#i will die a thousand deaths but i will lose once and my loss will be glorious
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"main iss qadar haar jaunga,
tum jeet kar pachtaoge."
— jaun elia
.
since i'm losing, i hope you find joy in your win
#desi tumblr#desi girl#desi academia#desi aesthetic#poetry tumblr#nerd stuff#quotes#jaun elia#urdu shayari#urduqoutes#being desi#nazm#dealing with grief#loss#haar gayi main#i will die a thousand deaths but i will lose once and my loss will be glorious
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marigolds. - eddie munson.
the long-awaited part two! read part one here.
join my taglist here! / submit your request here!
summary: "love should be celebrated but there you lay surrounded by the red and yellow flowers, eddie the only thing on your mind, as your body paled. the marigolds laughed as the light that lived inside you ceased, slowly then all at once."
pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader
warnings: mentions of surgery, angst with a happy ending!!, mentions of mariguana (get it? iguana), kinda cute lil scene ngl, did not proofread
"eddie —
if you would have asked me to die for you, i would've.
but now there are marigolds blooming in my lungs, and i have found myself at a crossroads. with the loss of your love, i have only two options: surgery or death.
to have surgery means the possibility of forgetting you and the ability to love. i do not think that is something i can bare. and death? well, it is death. i have never thought too much into the matter. but as i lay beside you, i ask myself, is our love worth dying for?
truthfully, eddie, i am scared. even with the pain in every breath i take, i can state that i have never been more confident in my decision to choose you— to love you.
and in that confidence, i can say:
you are the light of my life, and i will die with it ignited in my lungs."
it had been three months since eddie munson lifted your almost lifeless body out of your bedroom and into his van. ninety days since your father yelled at him for almost killing his daughter. two thousand, one hundred ninety hours since he saw your paled limp body sprawled across the hawkin's hospital bed— a light shade of blue graced your usually pink-colored lips.
with his worse intentions, eddie had painted a happy ending for the two of you and it was gut-wrenching that it was his fault that you had begun falling in the wrong direction. but he would be damned if he let you die because of his foolishness.
not once did he stop to question your sudden distance within his life. when he couldn't bring himself to tell you those simple three words back, and here he was now. the love of his life willing to die for him. how poetic.
the truth was, eddie was scared. he was falling so hard for you, and that made him so scared. but when he saw you that night, marigolds gracefully placed around your body with blood-stained clothes, he realized he had made the biggest mistake of his entire life.
and now?
now, you sat in front of him. in the spot you both shared. the spot you both would sit to skip class and smoke. the spot where he first said he was in love with you. the spot where your first kiss was shared.
and damn, you are beautiful.
"sorry, i- i didn't mean to interrupt you," he mumbled just loud enough for you to hear.
"no," you shook your head as you smiled at him, "don't apologize. it's not like my name is written here or anything."
but it was.
in a small heart in the tree behind you, were carved yours and eddie's initials with a mangled heart around it.
"i'm-"
"eddie," you interrupted his introduction.
"yeah," he breathed a sigh of relief. you remember him?
"we have third period together."
and just like that, eddie's heart crumbled.
of course, you wouldn't remember him. after all, the doctor stated that not only would you lose your ability to love but any memories shared with your beloved would also be forgotten.
and he deserved it. he deserved every damn bit of everything that happened to him.
"eddie?"
your small voice had broken him out of his thoughts and all he could manage was a small hm in response.
the two of you sat across from each other on the bench. the small birds chirping amongst the trees. the wind swishing softly.
"i asked if you wanted me to leave?"
eddie glanced up from his sweaty palms to be welcomed by your gaze.
"no- uh, if you wouldn't mind... i, uh, actually would enjoy your company."
and so you stayed.
you and eddie had sat across from each other, talking for hours. there were shared laughs from stories eddie had told you a million times but now was considered a first.
the sun was just starting to set when you looked at eddie. really looked at him. every moment spent with eddie had felt familiar to you— almost too familiar.
"hey, eddie?"
"yes, love?"
your heart fluttered lightly in your chest, the nickname made your knees weak. you didn't understand exactly why the feeling felt so foreign, but you liked it, the feeling.
"do you ever feel..." you trailed off, biting your lip. god, it was such a silly question. your eyes trailed down to your long-sleeved shirt, playing with the small threads that had come undone.
"do you ever feel like maybe- maybe you've already spent a lifetime with someone?"
the holes eddie burnt into the side of you had a small blush creeping onto your cheeks. such a silly question, you thought.
but it wasn't. not to eddie.
the hope that had previously left his body came flooding back.
"yes," he whispered.
you met his stare, breathing hitched as you realized how close the two of you were now. because after hours of talking, at some point, eddie made a seat right next to you.
and before you knew it, your lips were against his.
everything eddie wanted to say to you the last three months were expressed in that kiss. any emotions, unspoken apologies fueled him in the best way possible. it felt as if time slowed. as cliche as it sounds, the two of you felt electricity coursing through your veins with every movement your combined lips would make against the others.
with eyes closed tightly shut, small tears managed to escape eddie's eyes and fell between the crevice of your sealed lips.
the saltiness of his tears caused you to pull away from the man.
the two of you sat there silently. your brain was fuzzy but in a good way. you looked up at him, your hand intertwining with his.
and for the first time in three months, you felt like the missing pieces that you were so desperately trying to put together had finally come into place.
and for the first time in three months, eddie munson had hope. he was unsure if you would ever fully remember your shared love but he was sure in the fact that he would do everything in his power to make sure you felt the love you deserved.
a/n: i rewrote this so many times i lost count so please let me know what you think :)
lovelies who asked to be tagged: @imasimptoowth , @snoopwashere, @maystecc, @bratckerman, @darklingbrekksov, @sammyunicornpoop-blog, @fujiihime, @impossibleinternetzombie, @daphnefisherofficial, @grey-water-colors, @hanjipls, @isabellebentleyy, @annie-maximoff, @yourdailymemedelivery, @phantomxoxo, @obiwanwhore, @1950schick, @newbooksmell777, @augustlikesdeath, @wifeofenjorltaire, @hoebag123, @sparks363, @thegirlthatsfalling, @hannahbobamba
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#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson request#eddie munson req#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#stranger things oneshot#stranger things eddie#eddie x reader
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Prologue
Summary: “I know that gods roam the earth because I used to walk with them”, Haneul is an immortal being with powers that most humans would kill for. When Haneul gambles with the gods, she loses her powers and without her powers she’s cursed to die by the next full moon. She hurries to get her powers back with the help from the last person Haneul wants to be around: a demon.
Pairing: Demon!Hongjoong X Fem!O/c
Word count: 461
Warnings: mythical creatures, mentions of getting cursed, spiritual messages, mentions of religion, cussing, eventual allusions and mentions of smut, eventual mentions of loss of blood and drinking blood, eventual mentions of possession, mentions of magic usage, death, violence, drinking, gambling, other idols are mentioned.
Author’s note: I’m back with a new series and I’m hoping I don’t get bored of this one and stop writing it halfway through. I hope you guys enjoy. Sorry it’s short, it just to get the ball rolling
There are many assumptions you could make about the world, like if it was created by a god or if there are creature that are non-human, some believe in magical components in the world and some believe that everything magical is bullshit and science is the only real thing in the world.
As a smart man once said, “a philosopher once asked, ‘are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?’ Pointless, really…’Do the stars gaze back?’ Now, that’s a question.”. Those people believe that spirits and gods aren’t walking among us but they’re all wrong. I know that gods roam the earth because I used to walk with them.
People focus on the wrong things, as most are focused on themselves and what they believe in until they lose their sense of the world. If they opened their eyes, they would be able to see this other side but because of how blind humans are, gods and goddess along with many other types of mythical creatures are able to roam freely.
They walk right next to mortals and those who don’t know never see it, they never see the world of wonder that is just a few feet away from them. I know this because I used to be naive just like them. I was a mortal once but that was centuries ago when they were not so sophisticated as now, it’s funny to say but back when humans barely learned how to make tools they were more open minded to the magical than now. I was young then as well, barley in my twenties, I was just a baby then those 1,000 years ago.
As centuries passed, I watched as empires grew and fell, I watched generations of humans die and the world change slowly from barley able to use tools to wiping entire cities off the map and to a era of technology but throughout all of the change, magic never died out.
It just changed and adapted, gods learned how to survive in a modern world and so did I. You’re probably wondering who and what I am so let me introduce myself: My name is Lee Haneul, I am an immortal being and for the past a thousand years I have been able to grant wishes. You could call me a genie if you wanted but I was not trapped in a lamp waiting to be released and I was no fortune teller, I worked with real magic and granted real wishes for those the world deemed favorable.
That’s how my life was for centuries until I had one bad waltz with the gods and they do not react nicely when you step on their feet.
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SPECIAL HEADCANON I’VE BEEN WORKING ON which i may or may not write a future drabble about, but for now, just a simple post will do since i’ve been developing these with some dear writing partners of mine. to put it simply, since i’ll also be integrating this from hereon, my aether has a lowkey god complex when it comes to his (im)mortality.
as i’ve stated in a lot of other headcanon posts, he isn’t human; he’s a star-forged deity, a caeling. this means that his species is meant to live for billions of years, just like real stars would. he and lumine are quite young in comparison to other caelings, being around three thousand years old each. they are (or, well, were) known to be all-powerful, controlling cosmic elements and what have you, loved and respected by the astros above in the sea of stars, the prime of fighters and universe’s willmakers. therefore, having battle scratches or getting hurt was a luxury they’d experience once in a thousand years.
ever since falling in teyvat, aether lost his wings, his divinity, his strength, his ability to communicate with the stars, as well as his connection with lumine—he knows all of that, and he grieves deeply, for he feels those losses in his very core. but he doesn’t realise that, since he’s bound in teyvat by its laws and concepts, his very being bends to them. he’s stronger than most, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’s much more resistant than a regular vision holder human. and he refuses to see that (perhaps because he doesn’t sense it immediately). he bleeds a black, thick type of blood—yet because he has never been injured that badly before, it’s unconceivable to him to even consider that that blood on his hands is his. death doesn’t come easily as a concept to him either—others can die, it’s life’s natural cycle for humans and mortals alike, but him and lumine? no. that can’t be… right? so even if his vision is blurry and he’s dizzy, feeling his energy wearing out, he won’t ever think that there’s any actual danger to himself. he’s a warrior. he was designed for this. to fight, to protect, to serve. he can’t lose this, too.
#death /#❛ㅤ𓆩✦𓆪ㅤ:ㅤheadcanon﹔ㅤㅤ/ㅤㅤsecrets from the stars.#aether is so used to NOT being affected by sickness and/or powerlessness that he doesnt think those things apply to him#he'll legit have a spear in his chest and look so confused as to why there's a “black goo” coming out of him#he has never seen that. he has never experienced that for himself or lumine#it's an absurd concept#so it's one of the reasons as to why he may sometimes be so reckless and impulsive if he deems right#although he admires mortals and humans he's used to being the 'outlander'; the 'different one'. how can he be then so similar to them#when it comes to vulnerability and mortality?#it's wild to believe that he could ever belong anywhere. as in. a physical material world.#because the stars (who are kinda bitches in my lore) made him believe that his and lumine's destinies were to wander forever#never home. never resting. never finding anything to consider 'theirs'. they're just order-keepers; travellers; doers.#not meant for kindness or love or homes. and he has ingrained that thought process in his head even if he tries to deny it#he wants very badly to belong. to be as close as a human as a he can be.#but he rly doesnt see that as being possible#sighs in love this got so long DAKSDJG i love aether genshinimpact
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chapter 109, a summary + commentary.
ok guys since tile hasn’t sent me the chapter raws/translations (and i forgot to download them from twitter yesterday; stupid me) here’s a brief summary and then my commentary
fyodor holds his hand out to sigma, and he asks sigma “what would you like to know?” and sigma replies “every single one of your secrets”
they make contact, and the scene changes to aya and bram watching fukuchi take control of one order. aya enters the control tower room through a hole akutagawa(?) had cut into the glass when he carried them up there. she pushes a table while hallucinating her father’s tips and tricks on how to move heavy furniture (bending at the knee and using the back muscles) to push the table outside
scene changes back to fyodor and sigma, showing sigma receiving “rapid torrent of information”, showing fyodor holding sigma in the palm of his hand. sigma now knows dostoyevsky’s truth, and tells himself that he has to tell the agency before passing out (or dying? who knows)
dazai enters the frame, saying he “imagined this scene thousands and thousands of times, although in my daydreams… the roles are reversed”
perspective change to show chuuya, still in a vampiric state standing over him. dazai tells chuuya to come at him, and to “try and amuse me with your lame ass punches”. fyodor tells chuuya to stop, since dazai’s ability would cancel out the vampirism, and to kill dazai from a distance. chuuya pulls out a gun and shoots dazai in the right shoulder. dazai says it hurts, and asks chuuya “where the hell were you aiming, you god damn clutz?!”
chuuya aims the gun at dazai’s head, causing dazai to sigh loudly, proclaiming that “this is the god damn worst! my shoulder hurts… AND i’m gonna lose to dostoyevsky, and as if that weren’t enough, i’m being killed by CHUUYA!” fyodor says dazai is out of plans, but dazai says that maybe if he says a few more words, chuuya might break out of the vampiric state on his own.
”chuuya, come to your senses. our fate will not end in a place like this. because you and i are destined to-”
chuuya appears to have shot dazai in the head, although the process is covered by a flash. he shoots dazai twice more, once in the left shoulder and once at his left side.
“… haha… at long last. i’ve been… looking forward to th…” dazai stops talking. chuuya continues to stare at him in his vampiric state
scene changes back to fukuchi, aya and bram, showing how fukuchi has accessed one order and commanded all troops to commence invasion. aya ties bram’s sword handle to the table, and pushes it off the roof. the chapter ends here.
anyways time for my commentary
first of all, ASAGIRI WHAT THE FUCK. I SAID I WANTED SKK TO MEET, BUT I DIDN’T MEAN LIKE THIS KAJDSJKAHD
ok but all jokes aside, i don’t think dazai’s gonna die in this arc. apparently there’s still another arc after this including agatha, and i don’t think we can have arcs without our dear suicidal bastard who consistently steals the spotlight from atsushi
ok but his “death” sort of ties back to oda and the beast universe. dazai can’t live in a universe oda exists in, and oda can’t live in a universe dazai exists in. in this universe, oda has already died, and dazai dying would upset the balance this world set when it comes to dazai. so i don’t think dazai is gonna die.
also, it wasn’t actually even confirmed that chuuya really did shoot dazai, since it was covered by that white flash. i somehow feel like the eyes of god might come into play with this part of the arc, like how ranpo had been framed that time.
also, i believe sigma might be experiencing the information overload like how atsushi had experienced. there was no blood, unlike how karma and that special ops guy. fyodor’s ability involves blood loss, somehow, and sigma didn’t experience that. so i’m just holding onto the hope that he merely passed out from information overload.
lastly, chuuya’s vampirism state. his eyes are white now, and he seems to have regained some part of his consciousness/his body reacts accordingly when provoked by dazai. i think he’s breaking out of it, to be honest.
anyways SLAY AYA GOOOOO
#ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊ lei’s rambles#bungou stray dogs#bsd#bsd 109#soukoku#dazai#chuuya#fyodor#sigma#fukuchi#aya#bram
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18 for the whole team. I'd like to know your thoughts.... (sits in front of you with a notepad and pencil) owo
VERY good question arbor. class is in session
18. what they’d go to see a therapist about
(this quickly turned into what the team is like in therapy as well. but i love talking so <3)
the entire team would obviously be in therapy about. the intergalactic war they were on the front lines of. that goes without saying but i’m saying it anyway
shiro: not just the PTSD but how he’s so nonchalant about it. he goes into his first session like “yeah. i think i have PTSD? like i’m not a professional i’m not gonna definitively say i do but… (describes how often he gets panic attacks and how distressing they are in detail)” and the therapist is like “😀… okay. do you wanna talk about what happened? it’s okay if you don’t it might be difficult to recall”
meanwhile shiro’s like “oh yeah! i was kidnapped and forced to fight to the death in a gladiator ring for a year. then i had to lead a team of teenagers in a war against a ten thousand year old empire. just the seven of us against an entire militia :|-)” and the therapist is already pulling out all of her books on post traumatic stress like “uh huh uh huh uh huh continue”
keith: getting keith to actually participate in therapy in a meaningful way is gonna be like trying to pull teeth. and once he’s in there it’s gonna be boring conversations about his day where his therapist sneakily gets him to open up about his past. you ever see in the office when micheal goes to therapy with toby? it’s like that.
but when keith starts actually opening up he forms a ride or die bond with his therapist and is the only person he talks to so openly about his abandonment issues. he’s just on the couch crying his eyes out like “diane… you’re the realest bitch i’ve ever met.” and diane is like “thanks keith. you’re real as hell too. i can tell the people in your life really love you” and thus a new person gains keith as a purse dog
pidge: she definitely needs to learn how to be more open with her affection. stems from repeated loss like keith and like keith her response is to be more guarded. but rather than be closed off and a loner she snaps at people and is aggressive to people before they can be aggressive to her #bulliedgang ✌️ but as she’s grown closer to the team her jabs are more lovingly said, though still she’s scared to openly admit she loves people because ew affection she’s gonna get shoved in a locker!!!!
her approach to getting into therapy is very similar to keith in terms of “fuck that i’m perfectly fine” but she lets her walls down a lot quicker because she didn’t lose quite as much as keith #hasamom
lance: i know i said the post war therapy goes without saying but he’d be processing the war so much more than the others. his personal issues are an afterthought when he’s dealing with “omg i KILLED someone diane what do i tell their family?” also he doesn’t like talking about himself in terms of “i’ve had issues my whole life and need help” and makes it very apparent. it’s complicated to be in therapy and trying to better yourself when you’re convinced that you don’t deserve better things!
but once he does get to that level it’s allllll about the coping mechanisms. very much giving “no i don’t care where my self esteem issues came from how to i FIX IT?” he gets told his braggadocio stems from overcompensation for his perceived shortcomings and he’s like “YEAH? DUH???? how do i start calling myself awesome and believe myself when i say it?” also maybe once he’s processed and progressed enough he gets a bit transgender with it who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
hunk: he was already considering therapy for his anxiety before the war so like. this has been needed for a WHILE. his anxiety has gotten both worse and better. worse because he’s always looking out for a surprise attack and better because he knows his limits a lot better than he did and is like “well. if that guy who looks shifty DID stab me, i’d know how to deal with that! just like on planet naenov that one time”
in therapy he asks plenty of questions about the specific limitations of doctor patient confidentiality before absolutely oversharing. diane learns more about keith in hunk’s sessions than keith’s for a while. there’s a period where hunk is more worried about how well they’re doing than his own well-being and has to keep himself from breaking THEIR doctor patient confidentiality. there’s also him knowing she can’t and won’t share what he says so he vents about petty stuff in side tangents every five minutes
allura: “how am i supposed to be queen of an entire planet i feel bad telling pidge what to do when she’s tired” and other such questions. allura is overjoyed to have a new altea, but she’s terrified about ruling it wrong. it’s self esteem issues AND anxiety! what fun! there’s also the general grief of old altea and all she’s lost, but that comes with so much survivor’s guilt too. she knows she was raised to rule one day and believes in fate enough to trust in herself being the one to survive the war, but still. a lot on her plate.
there’s also the fact that she treats her therapy like a new religion. “you know how to fix me so i will do anything you say. i’ll kill someone for you. i’ve killed before actually, did i tell you that? i can’t not forget the life draining out of his eyes…. anyway, i’ll do whatever you say if it means no more nightmares.”
coran: he’s dealing with everything allura’s processing, plus the fact that he was her rock the entire time. he made himself available to the whole team as a shoulder to cry on, but he didn’t have anyone in return. he jumps at the chance to go to therapy because he’ll FINALLY have an outlet outside of his brain
he happy shares every detail with his therapist, but intersperses every sad memory with some of the most batshit insane stuff anyone’s ever done because they often happened one after the other. real sentences coran has said in therapy: “yes, i had killed someone long before this war. i’ve been in others, but never like this. i tell you, seeing these kids lose their innocence so quickly yet so gradually… it rocked me to my core…. but! it reminds me of when i first killed a man. funny story, actually.”
also fun fact. therapists sometimes have to go to therapy themselves for all the stuff they deal with and stories they hear from patients. diane is also in therapy; why she chose to see all seven of them, she’ll never know
#ask#treesbian#thank you arbor this kept me busy during this boring ass morning i owe you fr <333#long post#team#headcanon#pour one out for diane. and also the team. for the horrors
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Post Book Depression
To me, Post book depression is pretty intense. The book you dearly cherish suddenly losing its value. The feeling of missing the book that is in fact lying on your lap. Personally, I feel like I become one among the characters in a book. Be it a period piece or a story taking place in a dystopian universe, I live and breathe with my characters. And when the book comes to an end, I experience my own death. It is the removal of myself from the book. It is my own death in the book. Because from then on, I will not know anything more that is to happen to my characters which is very similar to death and so on the very last page of the book, a version of me dies. You actually mourn the loss of a good book. The book might still be yours but as Harry Styles well phrased, "you know it's not the same as it was". The mourning period lasts upto a week for me. Some great books exceed that limit too. Everytime I see a Pinterest edit or a tumblr post about the book my heart sinks. The feeling of emptiness and a very strong belief that the next book you pick up cannot hold a candle to the book you just finished are inescapable. You feel like you finished playing the audio message of your loved one. You can always hear it again but damn nothing could beat the first time. Suddenly all your favourite moments from the book come to your mind and a overwhelming sensation of grief consumes you. One might say "grief" is a pretty intense word for the feeling but well, that's books for you my friend. Because one moment you are prancing around with your lover, or fighting aliens or plotting a murder or witnessing the funeral of your best friend but before you realise what's happening, the pages on the right side are thinning, and the next moment you are back on your bed, alone, cold and miserable. Your reality. Only few books can make you feel the loss, can give you the rude awakening that the fantasy is over. Right now I am mourning a good book. One that broke my heart a million times while I was reading it but nothing could have prepared me for the heartbreak I am experiencing now. I have lived thousands of lives, died a hundred times; why just last week I started a new life and died yesterday. And when I'm ready (which will probably be tomorrow) I'm going to start another life. Only to die once more. To more lives and deaths, cheers!
P.S check out this beauteus song by Her's. They left behind them the best gifts one can ever receive.
#postbookdepression#readers#books#reading#novel#bookworm#books and reading#Spotify#bibliophile#book blog#bookish#booklr#bookaholic#the seven husbands of evelyn hugo#reality#word vomit#her's#what once was#fiction#fantasy#book aesthetic
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what was, is no more. Hero&Villain
“They have no idea who you are, do they? They believe themselves your closes confidants, yet they have no idea what you are.”
The villain stared in disbelief and to the hero’s surprise there was growing burning in there eyes.
“They don’t need to know, all that matters is that their safe. I know that they would understand my reas…”
The hero stood tall with their shoulders squared attempting to hide the tremble in their voice and the small anxious twitch in their hand.
“Understand? We were the best of the best, we were Mercyless and Death! And if you remember I was Death.”
The Villain scoffed in distain with a bitter taste in their mouth as they glared at their ex-partner and fried turned righteous hero.
“Not even a century ago I would've fought and died for you and now I might die by your hand simply because you now think yourself righteous? And you think that if those justice blind fools would understand? You are hardly equal in the ring anymore but you have supposed me in the art of lies for you have convinced yourself of an impossibility.”
The hero deflated a couple inches as they felt the words speaking to their own worries and insecurities about their team and the trust they had in them.
“I have been that person in a long time. They died a long time ago, I laid them to rest and I am a better person always trying to do and be better.”
The villain stilled and leveled their gaze at the hero and and the hurt was replaced by anger and resentment as they spoke with brokenness the chilled the room.
“I was family, I was your chosen family! Am I nothing to you now? Is all I need do, is to wait around a couple decades till your current family leaves you or abandons you like you did me? Or till they wither and die as all others do? You have chosen a these favored pets over your eternal battle tested family.”
The hero felt a great weight across their entire being as they dropped the eye contact, it was to painful to see the now villain whom with they had once shared a bond beyond time and it was too honest and the truth of their words cut like a blade against the hero chest.
“We don’t have to lose one another! Please come with me and we can be as we once were. Give up this life and start a new one with us.”
The plea came out in a word filled blurb and altho every sailable was filled with desperate emotion and longing for centuries past the request only fueled the villains rage.
“US? You and your little team of mortal pets? I would rather suffer the loss of my soul’s match than suffer their condescension or their superiority pity.
If you won’t stand with me then you are standing against me. So what is it Hero?”
The villain watched as the hero battled their inner self for only a moment before squaring their shoulders again and the villain could see the very second their once partner and best friend chose the latter.
“Then my friend is dead and I will spend eternity seeking to avenge their death.”
With bitter resignation they both charged and for the first time in their thousands years of existence it was against one another and not side by side.
#heroes and villains#partners in time#immortal#writing#friendship#friends to enemies#friends to strangers#hurt/comfort
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i wrote a little something in honor of haurchefant day, inspired by dragonsong reprise (no spoilers past heavensward)
pairings: wol/haurchefant, wol/estinien
ao3 link: here
Lehna sobbed as with all her might, she flung her bullets into the air, a shield falling like rain between Haurchefant and the spear attempting to break through his shield. She flung herself at the spear as he pushed it back, allowing her to leap at it once more, cutting it down with something between a scream and a sob escaping her lips.
Haurchefant collapsed to the ground and she followed suit, relief and confusion flooding through her as she watched him breathe. A bit exhausted, perhaps, but otherwise none the worse for wear.
“Ah, you’re unharmed? Good.”
She wrapped herself around him, unable to control the sobs that flowed from her as she squeezed tightly, his arms hesitant for a moment before returning her embrace. “Come now,” he said into her ear. “Tis alright.”
At that, she could only cry harder.
But everything was wrong.
It played around her like a film–her fleeting happiness as she was reunited with Haurchefant. But Thordan was summoned and returned to Ishgard, killing thousands who refused to follow the Heavens’ Ward. Estinien, corrupted completely by Nidhogg, went head-to-head with Thordan and won, the dragons finally gaining enough momentum at the loss of both the Azure Dragoon and the Archbishop to completely overtake the city.
And every time she attempted to stop Nidhogg–
She was dead, the only trace of Estinien remaining as he ran his lance through her was but a glint in his eye, as if apologizing for what he could not control.
And Lehna would die–she would die a thousand deaths to save him, to keep him safe the way he had kept her–
But as the Scions fled to Doma in a feeble attempt to gain a foothold to take back Ishgard blaming themselves for Lehna’s death.
The Scions died one by one.
Lehna choked out another sob as she held Haurchefant close.
“I appreciate the effort,” he said gently, and she looked up at him, begging for him to see how badly she wanted him to live–that they could stop the world from changing so drastically if they tried, they just had to follow the Archbishop now and–
“One cannot change fate, my love.”
She buried her face into his neck and he pulled her in tighter. “I can’t lose you again,” she said, her voice cracking. “I won’t.”
“You know that you must.”
And she knew it to be true–one life for thousands more should have been an easy choice to make. And yet.
“You have many who love you,” he said, running a hand through her hair. “I am always with you, always cheering for you. Let me do this for you.”
“It hurts,” she said, her voice not much louder than a squeak.
And it did.
Haurchefant had welcomed her with open arms. He’d taught her how to fit into a city that didn’t seem to want her–or want him, for that matter. His family welcomed her with open arms, as if she was one of their own. And she had finally felt like she belonged somewhere. She’d carved out a life for herself–a life with Haurchefant, full of adventure and stolen kisses when they thought no one was looking.
“That is not the life we would have if I stay.”
“But–”
“Listen to me.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “We will meet again one day in the aetherial sea, my love. You will tell me of all your adventures and I will listen to every word. You’ll tell me how you managed to tie Estinien down in one place and I will admire you all the more. And I hope I am left waiting for quite a long time. There are so many more adventures for you to have before I see you again.”
She stared at him, tears still streaming down her face.
He smiled at her once more, suddenly coughing up blood.
“Oh, don’t look at me so,” he said. “A smile better suits a hero.”
Haurchefant exploded into a dusting of light as Lehna let out another cry, knowing full well that she could not have saved him and yet still wanting to try again anyway–
“It’s alright,” she heard, a deeper voice than Haurchefant’s. “It’s just a bad dream.”
Estinien.
Her eyes opened and she was met with Estinien’s wide eyes, his hair falling in loose sheets around his face as he stroked her cheek, wiping what must have been her own tears away.
Without thinking, she threw herself at him so that her arms were around his neck. After a brief moment of hesitation, he brought his own arms around her and said, “Shhhh,” as she began to sob in earnest.
Estinien had gotten much better at comforting her after her nightmares. And although there was a small panic forming in her chest as she longed to see the rest of her friends safe, the dream would be one that only Estinien could truly understand.
“I saved him,” she whispered. “I saved Haurchefant.”
Estinien stiffened for a moment before relaxing again, running his hands through her hair, but he said nothing.
“But…” She took a breath. “When he did not die, we did not chase after the Archbishop. Thordan became too strong. Nidhogg became too strong. Nidhogg k-killed you, and then me, and I think he would have gone after the others next but–”
“It was a dream,” he said. “We’re fine. You’re safe.”
Lehna let in a gasp of air, trying to keep her breathing even. “Everyone died. And Haurchefant… he saw it all too, and he wouldn’t let me try to save him again.”
“He loved you, Lehna,” Estinien said. “I know that. He loved you so much that he would die for you again and again. He would want you to think of him fondly, not of his sacrifice for you–not knowing how much pain it would bring you.”
She sniffled, knowing that he was telling the truth–that even her dreamed version of Haurchefant had wanted nothing more than for her to chase her happiness.
“Would you like me to make you some hot cocoa?” Estinien asked gently.
And although it hurt, Lehna nodded before she could stop herself.
Haurchefant would not have come to her dreams to hurt her, she knew. So perhaps it was time for her to stop avoiding thoughts of the man, and instead think fondly of the memories she had of their time together.
For as he’d told her once before:
A smile better suits a hero.
#will maybe possibly upload this to ao3 later but idk i am Baby#ffxiv#final fantasy xiv#haurchefant#estinien#oc: lehna#otp: wyrmwind romance#estinien is soff because she needs it and it's 3am he doesn't have time to be grumpy#my writing#also i don't have a haurchefant ship tag oops
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Quick question about Jean Grey, what is your final opinion about her death? It is interesting that even when she became consumed by his power in the end she decided to sacrifice herself and die as a human.
So fun fact, at the time whether or not Jean Grey would live was up in the air while the arc was ongoing until the end of the arc. The killing of Jean Grey wasn't Claremont's idea either, but rather their editor Jim Shooter forced them to do it.
Redemption by Death works sometimes, depending on the situation. It works for Darth Vader, but it did not work for Kylo Ren. My general rule of thumb before whether or not a redemptive death even qualifies as redemption is this: is there any more story to tell with this character alive? Character deaths can add to a story, because death is something we all have to deal with in real life so it's sometimes cathartic to fiction to see fictional characters grieving as well. Death can also cut off a potentially interesting character from developing or getting a chance to shine.
I love Gwen Stacy but her character death isn't really a women in refrigerator's moment because her death adds to the story. Peter is reminded for the first time since Uncle Ben that he can make mistakes and fail to save people if he gets arrogant. The story has stakes because Peter is no longer an infallible hero. There's a consequence for Peter's decision not to tell Gwen of his identity. He dragged her into danger then never informed her what that danger was.
There is another version of the editorial dispute story where the original plan was for Jean to get psychically lobotomized then handed back into custody of the X-Men, and honestly I would prefer her making the choice to die on her own terms to this because the Dark Phoenix came about because Jean denied her own agency for so long. Literally lobotomizing her and ripping her agency away from her would be a terrible way to resolve it.
Jean Grey dying at least once also makes thematic sense, like it's called the Dark PHOENIX Saga. Phoenixes are known for dying and being reborn from the ashes. There is a place for tragedy and characters dying on their own terms in storytelling, especially since this is a story primarily about a woman losing controlling of her agency.
There's the aspect of Jean destroying entire alien star systems which is just kind of a silly thing to include in the first place. I don't think people's brains can calculate the loss of billions of lives. If they wanted to make Dark Phoenix commit a heinous act there was no coming back from they should have had her destroy a city, or named characters or something, that would make the debate on whether or not it's just to keep her alive more relatable. Especially if Jean Grey may lose control again.
There are two characters I can think of with body counts up in the thousands who receive full redemption arcs. The first is Accelerator who slaughtered 10,000 clones who all had individuality and could feel pain as they died. When he was stopped instead of continuing to live on as a villain, or dying to atone he made the choice to say to hell with forgiveness or whether or not he even deserved redemption he was going to devote himself to protecting the rest of the clones that remained. Harley Quinn in the Injustice Au helps blow up metropolis and then changes sides immediately after Superman kills the Joker. Primarily because she does not want to die. However, she does from that point on devote herself to good, becomes one of the key members of the resistance, and tries even to talk members of the regime out of their bad behavior and support of superman because she's been there. They are characters with high body counts that have done unforgivable things who just make the decision to atone anyway even if their atonement cannot equal the crimes they've committed.
If they'd never done the "Jean commits genocide on other planets" aspect of Dark Phoenix and had her blow up a city or something instead, then her atoning definitely would have been possible and also the more interesting route because she's also given people around the world even more reason to distrust the X-men for the way she used her powers. It makes the story more complicated and adds conflict between her and the rest of the team. You could have done it just by tweaking the storyline a little bit. Also, hindsight being twenty twenty, the fact that they revived Jean anyway, killed her again, revived her, killed her again and that whole cycle would probably have been averted had she lived.
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In Dr. Strange, Stephen Strange is faced with an undefeatable being from another dimension. A demon that he could never defeat, could never hope to defeat with all his strengths. So to overcome the impossibility of ever winning, he trapped himself and the demon, Dormamu, in a time loop. A time loop where he was fated to lose every time, but a time loop where Dormamu had no choice but to repeatedly win pointlessly, every day, every time, for a thousand years. Eventually Dormamu gave in to the doctor’s bargain to free himself of the prison of victory. Stephen beat an unbeatable monster by allowing himself to repeatedly lose, repeatedly suffer, knowing that the time may be reset but his memories won't be. He gave the sacrifice of a thousand deaths to secure one singular win and in that moment, there was something so deeply emotional that got lost in the surface hilarity of a powerful creature getting annoyed out of invading.
Life is exactly like that time loop for me. Every day I get up, aware and already fighting with my failures before I am even out of bed. Every necessary milestone, which I cannot afford to not pass, becomes a mountain I must hike while walking backwards. Each effort comes with its own mental struggle and fight to make that effort in the first place. It is so much easier to fall, then to get up after that fall knowing that this was not going to be the last time you collapsed. Every day we fall, some more than others, everyday we get up. We trap life in a time loop not unlike Stephen Strange’s thousand deaths. Every day we face life, and declare we have come to bargain, bargain for ourselves a better life where we fall less, struggle less but climb more. Everyday life beats us down, each slightly different to the last loss. Until one day life breaks the time loop and frees itself. It accepts our bargain and shows us its colors. For our thousand falls, life graces us with a thousand blessings, a thousand rewards for holding out. Like with Stephen, it does nothing to take away the phantom pain of our past suffering. But we come out with stronger knees, if a bit scarred, Our souls make it to the other side, a little duller in its shine but fiercer in spirit.
I need to make it to the other side, the side where my legs hold up. I need to see the sun that gives me a thousand blessings, my soul to burn with determined fire. I am so far from the other side. The side with colors, the side with rewards, the side with peace. I am so far from being able to love life but I need to get up once again. It hurts me, it burns me, it brings an empty ache of failure. So I wrestle with my own Dormamu, the impossible milestone, every loop, hoping to taste the day that makes all this worth it.
Anyway, I will die for this man.
#stephen strange#marvel#mcu#dr stephen strange#dr strange#musings#what is life?#apparently the furious thirteen year old beating at a pinata(me) after their parents' divorce#writers on tumblr#writeblr#writerscommunity
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1, 18, 22, 39 for the writers ask thingy!! <3
What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?
i used to be a calibri truther (in that i could never be bothered to change it) and a tnr hater but now i could make out with times new roman for the rest of my life
Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.
The heroes have died. Because the heroes always die. The heroes die a thousand times over. Killed by villainy, killed by misfortune masquerading as fate, killed by love, killed by their own damn selves. And they're killed a thousand different times. Their minds go first, melting slowly into a choppy sea of guilt and fear and loss, so much fucking loss, then their hearts harden into husks, turning into crumbling stone and falling through the chasms of their chests for hours until it hits rock bottom and tumbles into oblivion where it just keeps falling, then the souls crack and shatter and skid across the earth with a screech of something once good and now gone, and the body's the last to go, the one thing keeping them walking through that burning inferno of life, the hurricane of hurt and happiness and saving and scorning and losing and losing and losing, the body goes last, the bones breaking one by one in a cacophony of silent agony, screams muffled by choked desires for death, so close, so close, too far, and the blood pours out in streams, scarlet has never looked prettier than when it's painting a sidewalk or the wound of a sacrificial lamb raised for slaughter, a stroke of deep red exactly where it's supposed to be on the canvas, and the pain means nothing, the pain means nothing but an end, because the pain is just a prelude to their peace, their final, well-deserved peace.
this is the first paragraph of the epilogue to the first ever story i finished and idk i just love it. because the epilogue is a pretty happy ending but the story's really dark and the characters have been through so much so i wanted this final bit of happiness offset by the obvious pain of the character narrating it. at first it was a lot shorter and consisted of only the main points but i just wanted her anger and frustration to tumble through so i dragged the sentences out to ridiculous lengths and filled them with all the bad i could and idk i just love that this is the beginning of a happy ending.
How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?
i have literally never not once been organised about my writing my whole entire life <3 no but um every now and then when im trying to procratinate writing i'll give my onenotes a little organise and that's like my main one for writing actual chunks of floaty prose i have no idea what they're for, google keep is for tiny little ideas and sometimes ill scribble bullshit down on scraps of paper in the middle of the night when i dont want to turn my screens on and then i'll either 1) not be able to find it in the morning or 2) not be able to read my own handwriting
What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?
oof god idek bc i am fighting for my life against the worst writers block ive ever had atm, normally my block consists of zero ideas but ive got so many my brain just will not put out words anymore. but i guess just the fact that even when its frustrating i know that my writing is like the biggest part of me and what i would define myself by because its just always been there and its what i want to do, although i dont know if I've ever actually wanted to give up. its more me being angry that i cant do it today so just counting down the seconds until i can again.
#sami answers#thank you so much for asking#the passage one was so fun to do but it took me so long to choose lol
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"We just gonna do the radio chat thing?"
"True free time is hard to find for both of us, and I suspect you and your Ghost would prefer freedom to release any destructive impulses, to which you seem prone."
"She's gonna make me blush."
"Freija! It's good to hear from you, Empress."
"If it's social, you can tune me out, I'm fine with that."
"Do you wish to avoid answering further questions?"
"I'm not clever enough to lie like that."
"Hmph! I have only a few. Some are personal."
"Yeah?"
~
"What do you know about Ghosts?"
".... They're... Little metal drone.... People that used to be parts of the Traveler? Not much. They look for us and Raise us when they find the right one."
"What do you remember of your previous life?"
"I've had a couple nightmares that included memories from it, but nothing else."
"What is your first memory?"
"Sunny flying around my head at super speed making this funny burbling sound."
"I forgot I did that..."
"Hmph! How many deaths?"
"... Do you actually... I don't understand, do you want me to guess? Sunny might know. I couldn't even.... Just.... "
"A rough estimate will suffice. It will be an interesting equation to hear."
"I'm gonna... Eh ... Mm .... Can I just round to five thousand?"
"..."
"Did the connection die?"
"No, she does this, it's okay. Just wait."
"...You are four years old..."
"Yeah....?"
"Your years are short."
"Do you think my math is off or are you just not okay with the part where I die ten times a day on average? That is an average, sometimes I can go a whole week without dying, but there's crucible, where just playing around sees a good fifty or sixty in an afternoon. Getting Sunny her shell was maybe three hundred in three days, that's enough for six a week for a year all by itself."
"..."
"I don't get it, what's wrong?"
"Most people only die once, and most of them are scared to."
"Oh, right."
"....You no longer remember this fear."
"Technically, the one you're talking about, I never had to lose. I am scared to die, it's just that I don't consider death... I mean.... I can't say it different. I don't think of those deaths as death. Death to me is Final Death. Dark zones, Hive rot and Relic damage. My life is Sunny. It's really hard to talk, I've never had to answer questions like this."
"Why can't you ever be that sweet on purpose?"
"You do not give much thought to your nature of being."
"Not really. Just... Kinda am. Do wonder why, sometimes."
"Do the Ghosts appreciate being taken for granted?"
"Probably varies by Ghost. I... Do I take you for granted?"
"You take the resurrection for granted, but I've made sure that it was something you could never doubt, and you trust me, so I take great pride in the fact. You do not take your Light for granted."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, oh?"
"You've wondered what it would be like to have your Light cut off in just the last few months, and that's not an unusual question for you. You marveled at the Lightless after the nightmare. You even say that you couldn't live without it and you have never taken your fire for granted--you are always mindful and grateful and miss it when you try anything else."
"Is that what that means?"
"Yes, my dearest Titan."
"Hmph! What does being a Titan mean to you?"
"Uh? It means I make walls. And hammers."
"You were not incorrect when you called her simple."
"I know you mean that as a bad thing, but I'm just fine with being simple. If you ask right, most people say that's a real Titanic thing to be."
"You are proud to be a Titan?"
"I'll call it pride, yeah. Happy to be one, wouldn't be anything else if I had the option. Feel a sense of kinship with other Titans. Enjoy my role, holding the walls, drawing fire away from my teammates. Felt a sense of loss when I found out the Sunbreakers fell to the Red Legion."
"Is this a shared sentiment, this pride, between the three... Types?"
"I know a real specific Warlock where that's not true, but I have yet to meet a Hunter that isn't proud to be one. They all smile or smirk or grin or whatever when they say it, even the Exos."
"Hmph! Do you feel your Ghost has any influence on who you are when you awaken?"
"Nah, not by itself, but we learn everything from them, so we pick up stuff. We are who we are, though."
"And your... Type?"
"Class. Nah. Sunny had a thing where she didn't tell me what I was so I could do my own thing with my Light. She thought I'd make something up."
"You did. It's just that the thing you made up was already standard, which means you literally taught yourself a standard Titan Light spell on your first day of life."
"Shut up!"
"Why are you embarrassed?"
"Cos! You make it sound like something! It's my barricade!"
"You taught yourself how to do it. I'm proud of you."
"Not in front of the empress. You know what I mean."
"Do Ghosts regularly boast on behalf of their Guardians?"
"We boast about our Guardians on our own behalves. I still like showing off my shell."
"They bit-- complain, too, commiserate. Got little dens and nooks and a couple of full on clubhouse things like bigass cabinets, they go hide and talk shiiii..... Complain about how much we piss 'em off. Clouds of 'em when there's Tower events, like we can't hear them."
"...."
"You heard them, too!"
".... I did."
"You're laughing, aren't you."
"The complaints ranged from amusing to horrifying, and I found most humorous."
"Yeah? Sunny's big gripe is how inconvenient it is when I die in the middle of everything."
"I imagine this is because you should not be 'in the middle of everything.'"
"That's what I keep saying!"
"I'm between cover! Usually!"
"Or the barricade fell or you thought you'd be covered when you died...."
"See?"
"Are most Guardians aware of these... Gripes?"
"Depends. Sunny doesn't keep 'em secret and she's hoping one day I'll quit it, whatever it is. Rex is a jerk. Ghost doesn't really speak much."
"Hmph."
"I dunno what's going on with that one, it's weird even for a Ghost."
"Mm. I have a final, potentially invasive question. Either may answer, and both may refuse."
"Okay....?"
"In what ways can affection between Ghost and Guardian be expressed?"
"...."
"... Invasive is a word for that."
"You need not answer. I am merely curious."
"She's been listening to us bicker this whole time, I can see why it's a question."
"Don't tell her..."
"She doesn't even mean from you to me, she's making sure you're getting something out of this deal that isn't a shithead Guardian."
"Hmph!"
"See? I make things for her. A neat table thing, a shelf and a few stands, a collection of shells on a pretty nice display."
"Don't let her downplay the table, she designed it herself, ordered it to specs, then built it. It's.... Actually kind of silly, but it's for drawing. I told her I used to before I found her, and she made me the table to facilitate when we're at home. I didn't even ask for it, she found the idea and surprised me one day after work."
"...."
"Okay, look, I'm actually not stupid. I can bounce grenades 'cos I'm good at geometry, which also means I can build stuff. I sound stupid and I have a hard time with conversations sometimes."
"..."
"Isn't she the sweetest?"
"What? Why?"
"...."
"It's okay, you don't have to say anything!"
"What's going on?"
"The answer she got surpassed expectations, if she even had any. She probably thought we wouldn't tell her."
"Seriously? Like didn't expect an answer cos we didn't have one or because we'd get shy?"
"Probably a combination of both, and I'm not sure what she actually regards as affection, she's not human after all, so making things for someone else might be a really big deal to her."
"That's dumb. I kiss her, sometimes. Usually on the top shell flap. And she likes to be held in my hand or perched on nooks in my armor."
"...That answer, I expected."
"See? I get it. I really do want to do as much for her as she does for me, but it's a really high bar and I'm still flesh and blood, Lightbearer or not."
"Hmph! This may not be our final interview."
"You make it sound like a threat."
"...Perhaps."
"You're taking advantage of the informality, too aren't you?"
"Did you not say you were 'bad at conversations'?"
"It took me the whole time to figure it out when Sunny told me before we left that the informality was why I could get away with being me at you. I didn't think you'd be counting on that."
"Indeed. You told me much more than I could comfortably ask of any other contact in the Vanguard, and Valus Forge is not so forthcoming in answers to questions unrelated to warfare or philosophy. I appreciate the candor and the... Refreshing absence of protocol."
"She means that in a good way. Thank you, Empress! Did you want to catch up later?"
"Soon. I will reach out."
~
Hard Questions
New Angle
Honest
Radio Chat <-
Scripted Questions
Battlefield
Fear
Enlightening
More like Interrogation
(In)humanity
Underlying
Ghost Affection
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LADY OF THE BLOODFALLS
#Ko-fiChallenge
This is an excerpt from a fictious novel created in one of my stories to reflect the same genre / topic, as a sneek peek of a project / work of mine. The cover / design is also created by me.
I hope it will stir interest and gain appreciation, so do share or reblog if you like and my ko-fi is always open if anyone would like to buy a coffee to help with my writings, other art related stuff and future posts.
A life worth living is not a life without mystery. Many of us believe that. We live our lives confined to routines and defined by mundane calculations, yearning to become one with the unknown. We dream with our eyes open about universes in which we could be different, able to afford to own the key to what is out of our reach. We create, we shape, we destroy and rebuild, we crave to escape logic and free fall into the irrational, we cover up the disappointment in our hearts when superstitions are the only hints we've got, we wait for the world to end and crash, we delight with some of the most unproven facts and fear losing control of the normal eventhough normalcy feels suffocating sometimes.
It's a given: we're human, we are not programed to not wonder. Human nature dictates that life and mystery are entwined forces, and everything in between becomes a piece of red. Ancient, beautiful, violent. It starts and ends. It gives life and takes一 the color of birth, love and death, the color of blood, the color of desires, aggression and sacrament. This is what life is: grotesque grace, something only the color red can weight equally. A middle ground where the fair bow down to the tainted, where innocence dies too young, where shadows move on their own, and the dead walk amongst the living.
There are the ones who are ignorant, the picture perfect of the normal. They live simple lives, guided by a false sense of safety surrounded by preconceptions and walls. Then, there are the ones who open their ears to the whispers of the dark, reckless, toeing the line of the insane. They search and test the waters, they take a myth and look it in the eyes with conviction, they feel and see what is not there.
We fear death and what could lay on the other side, perhaps more than we fear the unknown itself, but above everything, we fear losing ourselves through a blindfolded game of hot and cold where nothing is as it seems.
Immortality sounds like the answer to a lot of problems, a gift, a phenomenon none can offer or obtain, or so do we think.
This life, minimal, transparent, human frailty and the flaws that make space for the little moments of joy, unity and memories: the error is not in being human, it's in being anything else, and death grants us that sweet release.
There's no rest to immortality, the wicked will never know the comfort of oblivion, destined to remember everything, to feel everything, magnified at a million degrees.
It's true, vampires steal lives. They don't just kill, they're ink into water, creeping through the cracks and right inside the cavern of the ribcage, in the shivers climbing shoulder blades, in the fear that asphyxiates, the touches in the dark, the wind through the curtains, the steps down corridors and stairs, the wars of the mind, to flee or stay, the secrets, the chase. And they exist, cursed to relive a lifetime on repeat, to love once and die a thousand times with each loss and memory, forever outsiders between reality and illusion, not belonging on either side. They're trespassers and looters of human nature, they pillage and possess, to fill the empty hole in their chests.
To live forever is hell on earth: it burns the soul from the inside out, perpetuating the cold numbness to the core of the heart, but that's the pleasure of it, slow torture, reaching the night sun with wings of paper.
The embers of charcoal devour it, untill all that remains is red...
1904, Leonore von Nieve
#original fiction#story excerpt#vampire#dark fantasy#supernatural#mystery#action#drama#suspense#design#vampire aesthetic#original characters#creative#angst#tragedy#human nature#sad life#immortality
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September 5, 2022
Am I Really Supposed To Die to Myself?
DR. ALISON COOK
Lee en español
“He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God …” John 1:11-12 (NIV)
For years, there has been a silent message most of us have been taught. The message is that in order to be a woman of faith, you must die to yourself.
This message has been passed down in various forms, such as:
You should always be nice.
You should only think of others.
It’s always wrong to focus on yourself.
It’s often portrayed as biblical since Jesus said, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves” (Luke 9:23, NIV). But these words have been misconstrued to encourage millions of women to:
Destroy their health.
Stay in abusive relationships.
Bury their God-given talents.
Sit by while friends walk all over them.
You may not know that you’ve internalized this toxic interpretation of Jesus’ words. You just know that you’re exhausted, hurting and overwhelmed.
I’ve been there. As a young woman, I wanted to serve others, and I thought my job was to die to myself by saying “yes” to everyone around me. This worked for a while … until I completely burnt out. And I’ve observed a similar pattern in the lives of thousands of women I’ve counseled.
This kind of self-rejection is not what Jesus meant.
When talking to His disciples, Jesus used a metaphor to describe the process of dying to yourself:
“Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24, ESV).
Consider this: The grain of wheat represents your old ways of relating — the pleasing or performing for others, the ways you’ve learned to hide. Those ways worked for a time, but they no longer serve you or anyone. Dying to yourself means letting go of what’s not working so that you can become even more fruitful.
We have to change. We have to die to old ways. And it’s hard! It might even feel like a loss initially. After all, these ways served us in the past. But to become a truer version of ourselves, we have to release them. It’s the only way to grow.
This idea of fruitfulness through faith is echoed in other Bible passages. Here’s more from the Apostle John:
“He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God …” (John 1:11-12).
What does it mean to become a child of God? It means, among other things, to continually “put off your old self, which belongs to your former manner of life” (Ephesians 4:22, ESV). This doesn’t happen just once in our lives, but we are to practice this every day.
I love how Eugene Peterson’s The Message paraphrases John 1:11-12:
“But whoever did want him, who believed he was who he claimed and would do what he said, He made to be their true selves, their child-of-God selves.”
In our culture today, being true to ourselves often means self-love without Christ and without transformation. But according to Scripture, our “true self” reflects the image of God, and He empowers the best of who we are to live out the virtues of Christ.
When you follow Jesus, you become more of your true self.
We know from Jesus’ words that the process can feel like death, like you’re losing all that you’ve known. Letting go of old ways can be painful. But here’s the promise: You are dying to old ways in order to become the brave, light-bearing woman God made.
This process isn’t a rigid form of self-denial. Instead, what if dying to yourself means dying to these destructive tendencies?
Pleasing someone as a way to get love.
Feeling shame and self-hatred.
Burying painful emotions, like sadness, loneliness or anger.
Perfecting yourself to earn approval.
Playing small so others won’t be threatened by you.
Believing that you don’t matter and that your life does not have value.
What if dying to yourself means dying to the lie that God does not want more for you?
What if dying to yourself means coming alive to what brings out the best of you?
This is what I believe it means to grow in emotional and spiritual health. It means dying to toxic patterns of relating to yourself and others. And it means saying “yes” to the Good Shepherd as He leads you on this journey of becoming your truest self.
Lord, help me notice old ways of relating to others that don’t reflect the best of me. Help me become more of my true self, the woman You want me to be. In Jesus' Name, Amen.
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