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catchyhuh · 6 months

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sorry if this has already been asked ; but who is more like to have dreams over nightmares [ & vice versa ], are there any reoccuring ones?

i mentioned it a teeeeny tiny bit in my sleep hcs post (i should probably make a table of contents huh. or masterpoMASTERPOST THAT'S WHAT IT'S CALLED. FORGOT THE WORD) but i think it warrants really getting into because dreams as a thing that your brain just Does are so interesting to me! so let’s dive a lil deeper

slight tw for suicide and vague allusions to trauma in general

lupin:

despite being the most animated in his waking AND sleeping hours, lupin. doesn’t really remember his dreams too well. everybody dreams, in fact, i think you have 4-6 dreams a night on average, but when you can’t remember them, it doesn’t mean shit!!

on the rare occasion he DOES remember it, it’s usually just his brain repeating a past event that’s happened to him already, like, in REAL life. unfortunately, it’s usually the mundane parts, which is odd for someone who’s life is so… decidedly unmundane. maybe his subconscious is trying to tell him to chill the fuck out for 10 minutes and just go hang at an aldi’s or some shit

absolutely one of those people that knows, at face value, obviously sleeping with a book under your pillow DOESN’T magically make you absorb all the knowledge. but it’s funny to pretend. especially when the book inevitably slips from under his pillow and hits the ground with a loud THWACK, to which you can hear the others from their respective beds going “For Fuck’s Sake, Lupin”

jigen:

remembers them better than lupin, but again, doesn’t recall his dreams easily. and if he has a particularly unpleasant one just barely clinging to his mind, he forces it out before he’s even gotten out from under the covers.

has a lot of dreams where he’s lost things. his hat and gun are most common, of course, but sometimes it’ll be something like a phone lupin’s instructed him to keep track of because it has some valuable pictures on it, or a little mirror pouch with something in it he’s not allowed to look at, so when he loses it he doesn’t even know how to DESCRIBE what he’s looking for, things like that. he’s had the same dream of goemon trusting him to hold onto zantetsuken and him losing it a handful of times too. probably doesn’t mean anything :)

you can tell when he’s dreaming because the usually dead silent jigen will shift a bit. not noticeably, in fact, if you didn’t KNOW he usually barely moves, you wouldn’t think anything of it, but his muscles are so instinctively reflexive that even if it’s just a dream, his shoulders will tense like he’s trying to dodge away from something

fujiko:

oh baby. miss thing has SO many nightmares. i mentioned it a lil bit in the above post, but really, it doesn’t bother her as… much as it should? usually it’s the type of abstract, strange nightmare, where nothing bad is ACTUALLY happening, but for some reason, you have this horrific tight feeling in your gut throughout, like you KNOW something bad is ABOUT to happen, like it’s just on the other side of the door you’re standing in front of

however, on the plus side, fujiko IS the type to be able to remember about 2 dreams a night, and the chances of them BOTH being nightmares EVERY night is pretty damn low. her other dreams are a mix of memories and wishful thinking. in contrast to the nightmares, these are always so nice. not even necessarily luxurious (though it would be silly to pretend she doesn’t have those too lmao.) but just. her bundled up in the world’s comfiest couch, being given her favorite tea. but she doesn’t talk about THOSE dreams. she talks about the FANCY ones. she wakes up frowning because the gold diamond-encrusted cuff from her dream isn’t ACTIVELY on her person, and tells lupin “it must be fate. get me that shit plz” because it’s not lovely ENOUGH that she’s busting her OWN ass for it, but if he happens to find it, yay!!

very adamant that dreams aren’t symbolic or anything. which is. hilarious, given the fact she’s used the “but i dreamed about it! that must mean you should steal it for me” excuse numerous times. it’s not that she’s a buzzkill, and we know that, it’s just that she insists they don’t mean shit. it’s just your brain processing information from the day, all in rapid succession. which… true. but if you’re having this many dreams where your brain is trying to make your heart stop from fear that probably means something just in a real, actual real-life sense!

goemon:

goemon has a few recurring dreams, and they all bother him. but of course, he won’t tell anyone! nobody talks about their goddamn feelings in this house. the most common, although the one with the most variations, is him dying in front of people. sometimes it’s just one of them, sometimes two, sometimes its even a crowd of strangers. sometimes he’s been shot, or stabbed, or sometimes it’s by his own hand. every time, he falls to his knees in pain, and looks up, and sees watery eyes staring back at him. it’s a slow, agonizing death, even though he doesn’t feel any pain from it at any point. he wakes up, his face pale as a ghost, and… goes outside to have breakfast. that’s it. he hasn’t told any of them about it. for some reason he can’t place, it makes him feel guilty.

remembers his dreams in precise detail, which is lowkey a bit annoying, since he’d rather have more important stuff on his mind. all this psychological trauma is annoyinggg he was supposed to pick up three things from the grocery store today but all he can remember is carrots and frosted mini-wheats because of his stupid murder careeeeeer,

wishes he knew how to lucid dream, but in a passive sense. maybe one year if he gets bored and tired enough he’ll commit to it, just for funsies. i mean, to hone his skills.

zenigata:

very, VERY vivid dreams, nightmares and good ones alike. he doesn’t have as many nightmares as you might expect, because yeah, there’s multiple factors making him unhappy, but… ultimately, his brain is doing just fine processing that while he’s screaming outside of a cop car window, so there’s no need to file through all THAT again at the end of the day! so instead, here’s a dream about that cat that lived near your apartment three years ago. sleep tight pops.

talks in his sleep when he’s having a real crazy one. none of it is really decipherable, like if you were sitting on the other end of the room when he was passed out on the couch, you might baaarely be able to make out one or two guesses, but it’s mostly words running together. except when you’ve made your peace and started tuning him out then he’ll shout something very suddenly and very forcefully AND HE WON’T EVEN WAKE UP FROM IT

TELLS people the same as fujiko: dreams are just a brain thing, not anything meaningful, but sometimes, if he’s woken up early after a real crazy dream involving jail bars and handcuffs and throwing away the key, he sits there and stares at the ceiling, thinking to himself about why his brain sees him locked up in a cage. that… that doesn’t MEAN anything, that’s just his brain doing a little what-if scenario. right? his subconscious can’t be trying to spell out for him that he’s his own undoing-- OOPS THERE’S THE ALARM CLOCK GOTTA GET UP N SHAVE

#if i didn't feel like it'd be weird writing them here id LOVE to write like actual mini fics of them waking up from crazy ass dreams because #the way they REACT to their dreams is really just as interesting as the dreams themselves yknow??#lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin #jigen #fujiko #goemon #zenigata #asks

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pharaoh-khan · 1 month

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The broad unmundane path Matthew 7:13-14

Enter ye in at the strait gate: for wide is the gate, and broad is the way, that leadeth to destruction, and many there be which go in thereat: Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it.

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goodygetgoing · 2 months

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14.03.2024

Mind Shift

My mind has been overwhelmed with tasks, unmundane things, events, etc. for the last few weeks. I'm poof. Burnt-out. Unorganized. Plus, I found out I'm allergic to Brazilian nuts (so good, BTW). I'm not deathly allergic, but I had bumps all over my body and itching everywhere. I kept eating it for a week too 😪. Besides the point, my skin is really paying for it even now (it's been three weeks).

This evening, I climbed on my desktop and realized I missed a mouse and a keyboard. I looked at my Google calendar and realized I hadn't done time blocking in a while. I had been writing it down before on paper, but it isn't as accessible as it is on the internet. So, I decided to update my calendar. Here's how I organized it.

I made six main calendars:

1. Daily Duty (morning routine, drop-offs, pick-ups, cooking time, home chores, and everyone's schedule on my time)

2. Shift Work (times I work, and pay days)

3. Me Time (gym, facial massage, reading)

4. Appointments/Payments (everyone's appointments, payments for house, car, etc.)

5. Family Time (birthdays, events, dinner dates, etc,)

6. Creative Work (social media related)

After putting all the information, I noticed that I can squeeze time for writing, or for gym, or even for a light walk. Reading can be done at night before bed. Even drinking my 2-3L of water goal can be done. With that realization, I do have time for things that are irrelevant to others but are important to me. The small stuff matters to me. Speaking of small stuff, sleep is very important, and that task is hard to do. So, my main task right now and every night is sleep. Cheers to six hours of sleep tonight. Hopefully. Good night!

#productivity #self care #focus #self-growth #Time Blocking #Small Stuff

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kringelorde · 8 months

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I need to draw dimitri partaking in mundane and cozy behaviours before I exhibit decidedly unmundane uncozy behaviours Come Here White Boy

#spext #got hit with random anxiety out of nowhere thank you whichever Fucking bit of my brain activated the adrenaline glands or whatever

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apelcini · 3 years

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truly no hour is doing it like 2 am

#.txt #unmundane #🌙

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dddeaio · 2 years

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He doesn’t even know how old he is because for the longest time he couldn’t count so he just says he’s 300 to sound unmundane and godly but actually he’s 40

#✨ CASTLE ARCHIVES | headcannon #@pvach taught him how to count #he's not dumb he just didn't have parents who educated him instead they were impatient and threw him out

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rcpacity · 3 years

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unprompted ⁞ @anon ⁞ always open !

which one of your muses would be great at mundane evil, like for example, stealing everyone's left shoe, having the roll of toilet paper hanging wrong, leaving a tiny bit of drink on the bottom of the can? And which muse would be the one to not fitting for this scenario?

mundane evil boys:

patrick, skeris, louis, xander, ruari, souta are the few that quickly come to mind. more likely they either intentionally do it on purpose or two or three of these boys are just soft himbos that don’t know what they’re doing.

the unmundane evil boys:

august, kindle, baelcer, rydell, beau, atreus, bambi are those coming to mind that will never do it or will be the ones to fix the mess the other boys made.

#anonymous #// the shoe for xan might be more socks than shoe just saying #❛ ✧ ┊ ⊰ headcanons ⊱#❛ ✧ ┊ ⊰ out-of chara answered. ⊱

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sharada-n · 5 years

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(7: A kiss to shut them up) Ah yes, the poly ship sails once more

Anybody with a working pair of eyes could plainly see that Moomin was absolutely, completely, head over heels in love with Snufkin.

It wasn’t exactly surprising. Moomin was the kind of person who craved adventure, who always went looking for some interesting situation to absorb himself into or a new story to be a part of. Who utterly lived for excitement, no matter where that may lead him.

But Moomin was also the kind of person who often found those things in others instead of himself, and when it came to interesting or new, Snufkin stood out in Moominvalley like a Woodie in a row of Hattifatteners.

Most of the other creatures in the valley were of a more complacent nature. While many fascinating and sometimes rather bizarre things happened there, most of them regarded these happenings with a kind of detached unease, largely concerned whether this latest strange occurrence was likely to intervene with their habitual afternoon tea.

Snufkin was of the wandering variety though. Somebody who knew a whole lot but said very little, full of surprises and unexpected musings, who distanced himself from others but was always kind and polite in the most unmundane ways possible. It wasn’t hard to imagine why so many adored him, and it wasn’t hard to imagine why Moomin was smitten with him.

And he wasn’t exactly subtle about it either. It was only for so long that a boy could stare longingly out the window wondering when his best friend would reappear to figuratively and literally chase away the cold of winter before people became suspect.

So it came to be that everybody knew. Everybody but Moomin himself, who was all kinds of amazing but could be daft as a pile of bricks when it concerned Snufkin. And Snufkin himself, who had the average communication skills of a potato and was not at all adapt at handling emotional matters. So there wasn’t much hope of the situation resolving by itself.

People often asked Snorkmaiden if this irritated her. Moomin was her boyfriend after all, had been ever since they started playing house and make-believe on the grassy downs of the valley and really, wasn’t it rather irksome to see her love pining so desperately for another?

And if pressed she could tell them that yes, it bothered her. It bothered her endlessly, in fact. Just not for the reason most people assumed it did.

Principally, she just wanted Moomin to be happy. Snufkin made Moomin very happy. She herself made Moomin very happy as well. And he made her the happiest Snork in the world, because if anything he was devoted to her like no other was, kind and soft and thoughtful. He was just similarly devoted to Snufkin, of course, and seeing him tying himself into knots over the whole situation was what really bothered her at the end of the day.

The heart of the matter was simple. Moomin was in love with Snufkin. Snufkin was clearly in love with Moomin. Moomin was in love with Snorkmaiden as well, and she herself obviously fancied him a lot. But what people often forgot was that Snorkmaiden was friends with Snufkin too, had known him at least as long as Moomin had even and spent many sunny summer afternoons together in quiet contentment. And he wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes either.

Moomin and her were already girlfriend and boyfriend of course. But the way she saw it there was no reason why Snufkin couldn’t be their boyfriend also. The solution shouldn’t be any more complicated than that.

“Do you like Moomin?”

Snufkin stalled for a moment, almost losing his grip on the fishing rod and having it tumble into the river. He recovered quickly though, fake-coughing politely into one fist instead but refraining from answering immediately. Snorkmaiden either didn’t notice or didn’t care, she was busy making flower crowns out of the wild geraniums that grew on the riverbank.

“Of course I do.” He answered after a few moments, cautiously. Snufkin wasn’t exactly opposed to company when that company was content with sitting in silence next to him enjoying the peaceful afternoon and not bothering him directly. But conversations that started with questions, particularly questions like these, had the disconcerting tendency of veering into terrain he rather steered clear of.

Moomin had taken Sniff and Little My on some kind of adventure today, Snorkmaiden decided to stay behind and that in itself should have been enough to tip him off that something was not right really.

But she didn’t say anything more and Snufkin had just started thinking he might have been let off the hook (unlike the fish he was currently reeling in) when she spoke again.

“Do you like like him though?”

The reel handle spun rapidly as he lost his grip once more, the minnow was probably under some sort of divine protection because it used the sudden slackness of the line to try and extract itself from the hook post-haste, and Snufkin didn’t even have the presence of mind to notice.

“I don’t know what you mean.” He lied.

Snorkmaiden huffed, the kind of little annoyed huff some people do when they can tell you are telling them a fib but are too courteous to call you out on it directly. She finished her crown and put it on her head, trying to admire her own reflection in the river but the fish was causing too many ripples with its great escape attempt for her to see herself clearly.

There were another few tugs and then it succeeded in freeing itself and swam merely down the stream, saved from becoming Snufkin’s dinner for at least another day. Snorkmaiden looked at him and if he didn’t know any better he’d say she was smirking.

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” She said.

“I really need to be getting back.” He answered instead, dropping the fishing pole right then and there and leaving his bait too. Moominvalley wasn’t exactly a hotbed for criminal activity so he was sure it would still be there when he came back for it.

And if not he could always get a new one.

For the next few days Snufkin avoided being alone with Snorkmaiden as much as possible. This wasn’t exactly a hard thing to do, usually Moomin would be spending time with either of them (if not both of them) at any given moment after all.

But he noticed her watching him more shrewdly than was usual, as if analyzing his every movement and it made him slightly nervous. Normally Snufkin wasn’t the kind of person to be much bothered by other people’s opinions of him, but just once Moomin had embraced him in a moment of sudden exhilaration, throwing his paws around Snufkin’s shoulder shortly and impulsively and he had been able to feel Snorkmaiden’s eyes burning into his back.

Only on one occasion did she manage to corner him in the kitchen of the Moominhouse, staring at him intently for a moment, before standing at the counter next to him and watching him make coffee. Moominmamma had been so kind as to lend him her kettle, since he had lost his own during the previous winter.

Snorkmaiden leaned onto the countertop slightly, batting her eyelashes up at him almost innocently. Girls could be so weird sometimes. “I know you like Moomin.”

“Oh?” Was the only noise he had been able to make at that moment.

“I think he likes you too.”

And that had sent a very undignified blush all the way onto his cheeks, though he tried using his scarf as cover to hide it.

Snorkmaiden and Moomin were dating. Snufkin knew this. And he wasn’t scared of a lot of things, you really can’t be a good nomad if you are, but on the other hand there was this belief that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned and Snufkin had not the slightest intention of finding out if this was true.

“It’s fine.” He said, abandoning the coffee half-done. “It’s nothing, really. We’re just friends.” And then he fled the kitchen without waiting to hear her response.

So far Snorkmaiden could only assume her purpose had been awfully misconstrued.

The subtle approach clearly wasn’t relaying her intentions correctly, for Snufkin had taken to darting away from her at every chance, much like a frightened animal will do when backed into an unpleasant situation.

She had tried most everything she could think of now to get the conversation going without having to resort to drastic and dramatic gestures. Snufkin wasn’t the type of person to go for those. It would make him uncomfortable, she knew. Then again, he had already begun to refuse to be around her at all lately, and by extension around Moomin too and that had quite been the opposite of her goal.

Though it would be unbecoming of a lady, she had no choice but to wait for the perfect opportunity to present itself and then do something completely uncouth.

The perfect opportunity did present itself a mere two days later. Snorkmaiden had been out for an evening walk, as she was sometimes wont to do, to admire the beauty of nature and also to get out of the house since her brother had worked himself up into a frenzy again about one thing or another.

She had stopped by the Moominhouse but her love wasn’t there. It was reasonable to assume he might be off with Snufkin then, but when she crossed the bridge who should she find but the wanderer himself, busy at work on alighting his fire pit.

“Snufkin.” She called, and the boy startled so badly he banged his head against the pot hanging above the fire. Snorkmaiden giggled, but hid it behind her hand. She was still a lady, despite what she was about to do.

“Snorkmaiden.” He said, without turning around and while rubbing his forehead gingerly. “Moomin isn’t here.”

“I know.” And she walked around to sit on the tree trunk opposite him.

She could tell Snufkin was thinking about running off again. He did that thing where his eyes darted around as if looking for convenient excuses. However, she didn’t think he was desperate enough to abandon his tent, which was a lot harder to replace than a fishing rod, and leave his dinner to burn completely. In fact she was counting on it.

“Can we talk?”

Snufkin stopped tending to his forehead (which was probably less a case of concussion and more of crippled pride) and returned to his pot. “Of course.” He mumbled. “We’re talking right now.”

“It’s about Moomin.”

“Is it?” He leaned back gingerly, the flames of the fire reflecting unsteadily in his dark eyes.

“I think he’s in love with you.”

“Do you?”

“I think you’re in love with him as well.”

“You reckon?”

Snorkmaiden crossed her arms and he looked at her for the first time since she arrived.

“I’m sorry.” He said then and she could tell he was trying hard not to get flustered again. “But I can assure you it’s really nothing.”

“It doesn’t have to be nothing though.” She said, getting up and walking over and he straightened, tensing.

He took a step back but she ignored that. “Snorkmaiden, I really didn’t mean to-”

She took both of his paws in hers then, effectively shutting him up. They were rough like tree bark, nothing like Moomin’s, but warm too. His eyes were wide, and when he took another step back she followed.

“Nothing happened.” He breathed quickly. “Really in fact, I think nothing ever happened or ever will. I do know how much he adores you and you adore him and surely you know I only wish to be a good friend-”

Snufkin was rambling now, voice just a tiny bit desperate and Snorkmaiden couldn’t help but think herself cruel. Of course she could remedy that.

His lips were soft. She pressed against them firmly, so there might not be another misunderstanding as to her intentions now, and he swallowed any other words as she did so, nuzzling against him slightly.

When she pulled back she couldn’t tell if his face was just that red or if it was the glow of the campfire.

“What was that?” He nearly squeaked, blinking numbly at her.

“It was a kiss, dummy.”

“Was it?”

Snorkmaiden glared at him, annoyed. She had quite forgotten kisses were probably not the same for a Mumrik as they were for a Snork or Moomintroll, but he had seen her do this with Moomin enough times to know, surely.

So she did it again, light and feathery and he closed his eyes, pressing into the motion, his paws still clasped in hers. She could hear the frantic movements of a tail swaying side to side rapidly but didn’t know if it was his or her own.

“Moomin?” He whispered, uncertain, once they pulled back. Snorkmaiden smiled.

“Oh, I think he will be quite pleased with the whole ordeal.”

Snorkmaiden wasn’t the type of person to think she was always right. Others might think she was self-absorbed at times, but really she only was in a round-about way. Things concerned her if they involved her and otherwise they were rather tedious.

The sun was still bright and the weather warm and lively for late autumn, though the trees had already changed hues to breathtaking colors. The flowers now were late-bloomers, the air heavy with their scent.

Snufkin shifted in the grass. Snorkmaiden didn’t know if he was sleeping or not, his hat discarded somewhere to the side, but he looked very comfortable with his head resting in Moomin’s lap. The troll was idly playing with their boyfriend’s hair, which was becoming quite long now.

She leaned against Moomin’s side, shoulder to shoulder and he turned to her and nuzzled her cheek for a moment. Then she leaned forward and booped Snufkin’s nose, just because she could.

“I can’t believe autumn is already ending.” She sighed, as he opened his eyes to look at them for a moment. “And then you’ll be leaving.”

He hummed in answer, closing his eyes again and then smiling slightly. “I will have to write two goodbye letters this year then, I suppose.”

“Or just one addressed to the both of us.” Moomin said matter-of-factly, then adding slyly. “A grand love declaration, with a poem and everything.”

Snufkin made a non-commital noise, using one hand to shield his face from the glaring sun, though it was more likely he was trying to hide his blush again.

He still wasn’t very used to that word, even in reference to their newly blossoming relationship. Snorkmaiden knew it would only be a matter of time though.

“As long as you be careful in watching out for yourself.” She said. “Then we will be watching out for each other. And missing you terribly.”

Snufkin didn’t comment, but it was clear that he knew. Next spring, there would be two people eagerly waiting for him to return.

#moomin #moominvalley #snufkin #snorkmaiden #snufmin #snormin #snoomin #i don't know what all the relationship tags are send help #my writing #prompts #Snufmaiden

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bea-hargreeves-official · 5 years

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birthday party ~closed rp starter

Ben @ben-hargreeves-official

Bea was, unsurprisingly, still awake at 12am. It came as no surprise, especially considering the day. October 1st. Thirty years ago to that day, Bea had been born. They didn’t have a number. They didn’t have a price. They weren’t even a they. But they did have a companion. What was supposed to be an everlasting friendship was cut devastatingly short 14 years ago. And their twin was gone. He’d been gone for 14 years and yet whenever October 1st rolled around again Bea felt the dull ache in their chest increase to nearly blinding levels of pain as they remembered him. Older twin. Number 6. The Horror. Ben Hargreeves.

Five @comic-five-hargreeves-official @youngfivehargreeves

Bea had stayed up all night in preparation for this day. October 1st. Finally here. As the years went by Bea became aware of just how mundane birthdays were for them. When you share the date with 7 other people, those of which often ignore your attempts at a reconnection, you become instead accustomed to spending the day on your own. But this year was special. Because he was here again. Five Hargreeves had appeared out of thin air earlier that year, much like he did the day he was born. And Bea was not going to let him realize how mundane birthdays were, not until he experienced the most unmundane birthday bash yet.

Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Vanya @teen-diego-hargreeves @comic-allisonhargreeves-official @funkylittleseance @the-official-white-violin

Of their non time traveling siblings, Bea had sent invitations to what would hopefully be a very busy and very successful party. Despite the Hargreeves siblings current title of only seeing each other at weddings and funerals, Bea hoped a birthday party would be a special enough event to catch their attention. They were all turning 30 after all.

Second Gen Kiddos/Party Crashers @toni-hargreeves-official @nessestthebestest @hope-katz-official @ace-katz-official @the-incredible-boston-macarthur

Of course, how would a party that big be able to get set up without some help. Luckily, despite their parents obvious nosiness, their kids did not seem so inclined to secret spilling. Bea had recruited a number of them to help with party preparations.

Benji @benjamin-murdock-official

Bea’s attempts to keep the party excitement away from Ben will very likely not go to plan. He’s as much a trouble maker as his father and his namesake combined.

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fxrevvcll · 5 years

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jihyun x jiyeon continued from here Though yanking the wooden stake out from her stomach was a pain in the ass, JIhyun found herself healing both well and quite quickly after doing so. Perks of being a supernatural anomaly. With the help of another warlock Lilith would occasionally check on the gaping hole in her side herself, watching it slowly close. It would take a bit longer than she’d like, but it would heal and leave without a trace eventually. Discouraging herself from getting up anytime soon the vampire is sat upright in her bed, staring out the window to pass the time. She knew she was screwed the moment she stepped into the institute injured, they would find out what she was sooner or later; probably sooner thanks to this visit. Lilith wasn’t supposed to be possible, it made absolutely no sense -- but there she was, some weird ass hybrid. Heaving a sigh Lilith is more than just surprised when none other than Jiyeon practically bursts through the door. “You know you should work on your entrances a bit, just a thought.” She comments just as the Nephilim closes the distance between them, surprising her even more with the kiss planted firmly upon her lips. Oh... Oh. Oh? In a second a flurry of emotions pulses through the Downworlder and she blinks. “I--you--worried--hey who are you calling an idiot?” Though her tone and voice joke, her hand lifts to gently cup the Shadowhunter’s cheek. Catching her eye Lilith’s smile is soft, as if she felt her own heart beat again for a split second. “I’m okay, don’t worry. I’m all patched up and healing at an alarmingly unmundane yet completely normal Downwordler way. Don’t you worry beautiful.”

#jihyun #jihyun threads #jihyun x jiyeon #jihyun ships #rundcvil

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obduratemoon · 4 years

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Sedimentary City 14: FATHER

It lay in the dark woods, the shrouded one, as if resting for the night. The color of the woods was blue and black, a twilight within a twilight. Time seemed to slow as if finally mired and stuck in cosmic mud. Jan approached the prostate form of the psychopomp soft as a whisper. What does it dream of? He wondered. Tenderly yet pregnant with anticipation he lifted the heavy viel and saw a beautiful face, androgynous and perfectly in-between and swaying like a pendulum. Jan blinked and saw it was a woman, and then a man, and then both and neither again. The face alternated between life and death as well, crossing and recrossing that tremulous border between sleep and death until he could not tell if it was corpse or repose.

In the dark woods all was still and the two figures were there, one bent over the other like a branch over water.

Slant gold hued geometries of sunlight poured through the large windows. It was almost sunset and Jan could see the shadows stretch out languorously across a landscape crenelated by buildings. The day waned and the first semblance of the moon, cold and bone white, began to appear in the sky. Far in the distance a swarm of weather manipulators levitated and moved like a cloud of gnats, each subtly nudging the atmospheric equilibrium towards a more appropriate stasis.

He was in his father’s office, a room that had once seemed hallowed and sanctified, one that he was rarely allowed to enter as a boy. He had associated with it a curious sensation alluding towards the vague realm of adulthood, a far off land of mystery and wonder. As a child Jan was awed by how much his father seemed to know of the world and its workings.

The apartment was a multilevel penthouse atop one of the largest skyscrapers in the city. His father’s office commanded a full spectrum view of level 1, a surface covered with architecture that stretched out far into the parallax. It was breathtaking and awe inspiring to anyone yet commonplace to both who sat there now.

Jan’s father stood near the window looking out at the landscape he had gazed over thousands of times. He seemed much older and frailer, lacking the hefty substance he once had; there was something about his aspect and bearing that had shifted. It struck Jan that he appeared more pellucid and immaterial than in the past.

“You have no idea what it took for me to find you, and then to get you out of there,” his father said. “Those that go into the chorion of the pain seldom return. Even if they come back in body they are different, changed inside. How do you feel, Jan?”

“I don’t know.” Jan replied calmly, speaking with planular affect. “How should I feel? How did I ever feel? But I guess this is me? The person that I was. How long was I asleep for?”

“They kept you in a restorative coma for almost two years. Finally I had them bring you here, back to the house. No one was really sure if you would come back, they said there was a chance you would continue sleeping.”

He turned away from the window and faced his son.

“But here you are. I am happy to see you.”

Jan sat on a sofa. His body still remembered to reflexively assume a straight and proper posture in front of his father.

“Do you ever get the sense,” Jan mused absentmindedly, “that, maybe, you are created, or maybe generated by something or someone else? Just a figment.”

“What? What are you going on about?”

A part of Jan was surprised by how insolent he was being, but he felt far away from his old self and its habits. The restoration had allowed Jan to maintain most of his memories, but he felt skew from many of them as if they were not necessarily his, as if they lived on their own right.

“I apologize. I don’t even know.”

His father sighed deeply and moved to sit down on a chair facing Jan.

“I had a terrible premonition even back then, as soon as I lost contact with you, that something awful would occur. I know you and Eva had been participating with the Samuelson clique, but I always thought it just a passing phase, a common hobby of the overindulged. When Eva died … “

A pained expression flashed across Jan’s face like a scrap of shadow caught in a gust of wind. His entire frame seized up.

“Please stop ...”

“Yes, we shall not talk about Eva. But please listen to what I have to say, for we will not have many opportunities to speak. What is happening in the world is dangerous and volatile. Down in those lower levels is a roiling Hobbesian jungle of struggle, of monkeys with rifles firing off at one another with hardly a thought in their minds, uncomprehending of what they are even doing or where they are going, beings with no future who prosecute their lives in the manner of the mad, errant particles describing a chaotic dance of mutual destruction. Oppression and domination. And on the other side, death or fealty. Can there be any other way? Of course not, this is obvious to any thinking person, to anyone who has read anything of history and science. The interactions between people won’t change -- any more than magnetism or gravity. And now you have experienced it for yourself. The Sedimentary City exists for a reason, its design represents generations of thought and societal effort. The system of today is the natural conclusion of history.”

“And what if I just don’t accept that conclusion? And whose effort was it really?”

“Honestly, Jan, I thought you were better educated than this. Are you still a boy? I never understood this strange stubbornness you have always had. Why did you not confess? How could it have been worth it?”

His father’s face darkened and knit together, burdened by unpleasant thoughts. For all his stature and power he was ill equipped for internal disorder.

“And tell them what?” Jan replied. “We both know how these interrogations work. They don’t stop just because someone confesses. They understand that once someone steps in the Chorion they must come out reprogrammed. To them, dissidents are a cancer. Besides, I knew almost nothing; the movement is distributed, each actor insulated from each other. It’s the only way we could survive.”

The old man sighed again.

“What am I even doing? None of this matters anymore, there is nothing I can do for you really. I called in all the favors I could just to have to be here when you woke up, so we could have this time together at least.”

Jan did not reply, instead he looked passed his father in the sky beyond. He could now see that the sun was descending, retiring its immolated chariot slowly towards the horizon. It crept with a slow implacability towards its extinguishment.

To glance at the sun is to see a static picture; within the hypostasis of the present it appears captured and unmoving. But with an accumulation of enough moments, Jan could sense the slow arcked trajectory of that blazing orb. Time is an infinity of nothings placed end to end yet it spans out forever from a bottomless past into an endless future.

“I’ve managed to be able to keep you here for a month or two, but the crimes you have committed against the State are serious and even I cannot nullify the enforcement of those laws. And you are correct, of course, once you have stepped in the Chorion they cannot easily allow you to return. Not for a long time at any rate. I cannot prevent you from being sent to the Rehabilitation Systems. I will see what I can do to make it as easy for you there as possible. Of course, it will be very hard, but there is only so much I can do. I hope that you can make some kind of life down there, to live regardless.”

At this the old man’s face creased up with suffering and tears rolled through them like the first ice melts in spring, finding travel along neglected ruts in the earth.

Jan wondered if he had ever seen his father cry, or show such emotion. Despite being wan and somehow not quite settled yet in reality, his chest constricted with affection for his father, who had at once been an Authority, a demiurge in Jan’s life, but at this moment seemed to be a much smaller kind of being. No god but rather just any other human, born to suffer and participate in the keen sadness of life.

“It is unclear when you will be allowed to come back, but probably not before I die. You and I, son, we both shall die alone. And the family line will end.”

The sun had finally dipped low enough to irradiate the sky with a poison of colors, redolent and spectral in its livid redness. In the clouds a lavender hue began to tinge some portions. A few buildings caught its Abraxian reflection and scintillated an explosion of light resplendent with wonton grandeur. The sunlight now beamed into the room, almost horizontal and parallel to the floor, blessing surfaces with a golden dint of divinity.

A world on fire. A world transformed and alchemized into something celestial and unmundane. An innuendo at the unabated significance of the universe.

“How I love the sunset,” said Jan. “Doesn’t it seem like time stops? There is neither future nor past, but only now. Each sunset alludes to all other sunsets, a moment which ties all other moments together. The evening glow destroys everything except the essence, it burns away all excess and vanity. In some ways the pain amplifier was the same. Suffering is at once individual and universal.”

His father did not respond, lost in thought or perhaps also marveling at the auburn firmament that had come to inhabit the room with them.

Jan spoke again: “Do I have a brother?”

The old man looked up, surprised. “What? Your brother? How do you know about him?”

“So I do?”

“No, not really, Jan. Your mother died giving birth to him and he passed with her as well. They died together. I never told you, and I swore the doctors to secrecy. It made no sense, such an event. No one dies in childbirth anymore, at least not here! It was impossible for anyone to explain.”

“Is that why she died? I never knew … “

“Yes, you were very young when it happened.”

“What was she like?”

“Your mother? She was beautiful and kind. A kind of a counterweight, capable in dimensions I could not understand or recognize until much later. I see now how she guided me through life. When she died I grew inward. And felt lost.”

It was odd to hear his father speak in this way. So open, so clear.

“Yes, I understand what you mean.”

“But why do you ask about your brother?”

“In the pain amplifier I felt a presence. Another self, another in my body, or perhaps, a shard of myself. It spoke to me, it told me of my brother as proof of its realness. Strange isn’t it? How did it know when I did not? It had been observing the same world but received it in a different way. All the things I ignored and didn’t want to see, the things I rejected, it accepted them instead. At first I was startled and skeptical, yet it felt familiar as a reflection, like I had heard its voice in my head all my life, a voice so consistent and intimate to me that I had hardly noticed it. Perhaps in the Chorion I shattered like a split atom, and the distance allowed me to see all the fragments reflecting back and seeing each other in turn. I wonder if many of us are like this -- singular in conception, but multitude in fact.”

His father looked at him in astonishment. Now, only a semicircle of the sun remained and its beams struck the underside of clouds setting them flush and aglow with pink, one last moment of unkempt ecstasy before it found only endless space to project its rays upon. The air seemed to cool into a bluish tint and the darker side of the sky began to deepen into a full-on night.

At length his father spoke, “I … I suppose that might be the case. But what of it? What does it mean? Why do you speak of these things? What does it matter?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. The life of a person is a mystery and the solving of it pulls him along even when he wants to quit. I don’t fear what’s to come, however. Not anymore.”

They sat there lost in individual contemplation for a long time. Outside the twilight relented to darkness as the last remnants of color and light fled those dead vaults. An enclosing canvas of tenebrous indigo, punctured here and there by pinpricks of winking light, revealed itself as the true contents of the heavens, one that had only been temporarily obfuscated by the brilliance of day.

Below, a riotous conflagration of city lights reflected and amplified what was above. Inside the room all became dark for no one had turned on a light. Both men were weighed down by the ephemerality of life, that very soon they would part and never meet again and that what remained of their family would cease. What did it mean anyway? Family? And why did they grieve for its passing?

Finally, Jan slowly got up and walked towards his Father. Approaching him, he knelt and wrapped himself around the elders body in an encircling embrace. They wept for a long time, father and son.

#sedimentary city

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