edoverwhelmed1

[edoverwhelmed1]

The Cave

One moment, the sun was shining, its warmth filling me with comfort. The trees swayed as the wind raced through their leaves. The grass brushing against my feet was warm and made me chuckle. I began to dance, the wind helping me move gracefully. I closed my eyes as I spun, one foot in the air like a ballerina.

My foot landed, but I no longer felt the warmth of the grass. Instead, I felt painfully cold stone. The cold spread throughout my body, replacing the warmth like it was never there at all. My hair was still, the wind missing for longer than I had realized.

I opened my eyes to see a great darkness created by the closed walls of a pure stone cave. It appeared to stretch on to no end, nothing there but the darkness and stone.

No worries… I thought, I can simply turn back to my land of warmth. I can simply return to my pure happiness.

Quickly, with a big smile as I thought of dancing in the field once more, I turned back to be greeted with the same darkness that I thought I wouldn't have to see again. Like what I had just turned away from, the cold stone seemed to go on forever.

Surely, the field isn't too far from me. I was just there. I was just happy not that long ago. Surely, the cave must not go on forever. The fields, I must return to them. If I walk forward, I'll return to them, I must.

With hope in my heart, I walked forward. With each step, the cold stone hurt my feet, making them feel like they were burning. I began to shiver, but I kept moving forward, determined.

I walked, and walked, and walked, and walked….. and walked……. and walked….

Eventually, the burning became an odd comfort. Any kind of sensation was better than none at all. The cold began to become like the warmth I had once felt, all but the joy the warmth had brought. I had long since forgotten why I was walking. What was I looking for? The joy of the field, that's right, but was the field that fulfilling? Was the field that different from the cave? Was that joy much different from the emptiness I felt now?

With these thoughts running through my mind, I stopped. I didn't need to keep walking, did I? If it was all the same, what was the point of walking further? Wasn't this cave endless anyway? Even if I reached the field and it was everything I remembered, how long would that last before I found myself back in the cave?

Standing still felt wrong. I had been walking for so long, it felt wrong to stop. What else was I meant to do? Walking was my only goal, the only thing I did within this surrounding darkness. The only thing I've done is hope to reach that field again, to find that happiness again. I couldn't stop, it felt wrong.

My feet moved to continue walking, but it wasn't the same. I didn't walk because I had that hope or that want to reach the field, I walked because it was routine. The thought of reaching the field felt numb. Was there much point to thinking of it?

I walked and walked….. walking…. walking…. burning…. burning

A flicker of light made me pause, my routine had been broken.

“Oh, dear, how long have you been here,” a sweet voice asked.

My voice made no attempt to work. It hasn't worked in so long. The sweet voice was odd, almost hurting my ears with sudden introduction to it. It contrasted the cave greatly.

The person grabbed my hand and swiftly made me follow them. The routine continued, but it has changed. The person had intruded upon my comfortable pain provided by the cave.

Walking….. walking….. walking

Light began to slowly become revealed, painting itself onto the cave walls. I felt fear. The cave had become my comfort, my home. Can I leave it? What if the field was not as grand as I remembered? What if it was worse than the cave? What if the field was beautiful, but I find myself back in the cave? Can I go through that pain again? Maybe it's best to stay in the pain, that way I'm numb to it.

The person tugged my hand gently, making their wants clear.

I gulped and trudged forward. The thoughts grew worse and my feet felt heavier. I can't do this, I'll never truly escape the cave. Returning to the field will just hurt me, the cave is inevitable.

The pull never stopped. The person never gave up despite how much harder it became to pull me.

Suddenly, I found myself in the field. The light burned my eyes, the grass itched, the air was uncomfortably hot. The pain and darkness that has grown so comfortable was gone. It felt weird, felt wrong.

My eyes adjusted to the light, the grass no longer itched, but tickled softly. The wind blew my hair once more, the nice warmth flowing through it.

I shook as I began to cry. I had never cried in the cave, I didn't understand why I would now. The person wrapped their arms around me. I was in pain for so long that I had forgotten what it all felt like. The darkness surrounded me, making me grow comfortable in it, wanting that comfort.

The cave, a sudden thing that can simply appear no matter how bright the fields around you are. The cave, something that feels never-ending. The cave, its darkness and pain convincing you this is normal, that this is what comfort is. The cave, the idea of leaving only to return, scaring you to the very core.

A person who holds the candle, someone who cares and will guide you away from the cave despite how hard it might be. They'll take you back to the field, and they'll always hold the candle if you return to that cave.

[edoverwhelmed1]

HA BITCH I FOUND YOUR TUMBLR AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA

HELLO?????

[edoverwhelmed1]

There is a cheezbot??????

[edoverwhelmed1]

[edoverwhelmed1]

[edoverwhelmed1]

Dagger Pine

Hey ya'll! Here's the first chapter of a new story I've been working on. <3

Chapter One: The Photograph

Mara Ellison didn’t believe in signs. Not cosmic kind, not fate, not whispers from the universe. But the moment she pried open the old shoebox buried at the back of her childhood closet and found the photograph, something seized in her chest. Her breath caught, sharp and sudden, like a wire pulled tight.

It had been eleven years since Lily vanished without a trace.

The photo was wedged between a stack of bent birthday cards and the hospital bracelet from the summer Mara broke her arm. She almost missed it—faded, thin, tucked away like it had been waiting. Her hands trembled as she slid it free.

Lily. Smiling. Standing in front of a narrow wooden house half-swallowed by towering pine trees. The image was sun-bleached at the corners. But the details still clung to it like mildew—shadows under lily’s eyes, the slight tilt of her head, the uneasy lean of the trees behind her. They bent inwards, like they were trying to close the house off from the world. Or hold it in place.

She flipped the photo over.

Dagger Pine. October 3. Finally found it.

The words were scrawled in Lily’s handwriting, looping and familiar.

Mara blinked. Dagger Pine. The name meant nothing to her. Lily had never mentioned it.

And yet, the sight of that house twisted something low in her gut. It looked off. Not broken or haunted exactly—but dreamlike, like something remembered wrong. A place that shouldn’t exist outside of the back corner of a nightmare.

Mara placed the photo on her desk. The shoebox lay open beside it, the past bleeding out in paper and ink.

She opened her laptop.

A search for “Dagger Pine” turned up trees. A trail in Oregon. A handful of forgotten blog posts by amateur survivalists. But a deeper dig—through conspiracy threads, missing persons forums, the kind of places she used to hate herself for scrolling through at 3 AM, finally brought up a link.

No description. No company name. Just a page. A photo.

The same house.

The angle was different, farther back, but unmistakable. The pine trees loomed larger; the shadows stretched longer. No reviews. No pricing. Just coordinates.

A perfect place to escape. Total isolation. Peace guaranteed.

Mara stared at the words, heart pounding. Her fingers hovered over the mouse.

She should’ve closed the page.

Instead, she clicked Book Now.

The confirmation screen blinked into place. No loading time. No payment screen. No receipt. Just three lines of text:

You are not the only one. Arrival Window: October 3 – October 5 Bring nothing you aren’t prepared to lose.

 A chill slid down her spine. She leaned back in her chair, the room's edges suddenly feeling too dark, too close.

Then, from the next room, her phone buzzed.

A message. Unknown number.

We’re almost there. -J

Mara stared at the screen, her blood turning to ice. She hadn’t told a soul she was going.

[edoverwhelmed1]

Bernadette, you are my liberty I celebrate the day that you changed my history Life and death will always lead you into love and regret But you have answers, and I have the key for the door to Bernadette

[edoverwhelmed1]

[edoverwhelmed1]

My headcanons (including backstory) for Poe

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Child abuse, thoughts of su!c!de

There is a lot here since I spent a long time developing the character. I also refer to Poe as Edgar.

Continue on if you want <3

Surface Level:

Mother -> Elizabeth Allan

Father -> David Poe Jr.

Pronouns -> He/They (Testing things out)

Sexuality -> Asexual + Homoromantic

Childhood:

Edgar was born into a rich family. Due to his family's status, he was given higher standards than other children.

At first, Edgar was able to meet these standards by going wonderful in homeschooling, but the standards increased significantly since he showed great intelligence. Homeschooling didn't help when it came to making friends. He found himself exploring the world of literature due to his lack of friends (Often read murder mysteries because they challenged him).

His parents were not the best to him (honestly, they saw him as more of a product they were creating rather than a son) or to each other. Edgar would often witness them fighting, which went beyond simple yelling. He tried to intervene in one of his parents' fights once, but it led to extreme failure. After this incident, he learned to stay silent, which hurt him a lot.

Eventually, his parents got a divorce with them both sharing custody. (He spent half a month with his dad and the other half with his mom).

Adulthood:

Despite excelling at most things, his parents kept pushing him. When Edgar was 22, he had his first defeat by the hands of Ranpo. This caused a major breakdown because it fed into the idea that he wasn't good enough. His parents did not help in this situation, and it eventually got to the point where he cut them out of his life. This is around the time he begins his book for Ranpo. He never really had a direction in life, but Ranpo gave him an actual goal besides "get better."

Around a year in, Edgar didn't even have a beginning to his book. This caused him to go into another breakdown, but this one was worse than any other. He wandered behind his house, simply out of it. He stumbled upon a nice pond that seemed to call to him. He was close to jumping in, drowning his sorrows, and put everything to an end.

Just when Edgar was about to jump, he heard a chittering that belonged to a hurt baby raccoon. This snapped Edgar out of his trance and went to save this raccoon. This raccoon was later named Karl and was able to pull Edgar out of this state and keep him going.

Results of Childhood:

He didn't realize how smart he was growing up because his parents would constantly point out his flaws. This causes him to still question his I.Q. and he feels like an imposter.

Wasn't really allowed to speak as a child, so he usually always has a point when talking.

Doesn't have the best view on relationships because of his parents’ marriage.

Loves the moon since he would spend most of his childhood looking at it.

Due to his parents constantly fighting, as an adult, Edgar gets very overwhelmed when in or witnessing a fight. It could get to a point where he will yell because he was forced to remain silent most of his childhood.

Edgar's father always wanted him to be masculine, so he would often take Edgar shooting. This is how he got good with a sniper.

His parents were very set on him being masculine. Edgar received a bow when he was a child from an acquaintance, but his parents ripped it out of his hair.

In adulthood, he might have had a breakdown and felt like his parents still controlled him, so he bought and wore a bow as a way to prove to himself that he wasn't

One of the reasons he hates crowds is because his parents would often show him off at parties. In these situations, he would feel very pressured to appear perfect. This feeling is still there even though he doesn't get shown off.

Extra Things:

Parents:

-> Edgar mostly refers to his parents by their names and sometimes “mother” and “father”

-> physically abusive to each other (which Edgar witnessed MANY times)

-> Both of them run their own businesses that are separate from each other

Silly Things:

-> Likes the night because it is peaceful and quiet

-> Doesn't feel like he is manly enough, but he doesn't really try to appear more manly

-> Believes that if he can beat Ranpo, he will stop doubting himself and will finally be pleased.

-> Really bad about taking care of himself. He often forgets or thinks he doesn't deserve to allow himself to meet his basic needs.

-> Reason behind hiding his eyes with his hair:

--- He received a lot of comments about his eyes because people found them sad. Biggest reason behind hiding his eyes is because eyes are seen as the window to the soul, and he believes his soul is imperfect. Basically, he believes people will be able to see how imperfect he is through his eyes. He dislikes being seen as imperfect.

-> Hates slang

-> Ambidextrous

--- Naturally left handed

--- His parents told him that it wasn't normal.

--- Learned how to write with his right because he wanted to learn how to write perfectly with both hands.

--- He also wanted to showcase this ability to his parents to make them proud (Spoiler alert: Didn't work)

[edoverwhelmed1]

being a writer is constantly google the definitions of words you already know the meanings of because your brain's always paranoid and telling you maybe you've been using them wrong your entire life

I can excuse misusing words in my daily life but my mlm slow-burn enemies to lovers smut has to be perfect

[edoverwhelmed1]

This is a picture for those who think being a writer is easy: WE FEELING STRESSED ALL THE TIME!!!!!

[edoverwhelmed1]

“What if I write it and it’s bad-”

WHAT IF YOU WRITE IT AND ITS GOOD? WHAT IF YOU WRITE IT AND ITS EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANTED? WHAT THEN????

[edoverwhelmed1]

redraw of one of my fav scenes <3

[edoverwhelmed1]

How the hell does this app work......