#because im tired and i don't want to come up with more metaphors for time warping rn. so hush <3
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"I forgive you."
It came out like a blood clot—like an artery dripping gore—like an oil spill. Crowley felt his shoulders rise, fall, fall, fall. The air between them hummed, the tension of six thousand years turning every atom electrified and silently screaming.
Breath shuddered out of him, human and terrible and hollowing. He had never been more grateful for the swallowing darkness of his glasses, for the way they hid the centuries of pre-emptive grief and wicked terror. The air was suffocating, the once familiar bookshop turned catacomb.
And then, hating himself for it but seeing no other way forward, he spoke the words aloud.
"Don't bother".
And then he was out in the middle of Soho and the breeze was harsh against his too-warm skin. Stepping out into the sun felt like rising to the surface of some great ocean—the gasping, desperate feeling in his lungs, the sudden crash of noise. A woman across the street called for her wife. A car horn. A dog barking. Laughter, cruel and far-off. He pulled breath into lungs that didn't need it, winced as he felt slivers of cold drive into the soft flesh of his throat.
So that was it; five and a half million years of want and need and burning, aching somedays, cyphered pleas for "our side". All gone in the space between shaking half-breaths and a kiss still seared against his lips.
Fuck it.
He'd ruined it the first time, had forced them both to look directly into the sun, to face the thing they'd been dancing around for the better part of six millennia. He could do better—would do better.
At a music café some years ago, a human had been playing the piano—something soft and slow. A jazz number, if the demon remembered correctly. But the remarkable thing wasn’t the song itself, but that they were playing it with their eyes closed. Aziraphale had pointed this fact out to Crowley, excitement lilting in his voice (even then, the sound had thrilled him, sent a stab of warmth through his heart). It was only after the final note reverberated through the room that the artist opened their eyes, blinking in the sudden rush of stage lights. Aziraphale, ever the music connoisseur, approached the musician. The pianist had explained that, for them, reading music never came easy. Rather, they learned by touch, by the way the keys felt on their fingertips. In fact, the only way they could play a song was with their eyes closed. If they watched their hands as they played or thought too hard about their next move, they got confused and tripped over the notes. Muscle memory, they’d said.
It was muscle memory—the galactic familiarity of finding the space between seconds and prying—that guided Crowley now. He hadn’t done it since Not-Armageddon, but it came easily to him just the same. Time, you see, operates kind of like sound, like music; it loops and sways and carries forward in waves. If you know where to look (as the demon did), you can disrupt the flow, send it back towards the shore.
And this was what Crowley did now. Drawing his hands through the ripples of minutes and seconds and hours and millennia, time stilled around him. It was natural. Easy, like breathing or sleeping. Or loving Aziraphale.
Slowly, the world turned backwards; humans retreating from whence they came, cars driving in reverse, the wind blowing in the opposite direction. If Heaven had taken notice of their "half-a-miracle", Crowley expected them to be able to see this from every edge of the universe. He likely only had one shot at this.
The world aligned itself once more, and time returned to its regular, steady gait—a rubber band snapping back into place. Something hummed in Crowley’s chest. Something bright and burning and the shape of a neutron star.
Hands shaking, he reached for the handle of the bookshop and pushed. The bell above the door rang, clear and and too-loud in the morning air.
Aziraphale whirled around, a trembling half-smile on his face. Oh. Oh, somebody, this was going to be harder than he thought. It felt like all the oxygen, all the courage, had been punched clear out of him
"Crowley!"
A beat, a shuddering breath. "Angel". He pressed his still-trembling hands into his pockets and strode forward.
"Oh, Crowley, dear, I've been looking for you. I have excellent news."
His stomach did a little flip, something deep within him growing hollow and fearful. "We have to talk," he managed to choke out around the heart still lodged in his throat.
"Yes, I quite think we do. I have something to tell you." Aziraphale strode forward, all grins and beauty like a flickering star, all plasma and heat. He could practically feel the agitated warmth roll off of his angel. Crowley shivered. "I just met with the Meta—”
"No. Wait," the demon held up a hand, pausing the rushing torrent of Aziraphale’s words. "Just let me say my thing, please."
"My dear boy, just—oh, what is that lovely human expression—"
"Hold that thought," Crowley muttered. His eyes burned behind his glasses. Aziraphale looked pleasantly taken aback.
"Yes, how did you know? I—"
"No."
The angel's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "No?"
"No," he repeated, enunciating each letter with perfect clarity. He was going to do it right this time. He was going to keep him from leaving. He could be good. Right? "I’m gonna speak, and I want you to listen to me without interrupting, m'kay?" Words were building in the basin of his sternum now, pushing up on his airways. He was going to have to say it outright this time; no more waltzing around this frenzied galaxy of emotion. Willing his hands to steadiness, he pulled his glasses from his face, and tucked them into the collar of his shirt.
Aziraphale's breath seemed to catch for a moment, meeting the ferocity of the demon's gaze head-on. A deer in headlights. And then, "Crowley, I really—"
(Eons hurtled through his mind in a split second, the serrated knife's-edge of want like a being all its own. Aziraphale in the garden. Aziraphale in the tavern, on the cliffside, on the West End stage, in the Bentley, in the bookshop, in the very marrow of Crowley’s bones.)
"I love you," he rasped, ichor writhing in his veins.
There, he'd said it., said it fully and completely, without so much as flinching. It was the same love he'd expressed for the past several thousand years in a million little, unspoken ways: an ox rib, a revolution, a church, a burning bookshop and the bottom of a glass and a lost best friend. A yellow Bentley, a lifetime of tethering his life to Aziraphale's, of trailing after him like a moth to flame—like a dog to its owner.
"I love you," he pushed on. They were both looking directly into the sun again, Crowley urging them to stare straight into the heat of it all. The words were spilling out of him now, a heaving, thrashing current falling to the bookshop's hardwood floors. "I love you and you can't go to Heaven."
Aziraphale froze, pupils blown wide and unblinking, for just a moment. Tension stretched out like a thread between them. And then he pulled in breath like a drowning man (who wasn't really a man at all), and tears were gathering in the corner of his eyes, and oh god, he'd made his angel cry.
Fear and guilt and horror slammed into him at a million kilometers an hour and left him halfway between dizzy and nauseous. His fingers tensed at his side, desperate to do something, fix what he'd so obviously broken. Heaven would be on the front step any moment. It was too late, wasn't it? It was always too late.
"Crowley—what?" Aziraphale breathed, mouth twisting into a brutal, terrible, heart-wrenching sob. Crowley ached, panic lancing through him like a knife. "I—I really, I can't. You could come with me." He stepped forward, moving to place his hands on the demon's shoulders.
Crowley leaned into the touch, almost unconsciously. "Don't go," he croaked, tears beginning to prick his own eyes once again. This time he didn't reach for his glasses, didn't try to hide his fear. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. And then Aziraphale could hate him and his desperate, hungry, reverent love in the aftermath. "Don't go where I can't follow. Please".
His angels blue-grey eyes searched his own, and the weight of his gaze was impossibly heavy, pressing down on his chest like a river-smoothed rock.
"Crowley, please. I don't understand. The Metatron said—" His palms found the sides of Crowley's throat, thumbs resting gently on the side of his jaw.
Crowley sucked in a breath. "Angel," The scent of earl grey—of old books and soft tartan chairs. Aziraphale's hands were shaking. "I know what the Metatron said," he intoned, soft as rainfall. "You can't go. It's not—they won't change. You're better than that."
"But you could be an angel. With me," he murmured, soft thumbs running across sharp cheekbones. "Be my second-in-command."
"Don't want to be. Want t' be an us," he felt tears—traitorous, burning tears tip over the edge of his lashes and fall against his face.
"Crowley, darling, please." A beat. "I love you."
The bottom of the world dropped out from under him in that moment. Aziraphale loved him. He loved him and he'd said it aloud and now it was out there in the world and it was as though every nerve on his body was on fire.
His angel pushed on, "Truly, I love you. I need you with me. Please, come with me. We can do good, I know it."
He could never say no when his angel asked something of him. Especially not when his kind, gentle hands were holding him like something good, something precious. Especially not when Aziraphale had just admitted to needing him, had injected the word with so much warmth he thought his all-too-human heart might beat clear out of his chest.
But there was a first (technically, second) time for everything.
He drew in a heavy breath, and tilted his head, breaking his angel's hold on him. Aziraphale's hands—now empty, still shook. He made a soft whimpering sound, and Crowley ached to kiss his fingertips, banish the fear. But instead, he looked up towards the ceiling, to a God who was not there—who maybe had never been there at all. He felt the Heavenly Host drawing near, a sense of hollow emptiness, the scent of absence. This was the time of last-ditch efforts, of holding his heart out and hoping Aziraphale might take it as it was, bruised spots and all.
"I can't. I won't. I need to be here, on Earth, with you."
"Crowley, please. I don't think you understand what I'm offering you," he huffed.
A residual shard of anger stabbed at him then, and he turned his gaze sharply back to the angel before him. "Oh, I understand perfectly well, angel. I'm fairly certain I understand better than you do."
Aziraphale's mouth drew into a thin line, tears welling fresh in his eyes again. And still, Crowley ached.
A beat. Something in the angel shifted, then, turned on its edge—the walls beginning to go up again, and it was just like it had been not fifteen minutes ago. He was watching the same moment play out over and over again; some cyclical, torrential nightmare.
"I would like you to come with me, but," Aziraphale paused, voice breaking in the middle. "But I'm leaving, with or without you."
And there it was, like it was predestined. Despite the love, despite the want, despite every shared bottle passed between them, every half-accidental touch and glance and whispered word—despite the way he would’ve let Aziraphale run a sword through his chest...
It wasn't enough. It was never enough.
They were re-enacting their old magic trick, right there in the bookshop, this time with Crowley staring down the barrel, letting Aziraphale pull the trigger. Aim for my mouth, but shoot past my ear. Aziraphale wasn't shooting past his ear. His bloody ribcage felt as though it might splinter apart.
Wingbeats in the distance, a grief wide enough to drown the sea. Crowley reached down, pulled his sunglasses from their resting spot against his clavicle. And then the hunger in his eyes was once more hidden, and he was walking towards the door like a man headed to execution.
"Crowley—" Aziraphale nearly keened, the wall crumbling for a split second.
Without turning, Crowley said the only words he could think of.
"I forgive you."
#did i steal some lines from one of my own fanfics??? yes. yes i did#because im tired and i don't want to come up with more metaphors for time warping rn. so hush <3#good omens fanfiction#good omens angst#THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE 300 WORDS LONG#FUCK I FUCKED UP IM DEHYDRATED AND IM SUPPOSED TO BE WRITING AN ESSAY WHAT THE FUCK#idek what this is i literally have not edited one tiny little bit of this. i just came up with everything as i went along so i apologize#ignore the fact that the dialogue/pacing/ideas diverge from canon shhhhhh im too tired to look at source material#ehhh dunno how i feel ab this but whatever here's something (???)#take a shot every time i say chest or heart or ache or tremble#good omens#crowley#ineffable husbands#good omens 2#aziraphale#aziracrow#go2#ineffable lovers#ineffable wives#good omens season 2#crowley angst#final fifteen#aziraphale x crowley#crowley x arizaphale#david tennant#michael sheen#ineffable divorce#good omens fic#good omens fanfic#gomens
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what is coming? (timeless pick-a-card)
for those who need comfort, or dream of the future, this might be the pac for you ☆ 3-17-23 .
PILE ONE ; " i'm so tired " ...
how long have you been keeping yourself awake? it's up to you to decide whether that statement was metaphorical or literal, but the point still stands. can't catch sleep? it's not your fault. you don't have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, you deserve to rest. sleep is a blessing that you will catch up on soon. the mistakes of your past shouldn't stop you from rejuvenating yourself. i'm sorry this relief from life has been taken from you.
i can see that what's coming toward you is more closure. conflicts being resolved, and action being taken to prevent future problems from happening. peace is coming, and more spiritual peace- however you may find it. you are finding what is lost or missing; a confidant, a part of yourself you lost, or a sense of responsibility. this will make you feel a little less confused in this dark time. whatever you find, make sure it benefits you, not hinders you.
extra: the number 7 or 16, cheerleading, studying, driving/cars, violent - carolesdaughter, the need to please, disappointment, "you are more than your thoughts, more than your past" green, spring months, gaming to cope, betrayal, "you deserve love because you exist"
PILE TWO ; " i am fighting " ...
you are so strong. your strength is commendable, and so is your resolve. you are making me smile. things seem to be good for you right now, but have they always? no one is born to be so resilient, it's our experiences that shape us to be who we are, and yours have molded you into a warrior, pile two. you are so strong, have you heard that before? i feel like you don't get recognized enough. but you suffered, and i see that. i see that, and i see you. thank you, for never giving up.
stability is reaching you. i feel like you have a 'fake it till you make it mindset' in order to reach what you truly want. but i see that you will soon have whatever you desire. it will be unmistakably yours, and you'll know in your heart when you find it. you will be emotionally fulfilled, and reach a state of kind of 'enlightenment' where you're like, i know what im doing now, it all makes sense. it will be a moment where everything clicks, and everything settles down.
extra: pink, red, gold, orange, chains of pearls, instruments, stuffy, nostalgia, memories like the color yellow, may, june, 2018, "this feels right", back to the future/past, vintage, aesthetic, dream girl vibes, photos, "everything is okay"
PILE THREE ; " where is the sun ? " ...
you have lost your sun, pile three. you remind me of a sunflower, looking for the sun to turn to, but what happens if the sun isn't there? you are aimless and lost, trying to find what has been stolen from you. but it hasn't, has it? it's time to take off your lenses, and realize that this isn't healthy. you have been stuck in a cycle for a while, and i feel like you kind of actually trap yourself in it. i get it, it's better to be trapped than face the reality. but is the pain you're causing yourself really worth it? please find strength in yourself to break free. trust me, it's better than staying. im rooting for you, pile three.
what's coming toward you is the strength to pull yourself out of this negative situation. i see you putting yourself first, and sparing yourself of further heartbreak, disappointment, and sadness. i can see that this will sort of be a tower moment for you; the tower has always been shaky, but it's only now that you are fleeing from it, and i'm proud of you. it's hard, but you can do it. after, you might find yourself stuck in your own thoughts secondguessing, but you did the right thing. never forget that. i also see someone of importance entering your life, a little after this.
extra: dont worrry darling, omori, pink beats, neurodivergence, black, alternative culture, crosses, pinky promises, mother figure, chocolate, willy wonka and the chocolate factory, balloons, lamps, llamas, "why would you leave me?", "because i couldn't stay", polish
#pick a pile#pick a card#pick a picture#pick a pile readings#pick a card readings#pac#pac tarot#pac reading#intuition#intuitive readings#intuitive messages#intuitive#tarot free reading#tarot reading#tarot readings
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𝐓. 𝐊𝐀𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐙. 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟖🍒
# 🖇ꜱʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴅʏ
🍬 ₛₕₑ'ₛ ₛₒ ₛwₑₑₜ🌶
𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵🍫
᥅ꫀꪖꪶ ᥴꫝꫀ᥅᥅ꪗ🌹
⠀⠀ ▄︻┻┳═一・・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ✦
𝓼𝔂𝓹𝓷𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓼: tom knows you're a virgin. over time and time of begging and asking he'd finally say yes to the two of you having intercourse.🖇
𝐓𝐖: virgin reader/fem or male, bit of overstimulation, words of affirmination/praise, soft touches, kisses, corruption kink(?), tears/dacryphilia, readers pussy/dick does not 'tatse like candy' it's just a metaphore, soft tom because i don't think he would go ham on a virgin💀, it's protected i'm just lazy#
# tom kaulitz , wanted you to trust him. you just wanted to know what it was like, you did. but you weren't just a fan who wanted to fuck for chance, you were with him. he loved you, if something big happened he didn't want to be 'just your first' in the worst way possible. but you'd almost insist. it wasn't like he wanted to say no, not at all he wanted you too. but you were so tempting..how could he say no in the first place.
# tom kaulitz , loved the fact over almost every small touch you'd let out little gasps and whines. each time his lips would come in contact with your skin, whether it'd be your collar bone, your chest, your stomach, and your thighs— they were his favorite part, yours too. his hair which he put out of his ponytail would give a small tickle along with his lips. his hands keeping your legs open as he'd move closer to in between your legs, his tounge giving a new sensation. you were so sweet as his tounge swiped across. you were too addictive he couldn't stop.
# tom kaulitz , who would hoist your legs up, going deeper as he'd take you in. his fingers squeezing and amount of plush on your thighs, in which your soft skin laied across. he'd knew you'd be close, but he didn't want it to be that way, no. he wanted to make sure you had the full experience with him. a pillow would be placed under you, still holding you up himself. you look so helpless as you told him to go in, you couldn't even look at it happen as he did so. "tom— it feels.. " "shh..i know it feels weird." the small soothing caresses he'd do, to make sure you still wanted this, to make sure you were okay with this.
# tom kaulitz , who was now in a head space he couldn't back out of. you were now flipped onto your stomach, your fore arms holding you up, your noises a new pleasure to him and he'd want to hear more of it. he couldn't stop each time he'd pick up the pace, the sticky and wet feeling burning between your thighs between each thrust, and your neediness and hunger increased but the tired feeling got bigger as well. your breathing increasing when you told him to stop. "w—wait! pull out," he'd stop, listening to your words instantly his arm reaching over to grab the head board gripping when he pulled out. your chest heaved up and down changing speeds as your head felt foggy, your body weak. he hadn't cum yet, but it was fine. as long as you were satisfied enough.
# tom kaulitz , placed you down with a water glass in your hand. "are you hungry?" "no.." explaining you'd only want to lay with him for a while after the glass of water was finished. he'd never think how this moment would be with you(that being a lie.) but he'd never think your body would be so..tantalizing.
#tagging: @tokio-motel @evieskiesss @iheartheoustiders
a/n: IM DONE. IM FUCKING DONE. i'm gonna go talk to my boyfriend now. good bye😇🙏🏾
#tokio hotel x reader#tokio hotel#tom kaulitz tokio hotel#tom kaulitz x reader#tom kaulitz fic#tom kaulitz#tom kaulitz smut#top tom kaulitz#tokio hotel fanfic#tokio hotel tom kaulitz#tokio hotel smut
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Hiya, I hope youre having a good day!
On your advice for stiff writing, you said to 'avoid purple prose'. Im just wondering what that means? Sorry if I missed something from an earlier post.
Purple Prose and How to Avoid It
"Purple prose" is what we call writing that is "flowery" or ornate to the extent that it's melodramatic and pulls the reader's focus away from the actual story. Some things that contribute to purple prose:
1 - Overuse of Elegant and Elaborate Words
Normal Sentence: Clara stepped to the balcony and looked out over the crowd, finely dressed and buzzing with courtly gossip.
Purple Prose: Clara traipsed to the wrought iron precipice and gazed upon the throng, opulently clad and susurrous with scandalous hearsay and scurrilous palaver.
The problem: One of our biggest goals as writers is to effectively communicate the stories inside our heads, and we do that by making sure our prose is generally clear, direct, and precise. The overuse of elegant and elaborate words in the second example defeats the clarity because the reader is constantly having to think about what each word means, and maybe even look them up. When you read "balcony" you don't have to think about what that is. But "wrought iron precipice" requires a little more time to work out. "Crowd" is straightforward and clear where "throng" isn't. Everyone knows what gossip is, but "susurrous with scandalous hearsay" is just... whut.
The Solution: Most of the time, try to use the clearest, most direct words to communicate what you're trying to say. Don't constantly run to the thesaurus to find a fancier word. Ornate words should be saved for times when you really need the special impact.
2 - Overuse of Long Sentences
Normal Sentence: The finely dressed crowd buzzed with courtly gossip. (8 words)
Purple Prose: The throng was opulently clad and susurrous with scandalous hearsay and scurrilous palaver. (13 words)
The Problem: A variety of sentence lengths creates a cadence that helps your story flow. Since purple prose usually adds unnecessary words ("susurrous with scandalous hearsay and scurrilous palaver" takes seven words to say the same thing as "courtly gossip") you end up with more long sentences than short or mid-length sentences, if any at all, so not only do you not get that cadence, you often end up slowing the flow of the story.
The Solution: Keep an eye on your sentence length. If you see a lot of long sentences, see which ones you can tighten up. Not only will this help eliminate purple prose, but it will give you a nice variety of sentence lengths that will give your prose cadence and improve the flow of your story.
3 - Overuse of Figurative Language
I'm fudging the example here because I'm tired and my brain can't do figurative language right now, but it's things like metaphor, simile, hyperbole, idioms, symbolism, onomatopoeia, euphemism, and alliteration.
The Problem: Figurative language isn't usually the clearest, most direct to say something--though once in a while it does add much-needed clarity--so it's definitely not something you want in every sentence. Another issue with figurative language is it can be tricky to come up with something new or not over used, so a lot of figurative language falls into cliché territory. ("Their muscles were hard as rocks," "It was the calm before the storm," "They woke up on the wrong side of the bed...")
Solution: Make sure figurative language is used with intention and purpose. Before you use it, ask yourself what the figurative language accomplishes... how does it enrich the story or the reader's experience? Is it being used in a place that needs the added impact?
4 - Overuse of Adjectives and Adverbs
Normal sentence: She tiptoed down the steps and melted into the crowd, hoping not to be seen.
Purple Prose: She walked gently down the steep steps and quietly melted into the bustling crowd, desperately hoping not to be seen.
The Problem: Quite often, adverbs can be replaced by active verbs. There's no point in saying "walked gently" when you can say "tiptoed." No need to say "said loudly" when you could say "shouted." No need to say "drove quickly" when you could say "sped." And sometimes adverbs just don't add anything. If she tiptoes down the steps and melts into the crowd, isn't it kind of obvious that she's really reeeally hoping not to be seen? Describing that hope as "desperate" doesn't necessarily tell us anything useful. And in much the same way, while adjectives can certainly help paint a picture, when they're being over used, it's a good bet a lot of them aren't doing anything important. Why do we need to know the steps are "steep"? Is that going to be important later?
The Solution: Make sure you replace adverbs with active verbs whenever possible, and try to save adjectives for when they serve a purpose--either to flesh out description in important ways or tell the reader something they need to know for later.
5 - Overuse of Emotional and Sensory Description
Normal Sentence: She hoped no one saw her but couldn't fight off the feeling someone had. The fear made her heart pound and left a bitter taste in her mouth.
Purple Prose: She was absolutely desperate not to be seen, would pass out from shock if anyone saw her. Sweat streamed down her neck and pooled at the small of her back. She was so nervous she shook like a leaf, tasting bile in her throat as her heart pounded in her chest. The incessant chatter of the blathering crowd was almost drowned out by the frightening rush of blood in her ears.
The Problem: There's just too much going on. I love sensory description, but it doesn't have to be ALL the senses. And emotional details are great too, but she's desperate, potentially shocked, frightened, nervous... it's too much emotion. It's melodramatic.
The Solution: Use emotional description only when it's necessary, and don't forget you can also illustrate emotion by using physical and internal cues. Sensory description is great, too, but don't feel like you have to include all the sensory details in every description.
I hope that helps!
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Medbleu headcanon medbleu because you made me like this one more (Ex Balloon Party Baby Blue believer)
Baby Blue is KLS representation (I think) how cool. It's a very rare condition where people get so tired all of the time and will be asleep from weeks to months basically. Her way with living and coping with her illness has made Medicine Pocket a lot less morbid about their own condition and enjoy life more.
Baby Blue is more calm while Medicine Pocket is more limbic. Even though Baby Blue struggles between reality and her unending dreams, she has sleep-talked Medicine Pocket out of doing all kinds of awful things to themselves by slowly repeating back their answer to 'what are you doing'. Medicine Pocket wants to be someone she can depend on; they are more careful and steady when thinking of Baby Blue
Medicine Pocket, in turn, keeps Baby Blue safe when she is unaware of her surroundings. It was really crude at first but after they figured out it was impossible to change her condition they became more protective rather than bothered by the constant dreaming.
Baby Blue has a hundred nicknames/petnames for them. Medicine Pocket isn't confident with coming up with these names but she gets so happy whenever they come up with a new one. Blue's favorite name for them is 'Puppy'.
very wholesome..... Baby Blue requires Medicine Pocket to sleep with her for at least 6 hours a day. She can be little a clingy when Medicine Pocket comes home.
also also Blue mistook Medicine Pocket for a wonderlandshark at first and after she presumed them as such they had to step out of the room to try not to cry and explode thats True love .
📣Good Night USA
This is so important to me you have no idea ooouuuhhh 😭😭😭😭😭 I never thought of a proper proper wholesome dynamic between them to this extent and now I am enlightened…
This is a LONG post you have been warned. The MedBlue brainrot is SUPER REAL.
OK I CAN IMAGINE BABY BLUE CALLING THEM PUPPY IN THE SWEETEST SOFTEST SLEEPY VOICE EVER FULL OF GENTLE LOVE AND ADORATION… IM GONNA CRYYYYY AND MELT AND EXPLODE… Mental support Baby Blue is real (both in a meta and metaphorical sense).
I also like how she’s, in her own way, helping to keep the researcher in check. Someone has to keep her safe, therefore they also should keep themself safe so that they can be there for her. Yes, they love their job and the delightful dangers it brings with it. But they also have a person dear to them waiting for them. Also, in my headcanon, Medicine Pocket shelters a lot of supposed-to-be-experiment dogs at Laplace so they got to get it together for their pups, too (I imagine Baby Blue napping together with their puppies at the Laplace fields occasionally… Puppy tea party… Somft…). They want to take care of her and their pups, be dependable, and protect them. They used to think that this protection comes at the cost of their own wellbeing but NUH UH. Baby Blue's presence and words remind them that there are dangerous thresholds that they don't need to cross, no matter how 'logical' it seems.
She wants them to sleep with her an adequate amount of hours, therefore they cannot fuck up their sleep schedule by pulling impulsive all-nighters (I’m guilty of this too whoops). These two would get! Cozy! And Baby Blue would softly sleeptalk nonsensical but calming tales from her wonderland to help them sleep. I assume bedtime stories aren’t a very common thing in their childhood, especially when they got taken away with the beagles. So Baby Blue's whimsical, imaginative antics would be like taking back tiny but meaningful pieces of their lost childhood, stolen by a life of cold, clinical, and dangerous research. After they started sleeping with Baby Blue, her warmth and comforting stories allowed the researcher to get not only much-needed sleep, but also sating a yearning. A yearning for coziness and unconditional peace they likely brushed aside for a long, long time through the span of their childhood to teenhood.
On Baby Blue, a lot of people likely gave up on her. Doctor after doctor after doctor shook their heads and raised their hands after examining her condition. Teachers, friends, and even strangers are bewildered by her, calling her crazy, and treating her as more of a 'case study' or 'phenomenon' than an actual person. Those who did stick around her for a while couldn't stand her constant dreamings and tendencies to isolate, they either took it to heart or found themselves drifting away from her. It took her a while but she convinced herself that she was used to it, wonderland and its dwellers were her true friends after all. But at the same time, I feel like she would still realize that she's living in two worlds, and recognizes her loneliness in one of them. She tried to not think about it for a while but it likely bit at her some nights. Medicine Pocket may be the only doctor insistent enough to stick with her for longer than many others before them thanks to their stubbornness and curiosity. That's enough to get her attached to them, to say the least.
I WOULD LOVE TO SAY MORE THINGS ABOUT THESE TWO (such as her wonderland and their research on it, Baby Blue getting curious on Medpoc's research which led to them infodumping, more Baby Blue interactions with Medpoc's pups, Medpoc protecting Baby Blue from weirdo doctors at Laplace, etc etc) BUT I MAY NEED TO SLEEP GOODNIGHT INDONESIA 🔊THANK YOU ANON FOR THE ASK FEEL FREE TO SEND ME MORE OMG THE MEDBLUE BRAINROT IS REAL!!! I want to write a fic abt these two SO BAD. I want them to BE HAPPY!!!
#medblue#babypocket#Baby Blue#Medicine Pocket#mochasks#thank you anon#oh i actually also like the dynamic between Balloon Party and Baby Blue i thought of them before….#ouuhhh Baby Blue you are the character ever#reverse 1999#the medblue fic im writing rn is TOXIC i boutta do a u-turn
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I love love love yandere tropes I will restrain myself to just one I prommy. Im feeling geto today. Geto & wisteria 💜
a /n ; hello miss aleks... thank u for requesting getou bc im insane abt him. a lot of requests for wisteria!! v interesting
cw ; yandere, captivitity, implied violence, reader talks about being hungry but it's largely metaphorical, gn!reader
W - Wisteria (long life, immortality): “Tell me I’m your god/goddess and I’ll grant you a slice of heaven.”
You're of the belief that your anger will someday mean something.
You hold onto this belief. You nurse it like a child that cries so loud it could shatter glass windows. More than anything, you want this anger festering inside of you to mean something. To be visible or potent. You hope with utmost sincerity that someday you will reveal it to someone and they will be the one to shrink back.
Getou is not above being cruel. He doesn't prefer it. The cruelty is not sadistic in nature - it's not something he draws pleasure from. Not usually. Not often enough for you to notice, though some times there's a gleam to him. A sharpness at the corners of his mouth when he twists your wrist just a little too hard that makes you wonder if you're missing something.
In all the ways Getou is cruel, it's not the violence nor hunger that makes you feel the most vulnerable. It's the indifference to your own humanity that you regard as most inhumane. It is the almost pitiful glare as you push towards him defiantly, unwilling to stand down.
Getou is authoritarian, but not pragmatic. This means, if you bare your teeth at him he will only go so far as muzzling you. Even if it's more practical to shave your fangs down to nubs - the practically of a tamed animal is not enough for Getou Suguru. He would rather you keep them sharp, keep them bared - and to teach you the same lesson until your exhausted. To beat it into you until your howl is faint in the wind.
Getou shows preference for taming. He does not punish your hostility with violence. It's never an eye for an eye. That would assume that you and him are equals and that could never be. There's no such reality where a human being could be equal to him. You can't see curses. You bruise easily. You shout and light your temper rise even easier.
The days pass by. Slowly like time is hesitant to widen the gaps of your sanity, though you know that is unavoidable. You hold on still. Your hands are holding on so tight to the thing within yourself that feels you're sure your knuckles are white.
And Getou remains. Still. Steady. Not omnipotent. Because even a foolish human like you can recognize that only old times Gods are capable of acting selfish.
The chain around your neck feels heavy when Getou enters your quarters. A place with no sunlight and no wind. Getou approaches you like always, a softened smile. Long hair that flows down his back, tied half-up.
He always walks towards you, but never crouches to your height. As if he's waiting for the day you come to him obediently. Crawl towards him on your hands and knees with nothing but desperation. It hasn't come yet.
But he feels merciful. So he bends down and comes towards you, reaching his hand onto to touch you. Your limbs are heavy from exhaustion. Nothing much of a fight today, as he reaches his hand to pet your cheek.
"Tired today, hm?" He asks. He's not smug about it. You almost wish he was.
"Fuck off."
"So cold to me. Such a shame. I really cherish you, you know? I don't do this for just anyone." He says, nauseatingly sincere.
"Is this your idea of being cherished? You're sick."
"Don't be silly. Of course it isn't. I'm disciplining you. Trying to help you understand."
Anger bubbles up within you again. If your throat wasn't so hoarse you would scream.
"Understand what exactly?"
"That you're doomed to this, but you don't have to be." He strokes your thumb with your cheek, growing close. His eyes are so dark you can see yourself in them. You don't recognize your reflection anymore "Tell me I'm your God. Mean it. And I'll grant you a slice of heaven. You'd be happy if you could listen."
"I'll never give in to you. Never." You say, all too bitterly. He gives you a fond laugh.
"I like that part of you too. It reminds me of someone."
#return to sender#yandere cw#yandere ask game#writing tag#getou x reader#jjk x reader#dark content cw#reader is hungry in a literal sense but its an act of protest and getou doesnt put up with it in the first place#these two have so much lore fdkjs
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Pla do a POV of melvinborg comforting Y/N cause they're sick
Melvinborg x Reader;;
Lovesick
SICKFIC REQUEST HELL YEAH. Also this took so long to finish I apologize
You laid in bed and groaned, running your fingers through your hair. You were sick- extremely sick. You felt like you were on fire. Dramatic, yes, but accurate.
You sighed and pulled out your phone, not having the energy to get out of bed or shout for your husband (Melvin) to come help you. He was currently down in your shared lab working on an invention commission. You sent a message to him, your fingers wobbling with each tap. Your text read; "Heyy honey, im siccj, coukd you bribg up some medicine please? Thankg you 💕"
Within a minute you could hear fastly approaching footsteps coming to your room. The door opened moderately quickly and soon Melvin was by your side. "I'm here," he spoke softly, gently stroking your hair. "Mm.. You got here.. fast." You muttered, your voice hoarse. You began coughing, which prompted Melvin to start preparing the medicine for you to take. "Of course. You're my partner, I want to take care of you when you need me, that's my job. Well- metaphorically. It doesn't feel like a job, that's not what I meant," Melvin continued rambling on and on while you just listened to his voice without paying attention to what he was actually saying.
"Anyhow, I need you to sit up." Melvin stated. You did as requested, sitting up while slouching a bit. "Make sure you swallow all of it or it won't help." He said while putting a spoonful of liquid medicine to your lips. You took it without fuss but immediately started coughing once it was down.
"Ew! Ew ew ew- nasty-" You complained, which caused Melvin to start laughing lightly. "Do you think my suffering is funny, Mr. Sneedly?" You asked in a joking tone, your voice still hoarse. "Yes, Mx. Sneedly, I think it's hilarious." He teased. You let out a fake offended noise before going straight into another coughing fit.
"Alright, alright, enough talking, lay down." Melvin stated through light chuckles, gently pushing you back until you were laying down on the bed once again. "But I don't wannaaaa," You whined. "Well you gottaaa, you stale muffin. If you don't, you'll feel worse." He said, gently pushing down on your shoulder so you couldn't attempt to get back up.
"You're meaaan," You grumbled. "And you're sick." Melvin sighed, "Please just rest. I'll.. I'll spend all day with you tomorrow if you rest now, okay?" He said, attempting to bribe you with the idea of spending extra time with him. It worked; you relaxed on the bed with a dramatic sigh. "Fiiine.. Hmph."
Melvin smiled softly and gently played with your hair, watching as you relaxed more due to the affection. He knew you basically melted when he gave you plenty of attention and affection, so that was his method of 'bait' to get you to relax for the time being.
"Waitt, if you're near me, won't you get sick tooo?" You asked, sniffling as you began to feel congested. "Depends on if you choose to sneeze on me. As long as you don't sneeze or cough on me, I'll be okay. My immune system is much stronger than yours because of my cybernetics actually. The nerves on my robotic side can't hold in germs, so.." His voice became a blur to you as he continued rambling, and you became more tired.
You slowly but surely fell asleep to his voice. You could feel his human hand playing with your hair as he spoke, and you drifted off.
#fun to write! not great at sickfics but I tried :]#captain underpants#melvin sneedly#melvinborg#tetocu#the epic tales of captain underpants#[ dr's hyperfixations ]#[ dr's stories ]#melvinborg x reader#melvin x reader#melvin sneedly x reader
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I have been noticing somethigng for a while and I need people to tell me its something that they have noticed too.
So, Im disabled. Physically and mentally. And this has made me grow up exceptionally fast in the maturing sense. And now that im technically an adult I notice more and more how people are just... not
Like at work people come to ME for info about all things metaphorical, some serious topics like mental health, their own problems and things that usually are reserved for older people. And I don't mind it, I love giving people info and stuff, I love helping them discover themselves and help them in ways I wish someone would have helped me. But it's... strange.
The thing is I'm barely even an adult still, and still feel like a child in so many ways, but I still always seem to be on the outside with them. Since I've been forced to grow up, everyone is going through revelations at 26 I went through at 16.
And its VERY weird to be one of the most mature person there and still be so technically young. Everyone thought I was at least 20 something, not 18. And I don't feel 18. I have never felt my age. I use it as the control of how much dosage of medication I should take, not as my age. And it's not a new thing, I have NEVER felt my age in any way. And it's getting worse.
I graduated and went to college at 17, finished my first uni year at 18 and dropped out. Same year and I'm working to move far away, a place to settle down. I've worked more than some of my coworkers. I'm the little child prodigy that makes them feel useless but I'm NOT. I STILL FEEL LIKE A DISSAPOINTMENT. I FEEL LIKE A 30 Y/O DISSAPOINTMENT. I DONT KNOW WHY
People look at me like I'm crazy or an 'old soul'. I've been called that MY WHOLE LIFE. I don't understand what it means, I don't get stupid youthful foolishness, I dont GET it because I dont feel young or foolish. And its exhausting to feel this way, so out of the world around me, always feeling so out of depth or swimming with toddlers, no in between.
That's why I have struggled with age and time all my life. I can never guess someone's age, I dont remember a single thing about my childgood and I can't name the ages I was at those times. Hell, I still say I'm 17, sometimes 20, or even 16. I dont feel the passage of time, I dont know what age I was when I started school, I dont know the age I broke my bones, started feeling chronic pain, started to grow up, started forgetting all those years.
But I cant SAY ANY OF THIS
BECAUSE PEOPLE TAKE IT SEXUALLY
LIKE 'im mature for my age' is now used for pedophilia and harrasment. But I AM. I AM AND I HATE IT. I AM AND I AM BURDENED TO LIVE LIFE WITHOUT SOME TYPE OF SPIRIT, LOOKING AT THE WORLD AS SOMETHING TO SOLVE AND NOT LIVE. SEEING IT AS BROKEN AS IT IS.
Maybe its because the world is burning down, being part of gen z and growing up in a burning world. And some people my age DO act like I do, but they are usually autistic or disabled and I just... want to know? idk, this was more of a rant. Im just so tired. Ha,
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for the art ask thingy you reblogged, mayhaps 8, 12, and 17? (don't feel pressured to do them all)
ty for question! there will be a lot of text below bc i like to talk about my art or myself😭 i'm an egocentric😭
8. What do you like most about your own work?
It's hard to say, because i criticize myself a lot or treat my art like idkkk things i have to do while i'm still alive?? like creating (anything) is literally the meaning of my life
so my work to me it's kinda like a "vacuum the apartment" item in to-do list. you vacuum your apartment, delist it, and then forget about it forever
but if to think a little deeper it's hmm
i like the style in which i’m drawing rn, though i’m still not really happy with it. but this whole styling thing is super hard to me after years of academic art 💀 if im super tired my hands automatically draw something realistic and this really upsets me bc i don't want to draw realistic things :(
i don't post many original art here, but i love the sense of freedom it have, that i’ve worked very hard for and still working on it! like replacing "how to do it acceptably?" with "how i want it, how i feel it and how to do it honest" in my mind. honesty and sincerity are the most important things in my life, work, people etc.
there are many problems with this now because of the russian laws and autocracy, which has long been more like totalitarianism.
i have a hard time saying and doing what i think, constantly having to go around/come up with metaphors/not putting something out there at all, even changing ideas and plots. it disgusts me, i hope i can emigrate in the next two years or so, freedom is a key value for me
and ok if to be more abstract, i like the fact that I draw/etc for myself, i.e i create something that i lack in this world. every time it gives me a feeling of satisfaction (though it doesn't last long) that "there! at last I see what i wanted, what i craved to see".
i.e actually i work from "i don't like what there's rn, i want to see it differently, I want to do it other way". as if the store didn't have clothes in your size and and you'd have to sew your own
12. Show your favourite drawing from this year
i realize that this question implies one drawing, but idc and will show several instead of just one :^)
the first drawing that comes to mind is this! well it's not exactly a drawing ofc but still. it's one of 54 illustrations for the play "the shadow". i love this work very much (text here says "your country is like every country in the world" in different languages, and on the color block the phrase is "it's all so mixed up", it's quotes from the play)
and three more illustrations for the same play! best part of this year in terms of art is probably that i finally got into lettering. although it's not lettering in the classic sense here, like these lettering aren't meant to be readable, i just think the letters are very pretty:^)
and the last one. this fanart turned out to be very important for me! i drew it some time after my diploma and finally for the first time in a long time allowed myself to loosen up and not think about what others will think. thanks to this art i realized in which style i wanna work:^)
17. What inspires you?
almost anything tbh. movies, books, theater, songs, science, news, colors, clothes, people, whatever
in personal projects, it's usually a reflection on current events/experiences
talking to people and their stories inspire me a lot
on a more simple level: music/songs. i believe that any visual composition is music (even Kandinsky wrote about it and he himself considered his abstract works as painted music). So rhythm, intonation in songs and other things inspire me af. i always make playlists for every big project im working. it's not even about the lyrics of the songs, it's about the vibe/mood they give. (i had an exhibition this summer with illustrations for "the shadow" and like i put a disco projector there and made a 6 hours playlist 😭 bc all the illustration were based on music (and i hate exhibition snobbery, pseudo-intellectualism, and in general when people consider themselves superior to others. i also think that looking at pictures without music is boring)
aaaaand i'm also inspired by the words themselves? (you can notice in the pictures above, haha). sometimes by the meaning they carry, sometimes just by the way they look. and the letters inspire me bc that, again, is music to me. the rhythm, the plasticity, the contrast. i just love letters ahahh
thanks again for the question and hope it was interesting!
have a good day/night/morning/etc ! 💞
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Reasons why I think I'm certain character from twisted wonderland.... under the cut
tw — talks of starvation, isolation, death, abandonment, underlining stalking, horror, bullying... not talking of these by a lot but there are mentions so heres your warning
Idia, Malleus, Riddle, Rook, Azul
1. Idia Shroud
❝ Hey. ...So, uh, can I go now? ❜❜
— Okay hear me out. Listen. If you knew me personally or even if you don't I think you'd realize just how often I don't leave my room or go outside even if i want to
— I'm relatively always on the internet reading, playing games, drawing, watching YouTube, yknow.
— I don't go to sleep at reasonable times even when I say goodnight and if it weren't for the fact I'm tired 24/7 with no real energy I would NOT be sleeping in for even an hour. ((which happens anyway sometimes))
— I dislike irl interactions (unless I trust u a bunch) and I honestly try to avoid it as much as I can.
— I'm only /open/ to close friends(who I will see as family), my partner, or my cousin and I'd let them enter my space with no consequences
— I forget when I should eat and just avoid it whenever I can/want to because of personal reasons.
— Sometimes I forget to care for my hygiene ((dw I shower everyday when I have the will to stand))
— I put myself down faster than you can blink or I keep calling people names ((none offensive, think like... idk, tree or smth.)) to hype myself up
— I really.. and I mean really.. have a lot of family oriented trauma and if I could I would genuinely make a robotic family of how my family was before to me.
— that's not it but it gets more personal as I go on so erm
— #1
2. Malleus Draconia
❝ You aren't afraid of me. But I'm starting to become afraid...of losing you. ❜❜
— Now. Hear me out. #2
— For some reason, when I would ask my friends of what they first thought of me it was always "I was intimidated" or something of the sort and I would genuinely get so confused while looking like this.
— I don't get invited much to anything or get asked if I wanna join something a lot but theres this one person who makes sure to ask me if I wanna play games or watch videos together a lot like Malleus and Yuu ((PLATONIC YUU FOR ME DAWG. I SEE HER AS MY MOTHER.))
— I get isolated a lot in my family and if I wanna be around people I gotta do it myself (which is hard) and sit there but still be overlooked
— I'm not as in touch with my emotions as I make myself out to be, I'm very much out of them and I'm only really acting as to how I think people would want me to
— I don't understand human customs hel. Like I genuinely get so confused and be in awe when I see things others see like everyday
— I have big issues with abandonment and death when it comes to close friends (I'm talking like 4 year friendship and stuff.) or family I've grown attached to (my cousin), I'd genuinely do anything if it meant they'd stay with me ((vague spoilers lol!?))
— I take what my friends say very seriously if they aren't indicating that they're joking no matter what I sound like. That being said I make jokes unintentionally sometimes when im not even meaning to be funny
3. Riddle Rosehearts
❝ How was that? Do you understand the full extent of my capabilites now? ❜❜
— You don't have to hear me out on this one I'm a little shocked too.
— When I was younger I used to be wayyy too bossy and rude and if anyone even apposed me I would get angry and metaphorical go "off with your head"
— The only reason I woupd be so bossy and rude was because of my family and how they'd bend to my every will and encourage my behavior to others because i was a "golden child"
— especially my mom. She would see my bossy self and go "thats my mini me", looks and her personality
— As I grew older that bossy nature lessened of course but there are times i get angry when others dont have the same thought process like me and don't do something correctly in my eyes
— The only reason I don't let that bossy nature slip by is because of the fact I became my own ace and punched and told myself that I'm not the addition of my mother and I'm not the queen of the world
— of course I'll still follow rules but if they're like... unnecessary I'm not following them at all. Especially if its smth like "u MUST tie ur shoes five times" suck my D-'EYE'-C-K fr. 🐈
— I still have anger issues but I try and not let it slip past either. There was a time I got so angry that I was shaking and I had to be held back from attacking someone ((metaphorical "off with your head"))
4. Rook Hunt
❝ Non... Speak not. At this point, I can hear your inner voice just by gazing into your eyes. ❜❜
— I'm not as shocked by this
— For the other three it's more personal but for rook its in all caps PERSONAL. I see beauty in literally all things even if it truly is the most ugliest thing in space
— I can watch people from afar without getting caught exactly but enough for someone to get restless if I want them to be
— There are times I find information of someone on accident and I will be going deep into it. Like deep into it and then I'll forget it because it's not anything needed at that moment
— People either feel safe talking to me or unsafe and I cannot explain why bc even I dont know.
— I would wear outdoor boots for/with everything if I could and ik it would make people scream in horror.
— talking about horror i would watch detailed horror movies just to say how beautiful it can be and the symbolisms.. etc.
— I can also read characters kinda well??!?! and write them sorta well???!?? idk how to explain it but give me enough time with watching a character and I'll tell you exactly why I think they act the way they do or think the way they do or feel the way they do or how they would react to xyz, etc.
— even when I or my friends dont like someone I don't just base my reaction on that ((like I'm not a fan of neige or vil but if you told me to choose between the two I could not. both of their characters are good and if you wish I can even try to explain how.))
— I had a phase where I would speak in one language for a while ((spanish)) but i forgot what I used to say however half the time it was always me sayinf "i love you" to others i loved
— I called someone my butterfly once i think???? Cant remember who
5. Azul Ashengrotto
❝ What do you think? I have remarkable potential, don't I? ❜❜
— IF YOU KNEW ME IRL SINCE BASICALLY BIRTH YOU'D UNDERSTAND.
— I used to get bullied for a lot of things, my weight, my hair, my skin, my clothes, how i act, my glasses, my grades, how my moods would change drastically, my gender, etc
— So even when I was younger than I am now, I would see if others needed me to do something so I could gain favors or just get blackmail to raise over their heads for them to do smth for ME
— I was a people pleaser and a people eater no in-between.
— Unlike azul I didn't have a floyd or jade with me and it was just me myself and I
— LIKE azul I got a lot of people indebted to me lol.
— I would change myself and how I acted with people irl and on the internet to get literally every favor i could. I would know everything abt someone and they would feel like they HAD to help me with smth bc of that or bc i would show my more pathetic side
— I got so insecure of myself that I would try to take down any pictures i had of myself so that I could be "free" of the embarrassment.
— my family wouldn't help
— unlike azul I would do a lot of things to ensure i was skinny and cute and nice to others perspectives that I'd starve myself... so um.... yeahh.......
#🪐.exe#twisted wonderland#twst idia#twst malleus#twst riddle#twst rook#twst azul#disney twst#twst#idia shroud#malleus draconia#riddle rosehearts#rook hunt#azul ashengrotto
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Healing is great, and I'm making good progress
But old bones get dug up.
I'm remembering things that I locked away
Things safer to ignore.
I feel old wounds opening up, scars dissolve
So new flesh can grow.
Emotional neglect, a little here, a little there
A timer of sand.
I'm not the victim of a major crime, my cuts are small
But many makes mighty.
Each grain finds their friends against the wind
Making a mighty shifting dune.
Sometimes I feel trapped trapped by society
And me.
I feel like the last of my kind - alone
Extinct.
Even in the company of kin, I feel alien
Incomplete.
But running kept me alive and going
A sprint on all fours.
Filled my time with work and school
Ignored the flame in my soul.
I was lost in the woods. No luminous moon glow.
But it turns out I wasn't alone.
In the end, I found my pack.
And they found me.
Our old new wounds will close
And we will be free.
Now we howl and play in Moon's soft glow,
And my heart beats with renewed fervor.
Yet I mourn the life I thought I had,
How could a pup have known any better?
"Healing"
- Felix
(Commentary under the cut)
This is about trauma, healing, and found family. Werewolves, nature, and instinct. Autism, ADHD, and unmasking.
And journies.
I have spent a very long time under the haze of dissociation, I think. I'm coming to realize that I haven't been able to actually address some of the traumatic events in my life, because they were small (but consistent) patterns, instead of a single, obvious tragedy. More importantly, they were normal. I didn't know I was hiding my fears, shame, and sadness.
I was a bullied kid. I was an outcast; I felt like there were miles between my peers and I (shoutout to my childhood friends, y'all were the Real Ones). I don't think I was actually despised by my peers, but the bullying did its job; I assumed I wasn't welcome, so I kept myself small.
My dad had cancer since I was 6, on and off for 20 years. Thankfully, it was a mildly-aggressive and very treatable cancer. It was just the background radiation of our family until COVID got him in 2020. He was as old as my peers' grandparents. Add in the chemo, and he was always tired and dozing off. But he never complained about feeling sick.
With that radiation (the radiation metaphor has like 3 levels at this point), my parents relationship strained. I was kept awake many nights by my mom yelling at my dad, them fighting about something. My mom made it sound like he was abusive or neglectful, and that he didn't treat her right. I believed her. I mostly remember my dad as detached and emotionally distant, uninvolved. One time, I told my mom that I felt like dad didn't love me. I'm sure she used that as ammo to try to get him to Step Up or Be Better or something. Either way, you can only really deliver a bullet with a gun. If she did tell him that at some point, I'm sure it killed him on the spot. I really wanted to rebuild a relationship with him. I never got the chance.
Fast forward to today, and I have little to no sense of identity. I'm in my third try at college, the first two were nonstarters. I work retail, all I've ever known. I feel lost and stuck. I don't feel welcome in the common culture.
But im starting to open my eyes. I'm starting to feel again. I'm becoming more confident, I feel better, I'm expressing myself, and I feel like I actually have agency to become who I want to be. I've been in a dark tunnel for so long that I forgot what it was like to be content and happy.
If you, dear reader, take away anything from this poem and my tale, let it be that it will get better.
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Oh no I've been thinking about switching career to writing because I'm so so drained in my current one but I saw you saying not to pursue writing if it's a hobby. What made you feel that way if you don't mind me asking? I'm scared I might make a mistake if I change paths so any info would be very helpful, thanks x
hi anon!! i'd like it on record that i made that last post under a moment of duress and stress. granted, a moment thats been ongoing for months (a monthsment?), but like. i am taking a step back to provide an objective truth:
when im not stressed out of my mind, i genuinely enjoy my job.
i do like writing, even if it's for work. i love writing, i wouldnt have decided to study it in college and pursue a career in it if i didnt love it because lbr, nobody is going into writing for the money or fame, that such an outlier that it's almost laughable (laughter that dissolves into tired sobs, but still laughable. jkHVKJHVKJH).
but the reason i said that (and the reason why my writing exhaustion has been so recurring and regular) is cuz like---
(and forgive me but im gonna need to use a metaphor to explain this. how writerly of me jVKJSHDFKJSHD im also putting this under the cut so i dont flood ppl's dash with a writerly philosophical breakdown basically jhvKJVJK)
---it's like, when i personally write, the energy i need to do it comes from a specific HP bar, so to speak. like how in games, youve got a stamina bar and an HP bar and an MP bar and all that. my brain has a dedicated WP (Writing Points) bar, thats separate from all the other metaphorical energy bars ive got, like the Socializing Points bar or the Physical Health Bar---oh wait that already exists, thats just normal HP jkhvdfkjVKJKVJ.
problem is, that that WP bar isnt subdivided into specific kinds of writing. it's just for All writing, whether or not it's writing i do for myself for fun (like fanfic and hcs or character analyses or even just ping-ponging ideas and concepts around with buddies) or writing i do to earn money (for context: i work in advertising, so im writing anything and everything from billboards to tv commercial scripts to daily social media posts, and beyond).
my brain just sees any kind of writing as Writing. it's all synonyms, because all kinds of writing i do are powering the same brain mechanisms, even if the type of writing im doing is different.
so what ends up happening very often for me is that, by the end of the day and/or week, after non-stop writing for work, i sit down at my laptop with a hunger to write something fun with my fave tot characters and i realize that my WP bar has already been completely depleted. because i used all the points for work writing, and i Needed to because thats my job and it's how i make a living. but now theres none left for fun writing until the arbitrary time period wherein my WP bar resets. additionally, because all Writing is synonyms in my brain's processes, when i feel stressed doing work-writing, i will also feel stressed doing fun-writing. it's like muscle memory, even if those things are different.
so. this makes me tired. im really very tired constantly because i dont have the energy to write for fun a lot of the time, and being unable to do that drains the maximum value of my WP bar even more. ideally, that maximum value is sposed to grow, but if im tired and miserable all the time, i grow weak, and so the maximum value diminishes.
that being said, going into writing as a career is not a mistake. it really depends on what you want to do and how you Handle your reactions to what you end up doing
like, ive got a whole bunch of other [redacted unhealthy mental habits] which are doing the opposite of solving my eternally depleted WP bar. and i know there are ways out there to manage my energy better or manage my workload better. when im not stressed, i enjoy my job and that enjoyment feeds into my energy and lets me write more things for myself for fun. and again, i cannot stress this enough, i love writing and it's the only thing i can see myself doing for the rest of my life. it's just hard to love it when youre exhausted 24/7
but thats all jobs, sometimes, right?
idk i kinda panicked when i saw this ask and felt disheartened because i dont want to be dissuading people from pursuing something they want to do. so i wanna end this by saying that pursuing a job in writing is not automatically a mistake if your hobby is also writing. it depends on a lot of factors, and even if you reach a point that you feel like crud all the time like me, there are solutions and ways to to make it better.
im just trying to figure out those solutions myself too ajhfkjsfvkjashfa
i hope this helped, anon
#asks#anon#ive seen that this energy problem is super common within the creatives industry from people who had creative work first#as their hobby and then as their career. and a lot of people still flourish. so it's not all hope is lost i promise#im just having a tough time lately jsdhfvjds
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13, 27, 50 for the writing asks:)
Thank you!!
13. Do you listen to music while you write? If yes, what have you been listening to recently?
Yes! More often than not do I write and listen to music! I just need background noise really, the silence doesn't always work for me.
Currently I've been listening to, "This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody)" by Talking Heads on repeat! It's for a driving scene in a fix, and it has very much day dream, fed up, tired, yerning vibes/passenger seat vibes.
27. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?
Ahhhhh......I'm not sure!! I'm really!! I'm really good at coming up with slightly deep things, but it's sometimes hard getting the images in my head turn to words, and the words to appear on my screen.
I don't really know....I'm good at the stuff I don't publish, or haven't finished...like Im wonderful with metaphors and a deeper twist to things but in fics? I can get odd and a tad strange at times!
50. How would you describe your writing style?
This is very hard because i don't really know!! Ahh so much I don't know or don't think about...
I guess a sort of....darkly comedic, fever dream? Like....some of the stuff fI come up with is sooo...strange(and some of it i did come up with while having fevers) and a lot of it is "Dark" or centred around real things, or "Darker" shows(one could argue the lost boys is dark which ehhh so-so) and comedic because well, i think even the most serious things need a little laugh!!
I model my writing style on how i feel! What mood I'm in and more!
I hope i answered them correctly! Or in a fun way!!! Not sure really, but I hope I answered them in a nice way!! When it's asked about writing I'm using ALL my writing! Not just my fics!! I have some little old writings, and books I've wanted to make and they can get pretty heavy with the death symbolism and other things!!!
Thank you so so sooo much for the ask!!!!
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you've talked about switching a lot recently but i've only just now been able to sit down and give my own little account 👍 yippie 🎉
however tbh if you're like "i'm donee talking about this tehehe" throw this ask out the window. shatter the glass for fun either way
anyways!! switching is so freaking funky, especially recently for us because it's been a lot of blurry and stressful switches.. probably due to midterms season? not too sure but also it's october so the mind is becoming full bonkers mode ya know
anyways, for us switches can either be super obvious or just go completely under the radar. there's no i between, and the easier the switch is, the less likely we are to like register that one happened.
well, specifically me because i have a tendency to stay around in co con a lot. when someone switches into co con with me it's usually pretty smooth, and fast, being brought about by very like random things. a song or an image or maybe how someone worded something! ya know
anyways, longer and more difficult switches which can get really rough. i think it's just, we have a really hard time with someone going from not in or near front just coming in full swing. that and also just needing to get someone out and they don't want to be.
but longer switches usually cause us to get really tired and dizzy (and usually an assortment of varying kinds of dissociative) and there's a weird like mental sensation almost like being dragged under into a swamp or being buried in pillows? it's like brain fog turned up an extreme amount
but there's on occasional full switch without all of that, but those are few and far i between. usually these are like zoning out but like for 10 minutes. like a shut down and reboot bust someone else hit the power on button ig.
actually tbh we see a lot of your system things in a very like computer sorta since?? we have a memory/trauma holder who like will create like "firewalls" to block information and sometimes even like shut down a chess to leave/get into front. it's kinda funny now that i'm thinking about it, the whole computer theming
anyways it's also important to note that we have an awful time of realizing who's in front until there's something very distinctly that alter that gets thought/done. that could be due to the heavy mental ick for a past bit, but it also might be a general thing. in fairness we haven't been tracking too long so it's hard to say.
however all around it's like... we struggle finding the queues as to who's in front, especially cuz i am usually there co con and conducting what like i think is best sorta thing. but hm yea i'm loosing the point i'm trying to say to sleepy soupy brain. anyways
i hope you are doing well! and if not that you are able to find contentment soon! i hope today will be a good day, because you deserve it!
HEY ITS BEEN A BIT SINCE U SENT THIS SRRY im having another lunarbloom nightmare switch moments so this is relevant once more and in fact probably will always be relevant bc this is lik daily fdshk
okay i had never thought about it like that as like. the easier the switch the less likely its noticeable. because im thinking now like there have been a lot of times where i abruptly start acting different but dont remember switching but maybe i did? but its just seamless. hm
handshake u and me being hosts that frequent co conning
OH INTERESTING !! despite being a pretty brain foggy individual i dont notice a tonnn of brain fog when i swtich so that is really interesting to note :o plus the synonyms u use those r so interesting
haunted by the metaphors and symbolism <- assigned computer at system
sorry if this is like all over the place as a response but overall this is so so interesting ty for sharing :O always interesting to see how ppl switch since it varies sm!
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ugh nobody actually has to read this i just feel like i need to type all my thoughts out somewhere or i'll explode.
I know like 9-12k$ isn't like impossible to get but it feels so daunting and i know barely anyone will reblog or donate to my GFM if i made one (as always happens for my medical shit. even for my pets) so idk what the fuck do even do about this. I'm trying not to be cynical about it but that's just been the running theme since. literally my entire life. i don't even know why i bother anymore
Honestly i have no hope for my future if that shit grows back and leaves me in the same amount of pain as someone going through labor multiple times a year AGAIN i think i will actually kill myself for real. im sick of this shit.
like this isn't even a dysphoria thing it's something that could ACTUALLY kill me through blood clots and nobody in my life IRL even fucking cares. My mom has enough money to just pay for a hysterectomy out of pocket for me without it being a huge deal to her and she just fucking won't and just keeps telling me to harass my insurance about it despite this being months of back-and-forth and i can already feel my endo symptoms growing back.
My insurance flat-out told me they'll only approve it if it keeps growing back and i have to go through surgery to remove it multiple times. This isn't even counting the fact I also have CYSTS that need to be removed because they're also causing pain and my insurance just... won't fucking approve it
The symptoms are already coming back after my most recent surgery and I'm still having periods despite the fact I'm POST-MENOPAUSE.
I don't understand why people keep preventing me from committing suicide just to not actually help me with the reasons why I keep trying to kill myself. it feels cruel. People say to reach out or whatever and then go radio silent. it feels so performative. I don't even mean that i expect my friends to give me money because i know everyone has problems but it feels like i keep being ignored and people make a point to not even reblog my help posts. It's always like the same 3 people getting in touch.
at this rate i hope i die. everyone keeps telling me it'll get better and i just have to go on but my entire life is me getting out of the frying pan and into the fire. Therapy hasn't been helping anymore because all the depression isn't like trauma shit it's just the poverty and the fact life keeps actively trying to get me killed by any means necessary all the time. I'm exhausted.
I'm tired of being the sick friend that's treated like the elephant in the room just because i can't fucking do anything and every inch of my life is just another walking trigger warning to people. I've become self conscious about needing to walk with mobility aids now because I feel like it's just another reminder of my fragility and inevitable demise to people.
I just don't fucking get it. i metaphorically break my back all the time to help other people with their shit but i barely get anything in return (except from the same few ppl i mentioned earlier and i am very grateful you guys are real friends). like. am i doing something wrong. am i just an unlikable person. i know people think i'm scary which i try to offset by being nice but i don't know if it's working.
I'm only alive right now because all of the fucking demon pacts and other spirit work i do causing me to avoid stuff and get more opportunities and I feel stupid about it because that's not even stuff that most people believe in and can't even be proven to be real.
i dont even know where im going with this im tired and i want to give up. fuck life. i actively despise life most of the time. I guess I just have to keep clinging to my blorbos i dont fucking know. whatveer.
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youre such a great writer! can u write something about being one of the top girl rockstars in the 70s/80s and having 'rivalry' with queen because you were both rising at the same time until you met the queen boys at a rockstar party and were introduced by michael jackson since he's one of ur bsfs and end up dating roger? im sorry if thats specific i just love ur works!!! thank you :DD
This has to be the most interesting ask I've ever received, thank you. Apologies if you find any mistakes, it’s 1:13am and I’m tired.
- The rivalry between you and Queen is completely petty.
- I mean, yeah sure, you've knocked each other off the charts a couple times, so what? It's bound to happen some time.
- It was around the time when you had released a song you were really proud of, only for it to be knocked off and overshadowed by Bohemian Rhapsody.
- You were particularly sour about the situation in particular because you thought Bohemian Rhapsody was a better song, but you wouldn't dare admit that to anyone.
- Hell, you could barely admit it to yourself.
- Then, later on you'd managed to over shadow something of Queen's, gaining attention from the band.
- Lets start off with something, there were never any insults about talent, more so writing.
- Even then, remarks would always be somewhat subtle.
- "...But I could be doing worse, you know. I could be writing about...oh I don't know, car metaphors, cheese metaphors, stuff like that."
- But both you and Queen knew that the other had undeniable vocal talent, so neither of you even bothered to go in that direction.
- Sometime in early 1980, Michael had talked to you about how he'd met the band a few months prior.
- He partially just did this because he wanted to get a slight rise out of you, but at the same time he didn't quite understand your negative feelings towards the band because they were all very nice.
- You managed to brush it off pretty easily, though Michael was not satisfied.
- Later that year, a little before The Game was released, you and Michael had been invited to a party.
- During said Party, Michael left you.
- To do what? You had no idea, but he was gone.
- Of course, he was still at the party, he couldn't leave you since he was your ride.
- But God, did you wish he'd left when you caught sight of him in the distance subtly scanning the room for you while conversating with Freddie fucking Mercury.
- But by that time they were too close for you to do anything about it.
- "Y/N, I have someone for you to meet."
- Michael sat there with a shit eating grin on his face, his malicious intent not matching his sweet and innocent speaking voice whatsoever.
- When Freddie finally looked up to see you, you could somehow hear him over all the side conversations around the room as he said 'Oh, dear God,' under his breath.
- His tone of voice didn’t seem to hide any sort of intimidation, it was more of ‘oh I don’t want to talk to this person at all.’
- You smiled and shook his hand;
- "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mercury."
- That was possibly the most respect you had ever mustered up for someone you didn't really like.
- Even more surprise went through your body when he responded with his own polite greeting.
- "I was just talking to Freddie here about an album that he and his band have been working on. When did you say it should come out?" "June." "June. Y/N, do you wanna come with me to see one of their shows for the album?"
- He knew what he was doing.
- Your mouth opened to respond, but you found yourself both taken aback at how rehearsed the entire situation seemed, and also struggling to come up with an excuse to not see them live.
- "I, uh, I actually have some pretty important sessions coming up in June following into July, I doubt I'd have time."
- Freddie looked pretty amused.
- "What a shame, I'm sure the boys would love to see you there."
- Michael hummed in acknowledgment, trying not to laugh at Freddie’s little passive aggressive comment.
- You decided you would completely ignore his comment, and try and be nice.
- "Michael did tell me that your bassist showed him an impressive riff, would that be featured somewhere on this album?”
- Again, Freddie looked a bit amused.
- He was starting to wonder if you really didn't like him or if it was just something you kept up for people's entertainment.
- That thought didn’t linger though.
- The deeper the three of you got in conversation, the less tense it became.
- Somewhere along the line you and Freddie starting joking with each other, that's when Michael decided he was happy with what he had started.
- Then he remembered there were three other members of the band that he had yet to even see at the party.
- Just as that thought planted itself in his mind, the remaining three came from upstairs and began to make their way closer to where you, Michael, and Freddie now sat talking to each other.
- First one to catch sight of the three of you was Roger.
- He didn't process that you were the one talking to Freddie.
- "Hey, there's Freddie." "Oh good, I was worried, he's been gone for a while." "Is that Y/N L/N?"
- John pointed at you laughing with Freddie and Michael, Brian and Roger's mouths started to slightly hang open.
- "What the fuck." "This is literal treason,"
- They walked over to the three of you, then sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch you sat on.
- You were the first to notice.
- Your soul pretty much took a swift exit out of your body.
- You were not expecting to turn to see Roger Taylor giving you a death stare.
- Once Freddie noticed his bandmates sat in front of him, he simply greeted them as if he hadn't just been caught having a laugh with his presumed rival.
- "Wanna introduce us to your new friends?"
- There was a very unidentifiable look hidden in Brian's eyes, you'd thought that he would look a tad bit more disapproving of Freddie befriending you, but most of what you saw seemed to be intrigue.
- "Well you know this is Y/N L/N, she’s very funny. You already know Michael,”
- Freddie looked very happy with himself.
- Roger looked the most interested out of all of them, probably because he had the least distaste for you out of all of them.
- If anything he pretended to not like you.
- He had your records, he had one or two posters of you somewhere in his home, things like that.
- But he did his very best to not show his slight excitement that Freddie's resentment for you was coming to an end.
- Although you would still have to somehow get Brian to like you, he wasn't really a fan of the small comments you'd made in the past about his writing.
- "Hello, it's lovely to meet you three."
- You gave them the same smile and hand shake, you caught the slight hesitation in Brian's hand as he moved to shake your hand.
- You were grateful for John not being as petty as the rest of you, either that or he was just really good at pretending to like people.
- You started off with something simple.
- "I love your hair."
- Thank god Brian had nice hair, or else you would have had to visibly search his person for something to compliment him on.
- He gave a small smile, said thank you.
- Alright, tougher than you'd thought.
- Thank God Freddie and Michael started talking, or else you never would have gotten through the night.
- By the end of the night you were all friends? You think?
- It's hard to say when you all rivaled each other for so long.
- When you drove home later that night, Michael was like a mom after taking her child to get a flu shot or something.
- "That wasn't so bad, was it? I told you they were nice people," "Yeah Michael, they were lovely."
- You were half asleep by that time.
- You did end up going to see Queen live in July with Michael.
- The two of you had wonderful seats, backstage passes, everything.
- You enjoyed the show, when you got backstage the band looked pretty surprised to see the two of you.
- For all they knew, that entire night at the party could have been an act, but the fact you paid for a backstage pass?
- It definitely made them not doubt you as much as they originally had.
- You talked to Roger about how much you loved his background vocals, he was very flattered, you very much inflated his ego.
- You were one of his favorite vocalists, you did not need to be complimenting him as much as you were.
- You also went on about how good his drumming was, and how you felt drummers deserve more recognition.
- "It's like people think just because your're behind a drumset and they can't see you then you don't deserve as much recognition as the others,"
- He was smiling and nodding like no one had ever said this to him before.
- You were very much on his good side at this point.
- I mean, you pretty much started on his good side for the most part (other than some comments you'd made about his beloved car song in interviews), but by this time you were much farther along that good side than before.
- He started staring at you when you went on to talk to the other members, then got caught doing so by John."
- "It's rude to stare, Rog."
- Roger didn't even process the situation, and he wouldn't process it.
- Nope, instead John would be left to himself, continuing to watch with a small smile as Roger continued to look at you every now and then.
- Before you had to leave, Freddie told you that he would call you as soon as the tour was over if you wanted to record something together.
- You were up for the idea, you took the little slip of paper that he'd written the address on and then left the venue with Michael.
- Given a year, in September of 1981, near everything had changed.
- You and the band were very close friends, Roger had just asked you out on a date for what would only be the first of many.
- By the time Hot Space came out you and Roger were a fully fledged couple (which was also pretty good advertising since you collaborated with Queen on a song in Hot Space).
- Michael is very humble when it comes to questions about his involvement with you and Queen.
- "Well we were at a party and I thought it would be fun to introduce them. If I'm being honest, I didn't really expect it to turn out so successful." "Did you have any idea that Roger and Y/N would ever end up together?" "No, not really. Not until she started talking about him more than usual, and they like to stare at each other. But other than that, I was clueless. But they are a very adorable couple. I'm glad I was able to introduce them."
- The interviews that you and Queen have together are pretty entertaining.
- "Well didn't you all supposedly hate each other about two years ago?" "Well yes darling, but that was two years ago." "I never hated Y/N." "You didn't seem to fond of her when she made fun of your car song," "I'll have you know John, that I have changed my mind completely and that car song is held very close to my heart." "You might want to be careful then, you might go into cardiac arrest." “See, they’re so cheesy. We’ve got to put up with this nearly 24/7.”
#queen#literally how the fuck do i put this on my masterlist#roger taylor x reader#michael jackson#michael jackson x reader#freddie mercury x reader#freddie mercury#john deacon x reader#john deacon#brian may x reader#brian may#roger taylor
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