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monstersdownthepath · 5 months

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Spiritual Spotlight: Dammerich, the Weighted Swing

Lawful Good Archon Empyreal Lord of Executions, Judiciousness, and Responsibility

Domains: Death, Glory, Good, Law Subdomains: Archon, Heroism, Honor, Judgment

Chronicles of the Righteous, pg. 11

Obedience: Recite all the names you can recall of those who have died by your hand. Mediate upon their faces and the circumstances of their deaths, evaluating your actions in the light of cold law. Benefit: Gain a +4 sacred bonus to AC against critical hit confirmation rolls.

Dammerich here is Heaven's grim executioner, the Archon prayed to by people who need the strength and bravery to take a life, the good people whose conscience is heavily weighed down from lives they've taken, and innocents who've wrongly been sentenced to death. Lives must not be taken without clear reason; Dammerich is no slaughterer of Evil, he is the axe which takes the heads of the ones whose existence will cause yet more pain.

The names you rattle off aren't a kill list that should be recited with pride, is what I'm saying. Other than potentially facing a growing list of your own crimes as you realize that all the bandits and goblins you've been killing could have probably been rehabilitated and the crushing weight of the resulting guilt compressing your soul into a shining diamond worthy of Heaven's light if you can bear it without shattering first, this Obedience is incredibly easy to perform. It takes no materials but your own memory and no effort but the air in your lungs, and no real way for any enemy to interrupt it or keep it from happening. Repeating the names of every boss you've faced in a campaign every single morning might make you look like a maniac, so be prepared for the odd looks from your party, especially if you also dress the part of the grim executioner. It goes without saying that dressing like your deity while reciting your list will allows you to easily walk among Evil without raising eyebrows, should you need to infiltrate an Evil party.

The benefit is plain, boring, but useful at every level and in every campaign in which combat is a regularity. This is one of the few benefits that gets more useful as you level up and enemy Full-Attacks start taking several minutes to resolve; the more attacks an enemy has, the more likely they are to critically hit, and thus the more this protection will pay off over time and stop those crits from actually connecting.

Boons are gained slowly, typically achieved once you reach 12, 16, and 20 Hit Dice. Followers of the Empyreal Lords, however, can enter the Mystery Cultist Prestige Class at level 8, which grants them their Boons much quicker! Entered as early as possible, you gain the Boons at levels 10, 13, and 16 instead. Mystery Cultists MUST take the Celestial Obedience feat, NOT Deific Obedience.

Empyreal Lords do not grant the typical Evangelist/Exalted/Sentinel spread (and cannot enter those classes), instead having only one set of Boons granted to their followers regardless of their class.

Boon 1: Dutiful. Gain Shield of Faith 3/day, Death Knell 2/day, or Keen Edge 1/day.

Time and time again we see Death Knell, and time and time again I repeat myself: It's a useful spell that's handy when dealing with creatures that have Regeneration you can't bypass, but taking a standard action to kill someone who's already dying is often just a waste of time. Besides, it's competing with far more useful spells in this case.

Keen Edge is a spell that's more useful for the Finesse Weapon Enjoyers in the party, doubling the critical threat range of weapons which typically already have large ranges. People who love rapiers and similar light weapons especially love this spell, as it grants their weapon a crit range of 16-20... but don't sleep on using it yourself. Dammerich's weapon of choice is the greataxe, a two-handed weapon that deals 1d12 damage at base and deals triple damage on a critical hit. Making it Keen means its crit range goes to 19-20, not as impressive as a lighter weapon, but essentially doubling your chance to deal anywhere from 16 to 40 extra damage in a single attack is well worth it, especially since Keen Edge lasts a damn eternity.

However, as your levels climb and your weapons become enchanted, it's always good to know you have Shield of Faith to fall back on. It scales with your level (+3 when you first get it, to a max of +5), lasts for multiple encounters with a single casting, can be used on anyone you can touch (letting you spread it amongst the team before a big battle), and deflection bonuses stack with everything and work even against touch attacks. Not flashy, but safe and useful at all levels of play.

As we'll see, Dammerich specializes in boring but useful powers...

Boon 2: Severe Strike. You ignore the first 5 points of creatures’ Damage Reduction when making melee weapon attacks, regardless of the type and composition of your weapon. For example, a creature with DR 10/silver would be treated as having DR 5/silver against your attacks.

Like this one!

I desperately wish this one scaled, because as you level up higher and higher, this ability gets less and less useful. Not useless, mind, but less useful. That being said, a great number of creatures with DR have DR 5 or 10, meaning the majority of the time this ability either removes it outright or halves it. It's certainly useful when swatting low-level encounters like hordes of demons or minor fairies, saving you time as you ignore their ability to stubbornly cling to their last few hitpoints.

It's certainly easier than carrying around a bunch of weapons and then trying to figure out which works against a specific foe. This ability basically adds +5 damage against enemies with DR, and I have a hard time envisioning anyone who'd turn down such a gift... But I have a hard time thinking the Mystery Cultist truly benefits from it, unless they entered the class via Paladin or Warpriest. Also notice that the ability specifically states 'melee weapon attacks;' this ability doesn't work with ranged weapons AT ALL, so no cowering in the back row for you if you want to use this power to its fullest extent!

Boon 3: Execute. You can cast Power Word Kill 1/day as a spell-like ability.

I DID say he's a simple man, didn't I?

It's easy to roll your eyes at this Boon, as the weaknesses of the Power Word spells are known and well-documented; they're mind-affecting and thus unlikely to work against enemies you WANT it to work against, a wide variety of enemy types are flat out immune to it, it only works against enemies with 100 or less HP--an amount of damage that a greataxe wielder like yourself can put out in one good round--and it's almost impossible to track an enemy's HP to know if the spell would work against them or not. We know, and unfortunately nothing has changed.

But don't roll your eyes so hard! No one's saying the 1/day has to be brought out for a boss fight and nothing else, just don't use it against a boss, silly! Use it against an annoying minion, an obnoxious support unit, or similar! Besides swatting irritants in boss fights, every Adventure Path has filler fights meant to wear you down, so you can just use it one one of those and save on the rest of your resources! It's got a decent range, offers no save, and most importantly has no components because it's a spell-like. That last bit is fun because it means you can kill someone by looking at them, and onlookers will have no idea what the hell just happened or even if it was your fault. Sadly, as a goody two-shoes, your applications of Power Word Kill are almost always going to be an in-combat off-switch for something besides the Definitely-Going-To-Be-Immune-To-It main boss in a fight or an intimidation tactic against a group of foes who don't know what their up against. It's not the most useful 9th level spell and is painfully inflexible, but it certainly speeds up a lot of encounters the party may find themselves in, and may just allow them to skip some of them altogether.

There is also the much sadder use that Dammerich all but encourages directly: Proper executions and mercy killings. In the former case, it allows for a simple gesture to close the book for someone who's been blackening the pages for too long. In the latter case, whether it be a friend or foe suffering painfully, Power Word Kill allows for an instant, painless end. It's definitely a use to consider in the course of your solemn duties... And, hey, since it's not a death effect, you can easily bring the target right back with Raise Dead if you have a reason to!

You can read more about him here.

#Spiritual Spotlight #Saintly Spotlight #Pathfinder #dungeons and dragons

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cherrypeaking · 1 year

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five steps — intro (hueningkai x fem!reader story) additional platonic!ot4 x fem!reader

wc: 1.4k words

summary: you’ve lost complete contact with your boyfriend out of nowhere. kai, your best friend, wants to be here to comfort you all the way through… if it weren’t for his own secret feelings for you…

content warning: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst (?), the reader uses she/her pronouns, has attachment issues, very low self esteem, intrusive/dark thoughts, fear of abandonment, mentions of ghosting

a/n: i’ve decided to divide this story in seven parts! thank you so much to everyone who read my other works 🥹 just hoping this is okay haha

Sent on 12/16/2022.

You sighed, putting your phone away and hiding yourself under your blankets.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t remember anything positive out of whatever that happened in that relationship. All you could focus on was the pain your, now, ex put you through.

Had it not been for Hueningkai, your best friend, you weren’t sure how that would’ve turnt out.

“I-it’s been two weeks Hyuka… I don’t understand… I can see he’s online… I haven’t seen him in weeks… he isn’t answering my messages anymore…” Kai listened to you with an aching heart, trying to pull you close to him.

“I’m… I’m sorry Y/N… I don’t want to… give you false hopes… or the opposite…” he mumbled back, earning a pained sob from you.

Imagining your life without your boyfriend was completely impossible. You had centered your life around him. Your friends had told you a few times that you seemed completely disconnected and that it was worrisome.

You never listened to them, until the bastard decided to completely cut ties with you out of nowhere. Now you were dealing with all the obvious consequences of his behavior.

It was only then, that you really came to terms with how unhealthy your feelings for that man were, but you couldn’t help yourself.

As though there were two sides of you, one that knew rationally speaking that detaching yourself a little from your boyfriend was the best thing to do. But the other didn’t want to.

“Y/N?” Kai’s voice brought you back to reality.

You pulled away, never looking him in the eyes.

“I… I just… I’m terrified… of being abandoned again…” you let out, Kai immediately covered your hands in his.

“Why would you say that? I’m here…”

Tears streaked down your cheeks uncontrollably when he said that, because you oh so wished you could believe him. He was your best friend after all.

However, and that was just how everything was, you could never be certain. And given the circumstances, you were convinced everyone would leave you anyway.

“What if you left too? I… I don’t know what I’d do with myself… I… I think I…” Kai didn’t want you to finish your sentence.

He could only assume the worst of your thoughts. Thus he rummaged through his bed and covers a little bit only to present you with one of his bigger plushies.

“Tobin? Tobin is amazing at comforting people…” although you were about to tell Kai how distraught you were, his actions always managed to make you smile.

You took the stuffed bunny in your arms and buried your face in its mellow material.

Once again, you started sobbing, trying to cry the pain away.

It’s because you’re a terrible person.

Everyone is going to leave you.

Everything would be better without you.

You’re a piece of trash.

People like you don’t deserve love.

Thoughts were spiraling in your mind over, and over, and over.

You felt so much hatred and disgust towards yourself. You felt as if, no one would be able to save you from that pain.

“I… I hate myself…” you whimpered, keeping your head in Tobin’s belly.

Kai couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone. All he did was stay there with you, until your tears had worn you out so much that you ended up falling asleep.

“You should’ve seen her… I can’t believe that asshole did that to her…” Yeonjun hissed a little, not being used to hearing his friend curse like that.

Kai had asked Yeonjun, his oldest friend, to come over his flat. He did not trust himself fully to take care of you on his own — for more reasons than one.

“I know you like her, Kai.” Yeonjun began, having the said boy look his way. “But you can’t let her current state affect you so much…” he added.

Kai looked down, needing time to collect his thoughts after hearing his friend out.

He was right. Kai knew he was.

“It’s difficult… Y/N is your friend too… don’t you understand me?” He asked, tilting his head back towards Yeonjun, who frowned before joining Kai on the couch.

“I can’t pretend I do…”

Obviously you were among Yeonjun’s worries, but he knew Kai was not only your best friend, but also crushing on you since middle school. He couldn’t claim to know exactly how his friend was feeling when it came to you.

Kai sighed, not expecting Yeonjun to pat his shoulder though.

“However… if you’re really worried about her… so am I. You know her the best…” The elder added.

“I lent her Tobin… for tonight… because she was crying so much… I hate that she is in pain…” Hueningkai mumbled, fiddling with his hands.

Yeonjun knew where the latter was getting at.

“Do you want me to go get Molang?” he offered, earning a shy nod from Kai.

With a small wince, Yeonjun went on to find Kai’s second big plushie.

Meanwhile, Kai merely stayed there, on the couch, ruminating.

Seeing you in tears, for a loser like him… it breaks my heart.

Sadness.

I hate that asshole so much, no one should break your heart like this.

Anger.

If I were your boyfriend… nothing like this would’ve ever happened… I would’ve protected you…

Protectiveness.

If he completely listened to all the emotions he was feeling in his heart, Kai would probably do a lot of things he would regret later on.

“Here, that little guy is bigger than I remembered.” Yeonjun handing him his plushie distanced him from the thoughts.

He giggled, taking Molang in his arms.

“It’s because you have to make sure he eats well!” He replied, in a childish tone.

Yeonjun snorted a little.

So cute.

He joined Kai on the couch so they could discuss.

“You know… it’s going to be hard for her… they say there are five stages of grief… so it’s obviously gonna take time for her to move on.” Yeonjun broke the mild silence that was going to set in.

Kai solely kept his nose on Molang’s head, trying to calm his thoughts down. He felt that it was better to just let Yeonjun go on with what he was saying.

“Also, she has to go through this on her own… You wouldn’t want her to start depending on you just as a replacement for her ex right?” Those words made Kai freeze a bit.

“We should definitely take her out sometime… to help her distract herself, you know? But if you just stay with her, only you, all the time… it’s not gonna end well for either of you…” Yeonjun rubbed his chin, not knowing what else to say.

All he wanted was to protect both of his friends from a potential second heartbreak.

Kai slightly pulled away from Molang, chuckling.

“Since when did you become my therapist?” he asked in a light tone.

That made the elder scoff in surprise, bringing his thumb in his mouth.

“Speaking from personal experience…” he began, his jaw getting tense.

“Oh no… hyung I’m sorry…” Kai pouted, putting Molang away — next to him.

Out of nowhere, Yeonjun started making kissy faces and throwing his arms at him for a hug.

“This is why I don’t want my babie Hueningie to suffer okay?” It was very Yeonjun of him to do.

However it did take the poor boy aback and he got off the couch, trying to escape the elder’s arms.

“Hyung! I’m serious!” Kai whined, pushing Yeonjun away, despite his kiss attacks.

They both laughed it out, the situation being pretty silly. When Yeonjun had had enough of being pushed away by his friend, he sat back down, next to Kai.

That was when the latter suddenly spoke up.

“There are five stages of grief they say hm?” Yeonjun tilted his head, confused with Kai’s rhetorical question.

He just nodded, waiting for what he was about to say next.

“And Y/N has five friends… the five of us…” Kai added, looking at the elder who still did not understand a thing of what he was saying.

“Yeah…? And…?”

Kai solely smiled, and the little sparkle in his eyes seemed to reassure Yeonjun immediately.

“Hyung, please call the others. I have an idea.”

Today was Sunday, which meant tomorrow would be Monday — the first day of a busy week.

#txt x reader #hueningkai x reader #hueningkai x you #hueningkai x y/n #txt scenarios #txt angst #hueningkai angst #txt x you #txt x y/n

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rpmemes-galore · 1 year

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pride and prejudice ... sentence starters

“May I have the next dance?”

“But will that make you happy?“

“He looks miserable, poor soul.“

“No, they are far too easy to judge.“

“You really do love him, don't you?”

“What endearments am I allowed?”

“Why do you ask such a question?“

“Angry people are not always wise.“

“Are you... are you laughing at me?”

“How are you this evening, my dear?“

“You are too generous to trifle with me.“

“Not all of us can afford to be romantic.”

“I thought that poetry was the food of love.“

“And... what should I call you when I am cross?“

“I have never been thus treated in my entire life!”

“So don't you judge me... Don't you dare judge me!”

“Because we're doing our best to find a fault in you.“

“I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.“

“So what do you recommend to encourage affection?“

“She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.“

“Miserable he may be, but poor he most certainly is not.“

“Forgive me, madam, for taking up so much of your time.“

“You must know... surely, you must know it was all for you.“

“Are you out of your senses? I thought you hated the man.”

“I didn't know you were coming to see me! What's the matter?”

“You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love you.”

“It has taught me to hope as I'd scarcely allowed myself before.”

“So this is your opinion of me? Thank you for explaining so fully.“

“I could more easily forgive his vanity had he not wounded mine.”

“Have you no objection other than your belief in my indifference?“

“You can only have two motives, and I would interfere with either.”

“Might I ask why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus repulsed?“

“Perfectly tolerable, I daresay, but not handsome enough to tempt me.“

“Oh, believe me, no one would suspect your manners to be rehearsed.“

“Our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask him nothing about it.“

“I love you. Most ardently. Please do me the honor of accepting my hand.“

“How can you tease me so? Have you no compassion for my poor nerves?”

“First, I must tell you I've been the most unmitigated and comprehensive ass.“

“It would be most inconvenient since I have sworn to loathe him for all eternity.“

“Oh, dear, I cannot tease you about that. What a shame, for I dearly love to laugh.“

“I... do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before.“

“You have insulted me in every possible way, and can now have nothing further to say.“

“Only the deepest love will persuade me into matrimony, which is why I will end up an old maid.“

“I am well enough acquainted with you to know that I can not alarm you, even should I wish it.”

“My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever.“

“I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past months have been a torment.“

“Perhaps these offences might have been overlooked had not your pride been hurt by my honesty.“

“I'm sure that the feelings which, as you've told me have hindered your regard, will help you in overcoming it.“

“I cannot believe that anyone can deserve you... but it appears I am overruled. So, I heartily give my consent.”

“I appreciate the struggle you have been through, and I am very sorry to have caused you pain. Believe me, it was unconsciously done.“

“I might as well enquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your better judgment.“

“If, however, your feelings have changed, I will have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love...I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

“I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, my family's expectations, the inferiority of your birth by rank and circumstance. All these things I am willing to put aside and ask you to end my agony.”

#pride and prejudice quotes #rp meme #pulled from both book and movies #sentence starters

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bethanydelleman · 1 year

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Willoughby did love Marianne (but that makes him worse)

Every time I see discussions of Sense & Sensibility online, there is this implication that Willoughby is some sort of inhuman creature who is incapable of love. John Willoughby was in love with Marianne, which actually makes what he did worse.

Willoughby admits, during his super long soliloquy/confession to Elinor, that he went in meaning to trifle with Marianne but then fell in love with her, here is the important part in Ch 44: “To attach myself to your sister, therefore, was not a thing to be thought of; and with a meanness, selfishness, cruelty, which no indignant, no contemptuous look, even of yours, Miss Dashwood, can ever reprobate too much,—I was acting in this manner, trying to engage her regard, without a thought of returning it… Yes, I found myself, by insensible degrees, sincerely fond of her; and the happiest hours of my life were what I spent with her when I felt my intentions were strictly honourable, and my feelings blameless.” He also confirms in this chapter that he did mean to propose, but the Eliza/disinheritance thing happened first.

We might think Willoughby is lying, but Elinor who has a lot of time to think about it afterwards, believes him. Marianne wonders if she was deceived or if Willoughby actually did love her and Elinor assures her in Ch 47, with caveats: “It was selfishness which first made him sport with your affections; which afterwards, when his own were engaged, made him delay the confession of it, and which finally carried him from Barton.”

Moreover, we are told quite frankly by the narrator that Willoughby was in love and felt badly about how everything turned out in the end, Ch 50: “Willoughby could not hear of her marriage without a pang… gave him reason for believing that had he behaved with honour towards Marianne, he might at once have been happy and rich. That his repentance of misconduct, which thus brought its own punishment, was sincere, need not be doubted;—nor that he long thought of Colonel Brandon with envy, and of Marianne with regret.”

As further proof, Willoughby would not have tried so hard to avoid Marianne in London if he had not been in love. He knew that his engagement to Sophia was going to devastate Marianne and he didn’t want to witness it. He also didn’t want to be reminded of what he had lost. Because he’s a coward, not a monster. As much as he pretends to think of Marianne’s feelings, he’s trying to spare himself from pain:

The next morning brought another short note from Marianne—still affectionate, open, artless, confiding—everything that could make my conduct most hateful. I could not answer it. I tried—but could not frame a sentence. But I thought of her, I believe, every moment of the day. If you can pity me, Miss Dashwood, pity my situation as it was then. With my head and heart full of your sister, I was forced to play the happy lover to another woman!

So to sum up, Willoughby did love Marianne, he did mean to propose to her the day that he left Barton, but his fear of (relative) poverty was stronger than his love for Marianne. Willoughby is selfish, he did mean to sport with Marianne’s feelings, and he did abandon the pregnant Eliza, but he’s not some inhuman monster who is incapable of feeling. He’s a rather careless and he took the cowardly, dishonourable way out: he leaves suddenly instead of telling Marianne the truth. He marries Sophia instead of retrenching and getting out of debt through patience and hard work. The fact that his love didn't overcome adversity doesn't mean it wasn't real. It just means that he is both capable of love and able to destroy the heart of the woman he loves.

His actions would be far less reprehensible if he was incapable of love.

#john willoughby #willoughby #sense and sensibility #marianne dashwood #jane austen #according to the best expert I could find no one is incapable of love #but they may be unable to form healthy attachments #Which sounds just about right here #If willoughby wasn't in love he actually would have been a better person #Paradoxically #misunderstood villains

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thehomeofplatonicfics · 1 year

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I'm Here Now

Tudor!Reader x Mary Tudor (platonic!)

Lady Mary strode purposely through the halls of Hampton Court, her ladies in waiting trailing behind her. Courtiers quickly moved out of her way, seeing that the former princess was clearly on a mission. Mary was not sure what she was going to do, but she knew she had to do something. She had just heard from Lady Rochford that the child Queen Catherine Howard had punished you in some way (Lady Rochford was not able to say how) for not treating her with sufficient respect… just like she had with Mary. She immediately knew this accusation had to be false. You had always treated every new queen after your mother Catherine of Aragon kindly, even when Mary disapproved. Of course, once or twice you had complained about some of the new queens privately to Mary, Catherine Howard most of all. It seemed as if the Queen had targeted you as almost additional punishment to Mary for you to suffer in this way.

As she approached your chambers, Mary couldn’t help but slow down as she began to hear your loud and piercing sobs. She stopped just outside your door, raising her eyes up to the heavens to say a prayer. Your maids wordlessly let her in, before quickly announcing her entrance. You did not notice though, you were curled up on your bed, half buried in your blankets. Two of your maids stood either side of your bed trying to soothe you to no avail.

“If you please, Lady Mary.” One of your maids left your side to curtsy to the former princess. “We’ve done all we can think of… We fear Lady Y/N has distressed herself to the point of illness.” Mary looked over at you, watching your shuddering cries as you shook violently underneath the covers. “I don’t know if I can be of any help… but I will try.” She shook her head sadly at seeing you, her own sister, in such a state. She wondered how different both your lives would have been if your mother had still been queen.

The maids began to move away to give the pair of you some space. Mary began to walk towards you, but suddenly stopped. “Wait, Mistress Ashley.” “Yes, Lady Mary?” “If you truly believe Y/N to be unwell, perhaps the doctor should be sent for. Tell him all that happened.” “But your grace!” “If his Majesty finds out what the Queen has done to his daughter…” Mary did not need to finish the sentence. All the maids knew too well the King’s violent temper, and you had been fortunate enough to mostly stay in the King’s good graces throughout the years. He would not be happy at all to see you treated in this way but his wife.

Mistress Ashley rushed out of the room to fetch the doctor, and Mary continued to rush to your side and sit down beside you on the bed. Finally, you acknowledged her presence as you looked up into her eyes. Mary’s heart broke to see the pain in your own eyes, and the tears rolling rapidly down your cheeks. Cautiously, she pulled you into a hug. You made no effort to resist, instead clinging onto your sister like your life depended on it. “Shhh, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here now.” Mary tried to soothe you, but you only cried louder. The pair of you remained thus for almost an hour, Mary offering soothing whispers as she let you cry it all out, until eventually you began to quieten down.

Mary pulled back away, though held onto your arms to keep some contact. She gently wiped away your tears before looking you straight in your eyes with a serious expression. “Now, can you tell me exactly what happened?” You sniffed, gulping nervously as you were almost afraid to tell your older sister. It was difficult to tell how she would react, and you didn’t want her to overreact to the situation. Some naive part of you hoped that you and the new queen could be friends, a family even.

“I’m afraid I don’t really understand it myself.” You began, wiping your eyes. “The queen asked me to attend her in her chambers, so of course I went as soon as I could. I greeted her with the pleasantries I always do. She seemed pleased to see me, and I asked what I could do for her. At first, we just talked about things that were happening in the court while we had some cakes together… and then… then…” You trailed off as your voice grew tight and your chin wobbled, tears threatening to flow once more.

“It’s alright, Y/N. And then?” Mary urged you on, her hand softly rubbing your shoulder in comfort. “She asked me about you.” You forced the words out, a fresh shudder rippling through you. “What do you mean?” Mary asked, a hint of urgency and alarm slipping through. “The queen asked about your behaviour towards her, and I… I didn’t know what to say. She then told me to publicly condemn your actions, to show my loyalty to her and…” You cut yourself off breaking down into tears again. As much as you wanted to be loyal to your stepmother, no one would be as more important than Mary, not even your father. You could never betray your sister, even if it meant being imprisoned.

“And, you refused.” Mary finished off for you. “What did she say to you?” Your sister asked, eager to get the full story. “She said that I only sided with you because I was also illegitimate and that our mother’s blood had corrupted us, and that our mother was a…” You could not continue, falling into Mary once more in hysterics. Mary rubbed your back comfortingly, knowing it was best to just let you cry it out. While you could not see her face though, she allowed it to show how angry and disgusted at Catherine Howard she was. She could not wait for the king to find out. It would be all the punishment that the child queen deserved.

"I miss Lady Anne!" You wailed, burying your face into your sister's shoulder, "I wish she'd come back to court." Even Mary had to admit that Anne had been a much better match for the King. She wished that she had treated the former Queen more kindly, even if she was not of their faith. "I know… I know." Mary offered soothingly, not knowing what else to say to you. "The Queen will not get away with this. I promise you."

Lady Mary looked up as she heard the doors to your chambers being opened, smiling smugly to herself as she saw the court's physician being ushered in. She disentangled herself from you to approach the doctor, and you flopped back down into your pillows as she did so. They exchanged a few words, what they said you knew not. You had returned to crying to yourself into your pillows. As much as it hurt Mary to see you in this state, she couldn't help but think this was all so perfect. You were playing your part in the downfall of the Queen so wonderfully without even knowing it, being Mary's pawn in her game so perfectly. Mary stepped back to watch the physician deal with you from a distance, a cunning and satisfied smile playing on everyone's lips in the room. The King would soon know, and then the real fun would begin.

#the tudors reader insert #the tudors x reader #the tudors imagine #mary i x reader #mary tudor x reader #platonic reader insert #the tudors fanfiction #the tudors

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itsmestargirll · 2 days

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In echoes of sighs, I lost my way,

An absence, a void, the pain pervades.

In shards, my being crumbles apart,

The remnants of you, a burden I carry.

I try to rebuild what's left of me,

But they're just shadows, mere shadows,

Of moments once lived.

You departed, left me adrift,

And loneliness is my only companion.

In empty streets, our laughter echoes,

But now they're just echoes,

Of a happiness that faded away.

I don't blame your leaving, nor myself,

Just accept the cruel reality,

That we'll never be us again.

Each step forward is torment,

Recollections of the bad times,

Seared into my soul.

And thus, amidst tears and memories,

I try to find a new life,

But I know it will never be the same.

Your goodbye was the sentence,

Condemning me to this eternal lament.

At every corner, with every sigh,

Lingers the shadow of what we were.

And I, just a specter,

Of a love lost in time.

#poetry #pensamientos #love poem #prose #poets on tumblr #original poem

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actualbird · 2 years

Note

Hello! Idk if you’ve done this already but personally, what’s your ranking on your fave Luke cards based on the side story of these cards or something else? Kinda curious to see what our resident Luke enthusiast thinks hehe

ohhh, i havent actually!! and thank u so much for this ask cuz YESS, I DO HAVE A RANKING FOR THISSSS :DDD so let's get down to business

my personal top 5 favorite luke cards (with rambling rationale ofc, by this point it's a standard in my posts kjbfajsfkf)

wc: 1.6k

before i start, i'd like to note that this list is only taking into consideration cards that are available on the global server as of april 28, 2022 buuuuut already including Secrets of the Tomb event that only releases tomorrow cuz kjbkHBH IVE ALREADY SEEN LUKE’S CARD STORY THERE AND IT’S GOT A PLACE ON THIS LIST CUZ I RLLY LOVE IT!! this list also only ranks cards with stories because thats what im basing my rank on, so that disqualifies all the SR cards that are only audio messages and the MR card as well

with that outta the way, let's go from 5th most fave one by one to my most favorite of all cards thus far!!

5th place: SSR Alluring Gaze

this was among the first luke cards i ever watched and i was reeling from the sheer angst in luke's personal story 1 and 2. please, i said to this card. please be a lighthearted yet entertaining chaser for my angst drowned heart.

"you are safe now, my child," said SSR Alluring Gaze.

"thank you for my life," i replied

cuz this card is one of the VERY FEW LUKE STORY CARDS that does not have an HINT of sadness or angst. NOT A DROP!!! no sudden pain episode, no vague reference to "im dying soon and i hate myself for that", NADA!! im not saying that i dont like angst (if that was true, i'd have made a terrible choice having luke as my fave JHVSDFHKV) or that angst makes for a bad story. i Love Angst and it deffo can used for great storytelling.

but this card manages without it in a really fun and charming and eeEEeEEeee-butterflies-in-my-heart kind of way.

later on, i'd come to realize that my biggest criticism for some luke cards is that theres a tendency for the story to rely solely on the gut punch angst or to be oversaturated in it to the point it's hard to really enjoy what's actually going on. while the emotional ouchies are inevitable and also key to many of luke's stories, it's a disservice to him as a character to only ever be pursuing his narrative through the lens of pain. he is more than that and his stories can benefit from little less leaning on angst for emotional impact.

this card is 5th place because i think it's proof that his stories can shine real great even without any angst at all

4th place: SSR Shape Of You

if the last card made it onto this list because it was a lighthearted delight, this card is on the list because it was the first luke card to make me CRY REAL TEARS. FUCK THIS GAME. FUCK THIS CARD. FUCK MY LIIIIIFFEEEE----//sounds of my voice getting softer and softer until i calm down

anyway, this card hurt me personally. but it wasnt oversaturated in angst; it's a very lovely balance of shenanigans, mounting tension, and heartfelt emotion. overall, it's a hopeful card actually. but it hurt me because it was among my first (and most long lasting) peek into the core of who i see luke to be. particularly, one of his key desires and the flaw that comes with it:

hes someone so devoted to doing good for his loved ones and simultaneously so scared of hurting them that he places himself at a lower value because thats how he thinks he can be a benefit to their lives

like, ok, i amend my first sentence in this card. it's not on this list cuz it made me cry. it's on this list cuz that crying was due to me getting a deeper understanding of how luke thinks, feels, and acts.

if i had to recommend one card to somebody who knows nothing about tot or luke pearce, itd be this one. its story is a blend of the good in him and the not-so-good in him and paints a really clear picture of who luke is.

3rd place: SSR Overflowing Thoughts

hey, SSR Overflowing Thoughts, see how im hyping you up the night before u actually r gonna be available? do u see how much i love you? ur gonna repay me by coming home without causing me much pain, right? RIGHT???? //brbs to calm self once more

ANYHOO, this card. is Good. it's really frigging good. i will be scant with the plot details so people dont get spoiled, but i will tell you that this card's story is an AU completely different from the actual stories of both luke and mc.

and when i say different, i REALLY MEAN IT. luke and mc's dynamics in this card are frigging lightyears away from what we're used to and this is not to the story's detriment, it's to the story's extreme absolute strength.

basically, this story does what a great AU is best at: showing us how different circumstances, lives, and choices can magnify and emphasize the core traits of the characters that will stay present in who they are no matter what universe they're in.

luke's core is devotion. mc's core is hope. this card does a fantastic job at hammering those things home effectively in a really frigging great story.

pls come home, SSR Overflowing Thoughts. PLEASE.....

2nd place: SR Star in the Palm

let's give it up for the only SR card on this list, Star in the Palm!!! //CROWD CHEERS (i am the crowd)

THIS WAS AN UNEXPECTED FAVE. i got the card in december thru the xmas partyland boardgame like everyone else but then my brain went offline for a while and i only watched it in like, january i think. why did i wait. it's so good. IT'S MY 2ND MOST FAVE CARD STORY!!!

and it's my 2nd fave because the story is a wonderful blend of funtimes and feels, both those things working together to, again, paint a really lovely picture of who luke is.

this card in particular touches upon his fear of returning to mc's life. when i say this next bit, i say it with love: luke was a goddamn coward for a bit. he was in stellis way before he had first told mc he was, he had stalled on reuniting with her, he ran away from her. and he was scared of her knowing that, so he deflects and changes the subject and then

heres why this is 2nd place: mc is Not Fucking Having It. mc shoves chocolate into his lying liar mouth to get him to shut up. this card shows how luke is scared, yes, but it also shows how mc puts her foot down lovingly and makes it known that she'd like clearer answers. she wont force him, but thats what she wants.

and luke gives. both the answers and himself as a more honest person making more honest promises about how he'll act in the future.

it's the card that makes me rediscover (as if i ever forget, kJBSKJBDKF) why i love luke/mc so much: their relationship is ultimately about accepting fears and flaws and then---however imperfect the attempts may be---trying to be better moving forward

and now for my top fave //drumrollllllllll

//announcer voice: the card that did not come home after 74 fucking rolls and by then i had used up all my s-chips so i gave up and just forced my friends to watch this card with me via discord grp call

1st place: SSR Peaceful Place

why didnt you come home. WHY. WHY MUST U FORSAKE ME, LUKE PEARCE??????

this card is my top 1 fave for almost all the reasons ive mentioned before:

we've got well balanced story. like bruh, we get the cuteness of luke and mc ADOPTING A KID (that just so happens to be an elephant). we get 2 npc side characters, the Paige twins, who know luke from the NSB days and theyre the funniest faceless npcs ive ever seen in a card ever. we get the trope of oH NO, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED! and then luke subsequently fuckin nerfs himself and doesnt take the oppurtunity (valid, respect women, but PLEASE DUDE, COME ON!!). we get the most heartwrenching scene on the planet when luke and mc have to say goodbye to their ELEPHANT SON. and then we fuckin get an action movie shoot out??? complete with the angst consequences?? WE GET MC KABEDON-ING LUKE!!!!!!

//wheezing. everything in this fucking card is my favorite part of this fucking card. theres fluff, theres comedy, theres excitement, theres sadness, theres a happy ending.

this card also is a great card that shows off a lovely picture of character, but here, it's not luke. like dont get me wrong, hes fantastic in this card. but everything we learn about luke here is stuff we know already. this card is good at showing off mc.

and it does this really well. it highlights what shes scared of, what she wants, and what she holds dear to her heart.

like, idk, now im going more on vibes here than anything that can be surmised from the story directly, but this card rlly feels...holistic. heres a full story jam packed with everything i love, filled to the brim with genuine character moments for luke and mc, and just such a lovely picture of their relationship:

filled with idyllic moments and dark uncertainties but at the end of the day, theyre both making their best effort to ensure each other's happiness, as their own happiness is entwined with the joy of the other.

aaaaand thats a wrap! this got very long kBKJSBKFJ i have a lot of feelings about luke 24/7....

#tears of themis #luke pearce #tot luke #asks #xia yan

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kaerimichirami · 5 months

Text

'twenty' + afterword

In three days, I will have lived two decades. No matter how I look at myself in the mirror, what I think is clear: I’m old. Older than expected. Any normal person would think that twenty is oh-so young. It’s just the start. I’m barely an adult. I’m barely formed. I barely have ‘musts’. But that’s not how it feels to me. To me, ever since I took that one conscious breath… and I can’t remember anything from before I was eight or so. Thus, twenty is old. Twenty years of repentance, twenty years since a mistake they insisted so much to make. Twenty years since, I’m responsible for my feelings and the feelings’ of those around. Twenty years of being thrown around, twenty years of being merely an object, merely flesh, guts and fat. Twenty years of being laughed at, twenty years of being scared of noises from afar, twenty years of nightmares, twenty years of bad slept nights, twenty years of being my own child. Twenty years of bearing inside that one thing that makes everyone think it’s okay to hate on me. Twenty years of never deserving anything. Twenty years of being told “everything’s so easy for you”, twenty years of so much pain. Twenty years of being extremely tired, twenty years of being confused.

But… there’s the in between, right?

About twelve years of expressing myself through words, three years since I’ve made the cut to something bigger, and a few months since I started going by a name that suits me. And, in a sense, maybe I’m reborn every single day. Because just the fact that I still do wake up, even if it’s by 11AM or, God forbid, noon, I open my eyes and I get out of bed. Sometimes after a scream and a stretch, but I do. Then I cook my own food, and I manage to clean after myself and then cleanse my own body. I’m tired, so tired, but I’m still young… and that’s scary, because, honestly, I quite hate life and everything to do with it. But there’s still beauty. Words exist, and somehow, I was wickedly gifted the power of these magical fingers and little scattered brain, that move in a way that makes sentences so crushing, but comforting as well. When I look at myself, there’s little that had been saved. That little girl is dead, so dead, buried underground and they’ve eaten all of her flesh, just like when she was alive, right? Every single inch of her has been savored, by the nastiest mouths, and all I could do was watch as I was murdered and murdered over again. No… she was. I made it. I don’t know how, I must have ran…

This could explain why I’m so out of breath these days. I’ve been running from all of these for God knows how long. I’ve been doing it on my own. I hardly recognize my dirty and dry feet. All I’ve witnessed, all I’ve heard, all I’ve said… all I’ve thought, and all it has been thinking inside my mind. I’ve made it. Twenty years of this. Am I supposed to be happy? I’m going to be congratulated, and dad’s gonna call, and I’m supposed to hear ‘Happy Birthday Dear…’ someone who was never dear to anyone. Because they’re going to say that name, and they’re going to call me ‘her’, and I’m going to feel as hopeless as I felt last year, and the other, and the other, and you go back 20 years and it was raining so much during that Friday, just as it rains from my eyes as I write this.

And I’m going to be forever that kid, when I turn 30, 40, if I make it past that, I’m always going to be that little thing. Someone that has to do their very best to not want to die, someone who was to learn what self-love is because how could anyone love this freak? It’s hard to understand when it started, but it never ended. Even when they all die, even when their flesh rots and oh God how I pray it rots, I will still suffer from all the pain that’s caused and from every single thing I haven’t learned. And whenever something improves, whenever I get an opportunity, or if I somehow lose half of my weight, I’m gonna hear that I’m finally not being lazy anymore.

But it is only once that you’re ten and your mom is too scared to tell you what they diagnosed you as, so she hides it until you find it out when you’re sixteen and so, so much worse than before. It is only once that your father tells you that if you’re not slimmer by December, there’s no way he’s coming to see you. It is only once you realize “I’m not worth it”, and then every single day until you stop breathing is a chore.

Why should I make the bed when it’s my hurt and used body that’s lying there afterward? When I can’t give up a single addiction, when I can’t stop doing the things that give me such terrible headaches, when everyone I talk to seems to not understand me. When I look at my little hands, or when I look at my side profile and I’m suddenly upset, when I wonder if I’ll ever manage to bear a child. When I no longer love my breasts, and when any T-shirt that’s more masculine feels so awkward and fucking hell how much I’d love to have a chest so flat that I would look just a little less lame. When I chant to myself “I love you”, “I love you”, “I love you”, as I caress myself and put myself to sleep after I cry. Myself, myself, myself. I’m only on my own… it’s twenty years of being on my own.

It never has the same weight, I’m a bother to all of them, but they can bother me as they please, because my feelings and my needs never matter and every little thing is a huge trigger for me. And they have that name sewn to every little baby towel, and it’s on my documents, and it’s right there in the living room and if I manage to end this fearsome life, the name they’ll put right on my grave is the name of a girl that died nine years ago. Not me.

It’s the end of my teenage years, but it’s not the end of my anxiety and sorrow. I’m only “in the real world now”, but was I ever sheltered before if the monsters were holding my hand? And they don’t seem to realize how heartbroken I am. No… how flat line I am. They smile at me, and they tell me how pretty I am. Now? After all of that torture? Now I’m worthy of such compliments? When I was so little and so dependent, you could never say that to me.

It never comes when I need it. It never exists when I can still make use of it. There’s no appreciation until I have quit, and there’s no love until I start hating them. Now it makes no sense to be there for Christmas, or to wish for a party. Now it makes no sense to wait for my dad to come see me, now it makes no sense to have a friend group. Now I’m almost twenty years old and my worries and fears are still the same, but my needs changed. Now I don’t need to be protected anymore, but I don’t care. Now I can’t say “I love you” or expect to hear it, but maybe if I could go back… Would I change something?

If someone came to me right now and said they’d change my body, my identity, and I would be loved, and I would have never suffered all of that. If I had to give up my gift, if I wasn’t me anymore, and then I would be loved. Would I say, “yes?”. If I could go back twenty years in time, and be back inside mother’s womb, about to be born, back to a world that isn’t crushed yet, and every single thing could be different, and everyone would be nice, but with the cost… that I’m not me. That I can’t find shelter in words. That I’m exactly like they wished… I don’t think I’d be able to accept such a thing. No matter how I’m crying right now, I wouldn’t… because I know these people, and I know that city, and I know the blankets I’ve been wrapped with, there would still be something wrong with me. Even if my body was of a model’s, even if my brain wasn’t full of obsessive-compulsions, even if I loved the name they chose, even if I wasn’t the odd one out… I would still be hated and thrown around. I would still not feel comfortable in this skin, and make-up would still not make sense. I would still not feel welcome, I would still not belong, and worse… I wouldn’t even be me. Even if I’m an insignificant little thing, even if I’m somewhat disgusting, even if everyone said I should cut and change every part of me… I wouldn’t trade that for people who couldn’t fucking love and protect a child.

So… it’s going to be twenty years of protecting this little being, twenty years of failing, twenty years of mourning her death, twenty years of being thankful she died, and it’s on me now. Eight years since I’m not a kid anymore, and that brings me quite some peace, even if being an adult is this saddening, nothing’s worse than having it taken from you the first time. Even if I meet so many more terrible people, even if I put myself in the worst situations, I will never be ten years old again. Thank God.

To my twenties: I won’t say I want to forgive and forget. To forgive would to be to lie, and to forget would be to also forget what makes me a survivor. So I ask for ease. I want to drink more matcha lattes, and I want to buy clothes that make me happy. And I want to live on my own, and cook myself my own meals and, God, I don’t wanna do the dishes forever. I want to buy a dishwasher, even if I pay it for, like, three years, it’d be so worth it. I want to write more, and to be less shy and let people read me. Because even if the world is mean and full of liars, there are little orchids and lilies that bloom eventually. I want more springs, but especially autumns and these little beginnings of summers. I want winters, too, and maybe even Christmases. Even if I’m on my own, even if no one gifts me, I guess I’ll be there. I want to jump into pools, and definitely have my own bathtub. I want to get wasted once, just to know how bad it feels afterward. I want to give myself little pats in the back, and I want to look into the mirror, into those hazel eyes, and even if there are tears, I want to be proud of whatever I am. I want experiences, the good ones, and I want to eat delicious pastries. I want to see cherry blossoms and I want to hear birds chirping. I want to be able to grow from this. And I want to, in ten years or however long it takes for me, to in my thirties wish for good things. Maybe I’ll have other references, and good things I want to keep happening. I’m not going to ask for anything big. Of course, I wish for money and success. But, over anything else, I wish to be me. And knowing myself, and my own life, ‘success’ isn’t something I can wish for. It’ll be surprising if it does happen, though. And, after my thirties and all the rest of my until now quite miserable life, I want to have lived long enough until I’m ready to be a child again, because, what if I still suffer? What if I get another childhood like that?

Now that I’m not a kid anymore, but that I’m still scared of the bathroom window, I can’t think of too many reasons to celebrate my twenties. After all, I’ll be blowing meaningless candles and I know I won’t have a wish to make, because when I do, I’m never given it. But a small part of me is happy, and my tears and my wandering heart say it’s her. The little girl I was, that was killed so ruthlessly. The girl that never made it to her wedding, or to her kids’ birth. The girl who never even made it to high school parties, to her first drink or to high heels.

But we still have the same little hands. These pinkies that never grew. We have the same little curls in our hair, and we have the same thirst for knowledge. We have the same love for poetry, even if she, as a child, read so much more than me. We have the same sense of justice and the same need to flee. These feet that move me are the same that moved her. The neck that connects my head to my body was hers one day, and maybe our smile is the same, even though she was losing teeth at the time. The awkwardness I feel in public, alongside the desire to talk about our likes, that happiness of eating ice cream and the realization that it is all over ever since it started is just like what she felt in the almost eleven years she lived.

The goosebumps, the shivering, the breakdowns, the manic episodes, the lethargy, the love for words, all the collections, all the tunes, the flavors that can be felt, the smell of that particular perfume, it’s all hers, but I keep it inside of me. Sometimes it overflows, sometimes she overflows, and then I cry, and then I write. Sometimes I hear her talking to me, sometimes she’s the one whispering “I love you”, and I know for a fact that that sweet little girl would never hate me. Because she’s so sympathetic, and her chubby cheeks are my chubby cheeks, and they get as red as hers got… when I think of her death my soul crushes, but there is no doubt, no fog, no blur: I might not be a girl, but I’m always going to be her. We don’t share a name, but we share our precious birthday. And I’m only becoming twenty in three days because of her. Because I love her so much, and I can hear her say “I love them too”, that I’m here right now. And I might cry a little more, and maybe I’ll even cry as water washes my body, but when I hear “Happy Birthday”, I’ll just think of how dear she is to me. And I’m so sorry, my baby, that you have died. I’m so sorry they were so mean to you. I’m so sorry, my sweetheart. I can’t look at your pictures right now, because if I look at your little face, I will feel them on my skin again. If I stare at it too long, I will start smelling that scent I hate. I’m sorry, my little girl. I’m so sorry.

I’ll make up to you. I’m going to put on pretty clothes. And maybe I’ll even put on some lipstick, dysphoria completely aside. I’ll have a feast and then, some cake. I’m going to be twenty-one, -two, -three, and so on… I’ll do it for you. I will live so many decades, and I will do my best to get up every single day from each year of these many decades. I will honor you, and I celebrate every single November 14th. And when I turn twenty-two, it will be another Friday, just like the day you were born. I wonder if it will rain? And I wonder if you, buried so deeply inside me, will understand someday I only did this to not let anyone hurt you anymore? I had to grow up. I know your ghost appears when I’m hurt or silenced, and I live my childhood days all over again. But I hope you understand you’re deep inside my heart, beating so vividly, and that I won’t let your memory die, no matter how faint or dim it is. I hope you know I love you more than I love anything else in this world. Even more than you loved dinosaurs. And even more than I love the current me.

For your dreams, that will never be fulfilled. For the family you will never go back to. For the hometown that you will never feel homesick for. For the friends that gave up on you. For the expectations that were never met. For the fact I had to grow up and bury you deep inside my childlike thoughts. For the fact that it doesn’t get much better than this… I will be twenty, for you and me. In two days and one hour. I will have turned twenty. In this roller-coaster I’m trapped right now… all I can say is “sorry”, and “I’ll try to do better next year”. But knowing you, my little Snow White, you’re just happy I made it, right? You’re proud of me. And I can say that, because no matter how many analogies I used to justify my trauma and fear, I am you and you are me.

I’m proud of myself, for these twenty years. I’m that little girl, as much as I’m not her anymore. I’m all of my dreams, and none of my nightmares. I’m all the love I’ve received. I’m all of my good deeds. I’m all of my peace. I’m all of my hope. I’m you, my little baby, and just because of that, I already deserve it all. Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to me. I pinky promise you, I’ll never give up on us. I’ll never give up on telling our stories. I’ll never give up this that you gave me. This body, this mind, I’ll cherish everything. Thank you for giving it to me. Let’s have fun in our twenties. Let’s keep writing and writing, even if it can’t ease all the pain… you’re not crying anymore, neither am I. When I go pick the cake, when I sing along the song… I’ll be looking at you all the time, and I will be loving you so deeply all along. And whatever I do, wherever I go, you’re going to be there with and for me. Because you’re all I could ever ask for. Because, right now, more than ever, and a little less than in a few days, I am. And I’m glad to be.

AFTERWORD:

Hello. It is Polaris here. This is more of a way to vent (as writing has always been) than a proper fictional work. It took me, what? About an hour to get this done… and I also had random bursts of tears meanwhile… whenever I wrote "I'm crying" or something, it was real. For a little bit of context, as I didn't get into much detail, I have been through a lot of unfortunate situations that caused me to have, now, lots of trauma and things to deal with. Both people close to me, supposed to protect me, and complete strangers, have done this to me. I'm constantly fighting this, as I've been doing therapy for, like, almost five years. Turning twenty made me a little emotional for the past two weeks, and today a certain situation triggered me into this sorrowful state, so I munched on a white Kitkat as I wrote this soul-crushing thingy. It talks about so many things… being fat, being non-binary, things that are very dear to me. Basically, all's true, besides my analogies. Which is sad, so if you read this and felt like 'oh, but it might be fiction', it's not, so you have all the right in the world to cry right now. And if I made you cry, I'm really sorry. I'm just doing what my favorite author did to me a few years ago. In a sense, I ended this way more hopeful than I started it. I had a good cry, you know? It was important, I think. I grew. I think I'm ready to enter my twenties… as if it waits, right? Life doesn't wait. But, also, that could mean a good thing. It just never happens to me, but it might happen soon. Or not, but I can never know. It's both good and terrible. I'll always be hurt, no matter where I go to, but I feel like now I have regained myself. Even if I can barely do things, even if everything's still a chore, even if I'm so easily bored and distracted, I feel like myself. Honestly, it has been at least like four months since I looked outside my window and thought, "wow, I'm happy today." You know, that feeling of… hm… of safety, relief? That almost feels like a summer breeze? I think that's happiness, like, true happiness. I feel it every six months or so, so maybe in January or February I'll feel it again. It lasts about two or three days, so it's good to cherish those moments. Unfortunately, I can't bring myself to write when I'm like that. So maybe, being sad is just my artsy trick. Maybe one day I'll publish this, and my other tales. Maybe one day I'll make money from all of my sadness. And that'll be fucking awesome, I'm not gonna lie. But, I kinda would rather if I both already had money and was happy more than six times a year. Anyway… it will be midnight soon, which means it'll be the 12th… and then, two more days. I guess nothing will change, but I'll definitely update you guys if I finally have my overnight growth spurt and stop being a short… not king, but a genderless noble. Also, orange Mentos (that I'm munching on 'cause I found it lost inside my bag) taste like vitamin C… why does anyone like orange-flavored things? Well. I'll be back in a while with another story. I want to write something gay(er) soon. If you read this past November 14th, 2023, I'm already 20 years old. Happy birthday, future me. And Happy birthday, old me. Heading to the future, where one day I'll be glancing my way back home.

#glancing my way back home #sasoris #literature #young adult #birthday #coming of age #vent post #traumadump #happy birthday #original story #supernatural #twenty #turning twenty #20

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thessalian · 2 years

Text

Thess vs Cilantro

(Yes, I will call it that for you American heathens. ^_^)

So I had to make a decision as regards the massive amounts of ... ugh, I can’t do it: coriander I had growing. There were nine coriander pots. NINE. With like two plants each. So I made a sacrifice. I kept half. (Ish; it’s not like I could keep four and a half.)

Now four pots’ worth of the hardiest coriander plants are chilling in a nice big pot and the other five got trimmed to within an inch of their lives and their root structures buried with other plants to nourish their fellows. Circle of Life, yadda. I feel unbelievably bad about this, but I also feel stupid for feeling bad, if that makes sense? Like, they are plants. I had too many. Something had to be done. Thus, something was done. I got huge use out of them and there is still a lot of coriander. Like, HUGE a lot. Just it’s not taking up half my windowsill anymore. ...But I raised them from seeds and it’s still sad. My plants clearly are my babies. I just have to be slightly less attached if I want a larger variety to thrive.

Now, of course, I have massive amounts of coriander and not a single fucking clue what to do with it all. Two bundles are hanging to dry on hooks that I think were meant to be for dishtowels but which I turned into a drying rack by virtue of some Macguyvering with some twist-ties, but there’s a little much to do with them all. I suppose the most logical thing to do is ... I have tomatoes. I have onion. I have lemon juice. I have garlic. All I need is some avocado and I will have all the guacamole. (Also I could probably sprout the stone and -- SHUT UP, THESS, YOU HAVE ENOUGH PLANTS.) And I did mean to go out for eggs for meatloaf.

There’s just one tiiiiiiiiiny problem, summed up thusly:

OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

Look, I hyperfocused on the harvesting and the untangling and the repotting and the everything and then it was done and now I am in monumental pain. I’m not entirely sure I could go grocery shopping in my current state. I know I should have gone easier, given the mess this week has been, but all this stuff needed to be done and now it is done. I just hurt. It’s a pisser.

Oh gods and I have to make the bed when the bedding comes out of the dryer...

I really should have been rolling up character sheets for Saturday RP Shenanigans, or trying to. Just I only got the majority of the intel on one character yesterday and I still don’t have names for two of the characters (though at least I got races sorted; that’s a start) and one’s missing a backstory of even a two-sentence nature. So I guess I couldn’t have been rolling up character sheets, since chasing people for last-minute information is difficult when they live in a time zone eight hours behind yours. Plus all the gardening and laundry-related stuff did need to be done. Just I’ve been skipping this RP shenaniganry for weeks because of a lack of intel and my unwillingness or inability to grab people by the metaphorical lapels and shake vigorously until information came out, and missing another week is just frustrating. But then again, it might save some spoons for a quick grocery store trip, assuming I survive bed-making and oh shit I should probably take out the trash too. Though that can probably wait until tomorrow. It really should. Just when one gets into a chores groove, it’s hard to stop. But I’m going to have to, because there’s still a lot to do and if I don’t pace myself, I’m going to be useless come Tuesday.

But the bedding’s out of the dryer. Hoboy. Wrestling a duvet into a duvet cover is going to be fun when I feel like this.

#Thess on gardening #Thess RPs #Thess is a motherfucking adult

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sasorikigai · 2 years

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❝ are you sure you didn’t want to mention something to me? ❞ liv @ hanzo in modern verse <3

CONVERSATIONAL SENTENCE STARTERS || @somniaxperdita || accepting

💥 || The painful passage of excruciatingly unbearable sensation manifests as a slow realization; Hanzo Hasashi never feels the sands of time moving until he finds himself neck deep in it. How he begins to notice the slight decay of the people he holds dear; the curse of the human experience constitutes as such, for to be human is to suffer, and he heals less in order to hurt more. Both the society and his own obstinate resiliency give him no chance to sit and organize the horrifical implications of the human in his mind. It demands and thus he must provide. And while he rushed to get his life in order because that had been what had been demanded of the Commander’s position, Hanzo couldn’t stop and enjoy the people he loves the most. And he felt as if time did not change him as a person, but just helped him get a handle of who he truly is.

It is as if Hanzo Hasashi is not himself anymore; it is difficult to put in words, but he supposes it’s more like as if he was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled him, and hurriedly put him back together again. How his once-formidable and assertive figure sits on a stool, the shape of the world, by a balcony door once open to narratives of their personal intimacy continue to flourish. The air remains sweet with a hint of sorrow of a Saturday, or maybe a Sunday - the distorted mirror of his zoned reality manifests beneath his clenched eyelids and fists; a stilled phantom of his haunting memories dissolving into a painted strain upon the chiseled contour of his face. Hanzo Hasashi clutches the contemplative silence, while the curtains billow along with the approaching storm.

“It seems like today is one of those days, the heavy days like a dark storm has fallen over me. The surging blood feels less violent than the silence in me, when blood feels like peace. It’s inevitably exhausting, choosing the silence over the painful, strong violence as it only haunts my nights and steals the sun in my days,” belief will never be a burden, for Hanzo believes there would be a peace to be found, albeit ephemeral. To fall in despair may be to fall aloof, to believe shallow words of dark disproof.

Despite the persistent war and rage and blood and tears, the proverbial sun and the dwelling embers in his heart and soul had shone resplendent light, along with Olivia Winter’s love suffocating stress and strife. Hanzo Hasashi’s mind may continue to be a dark place with thoughts of death and tragedy and promises of greater pain, and yet, the shining light embeds upon his orbs, as his brilliant gaze ascends. “Such haunted memories may be a chapel full of broken glass continually embedding themselves in my flesh, but now I find myself becoming both the surgeon and patient. I have become my pain, for power is looking inwards and seeing the monster inside myself mirroring the saint, and they both have my eyes and heart.” 💥 ||

#✗ the ineffable testimony of spawned hellfire (scorpion)#✗ ugly syllables of conjured vindictive crimson (modern au)#✗ successions of binding music (olivia winter || somniaxperdita)#somniaxperdita

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ktlucas · 3 months

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I've new about Jesus for a very long time, but only recently do I feel in my heart that I am really coming to be able to say that I KNOW JESUS. As a recovering addict every day I deal with something I am only recently coming to know as spiritual warfare. I think the hardest part about being new in recovery is being able to deal with the memories of the hardships that I not only self inflicted on my temple that's filled with the Holy Spirit. I inflicted pain to those I cherish more than myself. Trying to repair severed relationships surely is not a skill I have yet to master. Reading the scripture and educating myself about the compassion of Christ may be one of the only things that has kept me thus far. The deeper I get into the scripture the cleaner I feel in the Holy Trinity. I have repented to the good LORD and I know that my salvation is in his eyes and not my own. The criminal does not get to chose his sentence, as its the goods Judges responsibility to hand me my sentence. In conclusion I would say to anyone new to the bible to start in the new testament reading the words of Jesus, and really getting to see the kind of man he was when he was on earth and how loving off a father that he is in Heaven. I specifically would like to acknowledge the peace that the word of God and scripture has given me as of late. Jesus I invite you in my heart and I am moved by your empathy towards me simply a sinner. Jesus I continue to invite you into my heart & Christ I invite you into not only my heart but my life to examine and repair my spirit. I thank you Jesus and I love you for my salvation! In JESUS NAME

#recovery #jesus christ #faith in jesus #christian living #recovering addict #addiction #sex and drugs

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unfoldingmoments · 6 months

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Why I am not a Pacifist

The doctrine that war is always a great evil seems to imply a materialist ethic, a belief that death and pain are the greatest evils. But I do not think they are. I think the suppression of a higher religion by a lower, or even a higher secular culture by a lower, a much greater evil.

If not the greatest evil, yet war is a great evil. Therefore, we should all like to remove it if we can. But every war leads to another war. The removal of war must therefore be attempted.

But the question belongs to a mode of thought which I find quite alien to me. It consists in assuming that the great permanent miseries in human life must be curable if only we can find the right cure; and it then proceeds by elimination and concludes that whatever is left, however unlikely to prove a cure, must nevertheless do so.

But I have received no assurance that anything we can do will eradicate suffering. I think the best results are obtained by people who work quietly away at their objectives, such as the abolition of the slave trade, or prison reform, or factory acts, or tuberculosis, not by those who think they can achieve universal justice, or health, or peace. I think the art of life consists in tackling each immediate evil as well as we can. To avert or postpone one particular war by wise policy, or to render one particular campaign shorter by strength and skill or less terrible by mercy to the conquered and the civilians, is more useful than all the proposals for universal peace that have ever been made; just as the dentist who can stop one toothache has deserved better of humanity than all the men who think they have some scheme for producing a perfectly healthy race. I turn next to consider Authority. Authority is either special or general, and again either human or divine. The special human authority which rests on me in this matter is that of the society to which I belong.

So much for special human authority. The sentence of general human authority is equally clear. From the dawn of history down to the sinking of the Terris Bay, the world echoes with the praise of righteous war. To be a Pacifist, I must part company with Homer and Virgil, with Plato and Aristotle, with Zarathustra and the Bhagavad-Gita, with Cicero and Montaigne, with Iceland and with Egypt. From this point of view, I am almost tempted to reply to the Pacifist as Johnson replied to Goldsmith, ‘Nay Sir, if you will not take the universal opinion of mankind, I have no more to say.’ I am aware that, though Hooker thought ‘the general and perpetual voice of men is as the sentence of God Himself’, yet many who hear will give it little or no weight. This disregard of human authority may have two roots. It may spring from the belief that human history is a simple, unilinear movement from worse to better – what is called a belief in Progress – so than any given generation is-always in all respects wiser than all previous generations. To those who believe thus, our ancestors are superseded and there seems nothing improbable in the claim that the whole world was wrong until the day before yesterday and now has suddenly become right. With such people I confess I cannot argue, for I do not share their basic assumption. Believers in progress rightly note that in the world of machines the new model supersedes the old; from this they falsely infer a similar kind of supercession in such things as virtue and wisdom. Christian authority, then, fails me in my search for Pacifism. It remains to inquire whether, if I still remain a Pacifist, I ought to suspect the secret influence of any passion. I hope you will not here misunderstand me. I do not intend to join in any of the jibes to which those of your persuasion are exposed in the popular press. Let me say at the outset that I think it unlikely there is anyone present less courageous than myself. But let me also say that there is no man alive so virtuous that he need feel himself insulted at being asked to consider the possibility of a warping passion when the choice is one between so much happiness and so much between so much happiness and so much misery. For let us make no mistake. All that we fear from all the kinds of adversity, severally, is collected together in the life of a soldier on active service. Like sickness, it threatens pain and death. Like poverty, it threatens ill lodging, cold, heat, thirst and hunger. Like slavery, it threatens toil, humiliation, injustice and arbitrary rule. Like exile, it separates you from all you love. Like the galleys, it imprisons you at close quarters with uncongenial companions. It threatens every temporal evil – every evil except dishonour and final perdition, and those who bear it like it no better than you would like it. On the other side, though it may not be your fault, it is certainly a fact that Pacifism threatens you with almost nothing.

For we have learned now that though the world is slow to forgive, it is quick to forget. This, then, is why I am not a Pacifist. If I tried to become one, I should find a very doubtful factual basis, an obscure train of reasoning, a weight of authority both human and Divine against me, and strong grounds for suspecting that my wishes had directed my decision. As I have said, moral decisions do not admit of mathematical certainty. It may be, after all, that Pacifism is right. But it seems to me very long odds, longer odds than I would care to take with the voice of almost all humanity against me.

Excerpt From: C. S. Lewis. “Compelling Reason.” :Why I am not A Pacifist

#pacifist #compellingreason #book #cslewis #quotes

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