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mistyresolve · 1 year

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| Sunder - Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader (Edited)

Word Count - 2.2k

Summary - Y/n is caught of guard when they discover a stray soldier had stuck around after his mission. Curiosity piqued, they decide to stay and talk with Ghost to figure out why he never went home.

Warnings/Tags - Fluff, Angst, Explicit language and description, Mentions of death (including a child and his family), Ghost is morally grey in this one

A/N - sometimes writing about Ghost makes me sad :( also i don’t know if this is fluff or angst my apologies

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You hadn’t expected anyone to be lingering in the 141 barracks with most of them having left for home after their recent assignment. You expected all of them to return home actually. But Simon Riley was slouched on the couch in the common area.

He was still in his gear, save his bulletproof vest and gun. The zipper to his black tactical shirt was undone, the chain to his dog tags peeking out from beneath the fabric. His mask was lying on the couch beside him, and he had yet to wipe off the black paint, faded from wear and time. It still lined his eyes and smeared down his cheeks. Not a single light was on but you could still make out enough to recognize it as him with the help of the moonlight leaking in through the windows.

“Oh,” you jumped, the stack of mail in your hand flying up to cover your eyes. The mail you collected for both Price and Gaz as they requested, and you came here intending to just leave it on the table in the commons room for when they return. You were a close friend of Gaz’s and spent every Friday night at their barracks playing pool or cards with him and whatever other member wished to join in that night. You’ve met Ghost a couple of times and played a game of cards with him a handful of times. He won poker every single time, his ability to bluff and lie always floored you. He’s taken hundreds of dollars from you.

Not a single one of those interactions has he ever removed his mask.

You waved the envelopes in front of your face, your eyes squeezed shut for added reassurance, “I’m just dropping off some mail for Gaz and Price,” you told him. If only to make sure he didn’t think you were trying to sneak in thinking everyone was gone and snoop. This time when you dropped the mail from your face, your eyes were on the floor.

He huffed a laugh, the sound deep and reverberating. There wasn’t a hint of humour in it, “You can look up. I’m not going to bite,” he lilted. He sounded exhausted like he was latching onto consciousness with a death grip, forcing it to remain with him.

You hesitated, turning the thought over in your head. He knew that you knew if you so much as thought about revealing his identity he would hunt you down and string you up to use as an example.

You dragged your gaze up the length of his body. He was pure muscle and long limbs. He wasn’t built with cosmetics in mind but with the need for unbridled strength and power. His broad shoulders and chest were on display as he rested his arms on the back of the couch. He devoured the space. He looked like he was made too big for this world.

You lingered on his face for longer than you’d like to admit. He’s always caught your attention but you had your reservations as to why you never actively pursue him. He didn’t seem like the kind of man you’d take home to meet your parents for Christmas. He didn’t seem like a man capable of something like love. He always left you with the impression that he was a ticking time bomb. His humanity held together by sheer will and spite.

But looking at him now, nil the mask, he looked so mundane. He wasn’t at all like his many nicknames and reputations. He wasn’t Azrael, an angel of death. He wasn’t the Grim Reaper. The scars on his skin were evidence enough that he was capable of pain, injury, and eventually death.

He wasn’t Death because it was Death that stalked him; It followed him into his sleep and it hovered over his shoulders as both his ally and foe.

Without the mask, he was just like everyone else. He was also handsome. The type of handsome someone has to grow into. Hard lines and dark features. The oily black paint and dark room made it harder to distinguish every one of his features but you didn’t need to see them. Now, a small part of you wished you had tried your shot with him.

“I thought everyone went home?” you placed the mail on the table, sorting through them by person so you had somewhere other than him to look at.

“They did,” he quipped. His patience was evidently thinned, not by you, but by something else.

The inquisitive side of you perked up, ears turning in on him. You eyed him from your spot at the table and your attention snagged on the glass in his hand, the amber liquid inside tilted to one side, “Everyone including you,” you specified.

He leaned his head all the way back on the cushions, his face pointed to the ceiling, “No. Not me. I usually don’t.”

“Hmm,” you moved the kitchen and opened the fridge to find the sparkling water you left at the bottom. The can cracked and fizzed and the faint smell of strawberries and pomegranates wafted up, “No one you want to see back home?” it wasn’t that uncommon for someone to not want to return home, some people joined just to get away from it. Maybe he was one of those people.

“Nope,” he popped the p, his head rising back up to look at you. He wasn’t much of a talker to begin with but this was different.

“No movies at the theatre you were looking forward to?” Since there wasn’t any source of entertainment at the base most of the soldiers raved about the movie theatres once they got back from leave. Although, the thought of the man sitting in front of you going to a theatre and eating popcorn was laughable.

“I’m more of a show kind of guy,” he followed you with his eyes as you made your way to the couch opposite him.

“How was the mission?” you went for the elephant in the room. Gaz had stopped by your office on his way to the air stripe, he sat with you for an hour to discuss the mission. You knew the result of the mission, but you had a feeling that even Gaz was leaving bits and pieces out. Leading you the conclusion that something had gone awry.

“A success.”

Okay. Not really what you were looking for.

“I would expect nothing less from you and the 141, and you don’t usually come back to base until you’ve done your job. That’s why I didn’t ask if it was a success,” you tilted your head at him, “And if it was a success why are you not celebrating? Instead, you’re sitting in an empty barracks, in the dark, drunk. So, tell me, How was the mission?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m drinking,” he pulled at the syllables with his tongue, emphasizing each one.

Temper.

“Hang me on a technicality,” you deadpanned, he needed a little pushing, you just had to be careful not to poke any bruises when doing so.

“I don’t need a psychologist to be psychoanalyzing me and writing ‘unfit for work’ all over my file,” His teeth flashed white in the dark as he snarled. He was never this volatile, not that you’ve ever witnessed anyway. He was like an injured animal back into a corner.

“I was a counsellor, not a psychologist. I didn’t make diagnoses, I just listen and give advice where it’s wanted,” you reply, referring to your old civilian job before joining the force and working with the soldiers here. You had shifted career paths to health promotion and providing resources to anyone who came and asked for them. You were passionate about it, and wanted to help every last one of these soldiers. The only issue was that not many of them wanted the help, and Ghost fell into that category, “Whatever is going on in that head of yours, I can assure you I’ve heard it before. If not worse. Besides, I’m off the clock. Nothing you say will be repeated or recorded. Nothing anyone ever says is.”

“Have you cornered anyone else from the 141?” he looked at you from beneath his brows, suspicion creeping in on him.

You shrugged. The truth was that every member of the 141 has visited your office at one point or the other. All except him. He was on your radar but you were going to wait until he came to you. For now, you were extending a hand towards him. Whether he took it now, later or not at all was entirely up to him and you’d back down the moment he expressed that he had no desire to open up.

You waited, folding your legs underneath in a show of, I can wait for you all night.

He was completely still, his gaze glazing over in thought, in remembrance. There was a long moment of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that was making room for something else, something heavier, “They killed a little girl. She couldn’t have been older than eight,” he finished the last of his drink, “Didn’t want her to talk, so they shot her in the head and left her body for us to find. I stepped right over her and I still couldn’t even look at her face. Seems like the world’s greatest sin, right? Killing a child like that,” his gaze dropped to his feet, “But I’ve been thinking…I would have done the same if it meant protecting a mission. Seems like a pretty good trade to me, a single life to protect the rest,” He poured himself another half glass of whiskey in preparation to nullify whatever feelings were bubbling up, “I’m really, uhh,” he cleared his throat, “I’m really no different from the men and woman I’ve killed. We go out there and believe we’re doing the world a favour, but who’s to say we aren’t the villain in their story?”

“You have to make some of the hardest decisions a single human has to make, and no, it’s not fair. Sometimes there is no right answer, no better option. You sacrifice every part of yourself for the sake of peace. So of course you’re going to lose in the end. Even if the mission was a success, you still lose. There are no winners in war, Ghost,” You pulled one of the decorative pillows to your chest. It was a harsh truth, but it was one that you wholeheartedly believed, and he didn’t need pretty or sugar-coated words.

Devastation rang as you noticed his expression. He had been expecting you to hate him for his confession. Be disgusted with him. This man thinks he’s fighting this war by himself, that’s he’d completely alone in this world. To think he’s been dealing with these thoughts and feelings by himself. Ruminating over them till there is nothing left but self-loathing and abhorrence.

“You’re not the monster you think you are. Maybe a little fucked up, yes, but who isn’t in this line of work?”

He was quiet, his mouth a thin line as he contemplated your words. You could see he was listening, hearing you, but he didn’t necessarily believe you. That was okay though, you weren’t expecting him to. He’s tormenting himself for so long that cracking through that kind of damage would take time. Either way, you formed a metaphoric bridge to him, and gave him an alternative.

His shoulders loosened after a long while, “I’m not going to become a regular,” he stated, meaning this kind of conversation was not something he planned on making a norm for himself and he wasn’t going to be showing up at my office anytime soon or very often.

“That’s a real shame, I quite like your company,” you tossed the pillow to the side, stretching out your legs before standing up to leave.

You were just picking up your can of sparkling water when he said, “Stay.”

It wasn’t a question or a demand, but rather a submission. He didn’t want to be alone right now. Knew that he needed someone else's voice to drone out his thoughts.

You slowly slid back into the couch, understanding what he was needing at this moment. Inside your head, you jumped into the air and clicked your heels together, “And do what?”

He sighed and his eyes fluttered shut, “Just talk. About anything. Not this, but anything else.”

You pondered for a second, “You know, I’ve always wanted to see what you looked like under that mask. It’s been one of life's greatest mysteries.”

His eyes popped back open, a smile tugging at his lips, the hint of a dimple appearing, “Not a word to anyone else, you hear me?”

“A word about what?” you feigned ignorance.

His smile grew the slightest bit, “Exactly.”

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A/N - I used Ghosts Azrael skin religiously on MW 2019

Tag List - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @purplefishingline ❤︎ @v1naco

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod #cod ghost #cod fanfic #modern warfare two #MW2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley fluff #simon ghost riley angst #MistyGhosties

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holyhead-hufflepuff · 1 year

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oh, to be in love

LOVE INTEREST X READER

“If I had a flower for every time I thought of you...I could walk through my garden forever.” ― Alfred Tennyson

notes: the way that I teared up reading love quotes to pick for this lol. anyway shoutout to anyone who can make you feel this way bc they deserve it

"I love you." The words rang in your ears and settled in the warmest, softest part of your body and soul. It was the feeling of riding rollercoasters and having your body anticipate the first drop but still be shocked by the thrill of it happening. It's only three words. The phrase had been spoken to you — around you— for 20 years, but hearing it with your body pressed against theirs meant something more. You'd read a million romances and watched thousands of hopeless pairings find their way to each other. You'd closed your eyes a hundred times and imagined a future with the 'perfect' someone. All of it was sweet and romantic, but this was better.

You'd fallen for others in the past, taken part in one-sided sob stories more times than you'd like to admit, and ached for love. You've run to catch falling stars and been willing to touch the sun's core for people other than them. That was infatuation, but this was love.

The feeling of being in love with them is unexplainable in words. It's closing your eyes when songs that remind you of them comes on, and then, you play a film of memories of them. It's watching a movie a hundred times before but getting excited for the big reveal because they've never gotten to experience it. It's the shivers you get when you step out of a warm house on a cold, dewy morning. Being in love with them is living the same way you have for 20 years, but now you cry at love songs because you relate to them. An anthology of experiences was the closest you could get; even then, something wasn't there.

Up close and in the warmth of home, the two of you are mundane and far from sappy rom-com couples and their grand gestures. It's being too lazy to make yourself food, so they make it for you. Your relationship is knowing they need time to themselves and giving them space, even though it makes you pout a little. It's 'have fun at work, honey' kisses, saving the last spoonful of ice cream, stealing glances at them when driving, and nagging them playfully. The best part is when you are against them, and when you look up to stare at them lovingly, they're already staring down at you.

Being in love with them was being in love with your best friend.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter x reader #ron weasley x reader #hermione granger x reader #luna lovegood x reader #ginny weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #draco malfoy x reader #theodore nott x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #harry potter fluff #fluff #peter parker x reader #holyhead hufflepuff

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dadbastiandisaster · 1 year

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First of all, thank you all so much for the nice reblogs on the Claude Headcanons, post, second of all

✨🌸 Hannah and the Triplets Headcanons 🌸✨

Hannah is the only Demon in the show I imagine as being very old and very powerful. She could kill Sebastian and Claude with both hands tied behind her back and it wouldn’t even be difficult for her. I also think she is a fallen Angel, unlike all the other Kuro Demons who I headcanon as humans who went to Hell

Conversely, the Triplets are all fairly young, only a couple of hundred years old, and especially individually they are fairly weak

I read on someone’s headcanons (possibly @eemoo1o-animoo) that they were one Demon broken into three, which I think is really cool, so I guess my other idea would be that they were a human soul that either as punishment or just be happenstance got broken into three

My personal headcanon is Demons can’t have kids, they just start existing, so the Triplets aren’t technically siblings, they just popped into existence in roughly the same region of Hell and have been together ever since.

Hannah saved their lives in Hell and they will now do pretty much whatever she says. They were also the first of instance of Hannah just being like ‘I’m your mum now deal with it’ (I’m electing to ignore all the weird shit about Hannah’s boobs - remember, Marie Kondo approach to canon)

She didn’t realise that what she felt for Luka was maternal love, and not hunger for his soul, and she does feel sorrow that she killed him. She had mostly taken contracts with less than pleasant humans that she was always more than happy to dispatch, so she’d never really spent much time around children.

She both wants to protect Alois from Claude for Luka’s sake, and because she felt she lost her chance to raise a child in Luka and so she sought out Alois.

She’d definitely try, but I honestly don’t know if Hannah would do a vastly better job than Claude. Other than anything else, since she barely talks to Alois, so she doesn’t really know him all that well, and he is a very different person to Luka

Also she’s approximately a bajillion years old so she definitely has 0 moral compass, even less of one than Claude or Sebastian.

The Triplets sometimes switch their partings around and pretend to be each other to fuck with Claude. Problem is, Claude doesn’t care which is which as long as things get done, so like, nobody’s winning

I think the Triplets do the ridiculous Cockney accents as a joke.

When they speak to others, they have to speak in turn. They will not speak individually. No one knows why.

Unlike sort of Claude and definitely Sebastian, Hannah has no issues reconciling her maternal feelings with her being a Demon. As previously mentioned, she is a bajillion years old and could probably kill people with her mind so she has absolutely nothing to prove. Also she has experienced all the murder and bloodshed one could ever hope to and maternal love is something relatively new to her.

Basically Hannah is mum and she’s a cool lady who can stab things and she is unfathomably old and powerful with no concept of puny human morals

Hannah is she/her and I think the Triplets are of the ‘whatever pronouns make the joke land’ persuasion.

The Triplets will obviously always side with Hannah, especially if it screws over Claude (Claude is a dick to them because he doesn’t want to deal with them and also he makes them do chores) but they really don’t have much in the way of personal stakes in the whole thing so they’re kind of just vibing

The Triplets don’t like Alois, but in an annoying younger brother way. Plus he stabbed Hannah’s eye out, so they have mild beef with him for that. It’s just as well because combined their forces of chaos would simply be too strong.

It would be cool if they were the Demons of threes, or trios. Since 3 is such a significant number, maybe it has a number, and maybe that’s why the human whose soul they were mad from was split?

Much like Claude, they do what Hannah tells them to but they’re not especially house proud.

Sebastian Michaelis, who lives at the Phantomhive manor & cleans 10,000 floors each day, is an outlier adn should not have been counted

Much like Claude, they just do not get why Sebastian puts so much effort in. Frankly, they think it’s weird.

They definitely fuck about when no-one’s looking

Actually entranced by light switches.

Pretended to be repelled by crosses to Alois until Hannah told them to stop.

Tldr: the Trancy Manor is chaos as well

Might make more of these at some point, but rsi is hitting to so here we are. Hope you enjoyed

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #claude faustus #hannah annafellows #black butler 2 #black butler headcanons #kuroshitsuji 2 #black butler season 2 #mey rin would actually think hannah is so hot #the triplets are agents of chaos #the triplets #original post

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erstwhilesparrow · 2 months

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I just saw that post you reblogged about archiving MCYT stuff - is there a particular reason stuff disappears so often? (That's very cool people are putting in so much effort to preserve it, though; big respect to that tbh)

reyni! :D okay i should be clear upfront that some of my information may be incomplete here because (1) i don't have twitter and (2) i'm not directly involved in any mcyt archival efforts. also putting this under a cut because it's long and i do need to reference recent events involving abuse and sexual assault:

despite mcyt = minecraft youtube(r), a lot of stuff relevant to mcyt happens like. exclusively on stream? really, really ~plot-critical or deeply characterizing stuff happens on stream sometimes and never makes it into a youtube video! and on twitch at least, unless you explicitly set it to save your vods, twitch will just delete them after a certain number of days. i don't know exactly how this works if you stream on youtube but also my impression is that a significant majority of people are not streaming on youtube anyway. since fairly early in my time in mcyt fandoms, there's been concern about creators not saving their own vods, and on top of that, sometimes you save a vod and it gets taken down anyway for copyright infringement (playing copyrighted music, the creator themself asked for it to be removed, etc). so like. as baseline, there's a sense of inherent ephemerality to the medium. that post i reblogged is explicitly pushing back against the description of mcyt vods as "a constantly burning library of alexandria," and in light of the evidence that follows i agree (and also am a little weepy about the efforts people make to save these things), but that sense doesn't come from nowhere, you know?

speaking of that post though, i suspect this archival stuff is coming up More now because it's been a rough couple of weeks in mcyt fandom. several really influential creators in the space were recently outed as being abusive or predatory in a way that's caught a lot of attention, and many people in response have been (understandably!) deleting their fanworks or otherwise distancing or removing themselves from mcyt fandom. i want to be clear, i know stuff gets deleted all the time in fanspaces -- the internet is kind of just Like That in terms of how easy it is to lose things -- and it's incredibly fair to go "no, even if there was a strong distinction between character and creator this leaves a sour taste in my mouth and i'm not doing this anymore." i don't want to pretend that no one has ever deleted a fanwork outside of mcyt spaces, and i don't want to insinuate that it's bad to vocally revoke your support of those creators -- those people have done awful things and generally failed to meaningfully apologize or take accountability, and it is worth remembering and saying so. but to give you a sense of numbers: antimony-medusa does monthly stats on mcyt fic on ao3, and dsmp, which even after it's kind of died off has seen monthly increases in the range of hundreds of new fic per month, saw a decrease of roughly 800 fics. other fandoms have similarly seen decreases, and video blogging rpf, which ao3 treats as an umbrella for basically all mcyt stuff, saw an increase of 51, as compared to last month's increase of (approximately) 3500. and that's just fic -- there's also a rich trove of animatics, fanvids, fanart, etc that i don't have any numbers for, but i've seen people talking about deleting those, too, you know? you see how people might be worried about what we are losing.

at this point i think your question is answered, but if you'll forgive some baseless speculation here, i wonder to what extent mcyt is also. complicated by how closely character and creator can sit? i don't know how other people feel, but there is a difference to me between "i've written fic about This Person Specifically (or, arguably, their streamer persona which may be somewhat divorced from the Real Life Human Being Behind The Screen)" and "i've written fic about a character this person plays." i dunno, there's a sense to me of the flimsiness of the line between creator and character and then also of the line between creator and fandom that i think makes it harder to be like "okay, i am doing my own thing, separate from the creator, so i'm going to keep my stuff public even if i don't stand by it 100% anymore." i remember when i first joined mcyt fandom, there was a period of time people were really worried that the creators were actively on ao3, or that fans would try to send their fanfic directly to the creators. i thought to myself, "well, if anyone Tries Shit with my work, i will simply delete all my relevant accounts and disappear." that's... not really a back-up plan that i feel good about these days, but. you know. it's been a thing, if not always for the same reasons, and i do understand the impulse.

#chattering sparrow #is this... a helpful explanation? does it clarify anything for you?#i've been having a weird week for reasons unrelated to ~fandom bullshit but wow the bullshit has certainly not helped #thank you for the ask though! gave me the kick i needed to go back and add disclaimers to some of my existing fic

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deiliamedlini · 1 year

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Because so many of my favourite stories of yours revolve around this concept: Zelda finding out what freedom is with link helping her figure it out.

Okay, not sure if you'll like this one because I used Zelda II's Link and Zelda and no one but me likes that game LOL! I tried to be different with the Zelink since, like you said, I have a couple of fics already like it!

Also on Ao3!

"Link, tell me some more. What happened in these years since my slumber?"

Link sat on the steps of North Palace with the Princess Zelda by his side. She looked around with her eyes filled with wonder, a new light she'd never seen before. She'd never seen this Hyrule. Her Hyrule had passed by some hundred years ago, and she was set in a constant state of wonder and amazement.

"The new Princess Zelda was in need of my assistance as Ganon tried to steal the Triforce. We stopped him, and then Impa passed along that you'd been asleep since your curse. And I just... I don't know. I had to help you. If I could."

"You did. Goodness, you did. To see the world again, to be able to breathe the air and taste the sea. I can smell it from here. And there's another thing that is far more difficult to see, but it is felt just as clearly: there is no fear here. You've taken their fear and cast it away. As you've done for me."

Link shrugged. "I didn't. I just... I did what was expected of me."

"You did far more."

"How does it feel," he asked instead, "To be a princess, but not the Princess? Do you feel relieved?"

"Confused. I don't know how to be anything else. But it seems P... Princess Zelda... the other one... has the Kingdom well in hand. How could I possibly seek to impose?"

"You don't have to. You can just... be free."

"Free," Zelda scoffed, shaking her head. "What even is that."

Link stood up off the steps of North Palace and held out his hand. He wriggled his fingers. "Come on, Princess. Or... can I call you Zelda?"

"You saved me from eternal slumber. You can call me whatever you'd like."

"'Beautiful?'" he asked, the word slipping out as he stared at her red hair. She was gorgeous. A stark contrast from the equally beautiful brunette princess, but a unique beauty that had him rapt in her.

Her brows shot up as she brushed her hair off her shoulder and took his hand. "Oh, you're one of those charmers, are you?"

"Only if you thought that was charming."

"I did," she smiled, blushing. "It's been centuries since someone has complimented me. I suppose I'm more open to the corniness of such lines after all this time."

"Did you used to hear them before your sleep?" He led her down a path, taking off into the expanse of Hyrule field. He could feel her hesitating, and tapped his sword. "I can keep you safe, but we'll keep to the paths. Don't worry."

"I'm used to worrying about everything," she muttered, following beside him with her hand tight in his. "And no, no silly Hero would dare flirt with me before. I was as isolated then as I was at North Palace. Worse, because my brother was so controlling. Anyone who looked at me... the way you do... well, they'd be... taken care of."

"Like I do?" Link asked with mock offense, smiling as the former Princess' laugh rang out in his ears.

"Yes! You have these puppy dog brown eyes." She pulled him to a stop so she could touch his cheek. Soft, light, she took a moment to truly feel him. "Like no one I've met before."

He blushed viciously and pointed back to the road. "We're almost at Rauru."

"Rauru? Who's that?"

"Not 'who'. It's a town."

"This used to be around where Leoch was. Is that still here?"

"I don't know who that is, so no."

She smiled. "It's a 'who', it's a town."

"Forgive me, Princess."

Her smile grew. "I'm not a Princess, am I?"

"No," he said, grinning. "No, you're not. You're free. So come on, Zelda. Let's go see what's new. Let's go see how you get to live."

#legend of zelda #link #zelda #zelink #Zelda 2 #Zelda II #Adventures of Link #writing

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seisoblivion · 1 year

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es: reaction & verdict.

a short work with milgram's supervisor. hope you will like it! art is by lichi-rin on tumblr.

dark red curtains do not allow the "morning light" — in fact, it is only an imitation of it in the form of a white screen — to penetrate into the prison guard's room. gray walls with a pattern of scarlet geometric shapes (there are rhombuses, polygons, and in general, who knows what. a dubious design solution), an antique chandelier that hangs from the ceiling, costs about like your most important organs — and it is likely that several copies will be required. its diamond "drops" gently swing from side to side. climb higher, take a closer look at them — and you will see yourself in different colors.

ㅤㅤ

first of all, you will plunge into the icy blue. endless ocean, not a soul around. under the water there are no small fish tickling your feet, nor jellyfish, from which your light, almost pale and smooth skin, like the hero of a fairy tale, has suffered more than once. deathly silence brings you pleasure until you start gradually going crazy. where is anything, anyone? "i gotta swim to the island, relax, and then call for help — you plan, think and swim in an unknown direction. — yes, my disappearance will surely be noticed. they will find and save me. i'm going to be everyone's favorite for a while, aren't I? they will worry, hold my hand tightly, bring cocoa with marshmallows, measure the temperature with kisses on the forehead. they will finally pay attention to me." but your strength is already running out, the sun has risen and hidden behind the horizon countless times, and you row diligently, striving for happiness and the realization of one dream. salty, with a strange pungent taste, water gets into the mouth, flows into the ears and nose. instead of a living person, there are bubbles, dozens, hundreds of bubbles; instead of a melodious voice, the desperate cries of a poor and useless child are heard. it would seem that nothing could be better than giving him a helping hand, showing sincere kindness to a person dancing on the verge of life and death? apparently, this only strengthened his faith in the correctness of his own beliefs. the poor soul will have to drown himself again. how ironic.

ㅤㅤ

blink now, wanderer, and tell me, what shade have surroundings taken on? a warm orange that awakens a nostalgic spark in your soul and happy memories of the past, carefree and full of hope. you love everything you see: beautiful trees with emerald leaves, a flimsy wooden bridge — how many generations have crossed it? how many nobles and beggars passed through it, how many destinies were intertwined here? — the sun's rays passing through your fingers like a thread, the breeze spoiling your coiffed hairstyle, but caressing your plump cheeks in apology. you love the whole world, and it loves you in return. the catch is that everyone will definitely meet a mortal on their way who can turn into the World for you alone. to be near them is bliss, their voice paves the way to earthly paradise. the very understanding that you have come together, that you complement each other perfectly, makes you perfect. you see beauty in little things, you breathe deeply and rush towards the unknown. you love even more, more, and at the moment of the transition of love into obsession, the irreversible happens. it would seem, is there a better option than to give up these sublime feelings? but if they contain your meaning of life and motivation to continue moving on, then this option, you could say, deprives the essence of existence. undoubtedly, no one tells you to throw yourself off the roof or take pills, but as luck would have it, couples in love will loom around, beaming at the onset of a new day, while you will begin to burden yourself with thoughts that you would never experience this again because your love, deep and passionate, does not fit into such a a small body. you are not worse than them at all, so why are you forced to suffer on the sidelines, hide from people, so as not to accidentally flare up again? it's not fair, not fair!

ㅤㅤ

— what is, es?

ㅤㅤ

the warden jumps up from their chair. fell asleep at work, it turns out? right on the prisoners' files. how unprofessional. there is also a witness, what a shame.

ㅤㅤ

— well? what's bothering you? — jackalope repeated in a calm tone. — tell me.

ㅤㅤ

"don't worry your head too much. you're the guard, they're prisoners. that's enough."

ㅤㅤ

— it's all right, — es said, shaking their head. — i overworked, nothing more.

ㅤㅤ

— is that so? well, take care of yourself from now on, human creature.

ㅤㅤ

"he specifically said these two last words."

ㅤㅤ

— i will.

ㅤㅤ

different stories, different views, different beliefs. different verdicts.

does anyone have the right to make a clear, unambiguous judgment in relation to good people who have embarked on a crooked path?

#milgram #es milgram #es #milgram project #writing #text

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wolfcursd · 10 months

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[ logan lerman, twenty nine, cis man ]. you’ll never guess who i saw in stanley park. that’s right, it was [ isaac brenner ]. [ he/him ] is a [ photographer at vancouver sun ] and they’re apparently a [ werewolf ]. did you hear they are [ humorous & adaptable ] but also [ distant & pessimistic ]? no wonder, anyone who reminds me of [ never knowing how to be on time, always warm to the touch, a soft voice never knowing what quite to say ] is sure to give that impression.

first.

full name: isaac samuel brenner.

age: twenty nine.

gender + pronouns: cis man + he/him.

orientation: bisexual.

occupation: photographer at vancouver sun.

species: werewolf.

character inspos: oz from buffy, shaggy rogers from scooby doo, & peter parker from spiderman.

second.

grew up in michigan with his parents and two siblings. parents got divorced while isaac was in high school but he has never particularly been close with either of them so it didn't impact him much. he always wanted to be closer to his family but isaac has never been good at sharing his feelings.

has been living in vancouver for a few years now. he moved to the area after dropping out of grad school and the desire to start fresh somewhere he couldn't possibly know anyone. with a bachelors in history under his belt, a couple hundred dollars to his name and nothing to lose, he went north. it was the federally regulated weed that really swayed his choice.

was bitten a few months ago and is unaware of his species status. has woken up in some pretty strange places, but as someone familiar with alcoholic benders, he never really thought much into it. while isaac isn't aware of every single supernatural detail, he's not quite at the "believing" part but he's certainly at the "something not normal is going on" part. wants to be left out of it altogether if possible but his job usually puts him in the right place at the wrong time. it's how he'd gotten bitten, been somewhere for work and some guy he was trying to help just bit him.

pretty chill and has a good heart but tries to avoid being someone with responsibilities or expectations. isaac doesn't like to rock the boat and when things get tough, he usually just leaves the situation for someone else to deal with. spends a lot of his time practicing his drums ( his apartment neighbors want him dead ), going on errands for the newspaper, and not being sober. really used to love the idea of leaving the us but now he wonders if he should leave again because there's just too much going on for his taste.

third.

desired plots: ( feel free to toss ideas my way )

roommate. taken by bowie . isaac has been living in apartments ever since moving to vancouver - it's possible this is someone he's been roommates with for years or someone he's moved in with recently. as much as he likes being alone, he also likes having a savings account.

ex partner. maybe they were dating soon after isaac moved to canada or maybe they broke up more recently. could have been mutual, could have been on isaac's part, could have been on their's. just fun ex drama.

one night stand, friends, acquaintances, etc.

#slayerhqs : intro

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bpdshowdown · 1 year

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Submitted Wheatley Portal 2. He decides to help the player for literally no other reason than the fact that he got attached to you and wants your approval only to then split on you just because GLaDOS discredited him and then he immediately jumps to conclusions and assumes that you're siding with her and that you don't appreciate him. And then later on during the boss battle, he accuses you of not caring about him and accuses you of taking advantage of him the entire time. Wheatley is highly insecure and self conscious, has an unstable relationship with the player while also being clingy with them, is clearly paranoid about being duped and taken advantage of. Seriously, his ENTIRE boss battle rant is a BPD rage episode. Like look at these lines:

"We've had some times, haven't we? Like that time I jumped off my management rail, not sure if I'd die or not when I did, and all you had to do was catch me? Annnd you didn't. Did you? Oh, you remember that? I remember that. I remember that all the time. And we would have talked our way out of it. Except you forgot to tell me you'd MURDERED her. And that she needed you to live, so the only available vent for her rage would be good old crushable Wheatley. Yeah. Little details that I remember. Easy little tidbits you could have used to save me from getting crushed if you'd cared, which you didn't, obviously. And still do not."

"Oh, remember the time I took over the facility? Greatest moment of my life. But you? Just wanted to leave! Didn't want to share my success. Well, so you know, I would be HAPPY for you if you succeeded... Apart from right now, obviously."

"Enough! I told you not to put these cores on me. But you don't listen, do you? Quiet. All the time. Quietly not listening to a word I say. Judging me. Silently. The worst kind!"

"All I wanted to do was make everything better for me... All you had to do was to solve a couple hundred simple tests for a few years... AND YOU COULDN'T EVEN LET ME HAVE THAT, COULD YOU?!"

"And another thing! You never caught me... I told you I could DIE falling off that rail and you didn't catch me... Didn't even TRY. Oh! It's all becoming clear to me now. Find some dupe to break you out of cryosleep, give him some sob story about escaping to the surface, squeeze him for information on where to find a portal gun, then, when he's- when he's no more use to you, he has a little ACCIDENT, doesn't he? 'Falls' off his management rail, doesn't he?"

"You're in this together, aren't you? You've been playing me the whole time! Both of you! First you make me think you're brain damaged... Then you convince me you're sworn enemies with your best friend over here!"

"Then, then, when I reluctantly assume the responsibility of running the place, you conveniently decide to run off together. Just when I need you most!"

"I'll bet there isn't even a problem with the facility, is there? I'll bet there's no such thing as a 'reactor core'. I'll bet that's not even fire coming out of the walls, is it? It's just cleverly placed lights and papier mache, I'll bet that's all it is! All those pieces of the ceiling that keep falling out? Probably-... probably actually pieces of the ceiling, I'll- I'll bet. That looked real. But it doesn't signify anything, is my point!"

"But the real point is - oh! You know what I've just remembered? Football! Kicking a ball around for fun. Cruel, obviously. Humans love it. Metaphor. Should have seen it coming!"

This is very lovely writing! I haven't finished Portal 2 yet, but it is super convincing! Thanks for the ask :)

#propaganda #ask #anon #not poll

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nicetrynicetry · 9 days

Text

199

Sunday and the yard is surprisingly safe-feeling, almost serene. Getting the boss to send his five men last week to scare off the addicts seems to have worked. Though I don’t doubt the addicts will forget being asked to scatter, and begin to congregate again. I wake at a relatively human hour, cold plunge, paint in peace. It takes a minute reestablishing my relationship with the studio, that seems to be the case no matter how long I’ve been away for. I pierce the thin skin that grew over all the dollops of paint. I work until C arrives with stories of random drunk sex that thrill me. He wants to see Slave Play in July and I am torn between paying for the tickets myself or calling in a favour with the playwright, who ignored me at a dinner once and then referred to me as his “wild and mysterious friend” on Twitter. I decide to take a chance on the latter, and save a couple of hundred pounds. I joke to C that I should ask specifically for seats at the Black Out night, that C would qualify for but my white ass would not

We smoke and drink beverages and l take photos of C for his second round of Hinge exploration. I tell him that few photos will beat the one I took a month ago of him reading Megan Fox’s poetry aloud. I fill him in on gossip from New York, only concerning the characters I have already mentioned. I recall driving past both the Trump trial and clusters of Columbia protesters. I pack up the studio and on the way home feel that familiar dizziness from moving my eyes around too quickly that reminds me decreased my Zoloft dose again last night. Cut number 3 of 6. I buckle up for bad dreams and tears, but not so much that it becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. It’s a delicate dance. I wonder whether this will be the dose that finally makes me impossible to love, the one that forces me to reintroduce a few milligrams out of desperation. I remind myself there’s no shame in that. There is no roadmap

And sure enough, by Monday afternoon I am crying in therapy, the first time since starting sessions again. I still don’t love not being therapised in-person, because when you cry in therapy you are simply crying alone at the studio with a computer open. I go back to painting afterwards and wait for my face to turn less blotchy before taking public transport home. I scroll through my pictures of New York buildings to find some material, and happen upon a video I forgot I’d taken of the spire of a gothic church in the financial district at golden hour. In the foreground are A and A’s faces, mostly cropped out but visible. They are having an argument about how best to get home, A’s Californian refusal to take the subway vs A knowing the subway will take less time than sitting in a cab in traffic. She said something about saving time with the train, and the video captures A’s response: “OHHHH with the extra SEVEN MINUTES you FUCKING SLUT????”. I choke on my own saliva laughing at how shocking it is, how cruel it sounds when taken out of context. If I didn’t know A and A’s friendships spans multiple years and their love language happens to be passionate fighting, this would look bad. And it is kind of bad, but I find it cathartic. Something about watching people fight properly is a panacea for this child of divorce whose parents froze each other out instead of fighting. There were occasional shouts, but far too few. I sort of wish my dad had called my mum a fucking slut from time to time, or something similar. Or my mum could’ve called my dad a pathetic cunt. Everybody in my family knew how they felt; it’s not as though they hid it particularly well. I send the video to mine and A and A’s group chat saying “I miss our strange dynamic”. A, aka the fucking slut, responds saying she hopes this video never leaks. A, the angry man, does not write back. N proposes this anger is an Israeli thing, and perhaps she’s right

The rain stops by Monday evening and leaves only birdsong at dusk. I shop online for things I could get framed for the house, keeping my search filters to “under £1000”. Such restraint. I tell C I saw a channel 4 newsreader at Farringdon tube station, a woman with blonde corkscrew curls who was famously destroyed in a debate about the gender pay gap by Jordan Peterson and went viral on YouTube a few years back. “Might revisit that destruction”, C says, “the early days. His breakout album”

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lavendaers · 6 months

Text

i've finally gotten to a point in my life where i'm not afraid to speak. where my shadow no longer haunts me. and i don't want to lose that freedom--not again.

was that alva bratt? oh no no, that was just juliette ferrars, a canon character from shatter me. they are nineteen years old, use she/her, and are not aware that they are not actually from Washington DC. too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

how long has your character been here: at least a year

what is your character's job: college student

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom: going right after the last book

has any magic affected your character: yes, no memories

and any other information you might find useful for us and the other members to know: ok going to go through a couple of things. some bullet points on things jullette has gone though. her touch is lethal, but she's gotten to a point where she can control it and can actually touch people without hurting them. she's also super strong and can punch the earth and cause an earthquake. badass short girl. but here is her wiki page.

she's had this kind of lethal touch for as long as she could remember. the people that raised her would mistreat her, her classmates wouldn't go near her because everyone knew that she was dangerous.

she only knew her touch could hurt someone, she never knew if she touched another person long enough, it could kill them.

not until she was 14 years old. there was a little boy. he had tripped and fell and his mother was ignoring him so juliette attempted to help him and didn't realize what was happening until it was too late.

she's then locked up until the age of 17. she's completely alone and only has a notebook that she stole to write her thoughts in.

she then gets a roommate and she realizes later, she knows him. i can't remember how long he's there for before some soldiers come one day and she thinks she's going to be killed. turns out adam was a soldier and she's introduced to warner, who wants to use her as a weapon.

she finds out that adam can touch her and through everything going on around her, it feels nice. especially since she hasn't felt another person's touch in such a long time. she and adam escape after a couple of weeks, but when it happens, she realizes that adam isn't the only one that can touch her. warner can too.

gonna ghost over what happens, but they end up with a bunch of people who also have powers. turns out, adam has powers and that's why he can touch her, but they're starting not work and her touch is starting to hurt him. he even ends up needing medical attention because of it.

they end up taking warner aka aaron now, hostage after juliette shoots his father in the legs. shit goes down at this moment okay. turns out aaron and adam are actually half brothers. yeah.

everyone finds out that aaron can touch her too. adam and juliette broke up before this but he's refusing to let go. even though her touch is hurting him now. juliette gets a lot closer to aaron and figures out why he is the way he is. they have moments, even make out before he leaves. but aaron has powers too. adam can disable others powers and aaron can take them and use them.

there ends up being this big fight and julliette is taken by aaron and adam's dad's soldiers and bombs the place all there people are at, killing hundreds before he shoots julliette in the chest.

she almost dies but there are these two healer's and though they can't touch her, they can touch aaron and he can use their power to save her and he did.

she's back in the compound when she wakes up and freaks out a little bit. but aaron helps a lot. when she decides that she wants to kill his father, he's ready for it. he hates his father a lot, but he can't kill the man. he explains a lot of what happened while juliette was there before and why he was so interested in her cause while she can't touch people, his mother has an issue where she can't be touched. she can't even move because of the pain it causes her. she's both the source of the power and victim.

i'll stop here because this is just where i stopped in the third book but please read these books. i need to scream.

#hw: intro #* juliette ferrars \ introduction.#shatter me spoilers #shatter me spoilers tw #spoilers #spoilers tw

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coughsyrups · 10 months

Text

there are so many thoughts stirring in my head and now that i’ve sat down to start spewing them out i’m overwhelmed by the magnitude and stuck, like i’m trying to squeeze chunks of my emotions through a hole big enough to fit one at a time, but easily blocked by many. i can’t say everything i want to say all at once. i backtrack, and repeat myself, and wander aimlessly around what i want to say like a fool.

i think i’m going crazy.

getting better is never linear. life imitates art imitates life imitates poetry; which is art, which, naturally, imitates life. don’t romanticize your suffering, because pain isn’t necessarily beautiful, and just because you can find beauty in your sorrow doesn’t mean you needed to suffer. just because you put your vase back together with golden glue doesn’t mean it never broke in the first place. being fragile and pretty and traumatized is not cool, actually, and i’m sick of the metaphors, and the narrative, and especially the foreshadowing.

i have always read writings written on walls. and i sit down and i write my little songs about it, and when i get hurt inevitably it’s marginally easier because i knew it was going to happen. and i already wrote some four chord ABAB bullshit that i can sing over and over again until i process it by desensitizing myself to the situation. because i have to make everything funny, i have to make everything palatable, i have to make everything art. and i haven’t been creating art lately. god, haven’t i suffered enough? this isn’t the kind of suffering i know how to write about. not having money to eat isn’t something you just slip into the second verse. i’ve tried and tried, and no one ever sees the part where i try except for him. they see me quitting jobs, they see me calling out sick, they see me spending forty bucks on chinese takeout when i have bills and rent and appointments. what about me holding two jobs with 60 hour work weeks, and STILL struggling to save a fucking a dollar? i overwork myself to the point of burnout, and when i get a pitiful fucking nothing paycheck there’s nothing i can really do to hold out any longer mentally. so i quit. so i chase a dollar’s worth of a promotion and jump from job to job, sitting at the lowest rung, looked over and taken advantage of and talked about and misgendered, misgendered, misgendered. i want to hide!! i don’t want to see myself in windows walking from job one to job two, i hate everything about my body, and i use it as an excuse to not correct people using the wrong pronouns for me, which just makes me hate it even fucking more. oh, i understand why people use she/her, my boobs are just so big teehee!! but i don’t get how nobody even fucking tries. i’m not saying i’m some magical perfect person but i make an effort, a conscious, serious effort, to remember people’s pronouns, to ask their pronouns, to properly gender them. the only people who use my pronouns consistently are max and my mom, who are both cisgender. it hurts so bad when my trans friends don’t use my pronouns. you should know more than anyone! how much it sucks! do i have to take hormones? do i have to “dress nonbinary”? i don’t want to change my voice, i don’t want to change my closet, i don’t want to change anything except my chest, and that’s more a health and comfort and weight thing than dysphoria!

if i don’t get this breast reduction, i genuinely feel like i might give up entirely. on everything. on living well. on waking up. because wouldn’t that just be fucking great? the chance to be comfortable in my body for the first time since i was… 14? 15? if this gets ripped away from me i might just run away, i don’t know! i don’t have a cent to my name but i could do it. go home, work a job for a few months. save up a couple hundred. then go no contact with everyone who’s ever known me. buy a plane ticket. move somewhere far, where the cost of living is low, and just restart. i could steal my documents. i could figure something out. craigslist exists, i’m sure someone needs a roommate. would my loved ones try to find me? i’d leave a note, of course. something to say that i’m gone, and that i might come back, but i don’t know when. would they be willing to wait? i don’t know what i’d want them to do. part of me would want to be found, like some princess in a castle, waiting to be rescued and returned to the kingdom. but if i chose to leave, i would want to stay gone. maybe after a few months, i would send a letter. no return address, of course. i don’t want them to think i got murdered.

i don’t want to make people sad. i don’t want people to hate me. i don’t want people to even dislike me. i want to be loved, and make people happy, and be everybody’s best friend who they can talk to about anything. but i’m lonely, and i’ve always been lonely, and i always will be lonely. in every lifetime, every timeline, every minute, i’ve always been a step removed, like the narrator is possessing my body and observing characters in a story. i can see them, and they can see me, and we can talk and have fun, but i’m here to see this story through. i’m here to tell this story. i’m here to check for plot holes and predict the twists nobody sees coming, and then when everything’s over i move on to the next chapter. moving along like everything is fine. that’s just how the story goes, nothing i can do. i am lonely, and this last year and a half has been nice, because i think max is lonely like i am. i think we deal with it in different ways. i think i’m fighting my loneliness, challenging it, trying to change how i’m written, but he handles it so well. he can be alone, not that he always wants to be, but even when he doesn’t want to be alone, i don’t think it drives him half as insane as it drives me.

i want to rip my hair out, or shave it off, or give myself bangs. i want to scream, but everybody wants to scream. i want to drive my car off a bridge. (i want to fly.) i want to float motionless at the bottom of a bathtub. (my hair makes a halo.) and see? there’s the metaphors. there’s the poetry, and the art, and the symbolism, oh the symbolism, because i can’t just process my feelings like normal people do. but this is good, because the alternative to writing this is laying awake thinking this. or, rather, thinking three sentences at once, because of all these voices in my head talking over each other. i’m at the breaking point. i don’t want anyone to help me right now, i don’t want someone on snapchat messaging me “ily! i hope u feel better soon” which is ironic considering how many of those messages i’ve sent to others.

i’m confused. i don’t think i’m scared. but i’m anxious. and i’m frustrated. i don’t know what to do, going forward? i’m not gonna run away to wyoming. i’m not gonna kill myself. i have to keep living. and keep going. i have to prove to myself that things will get better. it’s sunk cost fallacy, i didn’t kill myself at 19 so why should i now? i could’ve then. maybe i should’ve, the only people i would’ve hurt would have been my family. nobody else was close enough to me where they wouldn’t be able to get over it. it’s funny, getting dumped after a month was the end of the world to me back then. like a kid, falling off their bike and skinning their knee, screaming and wailing so hard at the sight of a few drops of blood and some scraped skin that the neighbors come outside to see what’s wrong. the world is ending! but it’s not. you put on a bandaid and move on.

i’ve had worse injuries since then. and even though they hurt just as bad, i learned to push through the pain, to conquer it mentally. i’ve put on a lot of bandaids. but i’m not trying to minimize how it felt in the moment, because it is the worst thing you have yet experienced. and each time you have a worse experience, you’re better equipped to deal with it. even better, when you experience something of equal or lesser trauma, it’s no big deal! you’ve had worse! wayyyy worse. what i’m saying is, how i felt that night in 2019 was valid, because i had never experienced heartbreak before. i didn’t know how to deal with it. i didn’t know i could hurt like that. now i’ve been hurt like that so many times that i can shut it off, deal with it mentally, think it through, push through the pain. and i hope i come to a day when i feel the same way about right now.

i’ve met the love of my life. i’m scheduled for a life changing surgery. i’m finally been living on my own. i have two sweet little kitties. and i’ve been trying hard not to let the negatives outweigh the positives, but that’s not the full picture. i’m not being negative when i say things are bad right now. i’m being honest. things aren’t perfect between max and i. i have this weird sense of jealousy where i think about how i’m the “first partner he’s actually, genuinely loved” and also, the first partner* he hasn’t actually, genuinely fucked. (*a few outlier relationships have been excused from this statement.) and that’s so stupid, right? it’s so shallow. isn’t this what i wanted, something beyond just a sexual agreement between two people who don’t seem to like each other all that much? yes, it is, and i am grateful, i am beyond grateful to love someone who loves me, and cares for me and about me, who i love to spend time with and talk to, who i fall asleep next to. i just get this hangup. why not me? i know the answer. the answer is i’m not pressuring him to do something he doesn’t want to do, and that will never change. i’m not going to guilt trip him into having sex with me, and the thought of ever doing that makes me sick. but i feel odd thinking that there’s other people who have loved him, just like me, that shared this experience with him, and i haven’t. and i don’t know when i will. if i will? i don’t know!

the surgery has me scared. not because it’s a surgery, i’m not scared about complications. but what about the money, how long will i be paying this off for? what if there’s an issue with healing? an infection? breasts become misshapen? bottom out? uneven? i gain more weight and they grow again? as soon as i’m able to i need to work out. i don’t want to have my stomach be larger than my breasts and that’s probably going to be the case after the surgery. i just hope i like the way i look. i know i’ll be more comfortable but i just… i didn’t think this would happen so soon. this happened incredibly fast and i have barely begun to process it. i’m just basically half dissociative every day at this point.

and august is our last month in the apartment, and then we’re moving home. i won’t live with max anymore. i won’t live with the girls anymore. no more late night hot tub, no more queen sized mattress, no one holding me every night. everything’s going to be over. everything that we built here, we’ll try to get a storage unit but what if we can’t, what if we have to get rid of everything? we don’t have a lot of space in our new living situations. it just doesn’t seem fair.

i wish the money from the tax return had been spent wiser. i wish max hadn’t been unemployed for so long. i wish i could work 60 hour weeks without getting burnt out. i wish i made $100 a minute for playing cookie run. wouldn’t that be nice?

and now… the lawsuit. where do i begin? it’s entirely unreal. i thought i felt insane, now i’m starting to think i actually am. this is some serious psychosis, lilia, you should be admitted asap. i want this to happen for him and his family, they deserve it more than anything, i don’t really know… what i’m supposed to say about it though? i don’t want to say anything. i just want to say, cool, you have money now, my shift starts in ten minutes though so i have to go, i’m already late. what does this change? does this change anything? why would it? it’s just money. but then i think about when i was working runrun and the saint, working til 3 in the morning, crying and panicking over being a hundred short for something or other. is that over now? forever? i don’t know how he’s planning on budgeting/using it, i don’t want to say a word of advice to him on it unless he asks me. he doesn’t need unsolicited advice from me. this has been happening his entire life, and i’ve known for like, two days? there’s nothing i can say or suggest that he hasn’t already thought of.

but it’s strange to think about how this has been here the whole time, in the background, beyond my knowledge. never mentioned. never explained. “well i bet you have it figured out by now�� no actually! despite how badly i’ve been wanting to snoop or eavesdrop out of curiosity, i have fully respected your wishes to keep this private! all i thought it was was some sort of settling of affairs. how the fuck would i have ever been able to guess a fraction of this situation?

i guess it’s not the worst thing to be blindsided by. at least you don’t have like, a kid, idk. but i hate to say it… if you were hiding this for so long, what else is there? is there anything else you haven’t told me? you’ve never given me a single ghost of a reason not to whole heartedly trust you and believe you’re giving me the full story. until now! that’s what i feel weird about. that’s why i’m kind of upset. what else do i not know about you? i’m pretty sure you know everything about me.

i love you. that hasn’t changed. i’ll always love you. i just don’t know why you let yourself be unemployed for over a month. i don’t understand how you could keep something as crazy as this under the table for our entire relationship. today is actually a year and a half from our first date. a year and a half without a word, except for, “would you be mad if i pulled a crazy rich asians on you?” i guess i should’ve said, no, i would not be mad at all! if you had worked that month, we might not be moving out. or we might still be, i don’t know. i’ll never know, because that’s not what happened.

i’m tired. see, this is how my writing always goes. all deep and flowery and full of metaphorical rambling that doesn’t make sense and is way too self referential and meta. but then the moment i start talking about my relationships i get more direct. and, idk, sassy. and i start saying fuck.

hey. you say you wish i could’ve met your dad almost every time you talk about him. and i’ve never told you this, because i don’t want to sound crazy, but i probably am crazy, and knowing me i’ll show you this some day, or, knowing you, you’ll just find it, so basically, i don’t mind sounding crazy. you wish i could’ve met him, and i wish so as well, but in a way, i feel like i already have. i see him in you, in how you act, and how you talk about him, and the stories, and the rare pictures and videos. when you’re talking about him, i feel like he’s here, next to us. i think we would’ve been friends. i think he would’ve liked my tattoo. i think he would’ve liked my music. i think he would’ve liked my family. he’s your angel, and that sounds silly, and i don’t mean it super literally, nor do i mean it in a cheap psychic way. i think what we put into the world stays there, our love. you have his love. you carry that with you, and i think you also carry his pain, because no one else was there to pick it up for him after he was gone. i don’t know what else to say, just that i’ve always felt connected to him through you. your love for each other is so strong that i can see it today.

pain isn’t beautiful. neither is suffering. it’s a misconception, because what’s really beautiful is perseverance, and strength, and every little good thing in the world. the scar is beautiful, but that wound isn’t. just because the healing was because of the pain, that doesn’t mean the pain was what created the beauty. we shouldn’t need to hurt.

thanks to sunk cost fallacy, i’m going to get better, because i missed my chance to kill myself four years ago, and now i have no choice but to keep living, to keep loving, and to make new reasons to stay alive. the only way out is through, because you can only go forward, and i missed the suicide exit and now i’m stuck on the bridge of recovery.

at least i have a sunpass.

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i-hope-youre-hopeful · 11 months

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A big hodgepodge of thoughts

May of 2023

He has fluffy dark brown hair that hangs over his eyes. His eyes are deep brown and nearly close when he smiles. His smile is bright and genuine and contagious.

He has strong arms and warm hands. His skin is soft and his face is sunny and his cheeks turn pink to prevent him from lying about how he feels.

He smells of smoke and coffee and tastes of sugar and cream. He sounds like laughter and music and life. He feels like home.

I love being around other people to make me remember how much I love Hunter. He’s so much better - or at least he’s trying harder - than most of the men I know. I hope it lasts. I hope it goes the right way. I’m scared it won’t. But I’m trying to trust and I think I’d rather it fail than never know whether or not it could’ve succeeded. I just hope I don’t hurt anyone in the process. I have increasingly frequent dreams lately that I hurt hunter. That I have the desire to hurt him. I fear desperately that I will desire to do something that would hurt him, because I am so dreadful at controlling my desires. I am afraid I will do something accidental or that I will not be happy until I do something on purpose. I have no desire at all to hurt him - id rather hurt myself a hundred times over. Maybe that’s what will save me. I hope I’m not being too stupid. I’m just ignoring everything I’ve been told to look out for but I’m paying attention to things that have tripped my family up before. I think he’s good for me. I think I’m good for him. I’m just desperately scared of failing.

I am scared all the time these days. Of everything. I suppose that’s pretty typical. I just feel like I can’t even hang out with my friends anymore without panic. How am I supposed to leave the country alone and stay in a tiny room with 6 other people all week and leave my mom and go against my parents desires in a month when I can’t even drive to Rachel’s to hang out for a couple of hours? I need to work on this. I need to rest. I need to take care of me. I need to take care of others. How blessed, how wonderful that someone else will help me take care of me now as I help take care of him. All I want in the world is for all my loved ones to be together and taken care of. How my heart breaks daily.

I am made to love and to care for others. I am made of love and I live in love. I am at my best when I am caring for others and being cared for.

Holy. Holy. Holy.

The Israelites had to be so meticulous in caring for the Ark and gave it the utmost reverence. They had to purify themselves just to be near it. The Lord struck a man dead just for touching it. It was so impossibly important because it held the Holy Spirit - the very essence of God. How much more, then, should we care for our bodies? I hold the Holy Spirit in my very being, and should treat my body as sacred - as holy and purified with the Spirit through Christ. thank you, God, for this body. Thank you for making me your dwelling place. How blessed am I?

Affirmations:

* My body is a sacred dwelling place for the Lord.

* I will treat my body with the utmost respect as a form of worship to my God.

* It is not selfish to care for my body.

* I will treat others’ needs as sacred, because they are dwelling places too.

* I will not feel bad for taking time to spend with God.

* All things are working for the good according to the Lords will. I cannot screw it up so bad it can’t be fixed.

* I will not hurt those I love beyond repair.

* I desire the will of the Lord above all else. My thoughts and feelings will align with His. I will know what’s right and do what’s right.

* I will not fear sacrifice for the sake of caring for others, but I will not seek it out.

* I am a helper, and helping is good. It is in my nature and that is a good thing.

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ketchupjones · 1 year

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It’s been 73 days since you’ve passed. When you think of it like that, it seems like time has passed by quickly— but from my point of view, I can tell you that the world is moving slow. And still in 73 days, I still don’t know what to say to you.

It’s not fair that as the world laughs, we all cry. It’s not fair that we have to experience life without you, especially knowing how much more we all would have enjoyed it with you. I know that first hand. My life changed the minute you and Patrick walked into it. As corny as it sounds, I remember how sad and out of place I used to feel when Kierra’s father was around. You really saved me from him in my eyes. Life has a funny way of putting people in your life when you need it. That was how you became the hero in my story, not a building collapse. We didn’t need you to die in uniform to know your worth and who you were to us, who you still are. I’ve always looked at you as a hero, literally the man to tell a hundred stories about all the lives you’ve saved including mine. Sometimes I think how selfish it is of me to want other people dead instead of you because you wouldn’t want that but I do. I want that for me, I want that for mommy so bad. I’ve never met two people who literally admired each other’s existence without dimming one another’s light. Sometimes I get so upset and anxiety kicks in. My chest starts to ache and I’m overwhelmed by the feeling that I forgot to tell you that I love you. For some reason we never said “I love you” even though I knew you loved me and I knew I loved you. It was an unspoken agreement that we both could pretend to be arch nemesis but with an obvious love for one another… I appreciated that.

You were my first lesson in grief. Grief is just like love except there are no good parts, it all hurts. Grief is like the love you never had the chance to share, unexpressed and taken for granted. And I hate that it had to be you but honestly, I always acquired the best knowledge from you— starting with how to knot a rope to “don’t stop fighting until someone pulls you off”. I wish I asked you every question that came to mind. Every situation I’m in leaves me thinking what your opinion would have been and whether I would have liked to admit it, it would have impacted my decision. In the last couple years, I’m thankful that we got closer, that we talked amongst our own, that I actually started to listen to your advice because you were right and I was stubborn. I wish I had cherished our relationship sooner and that I would have told you that in person. There’s not one thing that you could have done better raising us, there’s not one thing that I can say badly about you. You were the best thing that ever happened to Mommy, Kierra and I.

At night, especially around 3:40 a.m. when I normally wake up from a nightmare in sweat and disoriented, I think about how I wish I wasn’t on scene. I didn’t need to see your lifeless body being pulled out of debris, that sucked. My image of you is invincibility and heroism. My Sean would have crawled out of the debris and saved everyone in the rumble. And it kind of messed me up. Everyone knows these things can happen. Anything can happen in a fire, you always said that… I just never thought they could have happened to you. And I plea, I cry, I think about hitting the rewind button and warning you but that’s just not life and I don’t get to save you like you saved me. And that sucks too. And then after all that, begging and sobbing, I realize that I’m glad I was there. I’m so happy that I waited for you to come out because whether or not you crawled out yourself, you are the hero and you would’ve stood there and waited for me. I’m happy and honored that I got to finally be that person for you. I promise I’ll never stop talking about you. I’ll never forget everything you ever taught me. I’ll do everything in my power to keep us all together. I’ll make you proud.

I hope you feel alive, wherever you may be and not only alive but the happiest you’ve ever felt. I hope you get to watch mommy grow and be there when we all succeed in life.

We’re missing you.

Love you, Sean.

Sincerely, your biggest fan, Alyssa.

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australieh · 2 years

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September 8, 2022

I am on an adventure! It’s been so long! So long, since I’ve filled my bag with essentials and taken off with nothing but ideals and juuuust enough money to get me there.

It’s been so long, since I’ve crammed myself into a foot and a half wide airplane seat and eaten mushy broccoli with tiny plastic cutlery! What a horrible thrill it is! This amazing feat of human engineering happens right before my eyes and all I can think is “I hope I don’t die I hope I don’t die.”

So far this trip has been a bit different. With age and experience comes more anxiety, more what-ifs, more can’t-do-withouts. At age 20 I was booking the cheapest flight possible. 12 hour layover in a foreign airport where I can barely read the signs and every source of food will be closed? No worries, as long as it saves me a couple hundred bucks. Now, at 26? Absolutely the fuck not. Time is money, baby. Comfort is a luxury I can and will be affording. My carry on is weighing in at about 20 pounds because I was not going to be sacrificing that extra book, change of clothes and bag of snacks.

To be fair, I also have never done a 15 hour flight before. That was a new one I can check off the bucket list. It really wasn’t too bad, all things considered. 3 episodes of a trashy reality show, 2 tiny (surprisingly deadly) bottles of wine and a ginger-melatonin gravol and I was out for about 8 hours. Woke up fresh as a frigging spring chicken.

I will say, though, that this has not been the smoothest trip I’ve ever had. It’s both hilarious and frustrating, considering how much more thought and preparation I put into this one than I have in the past. Almost 30 hours in total of delays, 2 hours through customs at the Sydney airport, deadly period cramps. But, it is what it is! As Conor would say.

Speaking of my lovely boyfriend, he is sitting on the floor next to me reading Don Quixote (the same book he’s been “reading” for 4 years). He is barefoot, as he often is in public places (he’s Australian, don’t judge him- I do, but you can’t). And, as always, he is relaxed, content, optimistic. You’d never know he’d been sat in the middle seat of an airplane for 15 hours at 6’2”, only to get off and be told he’d missed his connection. He is an angel from heaven I’m pretty sure.

As for me, I do my best. Did I cry when they told us we’d missed our flight after the chaos of customs? Yeah, obviously. Did I complain about how uncomfortable I am even though Conor let me have the window seat and I’m wearing sweatpants? Yes. But, did I take out my frustration on Conor or staff? No! Small victories, ya know.

Now, staring out at dreary Melbourne through the giant windows near our gate, I am feeling good. Only one more flight, baggage claim and a taxi to our airbnb stands between me and a bed. I’m listening to Caamp’s new album, Lavender Days, which perfectly suits the moody, peaceful vibe of this layover. What is ahead is exciting, and that’s what matters.

“What lights you up? / what makes your blood run cold? / until tomorrow you can drown away your sorrows / you can drink till the cows come home / something deep has been darkening your soul /and nobody likes drinking or thinking alone/ keep moving on”

#september

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shipsandlattes · 4 years

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So I know everyone has already dissected this scene to its core, but it’s taken me a good 48 hours to digest this and I just needed to get it out.

I’m an aspiring actor, I’ve been training for a long time, with a lot of amazing teachers. I’ve watched a lot of shows and shipped a lot of couples. Some of them beautiful and canon, others, well, let’s just say waiting 22 years and counting for acknowledgement, closure, anything, it’s a damn challenge. I’ve seen a hell of a lot of will-they-wont-they’s, baiting, purposeful ignorance, deliberate fake outs, zero explanations, storylines that basically caused canon disintegration, the works.

In saying that, Dean and Cas were right up there on the list with the other “impossibles” because honestly, I didn’t think the writers would have the guts to do it, but I am so f*cking proud they did. It’s safe to say I’ve watched the scene a good hundred+ times already.

I’ve seen a lot of “controversy” around Dean’s reaction/Jensen’s acting choices and whether or not Dean reciprocates Cas’ feelings, and obviously, I needed to add my own views to the mix.

Just work with me for a minute here.

Dean Winchester is an emotionally repressed trainwreck, and ironically enough, the one that is so full of emotion it hurts to watch. When Cas first starts his speech, he’s confused, really confused because why on earth would Cas start off on a rant now? Billie’s waiting to kill them, he just said he knew something that was more powerful than she was, something that could save them. That’s where he thought this speech was going.

The confusion turns to realisation that it’s a goodbye when Cas starts telling him how incredible he is, how his entire essence is love. Go back and watch the scene again, when Cas says “you’re the most caring man on Earth”, you physically see Dean look down, his eyes searching, he’s actively trying to make sense of what’s happening, he knows what’s coming and you can see him coming to terms with the shock of the words being said to him. He then looks directly at Cas. That look, that was pure shock.

Also, notice how he doesn’t stop Cas from talking? He doesn’t interject, make a joke, doesn’t talk about how there is no time for this now, they’ve got to at least try and stop Billie. He. says. nothing. He listens, he listens like I’ve never seen Dean listen before. Because it’s sinking in now.

When Cas really starts crying, when he says “you changed me, Dean”, you can actually see the pain in Dean’s eyes. He’s no longer in control of his emotions, he’s crying too. He’s never seen Cas like this, so raw, and vulnerable and human. This is the hardest, most emotional conversation they’ve both ever had. They are talking about the one thing that everybody knows, but is never addressed. When it wasn’t talked about, they could deny it, live in the lie. Once it’s said aloud, it’s real and they can’t turn back.

This above series of interactions is the part that kills me the most. The moment Cas says “because it is”, that’s the exact moment of realisation. Look at that last GIF, really look. He’s just worked it out, that he is Cas’ true happiness. He knows what’s coming before Cas even says it. Go back and watch the scene again, they pulled that off so well, the way the music swells at this exact moment. Jensen is giving us everything here, you can see what’s happening in his head - he is Cas’ happiness. He is the one thing on Earth Cas wants and thinks he can’t have. He is the reason Cas is about to die. He knows what Cas is about to say and he’s not sure he’s ready to hear it, not now, not like this. It’s almost a silent plea not to say it, because he knows. Of course he knows. It’s like he can’t quite believe Cas is really, after all this time, finally going to say it.

And because obviously Jensen decided that that wasn’t enough to break us, the loaded reaction when Cas says “I love you” has me nothing but convinced that it’s reciprocated. Because Dean knows. He’s always known. Those tears, that head tilt, that gulp. He’s so genuinely confused that they’re really having this conversation. It’s like he can’t quite believe that this is the reality before him because he’s been living in that denial, in that self-loathing and unlovable layer he believes to be true. He’s been under the ‘what if... but it could never be’ umbrella for so long.

What also makes this real is that there isn’t anyone else around this time. When “I love you’s” have been said before, they have always been able to deflect it, with other people or other words. Now it’s just the two of them. No deflecting, no running away. Dean is forced to hear it, to absorb it, to realise it’s for nobody else but him.

Now, I don’t know if you guys felt this, but when Dean says “Don’t do this, Cas”, he wasn’t just referring to Cas sacrificing himself to the Empty, he’s telling Cas that he can’t just say this, not now, knowing he’s going to die, knowing that Dean won’t get a chance to think, to process, to say what he needs too. I keep staring at that GIF above, Dean is breaking down, I’m almost convinced that Jensen was using an “I love you too, please just stop this” inner monologue for this bit. Look at the way he’s looking at Cas before he realises the Empty has started materialising and turns around. That’s a look of pure heartbreak. Trust me when I tell you, it’s really hard to keep those inner thoughts inside if you’re so in the moment - actually, don’t just take my word for it, read any acting book, ask any actor, it’s so hard to keep that in and sometimes you don’t, and sometimes you do - it’s in both the resistance and the letting go that the gold happens. This my friends, is gold.

Did anyone else hear “Cas, I-”, well, regardless of whether or not it was an “I” or a very sharp breath, the outcome is the same. Dean’s gone into immediate panic mode. The Empty at one end and Billie at the other, and all poor Dean wants to do is gather his thoughts on not what to say but how to say it. I don’t think he comprehended just how little time he had, he was so focused on what was being said that the reality of the situation caught him completely off guard.

Also, I know this post was about dissecting Dean’s reaction, but can we sidebar a minute to talk about Cas as he pushes Dean out of the way? He’s sobbing, he’s fully crying. That hit me really hard, I’ve never seen Cas cry like that, I’ve never seen Misha get to play that level of emotion before and it was the most heartbreaking thing to watch since The Doctor and Rose and Buffy and Spike, to which by the way, I find many parallels between those couples and this scene.

Speaking of crying, that brings me to this: Dean slumped on the floor, ignoring a call from Sam, sobbing his heart out knowing he’s lost everything. Dean-I’m-emotionally-unavailable-Winchester is sobbing. Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t recall ever seeing Dean cry like this before either, the sobbing was so evident and piercing in that silence. The look around the room, the burying of his head in his hands, that is a classic writers romantic love trope if I’ve ever seen it, they really pulled out all the stops with this one.

So, to summarise, I think Jensen’s choices and Dean’s reactions were absolutely and utterly perfect. They both did it so well that it didn’t break from character that these two emotionally distant and repressed men are in love and finally voicing it. Jensen barely said two words and still managed to cause mass coronary’s across the fandom. That my friends is what you call a brilliant actor. I bow down to the talents of these two amazing human beings.

Before I leave this novel, I have to say there are now a few things I’m going to need from the powers that be to not screw this up, help me manifest this:

1. Dean gets to reciprocate his feelings to Cas in person. So, I’m gonna need Cas back and a very emotional Dean.

2. Dean to be actively dealing with heartbreak in the next episode (unless they decided to bring Cas back that soon, which I wouldn’t put past them at this point).

3. Sam to confront Dean about his feelings for Cas, because out of everyone, he’d be the one to hit Dean with the truth of his fears. Sam knows. Sam is supportive. Sam sees it all.

4. I’m gonna need some physical affection, cause after 12 years of nonsense, we damn well deserve it. A hug, and not just any old reunion hug, a proper, this is different now hug. A kiss because hello, in love out loud now. Forehead touching, handholding, really gonna need the works here.

5. A happy ending for the two of them, one way or another. We’ve never had one, it’s time.

Okay, have at it now, let’s speak these into existence please.

Note: GIFs are not mine, I did not make them, credit to owners who I’m not sure of, but they’re beautiful, thanks for making them. EDIT: I’ve just been informed that these gorgeous gifs belong to @michaeldean and @inacatastrophicmind!

#supernatural #SPN #DeanCas #destiel #deanwinchtser #castiel #15x18 #Jensen Ackles #Misha Collins #actor #acting #I ship it #shipper #i love you #spn spoilers #opinion piece #thoughts #my two cents #ships and lattes

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