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exhaustedwriterartist · 22 days

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A Completely Normal Post About Plants.

Specifically the poison kind. A continuation of this conversation with @crowsandturtlesandbatsohmy and @icequeenabby.

I will go over some of my favorite poisonous plants, and a plant that @nyaboshi brought up because it's really cool. I will share a picture of each plant, a fun fact about it, if it is used in medicine or if it has another purpose, the type of poison/toxin it contains, and what that does to the human body.

Disclaimer: I am not an expert. Just someone who enjoys hyperfixating on many different subjects. Enjoy my brain rot.

Anyways the plants:

CW: Mentions of death, execution, and poison (obviously lol)

IMPORTANT!!!! Just in case I forget to mention this on any of these plants, every part of all these plants is toxic.

Another note: Whenever I refer to gastrointestinal issues/diseases, I am usually referring to nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, stomach/abdominal pain, etc.

Foxglove

(Digitalis)

My favorite poisonous flower.

Did you know that this flower is mistaken for Comfrey, another plant who's leaves are used to make tea? This mistake has resulted in illness and several deaths.

Truly akin to this scene (iykyk):

Uses: This is used in certain medicines to slow down heart rates, due to high blood pressure, and in medicines for heart failures. It is possible to be poisoned from overdosing on this medicine.

Type of poison: Foxglove has a toxin known as digitalis/digoxin. Side effects of this poison include blurred vision/yellow or green vision [xanthopsia] (and seeing a halo like shape around lights), fatigue, gastrointestinal effects, weakness, bradycardia [a heart rate under 60 bpm], lower platelet counts (thrombocytopenia), arrhythmias [irregular heart beats], and the very rare case of cardiorespiratory failure. These symptoms can occur through consumption of the plant, and sometimes through over doses on the medicine. It can cause irritations to the skin, like rashes, if touched, and can cause terrible reactions from its pollen in certain individuals.

Oleander

(Nerium Oleander)

Many oleanders have a sweet, vanilla-like smell, however it is not recommended to smell them up close. These plants have been well documented in history, from Greek mythology to Vincent Van Gogh's painting titled "Oleanders." Despite it's deadly nature, it is quite popular among gardeners.

Uses: This plant is traditionally used to treat heart problems, asthma, and even cancer, but there is not enough evidence to support this actually having a positive effect. However there is more evidence of the leaves of the oleander being used as an effective anti-inflammatory and antioxidant under the right dosage.

Type of poison: The main type of poison in this plant is called toxic cardiac glycosides. But it also contains the poisons oleandrin, oleondroside, and digitoxigenin. These chemicals are found in all parts of the plant and affects the heart the most. The side affects if consumed include gastrointestinal effects, xanthopsia (yellow vision), eye irritation and burning sensation, effects to the nervous system such as tremors, seizures, coma, and cardiac effects including an increased heart rate that quickly slows to the point of death in some cases. If touched, it causes skin irritations and rashes, and can cause respiratory issues of the wood and leaves are burned.

Japanese Pieris

(Pieris Japonica)

This is a plant that @nyaboshi shared with me. This plant is native to several countries in Asia, including Japan, China, and Taiwan. It is a symbol of powerful beginnings and new opportunities.

Uses: The main use of this plant is for a honey made from this plant called "Mad Honey," and it is used as a traditional medicine and for intoxication (which can lead to overdose and poison).

Type of poison: These plants contain Grayanotoxins. These affect the brain, nervous system, and heart. If consumed, this plant causes blurred vison, slower heart rates and lower blood pressure, gastrointestinal effects, weakness, fainting, cardiac failures, coma, and neurological side effects.

Deadly Nightshade

(Atropa Belladonna)

Quite the popular choice for poisoning. There are many many references to this plant in popular books, shows, and movies. It is also famous for being tied to witchcraft. Belladonna, as it is commonly known, is one of many in the Nightshade plant family. Some well known edible Nightshades include tomatoes, potatoes, eggplants, and tomatillos. But Belladonna isn't the only dangerous plant in the Nightshade family, she has other deadly sisters.

Uses: This was used in cosmetics once upon a time. Please do not use it as such please. Surprisingly, there are many uses for Belladonna! Under the right doses, correct mixing of chemicals, and correct consumption/other way of taking this plant can help in reducing symptoms asthma, motion sickness, hemorrhoids, whooping cough, irritable bowel syndrome, and a few other ailments.

Type of poison: This plant contains alkaloids, such as hyocyamine, scopolamine, and atropine. Belladonna is known as one of the most toxic plants that we know of. Consuming this plant, including medicated Belladonna, can cause cardiovascular diseases (and other heart problems such as tachycardia [increased heart rate]), gastrointestinal disorders, complications during pregnancy, psychiatric/neurological disorders, rash, headache, staggering/loss of balance, delirium, dilated pupils, blurred vison, sensitivity to light, severely dry throat and mouth, hallucinations, confusion, constipations, and convulsions.

Touching these plants can cause severe dermatitis and may cause its toxins to seep through the skin.

Giant Hogweed

(Heracleum mantegazzianum)

Considered to be a very invasive species. It is widespread across east to west Europe, Canada, and in the united states. Because of it's dangerous nature, it is deemed by U.S. officials to be a noxious plant, so that the spread of this plant can be limited.

Uses: Not really. Its cousin the common hogweed was used in some medicines, but I would not recommend going near these.

Type of poison: The sap of this plant contains furanocoumarins, which combined with sunlight is severely phototoxic. When any part of the plant is touched, but especially the sap, this causes severe phytophotodermatitis, a terrible and serious skin inflammation, that includes severe blistering (and I mean SEVERE! If you have a strong stomach look it up examples of reactions you dare), a deep red rash, and even photosensitivity. And if you accidentally touch your eyes after exposure, it can harm your vision and even cause blindness.

I haven't seen information for when it's consumed, which is a good thing. It would probably cause intense internal damage.

Please just avoid this plant. For some reason I do not like this plant one bit. Whenever I see this plant I go : ಠ╭╮ಠ

Poison Hemlock

(Conium Maculatum)

You have probably heard of this plant or one of its siblings. This plant was used to execute prisoners in ancient Greece, including the famous philosopher Socrates. Fun plant huh? Also invasive.

Uses: Has been used as a sedative, antispasmodic treatment for symptoms of irritable bowel syndrome, and for some respiratory diseases, all in very small doses. However, there is not enough evidence to really tell if these are positively effective.

Type of poison: Similar to Belladonna, this plant contains alkaloids, including C. maculatum, conium, and coniine. If ingested, it attacks the nervous system, and can cause fatal neuromuscular dysfunction as it will stop the movement of muscles in important organs including respiratory muscles, muscular paralysis, unconsciousness, coma, urination, depression, trembling, and weak or slow heartrate.

It is generally safe to touch poison hemlock, but it is better to be careful and safe.

Bittersweet Nightshade

(Solanum Dulcamara)

Remember I mentioned Belladonna plants have other deadly siblings? Meet her bittersweet sister. In the Middle Ages this plant was said to ward off witchcraft (because of course it was). An interesting fact about this plant is that while it is toxic to humans, there are several bird species that love feasting on the berries.

Uses: This is used for skin conditions such as acne, eczema, itchy skin, broken skin, and a few others. It is also used for inflammation and easing arthritis, along with easing respiratory issues and illnesses like bronchitis, asthma, and pneumonia.

Type of poison: This plant contains solanine and a glycoside called dulcamarine. If consumed, and if over consumed via medical prescription, this plant can cause several gastrointestinal problems, confusion, mydriasis (dilation of the pupil), paralysis, delirium, numbness, shortness of breath, low pulse/slowed heartrate, convulsion, and weakness. It is unwise to take this during pregnancy.

This plant like is sister plant, should not be touched. Its toxins can be absorbed through the skin. So no touchy!

Western Monkshood/Wolfsbane

(Aconitum Columbianum/Aconitum Napellus)

This is plant is surrounded by myth and a long history. In folk tales, it was considered to kill werewolves and normal wolves, hence one of its names. In ancient times it was occasionally used as an herbal medicine, however, it has more of a reputation as a poison for executions and assassinations.

Uses: Once upon a time, this plant was used to reduce fevers, as an anti-inflammatory, sedative, and to relieve other ailments. However, this plant is considered to be one of the most poisonous plants in Europe, so the thought of someone using this today, is very unlikely.

Type of poison: This plant contains aconitine and mesaconitine, which is a dangerous neurotoxin and cardiotoxin. Side effects of consumption include gastrointestinal issues, cardiovascular issues (weak/irregular heartbeat, slowing and stopping of the heart), difficulty breathing, asphyxiation, neurological issues, paralysis, pain, convulsions, multiple organ failure (especially of the liver and kidneys), numbness (especially of the mouth and tongue), and paraesthesia (feeling sensations in the skin for no apparent reason, like feeling cold, tingly, or clammy).

Do not touch this plant. The toxins can be absorbed through the skin, and can cause many of the same effects if consumed, and can cause numbness wherever you touched the plant.

Lily of the Valley

(Convallaria Majalis)

Such a pretty pretty flower to finish of this list! This flower has been the national flower of Finland since 1967 (my gran's home country)! It is also the national flower of Yugoslavia. This plant is very popular, and has been used in many wedding bouquets, has been in several myths, the subject of art, poetry, music, and even shows (like "Breaking Bad").

Uses: Besides it being used for its sweet fragrance, it is supposedly effective heart problems, such as irregular heartbeat and heart failure, urinary tract infections, and kidney/bladder stones (HOWEVER, THESE ARE CLAIMS OF FOLK MEDICINE, NOT FACT).

Type of poison: This plant contains convallatoxin, which is similar to digitalis. If ingested it can cause heart problems such as irregular heartbeat/slow heartbeat and collapse, gastrointestinal issues, loss of appetite, excessive urination, confusion, drowsiness, weakness, depression, headache, disorientation, and lethargy.

This plant may cause skin irritation and possibly a rash/hives if handled for too long.

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There are many other plants I have done research on, including mushrooms, but I'll stop here for now (for my sanity). I hope y'all enjoyed reading this!!!

*Bows*

Have a good day or night!!

I shall now pass out.

#exhausted's half awake jumbles #hyperfixation time babyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!#cw mentions of death #tw mentions of death #cw poison #tw poison #poisonous plants #poisonous flowers #fun facts #medical terminology #cw mentions of execution #tw mentions of execution #I'm not going to be caught by the content/trigger warning police today!

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stuck-in-jelly · 6 months

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I never read the short stories for The Dragon Prince and I’m crying

I understand whole heartedly why some of this couldn’t be explored in the show or in the books but the way this is all laid out how subtle it is in the show vs how loud it is on paper.

His unresolved grief, guilt, and fear that still grips him, so much so that even for a brief moment he is a child again. Curled up and scared, unable to breathe.

Soren was brought back to life out of love but then tossed aside and abandoned by his own family for an action he was never a part of.

Soren laughs and smiles and jokes but his memories haunt him.

Whoever’s writing these short stories either needs a raise or to come apologize to me personally with tears oh my god

#content warnings as follows:#abuse mention #death mention #child abuse mention #jelly tarts #im actually crying at 11:30 pm over my silly fictional guy but he doesn’t deserve this #he got a single act of pure love and desperation as a child only to have it used against him time and time again #SOOORRREEENNNN #tdp soren #the dragon prince #tdp spoilers #just in case

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then1ghtw1llend · 4 months

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I've got something to share !!! nenekasa nation don't exile me please 😞

so I have this au called February 14.

if you haven't read February 14 part one through three yet, here's a basic premise of the AU! (TW: death | content warning: mentions of pregnancy & childbirth)

it's after the initial events of the game. nene and tsukasa get married at 24 & 25 respectively on February 14, 2030. two years later, nene finds out she's pregnant. tsukasa is over the MOON about being a dad. the pregnancy progresses, and bleeds into the new year. nene goes into labor on February 14 and gives birth to a baby girl (who is named ayame). tsukasa drives to the hospital as soon as nene calls him, and he tells her he'll be there. unfortunately, he wouldn't make it to the hospital in his car, but he would arrive in a gurney. he would die on February 14, 2033 at the age of 27 due to a car accident. nene would become a single mother to a newborn.

(parts one through three can be read here)

the following are excerpts of the fourth installment of this AU:

please enjoy when it eventually comes out !! :)

have a good day, everyone!! :D

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rotten-dog-teeth · 9 months

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I'm absolutely brainrotting over how horrific humans are

• We are not bipedal. We are quadrupedal. We forced our bodies out of shape just for the sake of going against god. Our legs are bent out of shape, our hip joints have been forced outwards at unusual angles, our spines - necks and backs - have been contorted into flimsey spring-like structures to support our poorly distributed amalgamation of flesh and bone, pur extremities have been elongated, compressed and re-framed to fit our new whims.

• We manipulated everything. Will said in that episode about the woman abducting yhe kids to try to make a family that as a survival instict, we have to bond with our captors otherwise we're breakfast. That's what we did to literally fucking everything. Animals are naturally scared of us. We think that animals are scared because they are ignorant, but they are scared because they are smarter than us because they see us for what we really are: abominations and monsters. They either get docile and cozy with us to become our companions so we dont kill them or they try to avoid us or hell even fight us but if they havent been domesticated then they're fucking dead meat. And cozying up to us is not a sure fire way of survival. We pick and choose who we domesticate. Dogs and cats, yeah. Rats and pigeons, we kill them or at the very least banish them. And even being domesticated is not a sure fire way of survival. We forcibly change their biology to be dependent on us and then routinely abuse or neglect them, or pit them against eachother, or ignore them, or "accidentally" let them loose to take another domestic's life. We are manipulators. We don't train animals, we manipulate them. We trick them into thinking we're safe, and don't let them realise until it's too late. Humans aren't the top of the foodchain. We're not the apex predator. We're humans. We're fucking horrors. And nothing we could ever come up with in any book, film, show, etc could ever come close to the horrific god-killing creation that is a human "being".

• We have such a comprehensive specrum and magnitude scale of emotion that our brains try to self-destruct to quell it. We feel too much love or care? Our instict is to crush/squeeze it to death. We feel too sad? Our instict is to tear ourselves apart piece by piece or just outright blunt force ourselves into peace.

• We are so fucked up that our brains actively come up with ways to supress, control or just outright kill us. On a high place? Our instict is to jump. See something sharp or hot? Our instict is to grab/touch it. Our brains fabricate fake threats to scare us into submission - phobias, anxiety, etc.

• Our bodies are so viscerally unnatural that we are alienated from every other living thing that we know of. Not one creature has a remotely similar body to us. Our joints are bent in freakish ways, we move unlike any other thing to exist, we communicate in a million different ways in a noise that nothing else can make. We are fucking disgusting.

• Our bodies try to self-destruct to prevent us from continuing to exist. We cannot successfully give birth most of the time without lots of medical help or even being fully split open and physically separated from the foetus by other humans due to our hip to head size ratio. We are the only creature capable of choking because of the development of speech.

#🌱 speaks #horrifying humans #humans are space orcs #cryptidcore #chaoscore #cw: implied suicide #cw: implied self harm #cw: swearing #cw: death mention #cw: anxiety mention #cw: birth mention #cw: abuse mention #cw: manipulation mention #cw: neglect mention #cw: murder mention #I have never had so many content warnings #on a post before

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drumlincountry · 1 month

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I read this line in a Reddit thread yesterday (~6 hours into a 14 hour stint of travel) and I screenshotted it because like. surely. Surely I was misreading this. Misunderstanding. Who would content warn for suicide in this way? I'll reread tomorrow with my brain functioning. It will make sense then. But no I reread it today and that is still what is happening!! There are so many people in the world.

#On REDDIT #It's one thing to elide death and sex on tumblr which gets people coming from tiktok...#But on Reddit???? On the Captain Awkward subreddit??? We are all 30 or 40 years old?#Anyway I was so doubtful that this was a reference to death that I read the story and got jumpscared by the suicide anyway #Your content warning fails as a content warning if a sleep deprived woman who has spent most of her day on boats and in cars #Can't ACTUALLY understand what u are warning for #is my self centred opinion.#Me Fein #Suicide mention cw #Suicide mention tw

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stirringwinds · 2 years

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Purgatory

Whumptober Day 8: Back from the dead

Summary: Vietnam, 1967. Marine Captain Alfred F. Jones, born on July 4th 1942, is killed in action at 0930 hours, twenty klicks from Quang Tri city. This is the aftermath.

Or: Alfred, through the eyes of one of his men. Because not every human’s experience coming face-to-face with their nation is a good one.

Notes: CW for violence, death, graphic injuries, war, depictions of PTSD, murder and Cold War-era imperialism. This fic leans hard on the darker side of ‘nations as creepy as hell eldritches and their relationship with war’; citizenship, loyalty and nationhood can cut many ways can’t it?

“VC” refers to the Viet Cong— the Vietnamese guerrillas who fought against both the US-backed South Vietnamese military and US forces. They were allied with, but distinct from the regular ARVN (aka, the North Vietnamese military). “Charlie” became a slang for the Viet Cong, because the NATO phonetic alphabet reads “V.C” as “Victor Charlie.” [3.2k words]

Read on AO3

One week after Jones dies, a VC sniper nails me twice in the right thigh on a night patrol, with all the suddenness and wrath of a prayer answered by the Almighty.

Maybe Charlie had been aiming for my balls and had missed, the helo pilot on the medevac chopper had guffawed. He’d seen people in worse shape than me, I’d live, so just sit tight and shut up.

It enters my leg at a diagonal, it hurts like a bitch, fractures my thigh bone, shreds a whole lot of muscle and nerve tissue, nicks a major artery; I lose buckets of blood. The surgeon at the field hospital in Khe Sanh who ties the artery, fishes out the bullet fragments and sews me back together tells me that at best, I’d walk with a painful limp all my life—if I even recover that much function. Then, I get a raging infection. I burn and I freeze; my temperature shoots to a hundred and four, I’m pumped with antibiotics, I’m told I nearly died—but I don’t give a shit.

I’m giddy, delirious and incoherent, hopped up on morphine and euphoria.

My war is over.

I’m packed off to the 700-bed Naval Support Activity hospital at Da Nang. The hospital’s on the strip of land in between the Han River and the South China Sea—which means unlimited ice-cream, lazing in bed all day, and miles and miles of golden sand and the gorgeous blue of the ocean. After seven months in the red mud, hell and mosquitoes that is Khe Sanh, Quang Tri province, this is heaven, as far as I’m concerned.

One night, I awake with a start. It’s my ninth day there.

At first, I think it’s because the air conditioning has broken down. The ward I share with eleven other guys is dark and quiet, the air oppressively still, sticky and humid. The corpsman’s station is empty—which often happened whenever there was a surge in casualties. Everyone else is either passed out or groaning in their sleep—unsurprisingly; I was the milder case in a ward full of grunts convalescing from amputations and head injuries.

I throw off the blankets. My hospital pajamas are soaked with sweat. I’d been doing well enough that they’d taken me off the IV. So I drag myself out of bed, reach for my newly acquired crutches. Maybe there’d be more of a breeze outside—they’d made a makeshift verandah of sorts. You could see the ocean from there, and they’d begun wheeling me out there in the day, like those photos of TB patients in the old days, to take in the fresh air.

I stagger outside, a pathetic figure shuffling on my crutches. I’m a long way off from my high school days on the track team.

Outside, the smell of salt hits my nose. It’s three twenty-five in the morning, according to the glowing hands of my watch. The air is warm, like an oven; back home, it’d be much cooler at this time of the year—but at least there’s a breeze, instead of the hot, still air inside.

A tall silhouette of a man. The waft of cigarette smoke. Someone else is already out there. My eyes are still adjusting to the dark, so I can’t make out his features. I’m weighing whether to greet this stranger, or to just shut the fuck up—but he takes the lead.

“You’re finally up, Corporal,” the stranger’s voice is low and nonchalant—and I can’t breathe. “I’ve been waiting.”

It’s like ice shooting through my veins—the cold, deeply awful dread that instantly surges up at the sound of the not-stranger’s voice, at the recognition that hits me.

I’m having a heart attack, it feels. It’s like getting shot again—not feeling anything, just numb for a few seconds and then the pain just exploding. There’s a clatter as one of my crutches falls to the ground. My fingers are gripping the wooden railing. It’s rough, unfinished, there are splinters digging into my palms. I’m going nuts. I’d been steadily losing it over the past seven months, but now I’m sure as hell over the edge.

That’s what it is, seeing a dead man in the flesh.

“There are only so many reasons for this kind of shit, so I can guess,” Jones strolls over nonchalantly, his distinctive features melting out of the shadows into the light of the moon with vivid, horrifying, mesmerising clarity, looking every bit as he did in life; the unmistakably gold glint of his hair, the intense blue of his eyes, the strong bronze angles of his face. That strikingly handsome, sharp and squared-away look; the exact damned way the Marine Corps liked its officers.

“But I’d still like to hear it in your own words,” Jones stops, keeping about a meter and a half between us. “So. Tell me. Why’d you do it?”

Dully, I barely register the fact that he’s considerately picked up my crutch, setting it against the railing with a dull thud.

“Fuck. You’re not real.” You’re dead, is what I really want to say.

“Come on, man,” Jones raises a well-groomed brow, completely disregarding my weak protest. “This whole thing wasn’t just your idea, I know—but you did the honours, didn’t you?” His manner is dry, matter-of-fact. He speaks as though he were assigning latrine-cleaning duty or boredly ordering us to set up a night defense perimeter.

There’s no anger, no vengeful fury from this ghost. Whole thing. Describing his own murder with such nonchalance. Something vaguely unpleasant, but that ultimately had little lasting consequences.

“I was,” I echo uselessly, when I’m able to form words again. I’ve sunk down into one of the chairs they’d placed out there for us to enjoy the sea views. “It wasn’t personal.” Of course it was personal.

All those dangerous jungle patrols, deep into Viet Cong territory, the zealous, whole-hearted fanaticism with which Jones pushed us on with, his voice like the very command of God.

The way he’d held McLean’s hand as he bled out, just one month shy of his nineteenth birthday. McLean, who was just the latest in a long line of dog-tags and body bags. No, what was terrible wasn’t that Jones didn’t care. What was terrible was the sincerity with which he said you did good as McLean died, his unseeing eyes staring up at the remorselessly blue sky, as his blood seeped down into the soil of Vietnam. How he said how his sacrifice would be worth it, that he'd personally make sure of it.

The careful, sincere letters Jones always composed to the next-of-kin, not dashed off carelessly the way some other shitbags did it. He meant every word he wrote. Their sons and brothers had been brave and special. They had gone too soon. But for a worthy cause at the end of the day, for their nation, for the global cause of freedom and democracy and— And I suddenly saw it. How many other hands had my commanding officer held? An endless procession of poor motherfuckers like myself, led into the abyss to make the deaths of those before worth it. The weight of my M-16 rifle suddenly felt too much. Its strap was cutting into my neck, a noose—

In the present I shrug. I stick my hands into the pockets of my hospital-issued pajamas so he won’t see them shaking. Not that it matters—he’s probably already noticed, of course. I keep my eyes staring straight ahead at the inky darkness of the ocean—anything but the ghost standing beside me. Maybe this is what damnation is.

“You were going to get us all killed, sooner or later. You couldn’t be dissuaded.” I’m defending myself, justifying it, assuaging my conscience—whichever.

“And you decided to take on the burden, I suppose,” Jones remarks. On the surface, his expression is eerily placid, bereft of any vindictiveness. “A noncom like you, loyal not to his superior officer, but his men? Guess I can admit there’s something admirable about that, Corporal.”

I can’t tell whether he’s mocking me or not. He probably is.

“Admirable?” I feel sick. I could, of course, go along with this bullshit. Loftily and righteously say I did it because I owed it to the miserable fucks under my section, to the 14 teenaged Marines who were barely younger than I was, to save them from our commanding officer’s zealotry. But— what principle was there when it came down to it, when I looked the truth in the face? When the overwhelming feeling that had driven me was pure fear? The desperate fear that every next patrol Jones assigned me, further and further into the dangerous, mined jungle paths that the VCs knew like the back of their hand—it was their land after all—would be my last?

“Yes,” Jones drawls. There’s a southern twang in his voice; he’d always said he was born in Virginia. July 4th, 1942, of all dates— but as with all things to do with him, you don’t know when the truths end and the lies begin.

“Don’t get it fucking twisted up,” I breathe. Close my eyes. I feel the edges of hysteria creeping in—not now. Not fucking now of all times. “I just wanted to go home in one piece. And I sure as hell wasn’t gonna get my ticket punched before I can even get legally piss-drunk, not in that fucking shithole.”

Jones fixes his eyes on me. The gleam of his captain’s bars on his right collar catches the moonlight. He’s in a fresh and clean uniform, instead of the bloodied, shredded mess I’d last seen. My mind is filled with just two thoughts— of my knee hurting like a bitch in this incredibly realistic nightmare, and the way his stare feels like it’s gnawing on my very soul.

“And you won’t die for this?” Jones’ smile is curious and there’s something disconcertingly piercing in it. Mesmerising. “Not for this cause?” It’s a disarming smile, the same one he always flashed in life—that bullshit Hollywood smile that so easily wooed and won anyone over. A trap. He exhales a stream of smoke, his blue eyes dark and unblinking, his presence all at once relaxed and disarming, intense and oppressive. “Not even for me?”

Once, I would have followed him, until the end. I’d worshiped him, with the fervour of an idiotic boy fresh from dropping out of community college, beaten and broken down at Parris Island. He was magnetic, that way; always friendly and easy going— not one of those officers who looked at us grunts like we were lower than the shit in the latrines.

Before all this, I knew nothing of Vietnam, had the luxury of thinking nothing of Vietnam. When my draft notice came, my mother and older sister had begged me not to go, to run away and stay with our relatives in Guadalajara. Or our maternal granduncle, who was still living in Ireland. He’d take me in for sure. Didn’t I see the news? The casualties? This war was a bad one…I’d brushed them off, with all the conceit of an arrogant, stupid boy hungry for adventure—I wasn’t thinking. I’d never lived anywhere but home, I wasn’t about to cut and run forever. How bad could it be? Our late father had proudly won his medals in Europe, on the beaches of Normandy, hadn’t he? And so, I’d have eaten a hundred bullets for Jones, chewed miles of barbed wire, crawled through a fucking VC tunnel if he ordered it. Maybe I still would have, in the darkness of the thick jungle of Quang Tri province, away from the lively cities and towns, away from anything that reminded me that I was more than a warm body with a M-16 and Ka-bar knife.

It’s like exiting a fog, looking back at those moments and realising how deluded and detached from reality I’d become.

“No, I fucking wouldn’t,” I exhale, say the things I never dared to in the light of the day. “You’re just a man. A charismatic and delusional asshole, but blood and meat when it comes down to it.”

Jones takes this all in calmly and silently, with a sort of knowing and watchful patience. It’s like hurling pebbles into a vast lake and seeing no ripples. It’s utterly unsettling, this shade of him, this utter calm. Where is all that dark, vindictive fury our commanding officer had betrayed, in life? All that seething fanaticism that simmered underneath that effortlessly charming exterior of his—that something dark and dangerous, that showed in his eyes, whenever he spoke of the wretched tide of Soviet influence, polluting and fracturing the utopian world order that lay ahead, that was the reason rivers of American blood were being shed so far from home?

Here, in this night, the silence is punctuated only by the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

“If that’s the way you see it then I guess I am.” Jones is staring at his own hand, the one free of the cigarette, his palm skywards, flexing his fingers experimentally. “Just a man. Nobody’s said that to me for a long time.”

“What else would you be?” The hair at the back of my neck stands. I can see the faint sweat beading on Jones’ brow because of the muggy heat, the same way it does on mine.

He’s human, I remind myself. And very much dead, and just a figment of my imagination, a remnant of the guilt that haunted me.

Jones shrugs. “Many other things.” Then, surreally—with an easy-going and gregarious smile—“Cigarette?”

“No, thanks.” I only just remember to silence the reflexive sir on the tip of my tongue. “The doc said I couldn’t, not so soon after getting cut up. Risk of infection or something.”

Jones nods. “You oughta take care, yeah.” He stashes his smokes back in his pocket. I brace myself, but for the next few minutes, he doesn’t say anything. He’s content to smoke and stare out at the inky darkness of the ocean in the distance, his blue eyes contemplative. It’s incredibly vivid, this nightmare, I think. Even the very slope of his shoulders, the way he leans against the verandah, the loose strand of blonde hair falling over his eyes—is true to life.

“What’s it like, on the other side?” The words slip out. I’m going along with this batshit dream, I guess. Maybe I need the reassurance. Día de Muertos and All Souls’ Day had been in the landscape of my childhood, but I’d never really believed in ghosts. Or the afterlife. At least not the way either of my grandmothers talked about it. “You’re one calm motherfucker for someone who is dead.”

Jones exhales another stream of smoke. The end of his cigarette is a burning ember in the darkness. Now, he’s not smiling. But his blue-grey eyes are still that unnerving, thoughtful calm.

“Am I, really?”

“You are,” I say to the ghost, who takes this news calmly. Maybe this was some screwed up way I sought closure. Some sort of fucked up confessional. The shrinks would have a field day with this, if I could ever talk about it. There was the chillingly routine murder of the enemy in the business of war, and then there was this shit sandwich on top of it. I murdered my commanding officer, and now the bastard shows up in my dream for a casual smoke and chat—

I continue. “You died. On a muddy trail in the middle of the jungle twenty klicks outside of Quang Tri city. It was Thursday, and it was nine-thirty in the morning. I pulled the pin. It was a Soviet-made NVA grenade I stole off a VC prisoner taken into custody. Back at base, I lied. We all lied. Said that we were ambushed by the enemy.”

Jones’ calm expression doesn’t flicker, as he stubs out his cigarette on the railing. He flicks a stray piece of ash off his sleeve, as he strolls over. I’m rooted to my chair, I wouldn’t have the energy to stand up even if I wanted to.

“Murdered by my own men,” he says ironically, with an almost bizarrely philosophical air. Jones exhales. “Lien would be having a good laugh about this, I suppose. ”

A Vietnamese name—A woman’s name isn’t it? I think vaguely. Nothing he says makes sense. There were more than a few of us who, after leave in Da Nang or Saigon, deluded ourselves into thinking a beautiful bargirl we'd met on a night out was our one true love, not a poor or desperate woman with few choices and trying her best to make ends meet. But Jones’ tone is bereft of such sentimentality, almost businesslike, the way he’d talk about a peer. “Who?”

“Someone I’ve known for a long time,” Jones says, with cryptic nonchalance.

His shadow falls across me. For a moment, I’m thinking that this is the moment where he’ll reach for his sidearm and blow my brains out, dream or not.

“Well, I suppose this is goodbye, Corporal.” The unmistakable, solid feeling of Jones’ fingers casually slapping my shoulder is a shock. “You take care and watch that leg of yours, yeah?” He says it, neither sarcastically nor backhandedly, but with a surreal, friendly sincerity that makes my skin crawl all the same— “And just so you know; I don’t take it personally.”

Then, he’s disappearing around the corner, and against my will, my eyes are closing, sinking underneath months and months of exhaustion.

I wake up to a nurse shaking me, her hand on my shoulder. There are the faintest pink streaks on the horizon. I ought not to be out there, she said, not unkindly—had I been there all night? The air-conditioning had been fixed. Maybe I ought to have some hot coffee.

In the bright light of the day, all of it seems unreal. The sky is an endless blue dome, the palm trees on the beach and the bougainvillea bushes lushly green and purple. No ghosts could wander here, in all that light and freshness.

The next few days, I find my breath catching whenever I catch sight of an officer. Maybe my dream was a premonition. Maybe they’d find out what I did. Maybe I’ll be arrested for murder. Maybe one of the guys still in the hell that is Quang Tri will break, will spill. Maybe I’ll be undone. That’s how it always happens, doesn’t it? Just right when freedom is around the corner.

But nobody accosts me, nobody asks me any questions, nobody says a single word about Jones.

I spend another two weeks at the Naval Hospital in Da Nang. Then, I’m handed my medical discharge papers. I’m going home

The remaining days pass, easy and languid in the eternal summer of Da Nang, all the way until I board my flight home to America, my citation for a Purple Heart in hand, sick with relief and exhaustion, the bloody wheel of the war grinding on—but behind me, for good.

Notes:

1. ‘Fragging’: the attempted or successful murder of (usually higher-ranking) military personnel by fellow troops— occurred amongst US forces during the Vietnam War, due to the war’s unpopularity, usage of young draftees and the breakdown of morale. The term comes from how a fragmentation grenade was the weapon of choice used at times. There were close to an estimated 900 incidents recorded.

2. Parris Island: the Marine Corps recruit depot in South Carolina. A Purple Heart is a decoration awarded to US military personnel wounded or killed in action.

3. Lien is of course, Vietnam herself. Vietnam was partitioned in 1954; after Vietnamese forces successfully defeated the French attempt to re-establish its colonial presence. US foreign intervention in Vietnam was publicly justified by American politicians on the basis that Northern Vietnamese forces were communist puppets of larger powers like the USSR or China. Many US policymakers subscribed to the “domino theory”: that the “fall” of another country to Communism would lead to it spreading throughout Asia. But a more accurate appreciation of the situation might have recognised the nationalist motivations of the Viet Cong and regular Northern Vietnamese forces, whose end goal was to reunite their country and rid it of what was for them a long line of foreign imperialism; French, Japanese and now American. And therefore, the limits of American hard power, especially in propping up a Southern Vietnamese regime that was unpopular with the population for multiple reasons.

#hetalia #hws america #my writing #alfred f jones #death #blood #violence #depictions of PTSD #injury mention #whumptober #long post #hws vietnam (mentioned)#human pov fic #a day late #pls heed the content warnings #this is def one of the darker fics i've written

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pond-child-edd · 2 years

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tord is having way too much of a good time having this shouting match

i all of your responses to this argument very interesting ! especially interpretations of what might be suggested and all that, extremely fun. i read every single one of your tags /comments <33

have a lovely rest of your timezone. its goodnight from me!

-neep

#gonna tag some content warnings to be black listed #the last thing i want is to upset anybody by this !!<3 #cw animal death #cw animal violence #only mentioned #never depicted never will be depicted of course #eddsworld fanart #eddsworld tord #classic eddsworld #eddsworld comic #eddsworld #ew pond child au #pond child narrative

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mech-mspec · 8 months

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Saw the original [bi] and wanted to do a few more

#suicide baiting #tw suicide baiting #death threats #kay why ess #trigger warning #triggering #tw suicide mention #sucide mention #suicide mention #suicide cw #suicide baiting cw #triggering content #triggering themes #might be triggering #cyber bullying #well that’s what I’m gonna use it for anyways!

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ilikecheeseandchocolatee · 1 month

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Kinda vent post? Like not really but it’s just me rambling. Read the tags before the post tho (very important!!!!!!)

I’ve decided to hole up on tumblr for a while because no one here knows me so I can be weird and mentally I’ll without judgement.

Today is a day. Like i can’t describe it as “the worst” day out of the recent bad days because honestly it was quite peaceful. But it was bad in the sense that my mental health is seriously kicking my ass and like. I like playing Bin Weevils, i love my bin pet whom I’ve named Unicorn, i love playing with her. I love watching Big Hero 6 the series, i love watching miraculous ladybug. I love watching Thai dramas. I love playing my towers of Hanoi thing (i time myself a lot, it’s 8 rings) and i love the toy thing with bubbles like you push it in and then flip it around and push it in again and it makes a satisfying pop sound idk what it’s called. I love all of those things but i tried to do them to cheer myself up but then i just didn’t wanna do any of it. Not even the popping thing. I just ended up laying in bed with a pillow wrapped around my head to make me feel better. After months of being better I considered downloading Township again, which is a game i play to make myself less suicidal. Which i have been recently. Except this is NOT a good time because A, the game is super addictive and I’ll be stuck on it for AT LEAST a week before I’ll be able to pull myself off it. And B, my A Levels are next month and i haven’t actually covered my entire syllabus yet. I have a month to teach myself all my subject material AND prepare myself for the exam and as of right now im doing none of it. Because i get up late and when I do I just stay in bed and don’t have the motivation to do anything.

My mental health is REALLY kicking my ass rn.

But i did cheer up today. Because of the stupidest thing. I read the Elon Musk deposition and it was so ridiculous in some places that i laughed. Yes, i read the entire thing. It has so much entertainment value and i highly recommend it for those who are bored. And because of that i cheered up for the few hours that are left of my day now.

So then Bigil was gonna be on TV and i wanted to watch it because it looked cool, so TV time. Bigil is a Tamil movie released in 2019 (correct me if I’m wrong about this) and it’s about football and empowering women and it’s a really good movie. And it has one of my favourite actors so that was a plus. I also cried like 3 times during the movie because some parts are SO EMOTIONAL. i doubt anyone reading this will watch Bigil but spoiler alert anyway: when the dad is stabbed and he jumps out of the train, that was the first time I cried. Because Michael jumped out of the train to Delhi and cue action scene where he slaughters all the people that killed his dad, doing exactly what his dad had NOT wanted for him. He had wanted him to go to Delhi and be a national football player and never become a violent gánster like himself, but that’s EXACTLY what Bigil did the moment his dad was stabbed. He jumped off the train. And beat everyone up. And it was breaking my heart.

Spoiler alert again: the second time I cried was when the second MIA player was having her story told where that chuttad smashed her face with what i think was an egg filled with acid? And it was just so fucking heartbreaking I can’t talk about it. And the third time I cried was when another player was dumped out of the back of a Jeep in a fucking sack and when they opened the sack she was barely conscious and she’d been forcefed huge amounts of cocaine. That just probably made me break down (/nsrs) it was so horrible and heartbreaking.

I did cry again at the end of the movie but that was crying from joy because it was a good ending and it cheered me up immensely.

Unfortunately when the movie was over it was already like 23:20 for me so now i don’t have long left I should sleep. It’s 00:49.

But yeah my mental health is kicking my ass in terms of my academic endeavours and i really don’t appreciate that. Idk what to do to get myself to function normally again. My mom’s being super supportive of me now that she knows I’m mentally ill, but it still sucks because at least, before she found out she wasn’t so worried about me. After the doctors told her she broke down crying and ever since then she’s way too worried for me. Which is probably justified right now actually because it’s been so so hard to not kill myself. Im literally making exact plans in my head which is NOT good. And i keep zoning back in to realize that im singing a song in my head, and they’re like tunes of the muffin man rhyme or like some pop song but my brain’s using “i wanna die” and “im gonna kill myself” as lyrics. Which is. Disturbing. I didn’t think I’d be like this again after I was started on medications.

It was very sinister this morning zoning in and realising that im singing to the tune of the muffin man. “Im gonna kill myself, gonna kill myself, gonna kill myself” with all the cheeriness of the original rhyme. It was just. I’d say traumatising but in this case it’s my own brain giving me that trauma.

That’s really not something I want to do to myself.

I seem to keep alternating between “i wanna die because i don’t deserve happiness” and “i wanna die because i don’t deserve all the bad stuff happening to me”. Like brain, pick a side. Why exactly are we dying. Is life a good thing or not. Am i happy right now or not. I genuinely desire to know. What exactly is making me want to die.

Even if it’s mental illness, like what is it stemming from exactly. Okay my autism clinician said that i went into depression because of my autism and at the time I disagreed with him but recently I’ve started thinking maybe he’s not wrong, he’s right but not because of the reasons he’s thinking of. I know me being different from everyone else pisses me off a lot because i just want to fit in you know. Feel like i belong somewhere. And maybe the frustration of never having that is making me depressed.

I just. It’s different to what I’ve thought my entire life. Memory issues kick my ass too but for as long as I’ve known, in middle school i thought I was going crazy BECAUSE i wanted to kill myself so bad and that’s not a normal thing. Clinician hypothesised that i wanted to kill myself because i thought I was crazy? Okay maybe but idk. I’ve always believed the former but. What if the clinician is not wrong. Like what if I thought I was different and that’s why i wanted to kill myself, which led me to believe I was crazy. Like i knew I was different but i don’t think I paid that much attention to my difference. Like as much as the fact that people hated me and i hated myself. It is so so weird wanting to kill yourself when you’re barely conscious of the concept of death. I was a child. No child deserved that, not even me. With all the bitchiness that i had ih me back then. Even I didn’t deserve feeling like that at such a tiny age.

Every since finding out that im depressed and autistic, I’ve tried to help myself in any way I can but idk HOW. I’ve tried so many things that I’ve grown immune to practically every method I can think of. I go outside look at the sun look at trees touch grass and shit and all I can think is “im sweating. I wanna die.” I go to a public library and sit there in the midst of hundreds of books and i think “I’ll never be able to acquire all of the knowledge this library holds. I wanna die.” It rains. “My socks are wet. I wanna die.” I listen to upbeat music. “I wanna make an AMV of this so bad and i still haven’t made all the AMVs I’ve planned. Wanna die.” I listen to sad music. “Life is sad. Wanna die.” I literally will watch a show that i LIKE and ENJOY and that makes me HAPPY, but a couple episodes in i just turn it off because it’s not hitting and there’s no point. Like in the past idk decade of being depressed I’ve tried so many things that now i just feel immune to any motivating thing I come across. Now the things that motivate me are unconventional things like the Elon Musk deposition of today.

I don’t have time for this stuff right now. I need to study. I need to get past this and i need to get into university this year and i need to do so many things. And it’s a lot. I don’t have time to sit and slowly try to make myself function again. What i need to do is study. And fucking plane tickets or whatever.

Honestly when I go back to England this time I’m probably not gonna be able to stop myself from becoming violent if anyone at school pisses me off even once. And i probably don’t want to stop. The nice people won’t piss me off it’s only the gaands that will piss me off and they definitely deserve some kicks to the ass, accounting for all the times in the past 2 years that they’ve pissed me off.

Swearing in Hindi feels so freeing like no one will be able to tell I’m calling them an ass or a dick. They’re just sounds to generic white people. I could say it with a sweet tone and they wouldn’t be able to do anything because even if they think it’s a swear they can’t prove it because they don’t know Hindi and im saying it to them nicely anyway. Imagine saying “tere baap ke chuttad se nikla hua gadha” in a sweet voice and them doing absolutely nothing about it. Actually yes, im gonna do that if only to give them hell for being dicks during year 12.

Okay i feel better now with my new game plan. I might even work out again so I can put my karate skills to use. Im never seeing anyone from that school again, might as well go out with a bang.

Unconventional motivation to keep living. 👍

Anyway yeah it’s 01:15 i should probably go to bed now.

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sydsrichie · 1 year

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How could you made Sena that pathetic? Like I thought after you said you want to have non violent ending to dance, I was sure you will write a lot of good fucks and children popping like Alysanne but why you decided to make Sena so weak? Like, to me, you had dilemma whether you want to pull Aemma/Laena fate with her or to make her survive by some kind of miracle. You have done so great job at making her strong, only to write her as unable to make Aemond's dream of big family came true. WTF?

brooo this is the most sexist ask I have had in a long time. women who can’t have lots of children are weak? disgusting take. desperately hope you don’t have any women in your life who cannot conceive or have had difficult births if that is your attitude.

begging you to do a google search on medical history, women’s history, ANYTHING that will teach you how dangerous childbirth was before modern medicine, germ theory, epidurals, blood transfusions, caesarians, etc. it is still sadly a major cause of death in developing nations and why pregnancy is such a high risk, closely monitored health state.

in the books, targs die in childbirth even more often than other women. a lot of fans theorise it’s to do with whatever magic it is that makes them dragonriders and leaves their stillborn children malformed with dragon characteristics, or even just the inbreeding.

not that I think this ask deserves a serious answer, bc good lord that is one of the most offensive things I have read in a long time, but the idea was to not give too neat and happy of an ending, bc such a thing never happens in real life or in asoiaf. “Life is not a song”. And also just to show a deep and enduring love between two people with virtues and flaws, who don’t get their idyllic big family but are content with what they DO get regardless. I also often see a troubling association in fiction between women who are either physically weak or emotionally closed off being unable to bear children, as though not being able to have children is evidence of weakness or lacking in nurturing qualities/femininity. so I wanted to write a woman who is both strong and nurturing but just so happens to not be able to safely bear children. also just to show aemond as a rare man in this world who values his wife’s LIFE above his own legacy. the books are littered with men who all but kill their wives in the pursuit of heirs. in a way, that’s what starts the entire story of the dance when aemma dies.

so yeh. that’s a really vile opinion to go and drop in someone’s inbox. I just hope you’re very young, don’t really understand what you’re saying, and you’ll take this opportunity to go and educate yourself.

I can’t tell if this is the same person who dropped that rude ass ask in my inbox a few days ago (I think it is) but I had to answer this because it’s just straight up offensive and I really hope you can see why. I won’t be answering anymore of these though, so don’t bother!

#the misogyny is off the charts….#putting this in the fic tags so y’all can see how fucking awful and toxic some of the ppl in this fandom are good lord #bc this NEEDS to be stamped out #childbirth mention cw #misogyny tw #childbirth cw #maternal death cw #stillbirth cw #child death cw #fucking stupidity content warning #tqc #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x reader

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hermitcraftkinfessions · 2 months

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Being a Doc fictive in the body of someone who never watched Hermitcraft is… exhausting.

Not only do I never relate to my canon character, I don’t remember anyone aside from Grian (who was called Gray), Cleo (whose name I can’t recall), and Xisuma. They all had… entirely different roles in my source.

I recall being a scientist who was tasked with creating a private army for Xisuma with my lab assistant, an enderman named Xeemont. We were both previously experimental attempts at this private army, a creeper and an enderman respectively.

Our first pass made Cleo. She gave herself a name but I can’t remember what it was.

Our second pass made Gray. He was… difficult, to say the least. Rude, uncooperative, constantly trying to get me and Xeemont in trouble… I suppose I can’t blame him. He was just a kid trying to understand why the people who brought him into this world were hurting him.

I don’t remember much else, only that Xeemont killed Gray after Gray tried to kill me.

Sorry for info/traumadumping my whole source, but I felt like telling someone.

don't feel sorry, thats what this place is for, info/traumadumping! i understand how frustrating it can be to not interact with the thing you come from. as we have a few people like that, we're here for you man even if you don't really know us.

-Mod hels

#kinfession #mcyt kin #mcytkin #hermitcraft kin #hermitcraftkin #doc kin #docm77 kin #??#cw death mention #cw lab mention #mod hels #people can send in an ask if i didn't add enough content warnings!

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inks-books · 4 months

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Hi, happy WBW! 🦖 - What creature makes the people in your world strikes fear into everyone? Is it large, ancient, small and lethal, hopefully exctinct but no one knows for sure? What would make someone hide in the outhouse to escape it?

The Akhekhu mounts are a violent mount that only few riders can control. Once bonded to an Akhekhu no one else can ride it and it will kill for you if not try to kill you. They look like a cross between a velociraptor and a kimono dragon only large enough to ride. They are low to the ground, but not so much so that the rider's legs will drag. They have a vicious temperament that is difficult to control if you want it controlled at all, for these creatures are solely reserved for The Hunters to ride. The Hunters are an elite group of magical fighters that hunt down those who cross the veil from the magic world into the mortal world (aka our world) and vise versa. The Akhekhu are loyal only to The Hunters and only when they are deemed worthy enough.

Otherwise they will hunt you down by scent. They can smell you across water (even cross it to find you), they can taste your scent in dessert climates, even cold climates do not stop this beast from hunting you down. The only way to throw it off your sent is to mask it with a much, much stronger one. There isn't much one can do to stop the attack of an Akhekhu if the rider gives the kill order unless you're just really fast, and really, really lucky. Their claws are like curved knives that will tear you to pieces if you get in their grasp. When an Akhekhu has your scent? The best you can do is pray the rider is in a good mood lest you die a very slow and painful death because an Akhekhu tortures its victims like a cat before devouring them.

Once it has a taste of your blood, there's no loosing your scent after that. It's got a magical bond to you then and will chase you down until you die in its jaws or find a way to kill it first. But then you still have the rider to contend with.

#inks rambles #inks writes #original writing #original stories #original books #ask inks #ask game #writing #writeblr #blood mention #cw death mention #death mention #content warning

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dungeonegg · 1 year

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I just realized I need to give a MASSIVE content warning with this game. I'll edit the pinned post when I get home but wanted to post this real quick while I had a moment.

There is child death in thus IF. Addy and Aidan are both children and, as Players, they have died to become such. With the fate the guild went through, they died a second time as well. And considering a big part of the story is to do with figuring out what caused the guild's annihilation, it's not really something that's likely to be glossed over. So yeah, huge content warning and I apologize I did not mention that earlier. I really have no excuse.

#dungeon egg #content warning #I am so sorry I did not mention this earlier #cw: child death

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bisexualbailorgana · 8 months

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listening to perfect day by lou reed after the first three episodes of season 2 hurts Even more than it already did especially in light of ed's suicidal urges, alcoholism and drug addiction. the whole song is interpreted as being about addiction but through the metaphor of a lovely day with someone you care about and it feels even more relevant given what ed has lost and how he deals with it

#im in pain #i was listening to transformer knowing fully well perfect day was on it and i was still shocked & upset when it came on #ofmd #our flag meets death #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 #ofmd s2 spoilers #suicide mention #<- i dont know how to tag content warnings pls help

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hekateinhell · 1 year

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7 and/or 18 💖

7. Which part of writing do you struggle with most?

answered here!

18. What is a line/scene you’re really proud of? Give us the DVD commentary for that scene.

This was one of the ones I was scared to get lol but I'll try! Don't get me wrong, flattery gets you everywhere with me but actually picking out something that *I* like from my own fics? Can't think of a thing tbh, so I went with the scene that's been the hardest one for me to write so far - just because the content is pretty heavy (for me), and it took a few changes and rewrites to get to where I was satisfied with it as a plot device.

(Our House, Chapter 3 spoilers)

Armand and a girl; maybe seventeen, eighteen years old. Beautiful, high Slavic cheekbones, smudged eyeliner accenting her light blue eyes, dark hair. Armand halfway behind her, his hands cupping her bare tits, fake vampire fangs in his mouth, his head turned slightly to mimic biting her throat.

"Eleni," Armand said.

And Lestat, he's there too. He's taking the selfie, pupils blown wide, his cheek pressed to the girl's head, blond hair everywhere, an arm going around her head to rest his hand on Armand's shoulder. Not inherently sexual, more familial than anything, the three of them laughing; a teen's photo for fun and mild shock value.

[So this was where I had to decide how exactly I wanted Armand to present the history of his relationships with his ex-girlfriend and Lestat to Daniel. We get a bit more from Armand's POV later, but it doesn't really expand beyond what we're shown here. This is what's relevant to Armand right now, and this is what he wants Daniel to know. The rest will come later (when I decide what the hell "the rest" is). One of the best writing tips a friend gave me is: even if you're writing from just one person's POV, you need to know what the other people in the scene are thinking.]

Armand passed the phone to him wordlessly, mentally checking out. Daniel could see it in the dimness of his eyes, in the tiredness of his shoulders. Emotional or chemical—something drug-induced? Daniel had no way of knowing.

[Concerned Husband Danny is my fave, this was one of his times to shine. I wanted to make sure he's hyperaware of Armand right now, not taking his eyes off him for a second.]

"Just like Paris."

"She's pregnant here," Armand reached up and tapped the screen. And, dear God, was that a great distraction or what?

[Oh shit! moment, hopefully for the reader and Daniel both.]

"Really?" Yours? went unsaid. Armand heard it anyway.

He nodded, barely. "We were so young... Just reckless, stupid street kids that had no way of knowing better. But I loved her, and she loved me."

[It was important to me that it's clear Eleni was a meaningful and formative romantic relationship in Armand's life, even though he's older and married to a man now. He's bisexual, and Eleni was truly his first love.]

"Is she still in France?" Daniel asked, perpetually curious to a fault. It was the reporter in him. He was an intelligent man, he'd already figured out the loaded implications behind a child Armand never mentioned to him before. Abortion, most likely, given how young they both looked.

"Eleni?" Armand arched an eyebrow, as if they'd been talking about anyone else.

Daniel nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, she is," Armand smiled in the empty way some people have a tendency to do, "Cimetière des Innocents.”

[My baby boy is broken inside, and I needed y'all to know that. Also, Les Innocents name-drop!]

Damn. "I'm sorry, love." It seemed to Daniel he was saying that a lot lately.

[By this point, it's already been a couple months of drama, and Daniel's gotten one bombshell aside from this one dropped on his head tonight. He's a saint of a man, but every person has a limit before they start burning out and idk if y'all noticed... but Armand in this fic... he's a lot, okay?]

Armand sighed, "Do you know what she said?"

Rhetorical question, and he continued, "She said it was a miracle, that it was God himself giving us a second chance. Telling us to clean up our act, get clean, find other ways to survive, to provide. And I believed it too."

[This part was weird for me because I was trying to tap into what a girl who'd been raised with a Catholic mentality might think. I never said Catholic, but clearly, she was religious to quite a degree and my mind went to Catholic. Kind of trying to channel the CoD fervor into something else here, and also pull stuff from my own life experiences.]

He sighed again, "We were just kids." Armand looked and sounded a lot like a kid just then.

He took a minute to lean against Daniel's arm, playing with the zipper on Daniel's hoodie. Up and down, up and down. Zip, zip, zip. "Well, I guess God changed his mind."

[I feel like Armand is such a classic C-PTSD case in almost every universe I write him. I mean- he is in canon! And reverting to child-like comforting behaviors when confronted with a stressor/trigger can sometimes be part of that, so I tried to have it come out here - as well as emphasize the fact that he feels secure enough around Daniel to act that way in front of him in the first place, instead of retreating into himself and/or masking.]

Daniel gently massaged the spot below Armand's ear, silently urging him to continue.

"The week she was supposed to give birth; it was June, it was so hot already. She went to see her father. She said she wanted him to know, the man who had abandoned his daughter to chase the drink. Oh, he was furious. The neighbors heard him screaming—calling her a whore, a sinner, a useless junkie."

[This one was hard, and unfortunately, it's a common enough scenario in real life. Some children just are unwanted and unloved, and they're treated that way. Definitely hurt to write.]

Armand paused for a breath, letting his head loll against Daniel's shoulder, pressed his face against Daniel's neck as if he wanted to feel his pulse against his skin. "He pushed her down a flight of cement stairs. She hit her head, Danny."

[Originally, I was going to have Eleni die by suicide after having a miscarriage, but just seemed much more potentially triggering to an audience since miscarriages are something many people do experience (though I definitely do tag). Ultimately, I just didn't think it was necessary to go that route to achieve a similar impact. As a writer, this one almost hurts me more because the difference is that in this version, she was excited for her baby and her future with Armand, their little family. She wanted to live!]

Daniel wrapped an arm around Armand's chest and pulled him close, tight enough to hurt. Not lovingly, to comfort, but with the instinctual urge to get him out of harm's way, too many years too late.

And now Daniel knew, or at least he thought did—the reason, or a reason, why.

A reason Armand had taken such a keen, uncharacteristic interest in the preparations for Lestat and Louis's daughter.

A reason why "introducing" Armand and Lestat had had an outcome akin to throwing a jungle cat and a rabid dog together in a cardboard box.

A reason behind Lestat and Armand playing Russian roulette now, as Daniel understood it. Using the needle to simultaneously reconjure and numb the memories of who they’d been once upon a time—Lestat, without expectations and responsibilities, wild and free; Armand, about to have a family for the first time in his tragic life, in the worst circumstances possible.

And, finally, the reason Armand seemingly lost his mind and started begging him for a baby one arbitrary evening in June, out of the clear blue fucking sky.

[Listen... this fic was originally going to be a fluffy, mildly hurt/comfort two chapters. Suddenly, I had to come up with a decent enough reason for Armand to be going off the rails. This is what my brain gave me.]

Armand sat up and reached for the phone in Daniel’s hand, swiping to the left and handing it back to him.

"My only blood family," Armand murmured, touching a blurry ultrasound image on the screen that didn't especially look like anything at all. "A little girl," he smiled, sweet and subdued, the glow remerging only to fade from his eyes, confirming what he knew Daniel had already deduced, “who died along with her mother.”

[Can't lie, this is the one and only time I have ever cried over anything I wrote. I imagined what the baby looked like, if Armand ever got to see her or hold her. I named her. I'm so sad lmao I'm so sorry to end on this note. But this was actually interesting to remember, and I miss this fic in a way I haven't in a while, so thanks for the opportunity to ramble about myself I guess!]

#this was so self-indulgent i am embarrassed but also touched you asked lol all of you <3 #i apologize for typos i'm on tumblr to stay awake rn #warnings are for fic content #tw suicide mention #tw miscarriage #tw infant death #fic ask <3

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