine at the slightest tender touch, it is restless hope in the hope the outstretched hand brings reprieve and not pain, it is…a weakness.

“So you’ll do it? You’ll marry me?” You swallow past the knot in your throat and nod your head, but Ivar is shaking his, “No. Say it.”

Strangely, it reminds you of the way he stood there, welcoming you to have dinner with him, the way he started a casual conversation while the marks of his chains still lingered on your wrists; for this feels like making you agree aloud to marrying him is but another way for him to fulfill the desire for something real while holding onto control.

Still, you smile and whisper, “Yes. I will marry you, Ivar.”

You wouldn’t notice it if you weren’t so close, if you weren’t looking for it, but you notice the way the tension coiling around his shoulders loosens, the way his expression, almost as if he cannot help it, softens at your words.

To you even betrayal can sound like a vow, you cannot help but think.

You let your hand creep closer, and intertwining your fingers with his would feel like a greater betrayal to yourself than this lie, so instead you let the tips of your fingers trace the back of his hand almost absently, almost as if the touch is mindless. Almost as if you don’t realize the way his breath hitches at the soft caress.

“It has always been my Fate, even when I ran from it, even when I ignored it, to come here, to…meet you, Ivar,” Your voice is quiet, and your smile is soft, you make sure of it, as you add, venom hidden in a jest, “I am not so certain my Fate is to marry you, but…”

“Marrying you would-...it will be...real, once we are married. I want to make you my wife,” It is the most honest truth he has given yet, and still you have a feeling you could draw on the sand the strategy of attack and defense of this conversation as easily as you drew those of the battle for Eleusis. You smile, pretending endearment, and nod your head, a quiet murmur of I know being the only answer you can give. His voice is low, almost hesitant as he offers, “You can ask me for anything you want.”

I want to belong nowhere, to no one, you want to tell him. But you can’t, you won’t.

Instead you do what is easier, even if some foolish part of your heart breaks at your choice, even if with each beat of what is left of it the shard betrayal left embedded in your chest makes the pain all the worse. You do what is easier, and you stand up.

“I want only one thing.”

Taking a step closer, you let one of your hands venture bravely to reach for him, settling somewhere on his shoulder, before lowering just enough to settle over his heart. It isn’t what you want, but it is what he wants you to want.

Pretending you don’t feel his eyes frantically searching yours, studying your face, trying to find certainty in the madness your closeness inspires, trying to find answers to questions he is too proud to ask; you move to settle yourself on his lap, knees on either side of his iron-encased legs, hand still resting proudly, perhaps possessively, over the center of his chest.

You meet the frantic blue of his eyes, and for all the times you found yourself foolishly lost in his gaze before it is easy to pretend now that you lose your breath and your mind to the moment your eyes meet.

But that is all there is: pretending. For you now know, as you were forced to learn when he put chains on your wrists and dragged you to his kingdom, that you cannot trust him, that you cannot lower your guard around him. That he is, despite what you once thought, your captor, a monster.

You would think you ought to feel as if you are watching closely at a predator’s movements, trying to predict the moment it will strike, but now you find yourself facing a beast quietened, meeting the gaze of a monster that out of all things was made to crave softness.

Telling yourself all that pushes you is the desire to survive, you kiss him.

He stills under your touch, so suddenly and so compulsorily that a pang of fear makes its way to your heart, but you do the only thing you can. You reach with trembling hands to hold him against you, one hand grasping at the cloth over his chest while the other reaches up to cup the side of his face to lure him into leaning into your kiss, to prompt him to give in.

It is tentative, clearly laced with inexperience, the way he first attempts to kiss you back, jittery movements as he moves his lips against yours, as he parts them to let you deepen the kiss.

Just shy of doing so, for just a moment, you pull back, to allow yourself this one small indulgence, and give yourself but a breath to admire him.

Ivar leans forward when you pull back, unwilling to part from your kiss, seemingly as bewitched by your touch as the people whisper he is, and the sight of his handsome face relaxed in the closest thing you have seen to the openness that comes with trust sends a pang of something through you, a heat that makes your heart stutter, a pain that stings at a part of you already dead.

You let yourself linger there, in that shared breath, brows almost pressed together, and allow yourself an honest smile, however small, when his eyes finally flutter open to look at you.

Quietly, you prompt, “Kiss me?”

And he does. Without hesitation, without doubting either you or himself.

It’s hunger, hunger laced with something else, something like hesitance. It’s uncertain movements of his lips against yours as he tentatively returns your kiss, yet strong hands fiercely, almost forcefully, holding you against him.

It’s a man that promised you anything you wanted when you lied about being certain you were sent to him by the Gods, and yet a man that chose to betray and chain you before giving you a chance to refuse him.

And that leaves you no chance to be the woman that would have said yes to following him to this kingdom of death if he had only asked, and yet the woman that will leave him when spring comes, and take his heart with her.

Thank you for reading! I hope this was alright! I’m sorry if it was too confusing for people that haven’t read Nostalgia, or too boring for people who have. I tried my best to balance the two.

And yeah, the “Kiss me?” from her was 100% me feeling nostalgia for Nostalgia and wanting to put a little flip on the scene of their first kiss. Couldn’t help it.

Tbh, I wanna write more for this AU, but idk how to go about posting it, so I’d love to hear your thoughts to decide how to go forward. Idk if I should keep Nostalgia and all its AUs separate from this 500 thingies, or if it’s alright to mix them with prompts and post the Praxidice drabbles as a part of this. I just don’t want it to be confusing, or post something in a general masterlist that isn’t clear or fun to read for people that aren’t familiar with Nostalgia, y’know? Would love to know your thoughts, cause I don’t really know what to do here. Thank you!

500 taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld @stupiddarkkside @northumbria @sagyunaro @aprilivar

Ivar taglist: @yourwonkywriter

#ivar x reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar #500 fucking hell thank you ily

61 notes · View notes

arcaneworms · 1 year

Note

I'd love to hear about your OCs if you wanna share :D

Of course! I have a lot, and from multiple different stories and I look forward to sharing them all eventually. I realize now it would be a good idea to add little lore paragraphs in those posts to avoid everything being convoluted.

Sadly I don’t really have much recent art of any OC’s — that isn’t messily made or a shitpost, at least, and I never really intend to share those things. 😆 But I think I can send one that I’ve already shared before a while back, my firbolg Jenny.

Jenny was made for a DnD campaign a friend of mine brought up that never came to fruition. I don’t have much of a story for him, except little tidbits of information I think are neat and that I want to expand upon one day. I wanted him to be different from how firbolgs are usually perceived in DnD. I like the idea of them being connected to and acting as the guardians of nature, (think Caduceus and his family for example, honoring the dead and protecting their little grove), but I thought a darker version of that could be interesting.

I basically thought, what if I just made a *really* unnerving guy? A guardian — or a *witch* of the forest, who acted for the sake of preserving natural order but very clearly had something wrong with him. I thought that could be really intriguing and honestly funny. A looming 8 foot tall creature who had trouble talking to people without sounding ominous as shit, with an empty void of a resting face, looking like a scraggly homeless witch and having a creepy, raspy sounding voice. But despite his appearance he really does mean well. The fact that he’s a cleric is one of my favorite parts about him, because despite seeming so sinister his purpose is meant to heal.

That’s how Jenny started, at least, but I have to admit I’ve started to lean less into the more comical side of him and more into the scary side. I think if I manage to use him in a campaign someday I’ll be able to balance the creepy/comical factor.

With that backstory aside though, here’s a couple recent doodles of him. Thanks for asking me about my characters!

One more note. I usually pair him up with another character of mine, Asphodel because I just think their dynamic is a fun thought to entertain. Homeless witch and shithead gremlin kid for the win

#arcaneworms OCs

15 notes · View notes

topguncortez · 1 year

Note

I absolutely love how that persons fiancé proposed!!

Going waaaaaay off topic sorry, I just feel comfortable saying this here.

My boyfriend is the best when it comes to consent and with me being comfortable and legit takes pride in my pleasure. My ex was the worst he literally just did whatever he wanted to me i tried to tell him no so many times but he always got violent and just did it anyways. I didn’t realise how wrong it was until I got with my partner (B), it gave me whiplash from how different he was from my ex, if I say no to B he doesn’t get mad or threaten me, I’m not comfortable with being spanked so he doesn’t do it, up until recently I was never comfortable with doing doggy position because my ex would always be rough and I’d always bleed afterwards - B never complained and when I brought it up that I want to do it he was shaking his head but realised I was serious and he kept asking the whole time if I was sure if I wasn’t it was okay. After I legit burst out crying which set him into panic I wasn’t crying because it hurt (it felt amazing) it just made me cry when it hit me that I spent 5 years with my ex being abused and used, and now I’m with an amazing guy who doesn’t put me in uncomfortable situations or make me feel uncomfortable and guilty.

Honestly consent is so fucking hot!!!

i didn’t realize actually until my first partner POST divorce that even though you are with someone, you still have the right to say no to them. and that like blew my fucking mind. i was with my ex husband for five years (dated for three, married for two) and i just always felt like i had to have sex when he wanted. if he was horny and started to cop a feel, i would let him, even when i didn’t really want to. i was just like “he’s my husband! it’s what he wants, so i’ll give!” but how very fucked up that thinking is.

a good partner is always going to listen to you, no matter how many days, months, years, you’ve been with them. you can say no to certain positions or acts and you do not need to give them a single explanation as to why.

i am glad that you found someone who respects you and your body like that. consent is fucking sexy. asking if you can fuck me?? hot. asking if you can touch me?? hot.

MAKE CONSENT APART OF FOREPLAY

#g mail #sex talk with g

12 notes · View notes

coloradanum · 1 year

Text

oh yeah pets post

figured it was time i introduce all the beasts i share my home with

moose- jack russel/fox terrier mix, 2 y/o

my best friend my pal my homeboy my rotten soldier my sweet cheese my good time boy. biggest fucking bastard ever. rescued. likes to yell and snuggle. i love this thing like nothing else and he makes my life so so difficult. moose’s own personal tag is #The Beast

tinyboy- crested gecko, 7ish? y/o

oooobh hes so aaaangry. i never gave him an actual name so i call him tinyboy. whoops. my first (and currently only) personal reptile. i love him and i love cresties. he has a bioactive viv that i built in summer 2019 and am really proud of.

olive & ginger- mongolian gerbils

i got these boys in april ‘23 a few months after the last of my original gerbils passed away (because i realized i couldn’t live without gerbils), and they’re settling in very well. DID YOU KNOW: baby gerbils have the ability to teleport short distances

now it’s time for the bugs BABYYYY

thistle- g. pulchripes (chaco golden knee) sling

my first ever tarantula!! they’ve grown an absolute ton in the year i’ve had them and i can’t wait to see them grow more.

pizza- brachypelma boehmei juvenile

enjoyable creature who lives in a hole. one of my dream species and i was really lucky to snag them at an expo last winter! they’re always out on display and are really fun to watch.

jean jacket- c. cyaneopubescens (gbb) sling

great eater who’s just starting to show adult colors! they make really cool webs.

mojave- t. albopilosus (curlyhair) sling

got them for free at an expo as a tiny little thing and they’ve put on an impressive amount of growth!

h. formosus (pumpkin patch) sling

look at this tiny motherfucker. look at it.

disco- amblypygid (phrynus sp?)

for an animal that hardly moves for periods of days/weeks, disco absolutely rules. they’re eating well and growing steadily.

cubaris sp. “panda king” colony

no pics as i never see them out. i got ~4 for free at an expo in august and just recently saw babies! they’re so cute and i hope i can expand my colony more

porcellio laevis “dairy cow” colony

similar situation, got 4 for free with an online order, which included one gravid female! i have many, many babies now and they’re in one of my favorite setups.

deceased/former pets

i used to keep honeybees and would love to again in the future but would rather promote habitats and education about native pollinator species. that said bees are extremely fun and harvesting honey you and a few hundred thousand bees created is like nothing else

i’ve kept bettas and aquatic snails and REALLY want a big freshwater tank when my housing situation is more stable, but unfortunately aquatics isn’t accessible to me at the moment.

gerbils (first group, 2019-2023): link, ganon, zelda and mipha were my first gerbils and i loved them dearly. link and ganon were both born with deformities- a missing eye and a bad leg- and ganon only passed away recently. they were such a wonderful introduction into rodent keeping and i’ll always remember them for the joy they brought me during some really rough times.

juniper: juniper the syrian hamster was a rescue i adopted in december 2022 and who passed in september 2023. she was an amazing little animal who changed completely from a shy and anxious ghost hamster into a bold and sweet lady who would come out for treats and walk around on my shoulders. she made me fall in love with hamsters and i wish i’d gotten more time with her.

nyx: nyx was a ghost mantis (phyllocrania paradoxa) who lived for just over a year and who completely kicked ass. she was so cool and i really want to keep more mantids in the future.

animals at work

i work at a nature center where we have three ambassador animals: a bullsnake, a tiger salamander, and (our newest addition) a fire belly newt. you might see me post about them as my work season starts to pick up pace. not my personal pets but i help care for them and do educational programming with them.

#my pets #for pinned #inverts #The Beast

12 notes · View notes

why-am-i-here-someone-save-me · 1 year

Text

I posted 932 times in 2022

That's 932 more posts than 2021!

487 posts created (52%)

445 posts reblogged (48%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@why-am-i-here-someone-save-me

@writing-genshin-obsession

@chocoenvy

@childemoment

I tagged 566 of my posts in 2022

Only 39% of my posts had no tags

#luci answers - 318 posts

#anon ask - 207 posts

#luci writes - 133 posts

#genshin impact - 116 posts

#genshin x reader - 90 posts

#moots - 74 posts

#mutuals - 67 posts

#genshin sagau - 62 posts

#luci’s assorted shenanigans - 57 posts

#luci shares - 56 posts

Longest Tag: 66 characters

#we basically stole zhongli’s character story for the sake of angst

I sent 2 gifts in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

Then Came The Dawn Pt 1

For a brief moment the chill of the water felt pleasant, salve against the heat of your wounds. It took not even a full second for the pain to come as your body registered the saltiness of the water that was against your injuries. It burned, burned at your very soul.

The surface began to slip further and further away, as your body instinctively struggled against the ropes binding you, desperate to survive. Yet despite the panic of your movements, your thoughts were drastically different.

It was… quiet.

You no longer had the strength to fight anymore. You were ready for your death at this point. You welcomed it. After so long running and struggling to make it just one more day, you were at the end of it all.

It was peaceful.

It was liberating.

‘Perhaps when I close my eyes, I’ll be home again.’

Your lungs screamed for air, your limbs felt like they weighed as heavy as stone. The edges of your vision began to darken as you sank deeper and deeper, the sunlight of the surface looking so close, yet being so out of reach. The black overtook your view, but not before a faint blue glow lit your fading view.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘Do not fear Your Grace. I am here.’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You awoke with a gasp, eyes snapping open and trying to gulp down precious oxygen as if it were going to disappear. Coughs wracked your body as seawater was forced from your lungs, the salt burning and searing as you sputtered. Finally you manage to breathe, the sweet sweet oxygen you’d been so desperate for cooling the salt induced burning of your throat.

‘That’s it, I’m never taking air for granted again. Thank you plants for your dutiful provisions of oxygen.’

Finally you managed to slow your racing heart, opting to take in your surroundings. You were in a bedroom, having been placed on the room’s well, bed. You internally cringe as you realize that you’ve gotten the furniture wet with all of you whole ‘trying to not drown’ stuff. Honestly after months on the run, being in a building was already strange, but being on a bed? That was a luxury you’d long since gotten used to not having. There tends to be a lack of furniture out in the wilderness. You continue to observe your surroundings. The room was a deep navy blue in color, sapphires adorning a silver chandelier that lent the room a soft light. All in all, it was exsquisite, and far too refined to line up with anything remotely akin to your recent standards. You noticed a window and stumbled your way towards it, glad to no longer be bound, even if you’d developed a bad case of rope burn. Your eyes widened in shock at the sight of the outside.

Water.

No, not just water, the ocean. The ocean floor.

You were under the sea.

There was a wall of water a few yards from the window, as if the building you currently were in was shielded from the ocean encroaching any further by an invisible dome. One thing was abundantly clear, whatever had happened after you had lost consciousness, something had saved you, and brought you to this place. Yet who? You would have seen if someone had dived into the water after you, and there had been no one other than you. As you watched a small crab experimentally touch the wall of water before darting through it into the sea, you pondered what could have occurred.

“I am relived to see you awake Your Grace.”

You whirled around, eyes wide and muscles tensed, having learned from the months you’d been hunted to except to be slain at any moment. The figure was unfamiliar, something that stunned you, but their gentle smile was conforming, and you found the tension in your body lessening.

“You need not fear me. I would never wish to harm you, my Guide.”

The stranger was a male, and a tall one at that, with long blue hair that cascaded behind him like a waterfall. A blue teardrop shaped gem was below his neck, which combined with the sight of several small horns that were atop his head, made it clear that whoever he was, he was not a human. It would have been funny if you weren’t so jaded nowadays, that you feared this man less than you would fear a normal human being. Your eyes dart around awkwardly, as you began to realize you’d no idea how to truly hold a conversation anymore. Sure communication had never been a priority to you, but that skill set had quickly been cast aside in favor of survival skills once people made it clear they wanted you dead. You cough a bit awkwardly, unsure how to answer, but the man seems to understand your unspoken distress. His voice was deep, yet it was filled with a gentleness that made it far from intimidating.

See the full post

793 notes - Posted July 18, 2022

Then Came The Dawn Pt. 3

Ever since the execution of the ‘imposter’ Ajax had not used his Vision. When he fought, he did so using only his Delusion. If asked why, he would have given a rather blunt answer. “If Celestia cannot be bother to intervene on behalf of the Creator; I want nothing to do with them or their gaze. I’ve no desire for a gift from gods who stand by while something so catastrophic occurrs. They can have their Vision back for all I care.”

The Fatui were a rather efficient force. However, there were some things that even they struggled to carry through. Which is why four whole weeks after Tartaglia sent out his subordinates to search Guyun Stone Forest; they finally had returned with news. The harbinger had wasted no time, setting out for the cluster of islets immediately.

Upon drawing near to them, the Sigil of Protection began to respond, a sort of invisible tugging urging him forward. He reached what seemed to be a plain and featureless wall of rock, but suddenly the talisman flew from his hand, floating in front of the wall, glowing brighter and brighter.

Childe’s eyes widened slightly as the wall seemed to melt into thin air, revealing a passageway behind it. Shaking off his surprise, he grabbed the now dull sigil and entered.

If his instincts were correct; Osial would know what happened to the so called “imposter”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were a bit surprised at how much of a conversationalist the overlord was, but the surprise was soon to give way to appreciation. He was happy to talk about anything and everything with you, from the mundane affairs of your life before waking up in Teyvat, to your slime companions you’d made on the run. You miss them dearly. In return he told you of times before the archon war, lore you’d never heard before coming straight from something who witnessed it transpire.

While on your journey of trying not to get murdered, you’d grown to not talk very much. In fact, it was your capture that brought the first words out of you in months; resigned words of disappointment aimed at the characters you’d once loved. You hadn’t been merciful with them, each statement had been crafted to cut deeply; each one aimed directly at their most sensitive areas.

“Guizhong would be disappointed.”

“So much for your ‘new age’ Kequing.”

“And here you claim to be a pacifist. Lying doesn’t make you look good Ganyu.”

“Judging someone for their appearance is rather hypocritical of you Xinyan.”

“I see your concept of chivalry is as fake as your pen name Xingqiu.”

“All the mora in the world won’t make you a better person Ningguang.”

“Did the other Yaksha murder people too, or is that just your personal habit Alatus?”

“You should get those red strings looked at Shenhe: they don’t seem to be working.”

“Last time I checked, a person who truly pursued justice wouldn’t go along with a witch hunt Yanfei.”

All of Liyue had been there, and you’d made sure to hit each and every one of the vision holders with your blades of harsh words.

Your words had been cruel, and you knew it. Occasionally you regretted them, but then the memory of what you’d gone through, of what they put you through, would come to the front of your mind and the guilt would wither and die on the spot.

Regardless, it was rare for you to speak after what you went for, and you appreciated Osial filling the silence.

While on the run you had loved silence. Silence meant peace: silence meant a moment of respite.

Now though, now that you no longer had the shadow of death lingering over you at every moment, the silence gave your mind ample time to reflect on your woes.

But Osial seemed to understand, as he gladly kept you company, and his companionship kept the demons in your mind at bay. It was only in his presence that you felt safe enough that you could fall asleep, and he would remain with you while you rested, there for you should the trauma of the hunt torment you with nightmares. Osial was always nearby when you awoke.

Which is why your heart was currently pounding loudly. You’d woken up, but he wasn’t here with you. You begin to frantically search for the overlord, only to freeze when you hear Osial seemingly speaking to someone. You know you should confront the situation head on, but you couldn’t work up the courage to do it. Interacting with someone aside from Osial isn’t something you think your ready for yet, and so you opt to stay hidden in the shadows.

See the full post

861 notes - Posted July 26, 2022

Imperfections

aka Luci is a Rubedo enthusiast and is making it your problem. You’re welcome. :)

Mistake. Failure. Accident.

He knew these words well. They had come to define him in her eyes. Her eyes that watched intently as he followed instruction, catching every slip up, every misstep. He longed for her eyes to look at him with anything, anything, other than dissatisfaction, but no matter how hard he strove, they never did.

Discardable. Replaceable. Disposable.

Three words that she had thought of him. He was not valuable to her, he was merely a project. One which she began to see less and less reason to keep around. A project that she grew closer and closer to casting aside with every mistake he made.

Abandoned. Forsaken. Alone.

Her betrayal had branded the words upon his nonexistent heart like a hot iron. What did he do to be deserted like this? He tried his best, he gave his all in everything she had him do. So why did she leave him by himself in this dark place? It wasn’t fair, he didn’t want to be alone!

Dark. Cold. Isolated.

He hadn’t noticed in the beginning. He wasn’t aware of the corrosive energies that surrounded him, that ate away at his defenses. He paid no mind when the darkness that surrounded him sunk its teeth into him. He took no notice of how the corrupting fangs tainting his essence, causing the same darkness that surrounded him to grow and fester within him. It didn’t occur to him that his own mind had been stained black with hatred and resentment, nor that his very thoughts had shifted from despairing to spiteful.

Ice. Fury. Jealousy.

No words could properly convey his disbelief when he learned the truth. His face, his voice, his eyes, but not him. Not him. Why did this replacement receive such blessings? Was he not the first?! Even if she did not favor him, he was the first: he was the original! It should be him! He should be the one standing there! Not some copy!

Albedo.

His name. That was his name. How dare this substitute use his name! How dare this replacement use his name, his face, his identity as though it was theirs!

Observing. Learning. Plotting.

He won’t stand for this. He won’t stand and watch this copy have what should be his. He will not be forgotten. He was the first! He was the original! He won’t let himself be replaced!

See the full post

878 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

Hear me out (I feel like this has probably been done before but whatever)

SAGAU but it's actually SASAGAU because you/reader/player knows.

You know that they know.

They don't know that you know that they know.

So when you put characters that don't like each other on the same team or start ranting about how amazing some character/nation is while playing a character that hates them/doesn't live there, etc, little do they know that it's not a coincidence and you're just being a little shit-

(Bonus if you do this with everyone. Mondstadters all think Liyue is your favorite, Liyueans hear you talking about how beautiful and exotic Inazuma is, and Inazumans hear you recall fondly how cozy Mondstadt is. You're like a parent that doesn't want their kids to get a big head so you talk up all their siblings in front of them and only talk good about them when they're not around. In reality you love them all because how could you not? But you're also a chaotic gremlin so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

- ♧

…♣️Anon your sheer brilliance astounds me. I actually like SUPER like this. I might decide to continue this idea in the future, though it’ll probably be with [Name] being in Teyvat being smug (Yes, yes I am on the sassy [Name] agenda; fite me)

Was it petty? Yes.

Was it amusing? Oh most definitely.

It wasn’t that you were mean or anything, you just couldn’t help it! They made it so easy! You hardly had to try! Though you admit, there were times when you nearly slipped up and showed that you knew, but for the most part, you acted completely oblivious.

Hm? They were self-aware? Well, duh, obviously. They aren’t exactly slick. Seriously, how would you not notice them doing things that were clearly too complex to have been coded behavior? Plus, it was rather fun to tease them all. And seeing them get jealous about you spending your attention on certain characters; now that was hilarious.

One of your favorite things to do to see their reactions was to replay hangout events, most of the time with some of the characters that were closely related to who you were hanging out with.

Hm? Oh sorry Ayaka, sorry Ayato, you were just busy spending some time with Thoma!

Oops, sorry Diluc, sorry Venti, your busy bonding with Diona!

Maybe sometime later Zhongli, you promised to visit Chongyun today!

It’ll have to be next time Ei, you already agreed to meet up with Sayu for some rest!

No matter how smooth they thought they were, you saw the little pouts they’d rush to hide. Honestly they were just too adorable.

Out exploring Mondstandt with the Knights? Hey Jean, hey Keaya, Lisa, Amber, have you ever mentioned how gorgeous Liyue is?

Making the Liyue workaholics take a break? Time for Xiao, Kequing, and Ganyu to hear you gush about how exciting it is in Inazuma!

Spending time with some Inazuma natives? Ei have you ever heard how amazing and fun Mondstandt is?

Okay well, not everything you did was just for the jokes. You did legitimately care about these people; they weren’t simply characters anymore after all. They had real feelings and thoughts, they had real trauma and grief. And while you might not be an expert, you certainly did your best to help them overcome their burdens, in your own chaotic way.

You knew that putting Diluc and Keaya in a team together was literally asking for trouble, but that didn’t stop you! You know they still care about one another, after all they kept each other’s big secret. The relationship was certainly strained, but all jokes aside, you really did want to see them learn to overcome the past heartache that tore their brotherhood apart. And well, if they needed a bit of a push, you’d be happy to provide that.

See the full post

883 notes - Posted July 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Okok- I have had this Sagau idea for some time now. What if the reader used to be a legendary cosplayer? Like everywhere anime-con they go people thought the character was real- not only that. But the reader is also a good VA? Bonus points if they are a prankster too.

Jean: alright, their grace is resting in the cathedral after the accident.

Kaeya walking out of the room: Jean, I must excuse myself. I have to go out for the expedition

-10 minutes later-

Barbara opening the door, panicking: Sister! Their grace is nowhere to be found!

Kaeya: Sorry for coming late to the meeting-

*Everyone looking at kaeya*

Kaeya: what's wrong?

Lisa: didn't you say you'll go out for the expedition?

Kaeya: no! Didn't Amber tell you about me being late before the meeting?

Eula:Amber? I saw her clearing hilicurls camp before the meeting!

Albedo: oh no....

(meanwhile the reader laughing their ass off as monstatd blew up)

It can be any character you want btw

Brooooo i absolutely LIVE for gremlin reader and this prompt is delivering the good shit- 👌👁👄👁

Also I can’t not do this okay. Like it’s so perfect to have [Name] pretend to be Rubedo in front of Albedo-

Misunderstandings

When you had been coming up with the idea for this little prank, it had been much funnier. Frankly you still found it hilarious, but judging from the sword that was being pointed towards you, that sentiment was obviously not a shared one.

“I can explain!”

“I have no intentions of listening to your attempts to deceive me.”

Okay so maybe using your cosplay talents for the chaotic purpose of pretending to be Subject 2 was not one of your brightest ideas. But at least the look of shock on Albedo’s face had been arguably the best thing you’d seen since waking up in Teyvat.

‘Wait! Hold on! Priorities [Name]! First thing is first; trying to not get stabbed!’

“Okay then, what do you want me to do to prove to you that I’m not here to ‘replace’ you?”

“You’re past actions have already ruined any chances of diplomacy between us. Now why are you here? Intending to steal my research again?”

You hear footsteps rapidly approaching and a sigh of relief escapes you as the familiar blonde hair of the Traveler graces your vision. Your saviors had arrived! About time too. Paimon registers the sword pointed at your chest and quickly yells out in protest.

“W-Wait! Albedo don’t hurt them! That’s [Name]!”

The alchemist’s eyes narrow slightly as he looks at you a bit more closely. After what feels like an eternity, the sword disappears as he dismisses it. The traveler walks over to you and lightly flicks your forehead, unamused with your little stunt. Albedo meanwhile, is muttering something you don’t quite hear, though you are able to make out a few words, like ‘reckless’ and ‘unbelievable’ and- oh. Oh he’s muttering about you isn’t he.

See the full post

987 notes - Posted July 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

….fair nuff.

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

8 notes · View notes

shortguyswag · 2 years

Text

HLS 1: Island of Silence

[CLICK]

Zelda:

Statement of one Marin of Lurelin, concerning an island that was not there before. Statement found in a diary, dated June 16, about 32 years post calamity. Audio recording by Zelda Bosphoramus, Head– and only– Archivist at the Hyrule Library for the Supernatural.

Statement begins.

Statement:

I found a new island recently. Well, I say that, but that makes it seem like I went somewhere new and found an island. That's not what happened. I was out at my usual fishing spot, and I noticed something on the horizon that had never been there before. I don't mean that I hadn't noticed it before. I had been to that fishing spot probably thousands of times. If it had been there before, I would have seen it. But there it was, shimmering on the horizon, and I decided to see what it was, because I'm an idiot, apparently.

The seas were maybe a little rough, but I've seen worse.

The island didn't look too weird at first glance, if you ignored the giant egg on top of the mountain. There really wasn't much on it. A small forest, the mountain, the egg, that was about it. I was wondering around for a bit, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it was too quiet. I mean it was fine for about 5 minutes, but then it got really unnerving. I didn't hear any birds. I didn't hear any animals running around. I didn't even hear any insects. It was odd, and the longer it went on, the more anxious I got. The silence felt hostile somehow, like it wanted me dead. I told myself that was ridiculous, I was just anxious and paranoid because I was in an unfamiliar place, but I just couldn't shake the feeling. I hated the moment I realized I was too far away to hear the ocean.

Eventually I stumbled on a village. I almost cried in relief, because finally, I wasn't entirely alone. But the people weren't quite right. Most of them just stood there. A lot were completely silent until I talked to them, and when I did, they would only repeat what they told me.

I ran away from that place at top speed, let me tell you. And I happened upon the mountain. I looked up, and I could almost see the silence grow thicker, and I understood, almost instinctively, I think, that the silence was emanating from the egg, if that makes sense. And I had to know why. So I started climbing. I climbed as high as I could, just to see the egg, the see why it caused so much of that hateful quiet that bled into the very earth. I was probably a dozen yards below the egg when I fell. A rock crumbled beneath my foot, and I didn't hear it. I didn't even notice until I was falling, grasping at the rock to try and catch myself, but I couldn't. The fall took longer than it should have, and it hit me in those minutes that there would never be anyone around to save me. Certainly not now, and when it came down to it, not ever. I hit the ground hard, and I'm pretty sure I'm lucky to be alive. As it is, I probably won't ever be able to use my legs again.

After that nasty fall, I woke up in my bed. Apparently, 3 days had passed, and I had washed up on shore, so bruised you couldn't tell if my skin was tan or purple. Since then I've tried to avoid being alone. There's enough animals about, making lots of noise that I can handle it, not to mention the sea, but without people, it's a bit too close to that infinite and hostile silence I never want to face again.

Zelda:

Statement ends.

I'll be honest, when Link brought me this old diary, claiming it had something for, and I quote, "that spooky library of yours," I was… skeptical to say the least. But this does seem quite promising. It will be very difficult to confirm, as Miss Marin died years ago, according to Link, and there are very few details to confirm at all. Still, it seems plausible, and I can't dismiss it immediately, so I will assume it has some measure of truth.

The ease that Link found this entry with is interesting, and not entirely out of character. I may need to recruit him, his annoying habit of snooping may prove useful.

[CLICK]

#botw au #tma crossover #Yes this is based off of Koholint but I took a lot of liberties #I have approximately 0 plan for this so that'll be fun #Orion is writin #Hyrule library for the supernatural

9 notes · View notes

reginaphalange2403 · 23 days

Text

Announcement post‼️

Hi guys!👋. I’ve tired to sit down now for the past week and finish a fic I’ve been working on, but every time I sit down to do it, I never can. And it’s simply because I don’t want to. I only recently realized that I don’t really enjoy writing anymore, at least not in the way I used to, and not for the characters I used to. And it’s not something I want to do anymore. I am currently in nursing school, which takes up a large portion of my time and energy. The limited free time that I do have, I either spend at work or with my friends. It leaves little time to write for pleasure/leisure. Thank you to everyone that ever liked or commented on anything I wrote on here, it always meant a lot to me. This blog and my mutuals that I had on here brought me so much joy and comfort at times:). I’m not deleting this blog(or my fics!) nor am I going away forever. I’ll still be lurking👀 and I might pop on every now and then to say something or comment on something. I just won’t be very active anymore, and I am not writing fanfic anymore. Thanks everyone for understanding 🫶🫶

#❤️❤️#evie talks #evie shitposts #announcement

0 notes

straycatboogie · 9 months

Text

2023/07/17 English

BGM: New Order - Fine Time

Today I worked late. This morning I went to the food court at AEON, where I wrote today's poem with the music by Cluster and Eno. After that, I read Shuntaro Tanikawa's poems. I am so maniac that recently I read poems only like this day by day. Yesterday, I was said by the staff from "Hon no Kura" that "How about making YOUR collection of poetry by yourself?". I said at that time "Thank you, but I have just written a few poems only". So I think about that idea. If I can enrich my collection/archive more, then I will make my book of poetry. I also think about the collaboration with a friend of mine who is a YouTuber. Poetry reading, or affording my poetry to the melody he makes... I also think about giving my poems to another friend's painting (but I need her permission). My dream is increasing. I am so simple person that thinking creation like this will make me happy certainly. I remember Kiyoshi Miki, a Japanese philosopher. The ideas which are coming from my mind flood to the world, and they will make others happy (I believe so). That's happiness... I am glad to make my poetry today again.

I started today's work, and suddenly thought of the idea "Someday I'll die". Indeed, it's not today. But I had kept on drinking so heavily with having the idea that "I can die anytime" and "I wanna die soon", so I can feel that my body becomes wrong partially. Now I think that "I wanna live more". Living more, and writing what I have experienced. I want to live as long as possible, and more and more. I want to make my book of poetry collection, and also try to read my ones actually by myself. How about opening my voice on any podcast? If I got time, I would do what I could do. But then, I need to say to myself as "Live more" and "Stay firm". Indeed, once I had lived really lazily with the emotion of "I wanna die" and "That's over". But that day, that moment... since the time I was said that "Your English is really clear" and "Very cool", I walked a long way until here. At last, I started making my own poetry in English. Luck always rules us, but I want to sing my songs as loud as possible until this life's end, with burning my fire fully.

But... I am basically lucky because I could have lived until now. I have lived a really troublesome, chaotic life. From my childhood I have had to face the difficulty to live. I even had to be bullied. After that, I joined a university but I couldn't make any friend... and I also had to struggle with my work. Because since I had found that I am autistic, my bosses couldn't understand what the autism was (but I don't want to blame them because the concept of autism was unknown yet). I had to live those hurtful days. Everyday I drank a lot of alcohol, and thought that I would die at my 40 (like Franz Kafka). After that, I met my friends finally. That brought me the support of job coaches and also the meeting about autism. My life changed actually. I had lost my whole hope in future within the first 40 years of my life... but now I can live a happy life. That makes my life "even". I want to write these things into my poems. I once had been soaked into my wishes/daydreaming, and thought "But I can't do so" and "I have no skill of realizing that". If I were in my 20s and 30s, I would live without making any poems like now. I would live not to be hurt, just running away from actual troubles.

Then, I think that now I am really "brave" and "courageous". The reason why I started writing my poetry was just the emotion had moved me as "I wanna write MINE". In other words, anyone never asked me to do so. Now I am showing my crap to the world... Today I worked 8 hours so got exhausted. After my work, I posted the rewrote version of today's poem in my blog, and slept a lot (my vitality got empty). Life seems long so I don't want to be hurry. I want to read global poetry, and also learn from great hip hop. How about writing free verse and proses besides sonnets? My dream/ambition seems unlimited. I must be a dreamer. But I can't have make them realized by any actual solution. When I had made our little magazine, we couldn't keep a good relationship so broke up. I threw the writing of mine at that period away (I couldn't love my writings, and myself either). Now I have many friends. If I get time, I read my poetry again, and also try to record them. That might be the beginning.

Morning Reading

I always enjoy reading books with good music's flavor For me, reading is a kind of creation. It's not a labor If I didn't read at all, my engine would lose its vapor As getting older, I started enjoying great books' fine savor

A sunny morning, the mood is very, very awesome What music I play? I try to Brian Eno's songs to welcome I won't say pop tunes are just crap. I also like the WHAM! And during that reading time my mouth moves. I do hum

A happy cozy time, but the place gets crowded The day is just starting, I remember what Rilke said He enjoyed real street sound, instead of staying in the bed

Yes, Once I hated people. I thought their coming was an arart But my life is clearly changing. Like trendy songs in the hit chart Then my change like this could become a part of my art?

#diary #journal

0 notes

chronocidalrage · 1 year

Text

Creepy Woods and Connection Shit

What is it about creepy woods that makes me feel so much? The feeling of a place that should be scary but totally isn’t. The feeling of fear being defeated. The feeling of being someplace empty and scary with Atom and somehow feeling completely safe and not alone. To be where you should only feel scared and alone, and not feeling that way at all because of a person who’s there with you. Someone to be with you in the loneliest, darkest places you could ever be in. That’s love. So creepy woods makes me think of love.

And the idea of being someplace beautiful and feeling love seems harder and further away to me. It’s probably been a long time since I’ve felt that way. But loved in a scary place? That’s the last way I ever felt loved anyway. It’s been so long since a place wasn’t scary to me.

So that means I associate love with fear. When I think of fear I think of love and vice versa. If only feeling loved cures my fears, then in my mind, that means fear is the biggest threat to love. They’re linked.

I have a problem attaining and retaining people/things I love. But I think that’s imagined.

When I think of the things I want and the things I love, I immediately feel fear. Because I know they’re so connected.

I always feel both and I prefer the ones that come with the least fear.

I’m on the couch with Susie on the other reclining side and Ruby pressed up against me laying with her face on the reclining part.

What am I afraid of with people? That I’ll lose them before I get them or I’ll get attached and THEN I’ll lose them.

PYUN I commented this on a Facebook post for the director Albert Pyun since he’s apparently near the end of his life. So sad.

Albert, I very clearly remember my older brother showing me Cyborg when I was (way too) young. The opening shot of the bridge with the incredible narration, the door busting open to reveal a dirty, devastated city street, the shot of Fender and his gang approaching with the fire behind them - I’ll never forget the beginning of this movie. It will always be the first thing I think of when I imagine living in some sort of post-apocalyptic world. More than Road Warrior or the future war from Terminator, this familiar landscape turned terrifying is always what I picture it being like. The movie captured the despair of a world so dark, but carried a feeling of lawless freedom and how amazing love would be in a world that’s otherwise joyless. Maybe you didn’t intend any of that, but I always felt it!

Some years ago I was lucky enough to finally see Nemesis, which I had always enjoyed the ads for when I was young, but had somehow never seen it. I was immediately in love with the mood of the movie, the amazing broken down locations, the kinetic camera work, the larger than life characters, the impressive stunts, and your ability to take any location and make it (and the people in it) look cool and way more expensive than it probably really was. Nemesis is a mix of so many things I love, fueled by pure imagination.

I’ve read that you haven’t been able to finish some recent projects, but I hope you realize that you’ve already done great work that you should be proud of. I certainly would be if I had your filmography, if I had brought these movies into the world. People will love your movies for decades and beyond. Your movies will make people’s days and nights, they’ll show them to their friends and marvel at the characters and stories Albert Pyun dreamed up. People will love your movies forever, or at least until the future of Cyborg becomes a reality. And even then, if someone finds a copy of Nemesis in the rubble of the old world, it would become a treasure. An artifact from the time when giants like Albert Pyun walked the earth.

DENZEL Just desperately wants to be in Goodfellas or something and be part of that crew and it’s completely insane that that’s difficult. Denzel with De Niro and Scorsese? That would be fucking insane and I can’t believe it hasn’t happened.

DOORS Door closed means I’m not welcome. I believe I have to respect that. In recent years I’ve felt so many doors close in my face that I started closing my doors instead. Beating them to it. Peeled the bandaid off. When I have a problem with someone I worry about the door closing.

It wasn’t just that Atom drinking hurt me, it’s that him exhibiting the exact behavior I was against made me feel unwelcome. His behavior told me “you don’t belong here.”

I’m lonely. But I don’t wanna let anyone in and I don’t wanna ask if I’m welcome anywhere else.

CONNECTION I feel incomplete. I feel loved when I’m connected. When I’m in sync with someone else. That’s why Susie or anyone else not meeting me in the middle on even small, unimportant things really fucks me up. I don’t feel comfortable on my own. I feel broken, empty, incomplete.

THE 99 I had fun being goofy at the 99 with Susie. What a silly, basic chain restaurant. She suggested going out for once and I suggested the 99 and it was as funny as we expected. People were doing trivia.

I’m sad all the time because I’m always trying to not think about the fact I lost Atom. I’m literally always sad about it and I’ve been this way since about 2018 when I realized it was gonna happen. That’s when I knew.

I’m always trying to be the person who didn’t need Atom’s love rather than the person who earned it. I forget that I’m not strictly the “person who didn’t need it.”

I feel sad, broken, and alone. And I have since 2018 and I’ve been working myself insane to avoid feeling this way. To deny it. To pretend I’m fine. To try to be Bond, John McClane, Jack Slater. But I’m not, I’m devastated and I’m broken. And I can’t believe it. I was supposed to never feel this way again. Because I was supposed to have Atom.

Growing up I felt like I had almost everything I needed. I had Atom to be my friend and brother, I just needed a girl. A partner. I just needed to be a boyfriend or husband as well as a brother. Then I thought I had both and it blew up. I just wanted both.

Now I don’t have Atom and sometimes I don’t even fully feel like I have Susie (not her fault, mine). I just feel so broken. What would I say to Atom if I could?

I miss you so much. Some days I don’t see the point in going on with such a lonely path ahead of me. But that’s the worst thing I could do to you. Throw away everything you’ve given me. And I need to believe that I’m NOT broken.

What would I want you to do if I had died? I’d hope you still love me forever. I’d hope you’d miss me but I’d want you to move on and be happy and alive and keep me alive within you. To remember me and the times we had and treat people well and show everyone how amazing you are. To enjoy your life. To realize you didn’t need me but I was so glad you thought you did. At least for a while. I’d want you to move on and keep fighting and I would legitimately WANT you to make your life even better than it was because I wouldn’t want to hold you back. I’d want you to have a happy life, full of everything you ever wanted. As long as you still loved me and missed me, and wished I was still with you, that’s all I’d need. Otherwise I’d want you to move on and live the most amazing life, the beautiful life you deserved.

And if it was me who died, I certainly wouldn’t have blamed you. I just would’ve wished I got to say goodbye and I would be so heartbroken I wouldn’t get to see you again and I’d feel bad for leaving you. For leaving you on your own. There would be no anger. No bitterness. I’d just miss you. I’d just hope you were okay.

Alright. I’ll try. But I’m gonna stop pretending I’m okay.

PAIN I think I’ve been struggling because low self esteem is about avoiding pain. And I’ve been through so much pain over the last 5-6 years. Things I always believed were my best decisions, have also brought me so much pain. And I guess I don’t know how to handle that. Because I refuse to believe some of these decisions were mistakes.

But maybe that’s just the way it is. All the best things come with pain. It will always be a trade off. That’s not to say that some things won’t be easier than others. But no matter how easy, your greatest love will also be your greatest loss. Or you’ll be theirs.

I guess I just need to reframe my concept of pain. Because my hatred of it is what holds me back. My fear of pain.

What is the pain that I’m carrying around everyday? Let’s think through it.

I’M NOT WHAT I WANTED TO BE BY NOW. What specifically about that bothers me? That I feel like a failure and that I think everyone else can see it. But no one is aware of the full extent of my dreams but me. Other people don’t look at me and see me as a failure, they don’t think of me now in comparison to what I wanted to be. Only I do. And how miserable about that am I really? Eh. I guess I’m okay with it. I just hope I get to finally be comfortable in my body and make cool shit at some point. I’m not exactly upset that I haven’t done all that already, I’m just getting scared that I’ll never reach that point. I have control over that though. So remember those two things: you STILL CAN reach those goals if you want to, and NO ONE BUT YOU is looking at you and thinking you’re a failure.

I FAILED (AND LOST) ATOM. I didn’t fail him, although I realize I’ll probably always feel that way, he was my best friend and brother and we were supposed to look out for each other. But I DID look out for him, despite how much damage it did to me, our relationship, and my relationship with my friends and family. I fucking tried. I tried even though it was deeply painful. I tried to keep our relationship good while also trying to be a disruptor of his unhealthy lifestyle. An incredibly difficult balance. I tried to get other people to help me, and they failed that challenge, not me. Even if I DID fail Atom, I didn’t fail him as much as most other people in his life did. Also (and I apologize for this), I didn’t fail Atom as much as he failed himself. I’m sorry, I hate saying that but it’s true. And it’s a good point, because even though Atom failed to look out for himself, I know he did try and just didn’t have the proper tools. I don’t judge him for it, it doesn’t make me look down on him, it doesn’t make me think less of him or love him less. I just wish he had pulled through, pulled it off. Just like I wish I had. I guess it’s okay. There’s no true positive to a tragedy like this and it will always be a tragedy in my life and that makes sense. This is the hardest pain to work my way through but that’s by design. I love(d) Atom with all my heart and short of him deciding to fight for his future when it could’ve made a difference, there’s no way this was gonna have a happy ending. It’s just a tragedy. It is what it is and my pain makes sense.

NO FAMILY UNITS. This sucks, and the pain is completely reasonable, but I need to remember a few things: everyone failed me more than I failed them/myself. And that failure is a reflection on them, not me. I’ve always worked super hard to keep units together. Always. It’s not my fault if other people aren’t willing to invest as much as me. I want more, and I deserve more. I just need to find new units and I need to believe in them and believe I’m deserving of them. I deserve more and I can find more in this world. Stop blaming yourself for other people’s limits. And Scott and mom aren’t going anywhere. They don’t want to lose me either. Remember that.

I FEEL LIKE A FAILURE. Failure is fine, the problem is not learning from it. And just because you HAVE failed, that doesn’t mean you always WILL fail.

SO WHAT PAIN IS REAL? That you lost your best friend and brother. That will always be painful and it would be fucked up if it wasn’t. I’m allowed to be upset that things aren’t as I hoped they would be by now, but that’s not an indicator of my worth, and those things are still on the table. If I was truly miserable and unsatisfied with my life, I would’ve completely changed it by now, so obviously I technically like my life.

GREEN DAY THOUGHTS Green Day makes me want to live. I always forget that. I forget that they were kinda the first thing I found “on my own.” The first thing that was just for me. No one showed them to me, no one suggested them, no one I knew liked them, they just connected with me perfectly. Their sound, their look, the visuals of their videos, their vibe, the subject matter of their songs. There’s a part of who I am that connects with all that better than anything and I always forget that. They kinda bring me back to a time when I felt like a whole person on my own.

Still Breathing is a pretty cool song too. Definitely about deciding to live again, and I should remember it when I need it. Not sure if BJ meant it this way, but it’s a valid point that “I’m still breathing on my own.” I’m keeping myself alive. I am capable of sustaining my own life, no one else is making me breathe, I am doing that all by myself.

HEAVEN AND HELL Are metaphorical concepts from the dawn of time that humans have stupidly made literal. I’ve been in hell for years, and lately it’s been self-imposed hell. Suffering.

Your “sins” are whatever you did to end up in hell. Whatever you did that led to your suffering. Loving someone. Whatever.

Then you have to pay for your sins. Learn from them so you can get back to “heaven” (AS IN: a place of happiness with loved ones). If you don’t learn the right lesson, you get stuck. If you think the answer is to not love people, you’ll be stuck. I’d you think you’re still supposed to be learning that you’re a fuck up, you’re gonna stay there. Those are the lessons I’m stuck at.

I feel guilty. I feel bad about putting mom in this little space and I’ll feel bad either way. Either I force her to cram a kitchen in there or I force her to live without a kitchen.

And I’m worried that this will be like Atom’s hair. The flat out no. The impossible situation.

I’m wracked with guilt. Guilt that dad and Atom are dead and I get to keep living. That I may have a good life even without them. That I may be happy again. Guilt about moving mom and taking her house with Atom’s money. About being happy or doing well because of something getting worse for my family.

My actions have involved so much suffering that I don’t feel capable or deserving of happiness. It seems impossible to me. Even if I end up happy somehow, it’ll be at the expense of someone else and there goes my happiness. Guilt.

Food and movies are the only forms of joy I feel both capable and deserving of. Everything with any sort of resistance, I see as either beyond my reach or beyond my worth. That’s why I want an easy yes. I don’t wanna fight for something because that tells me I don’t deserve it.

Why do I always feel so guilty? Guilty as in responsible for pain. Either mine or someone else’s. I just always feel like I’m responsible for pain. Anywhere from annoyance to anguish, anywhere from myself to a stranger I talk to for 10 seconds. I just feel like I’m a dark cloud. Something just going around and spoiling things. Failing to do the right thing, easily succeeding in doing the wrong thing.

I think I haven’t been drawing because it feels weird to sit down and draw in a world without Atom. It feels wrong to be able to enjoy that when he can’t. Because I watched him do it and thought “I wanna do that.” He was my first hero. How can I draw when I lost my original inspiration to do it? Just seems fucked up. EDIT: It’s because I no longer see it as something that will get me connection and I’m having trouble finding a reason to do it for myself.

I’m glad I’m playing guitar and singing more though. This was always really therapeutic for me.

HAPPINESS I think the problem in simplest terms is that I don’t believe I’m deserving or capable of happiness. If I DO achieve happiness, it’s at the expense of someone else. If happiness is available and no one would be harmed in the process, I fail to attain it.

Had a long talk with Susie. She’s right. I need to stop carrying the responsibility for other people’s pain, they’re not carrying responsibility for mine, even when they should.

I think it really comes down to this: I finally stood up to people. Said no when they wanted me to say yes. Fought for what I thought was right no matter how hard, and not only did Atom still die, but my family and Dan never joined me in the fight and still haven’t even acknowledged that I WAS doing the right thing and was doing it alone without proper support.

It feeds into my belief that fighting for myself/what I think is right will always blow up in my face. That it’s not worth it. That advocating for myself or the greater good just isn’t a good idea. I really wish I had won that one.

But instead I should look at it like this: I had my Captain America moment. All odds were against me, I was on my own and I still got up, dusted myself off, and kept fighting. I should always remember that about myself: I kept fighting. I didn’t tell people what they wanted to hear afterwards, I didn’t go backwards, I stuck to my fight and that is brave. It’s not about winning, you won’t always win. It’s about fighting anyway.

THE VOID IS NORMAL Get comfortable with the void inside me. Because without Atom, it’ll always be there to some extent. Because he’s irreplaceable.

That’s the problem. I socialize to connect. To fill the void. And that’s tough. Instead, I should look at it like a normal person: “eat something, play some games, catch up and see how people are.”

HE FOUND SOMEONE I think Atom died happy. He did find love and he died with it in his life. We’d both been avoiding saying goodbye over the last few years because I think we both saw it coming. That last day we saw each other, we were both avoiding saying it. I think during that phone call, we were trying to make sure we said the bare minimum just in case. At least say the important things: that I was sorry, I was happy for him, I supported him and wanted to catch up. That he was happy, that he supported me doing what was right for me, that he wanted me to draw more because I was good. That we loved each other. In a lot of ways, it makes sense. It seems like we knew somehow.

YOUNG SUSIE Susie sent me this picture of her from a few years before we met. She’s drunk at her apartment in New Bedford with Dave and she’s so beautiful. She’s the living definition of love in a hopeless place, someone so beautiful and alive, surrounded by darkness. She’s like a True Romance character. Oh my god that’s how I see our relationship in a lot of ways. She’s Alabama and I’m Clarence. She’s the beautiful, strong, funny, determined girl who has survived so much and I’m the movie nerd who works at the comic book store and can’t believe she loves me and is willing to do anything to earn and protect that love. NOTE: Susie if you read this, I hope you see it as a compliment. I certainly mean it that way.

I think I saw True Romance and thought it was the most romantic thing I had ever seen, for whatever reason. That’s what I’ve always wanted I think. I think Susie may have been looking for Sandy and Kirsten from the OC (although she’s way better than Kirsten and I’m not quite to Sandy’s level yet but I’m working on it).

BEING BETTER Do what you would do if connection wasn’t an option and disconnection wasn’t a punishment. I should find a physical activity I enjoy like boxing or rock climbing.

Growing up, I got to skip getting used to being alone because of Atom. So I’m resistant to the feeling. I hate the temptation of being around people but I’m removed from the “gamble” if I’m alone.

I’m obsessed with connection. I look at everything in terms of it.

Take connection out and focus on your other goals.

The things I want to do are the things I most associate with feeling connected: eating and watching things. Those activities have always worked for me so I go to them.

That’s why I always want Susie to want the same thing as me: so we can connect. That’s why I’m less interested if only I want something. I need to share. Because I was terrified of the world and having Atom showed me how much better and less scary the world is when you’re truly connected. So I only wanted that. I never had to get used to that kind of soul death that prevents you from having that spark of life. I got to feel alive and large because I had support. Settling for less is really hard.

But Atom and I knew we were disconnecting. Me because I was moving forward and wasn’t willing to adjust my path, him because he was standing still and didn’t believe he was able to catch up to me. It’s not that he thought what I said was wrong. It’s that he didn’t think I understood how hard it was from his end. He agreed with me though. We were both reeling from what was happening and trying to make each other understand. We wished the other understood. That’s why we lost each other. What was happening to me was happening to both of us.

My definition of happiness is sharing it with someone else. I don’t really know how to be happy on my own.

THAT’S when I felt most loved by mom: at dinner. She showed me love with food and paid attention to me and listened to stories about my day and I got to share the experience with Atom. When I couldn’t get that “full family” connection I ate and watched TV instead of sitting at the table.

I think I hated being alone. I was fine with keeping myself company but I didn’t like being alone in general. So when I WAS alone I focused on doing things I could ONLY do alone: masturbating, eating junk food. I always wanted to be connected. I hated getting my own room and no longer sharing with Atom. Then I started having nightmares and always wanted to sleep with mom and dad. My cat Flash was an attempt to make me feel less alone. I hated being alone. And I guess I still do.

And connection is like anything else: you have to realize you can’t have it all the time. You have to realize it’s supposed to be a bonus. Not a requirement of life. I mean, you need it, but it’s not like air. You don’t need it every second or you’ll die. You need it like you need food. You need enough to sustain your life but if you overdo it, you run into problems. A treat here and there is fine but excess causes problems. It’s different when you have a family because the whole family needs to connect in order to sustain that lifestyle. It’s mutually beneficial so you’re meeting a need and odds are you’re not doing it alone. The load is getting carried. My brain sees connection as life sustaining so I treat it like I treat food, which I treat like it’s air.

0 notes