#‘I’ve been dying all along but at least now my death can be useful’

[kadextra]

I hope you all know ever since richas asked q!bad to please pull q!forever’s soul back if he dies I have not stopped thinking about that possibility

[chaoticdelinqueerwithglitter]

I'll love you better when I'm dead

(chapter 206 from Sanzu's POV)

(tragic MuSan drabble)

(link to ao3 in case some one preferes to read it there)

First of all...I'm sorry for this (not really but yes a lot at the same time, but I did this to myself too). An evil snail shared with me this AMAZING AND BRUTAL essay on Sanzu & katana-chan and reading the last pages about Mucho, this fic happened. So first of all...

GO, READ THE ESSAY NOW!

Summary: "We are both dying here today, captain."

[or why Sanzu looses his grip]

Warnings: Manga Spoilers. Major Character Death (chapter 206, duh). Hurt/No Comfort. Like for real, comfort has been slashed with a katana and is sinking in the bottom of the ocean.

The title is from "Love you better" because I listened in a loop for two days while reading the essay and writing this.

Oh, I played with Sanzu name (again, yes) but this time doing a full Jinx, ooopsie!

(English is not my first language, so be nice please 🙈)

It’s been six months since the Kanto Incident. Six months of planning for this day, of imagining how he’s going to punish that damn traitor. Of pretending his whole body doesn’t ache at the idea of killing the only person that made him feel like he mattered.

Haruchiyo is good at that, at hiding his true feelings from the world, lying to himself as much as he needs as a way of achieving it. He’s good at rationalize the overwhelming whirlwind of emotions that threaten to flood his mind all the time. He’s used to repress the pain, keep his anxiety at bay, bury all of it next to the memories he can’t face without having the need to scream and break everything at his reach (including himself).

Six months that seem to crumble the second his captain’s eyes light up when he spots him outside the detention center.

The ride is dominated by silence, that only breaks with Muto’s simple questions about how he’s been doing during this time. Genuine concern plastered on the face he’s supposed to hate. Haruchiyo wants to laugh hysterically at this, the irony that even now the older boy is only worried about him. Instead, he just gives short answers, knowing the other won’t push his boundaries.

They are finally at the wharf and his resolve flatters for a moment, overwhelmed by a kindness that he forgot how warm it feels.

“I’ve been waiting for this day...”

Haruchiyo trails off, talking mostly to himself. His hands grip the hilt of the katana, steading his inner turmoil with the reminder of why he’s doing this. The tangible proof of his vow, of the promise that gives him purpose. Wielding it with years of practice, preparing himself to strike a fatal blow.

‘Is that it? Is that the only reason I’m doing this?’

He hesitates, consciously loosening his grip on one hand and landing a sloppy cut that buys him some precious seconds.

“You damned betrayer!”

‘Liar, you made me think I could trust you, made me feel safe, seen. How can you say you love me when you couldn’t tell your treason would rot everything we shared?’

“Sanzu...?”

Muto looks at him in shock, trying to stop the bleeding with his hand and falling on his knees. He’s the perfect image of bewilderment, like he can’t comprehend what is happening, why is happening.

“I’ve been fooling you all along.”

‘I’ve been fooling myself, pretending this never meant anything to me. Pretending you never meant anything to me.’

Haruchiyo keeps talking, winning some time in order to collect his thoughts, to understand his own feelings in order to let them go and fully put his heart on the second hit.

“Remember our conversation that day when we were playing shogi? I said it, right?”

‘Do you remember how you told me I also mattered? You made me yearn for more, you were the first person that taught me to be selfish, to listen to my own needs.’

It’s almost ironic, realizing killing Muto is a sick way of putting himself first. Realizing this is personal.

“Protecting the king is the priority. You betrayed Mikey, didn’t you?”

‘You betrayed me, didn’t you?’

He takes off his mask, the scars reminding him of his place, letting go the faint illusion it could ever be somewhere else. That it could be next to his captain. He can’t forget it again, can’t keep hiding his devotion behind his craving for affection.

A sadistic grin on his face. That’s the new mask he’s going to show to a world that will never be the same for him.

“Now it’s checkmate.”

This time the cut is fatal, slashing a lot more than flesh and bones and severing the ties between them.

‘We are both dying here today, captain.’

Somehow, Muto hears the words he never says. But his will be the only tears shed, no one else will mourn the Haruchiyo that knew genuine love.

Sanzu can’t allow himself to grieve. He can’t be weak again, these seconds that felt like ages will be the last entertaining the idea he could be more than a loyal knight to his beloved king.

He made a promise and Sanzu is willing to do anything in order to fulfill it. Even killing a part of himself forever. His weakness, the love that tempted him to break free of his sacred vow. In a twisted way, he can’t avoid thinking how fitting it feels burying it with his captain.

Haruchiyo is dead.

Only Sanzu prevails.

[nicejewishgirl]

have you all seen how the can*ry mission tracks palestine activists? at this point, I’m sure I’m on the list but it would be nice to do work for Palestine without being on their list.

anyways, I’d like to get a group of pro-Palestine Jews together to make blog posts, infographics, and/or videos dismantling the narrative that not supporting Israel is somehow antisemitic but also how Israel has used this thinking within our community.

The Israeli govt have not only weaponized Holocaust history, they have used the fears of the Holocaust and pogroms (along w/ mass censorship) to keep our community living in constant fear (a historically legitimate one) to largely propagate Z*onist propaganda to. much of what they have convinced any diasporal Jews of, is a lie and at the very least, heavily distortions of the truth.

Hell, Israel doesn’t even seem to interested in their hostages since their efforts seem to be targeting civilians (I’ve got more on that one) but I’m not here to get side tracked. I used to rage and ask why no one cares about my family dying during every pogrom, the Holocaust? Now a genocide that uses me and my families history to kill Palestians?! No… that’s just not sitting with my soul.

I have literally been in the hospital most of October. I’m severely anemic and feel like barely there half the time but I know that I, we, have to do more. I’m only disclosing this because I’m at my worst and I realize that this has to change so I’m hoping other people are feeling similarly to me.

Seriously…I can’t have Amy Shumer literally use our history to justify killing Palestinian CHILDREN. I’m just done and the only thing I have is my voice and my knowledge of Israeli, MENA, and European history so I’ve got to use it.

I just think it would be much more powerful to create a collective of like minded Jews that can stop Israeli influence over this narrative (which should be underscoring the current genocide & death of children / the newest generation of Palestinians but it’s not) and maybe we as Jews can alter the current narrative/thinking/mentality with information, with TRUTH.

[lire-casander]

don't want to set the world on fire

[rating] teen and up audiences [pairing] carlos reyes/tk strand [prompt] tarlos historical au [warnings] angst with a happy ending, canonical character deaths, pearl harbor au, world war ii, grief, mourning, fluff, kissing, alternating pov

[summary] 1941. tk strand and carlos reyes arrive in hawaii ready to recover from their own, personal tragedies. what they are not expecting is to find love among war.

happy holidays, @tailoredshirt! i really hope you enjoy reading this story just as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it! 

it wouldn’t have made sense without the incredibly fast beta-reading help of @morganaspendragonss and the hand-holding offered by @moviegeek03 when i thought i couldn’t do this. 

title from the song by the ink spots, which was released in 1941.

don't want to set the world on fire 15k+ | read on ao3

March 27th, 1941

“What do you mean, you're going to Europe?” TK tries to control his voice as he chooses to ask the first of the myriad of questions that are exploding in his head.

“They need the help,” Alex explains calmly. He doesn't look TK in the eye when he continues, ���That's why I enlisted.”

“You volunteered?” TK screeches, earning themselves a few glares from the other people having dinner at this fancy restaurant where he had thought about proposing to his boyfriend.

Maybe proposing isn't exactly the right word, since they can't actually get married, but TK had planned to promise forever to this man who's now telling him that he's volunteered to step into a war that doesn't even have anything to do with them.

This definitely isn't how TK had envisioned his evening going.

“Yeah,” Alex confirms in a low voice. “It's not unheard of, you know. We need to help.”

“We?” TK huffs. “It's not our war, Alex. Your selflessness is amazing, but I highly doubt that you dying for them is going to change the course of the war.”

“You can't know that,” Alex retorts. He sighs as he stretches his hand across the table to rest it on top of TK’s, but TK jerks back. “TK, please,” he tries again. “I know it's difficult to understand and almost impossible to accept, but all I'm asking of you is to respect my decision.”

“How can you ask me to respect that you want to—die for people who will never even know your name?” He tries to keep his voice steady and still low, so as to not attract any more attention upon them, but it breaks around the middle, tears threatening to fall. “Alex—”

“I'm a pilot,” his boyfriend interrupts. “That's what I am. That's the only thing I am. I know I can help. I'm going to, whether you want me to or not, but I'd hoped that you'd at least understand, what with your father being a high-up and—”

“War was what broke my parents.” It's now TK’s turn to cut the conversation off, veering it towards the pain he's feeling. “How could you think that I'd be fine knowing that you'd volunteered to die halfway across the world? When did this happen? How did I miss it?”

Alex doesn't say anything, as if sensing that TK needs to say everything that's crushing his heart.

“When?” TK asks, voice not louder than a whisper. He remembers, a second too late, the dispatch orders his father's signed this very same morning; TK was at Colonel Strand's office when a secretary came in with a stack of papers allowing American soldiers to fly out the very next morning. “Please don't say—”

“Tomorrow,” Alex says, looking down at his plate.

TK holds his breath for a few seconds, counts to five, and exhales slowly. He repeats to himself that he won't panic, that everything will be fine in the end. After seven rounds of controlled breathing, he feels confident enough to speak, even though his soul is shattered.

“Here I thought that tonight would be the first night of our whole future together…and it's actually the last night for us.”

Alex looks stricken as TK’s words seem to register. TK witnesses his boyfriend understand what his plan had been all along, as a lonely tear rolls down his cheek, as Alex wipes it away discreetly because he's a soldier and he needs to be tough, not sensitive. He looks down at his hands, balled in fists over the tablecloth, and exhales.

“Well,” Alex finally says. He reaches out to touch TK, and this time he lets Alex's fingers smooth the skin over his hands. “If this is our last night together, would you save a dance for me?”

That's what both disarms TK and breaks his heart, at the same time.

He has never been able to say no to Alex, not even once in the whole fourteen months, three weeks, five days and seventeen hours since they started dating. And yes, he's been counting—sue him.

“Of course,” TK breathes out slowly. “Wanna go to the pier after dinner?”

continue reading on ao3!

[thefranticshipper77]

what if they didn’t lose their memories (chishiya centered)

a short fic of an alternate ending to alice in borderland s2 in which none of them lose their memories. it’s pretty short and chishiya-focused bcs i like chishiya and wanted him to meet kuina again

also i don’t write very much so hehe it might not be that good but whatever it was a self indulgent fun thing to make

word count: 1148 words

based on the live action version of alice in borderland

posted on ao3 too by tano_sparks

Chishiya lies in his hospital bed and stares at the ceiling. After all he went through in the borderland it’s such a weird feeling to be back in the real world lying in a hospital bed. A few hours of listening to passing nurses’ conversations had passed and he had been able to piece together a few things. He hears someone coughing and groaning beside him and can't tell if he’s annoyed or okay with that person being Niragi. Chishiya turns over to Niragi who's covered in bandages from head to toe. It's a stark contrast to Chishiya who's bandaged injuries aren't visible under his garments. It was Niragi who shot him.

“What do you want?” Niragi says in an annoyed tone, as if he was telling Chishiya to fuck off for judging his bandaged state. Though both of them know they're too tired for this and Chishiya isn't in the mindset to be judging.

“Apparently, your heart stopped as well.” Chishiya replies.

Niragi lets out a soft laugh. “That's funny. I don't remember dying, though maybe I should have.”

Chishiya feels similarly. “It happened to me too. Apparently only 1 minute passed in the real world during our entire time in that place.”

“That sounds like a cruel joke.” Niragi replies. To think all of the pain and suffering for weeks had been nothing but a minute.

Chishiya understands what had happened- all the people who would have died in the meteorite strike got sent to that mysterious world to fight for their lives. Getting out means they had successfully fought the battle for their lives. It is to symbolize perseverance to live, a second chance as they stood in between the border of life and death from the real word meteorite strike. He doesn't have the energy to tell any of that to Niragi. Even though Chishiya doesn't hold any hatred towards him for shooting and almost killing him, he’s far from wanting much to do with that man. Even though he’s accepted that they're similar, they can have this conversation another day.

“Since all the games have been cleared and we made it back to the real world, did anything change with you?” Chishiya asks him.

“I'm not so sure. Well I guess I look flashier than before. What about you?” Niragi hasn't changed much. Chishiya thinks for a moment of what to say.

“Since I’ve wasted my life until now, I think I'll be able to live a more useful life from now on. That’s about it.”

“So you were a good for nothing jerk too huh?”

He’s not wrong. In the end, the two have their similarities.

“Yeah.” Chishiya says.

-----

In a few days Chishiya is able to walk again in a limp. He gets out as soon as he is permitted to walk out the room and around the hospital by himself because he’s sick of staying in his room. He wonders where his friends are, if he can call them that. At least he knows he has one friend, Kuina.

He was about to ask the hospital staff if Kuina had by any chance been admitted to the same hospital as him, but he didn't need to. There standing in front of him in the hallway was his friend. The one he could trust and fought along his side during their time in the borderland. They had been separated for a while, but he knew Kuina was strong and would make it out alive. If he was completely honest with himself, he was worried about the chance that she did not make it, but of course she did. It made him so happy to see her alive.

“Kuina.” he says calmly with a small smile. The way he always did.

“Chishiya…” Kuina is almost in tears. She walks up to her friend quickly and stops in front of him a bit awkwardly as they are in the midst of the busy hallway filled with people from children running around to both the elderly and the young in wheelchairs. 

“You know, I was looking for you. And Ann. I was worried I’d never see you again.” Kuina can't seem to hold back her tears no matter how hard she tries. Chishiya smiles as a warm feeling takes over his heart. He feels sorry for making his friend worry so much, but at the same time it feels heartwarming for someone to cry over him. He thinks he doesn’t deserve any of this, but it’s better to just let it be.

“Did you seriously think I could have died? I’m a bit disappointed.”

“If you died I would kill you myself.” Kuina snaps through her tears. It doesn’t make any sense, but Chishiya gets it. He laughs at the illogical response as Kuina wipes away her tears.

“I probably deserve that, so it's okay.” Chishiya replies, “I’ll let you do whatever you want once we’re out of this place.”

Chishiya stretches his arms out, “I got shot twice already, but I guess a punch or two from you would be-” Chishiya doesn’t even get to finish talking before Kuina’s fist arrives right in front of his face. It stops, but it’s enough to startle him. Chishiya was joking. He doesn’t actually want something like that since Kuina’s punches would knock him out cold, but he can’t take back his words.

Kuina freezes for a moment. There’s tears in her eyes again while Chishiya’s are wide open, still in a small state of shock. It brings her such a warm feeling in her heart to know that her friend is in front of her. So warm that she wanted to punch the usual laid-back look off his face, but instead, Kuina’s strong arms give in to her caring heart and she hugs him. Chishiya is still startled, this time in a different way. Despite being the master of diamond games, he couldn’t predict something like this since they're not really the type to hug. He's happy. He hugs Kuina back slowly and jokes that this is very different from a punch. It earns him a “be quiet” in response. Chishiya can't remember the last time he received a hug, perhaps it happened in a distant childhood memory, so he quietly cherishes this moment. 

Finally, it truly feels like they've made it. Like they've really made it out of the borderland alive and nothing else matters other than the fact that they're both with each other. When Kuina stops, Chishiya wishes it was a bit longer and that makes him realize he's changed a lot. He’s a lot mellower now, and looking at Kuina, he doesn't hate the feeling.

“So,” Chishiya says, “We have a bit of catching up to do, don't we?”

Kuina smiles and nods in return. She sniffs and wipes her tears away again as they make their way down the hallway.

thanks for reading! 

[nerdyenby]

Third Life playlist

This is an explanation for my song choices for the Third Life segment of my Traffic Series playlist

Bang by AJR: this whole song is very much giving the same ‘Something’s going to happen but I don’t know what, thanks for coming along to find out’ energy as I get from the start of Third Life. Something’s going on, it’s not gonna end well, but we’re not particularly bothered, not yet at least. I also like to go for a double meaning and interpret the “bang” as Scar’s first death.

High Up by half•alive: “Behind your back a cold surprise, in favor of the third degree. I took a breath and took the knife, no I won’t defend the killer in me.” After accidentally killing Scar, Grian offers his own life to the man, vowing to do whatever Scar wants. When all Scar wants is company, the two establish Monopoly Mountain together and Grian comes to enjoy living with Scar. “Sitting on the mountain now I’m high up, never wanna come down. When you look at me, I’m lifted.”

Say It, Just Say It by The Mowgli’s: This song goes out to all the Third Life duos. “I will take your side, you make me feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life. And I could die to find that simple kind of love you can’t deny.”

Kamikaze by WALK THE MOON: I was familiar with the term “kamikaze” but wanted to clarify what exactly it meant in this context. According to Cambridge dictionary, a kamikaze attack is a sudden and violent onslaught, usually by an attacker who knows they will not make it out alive. I find this very fitting to 3L!Grian as he went mad causing death and destruction early on with no regard for his own life. “Going down with my wings on fire, guess I’ll see you in another life. Stepping out of body, you can tell everybody I’m a kamikaze.”

Sweet Nothing by Taylor Swift: Even after Grian dies and the terms of their deal are satisfied, he still goes back to Scar. It was barely a choice. “They said the end is coming, everyone’s up to something, I find myself running home to your sweet nothings.”

Fight for it by Joy Oladokun: “You’re sticking with me tonight for life, I’m sticking with you.” People dying left and right, Grian and Scar stick together, fighting for their lives.

The Great War by Taylor Swift: “All that bloodshed, crimson clover, the bombs were closer. My hand was the one you reached for all throughout the Great War. I’ll always remember the burning embers. I vowed not to fight anymore if we survived the Great War.” Final deaths raining around them, they leaned on each other heavily, relying on each other until it got to the final three. Scar was the one to bring Grian to red. “Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I’d been betrayed,” only for Scar to offer him his final life and the crown. Grian watched awestruck as Scar later down his life, giving the other complete permission to kill him.

Graveyard by Halsey: “It’s crazy when the thing you love the most is the detriment.” This song can be from either Grian or Scar’s point of view of how Grian keeps being the one to hurt Scar the most. They keep running back to each other, hoping it will change, but it never does. Whether it’s Scar’s first death or his last, it’s Grian. It’s always Grian. “When the hand you wanna hold is a weapon, and you’re nothing but skin.”

Gladiator by Waterparks: This is about the final fight in the cactus ring and all the forces pushing them into it: the ghosts, the Watchers, and us the viewers. “And what it comes back to is gladiators. Make them fight to the death. And they would cheer on a gladiator, but the whole time the gladiator wasn’t fighting because he liked fighting[…] he was fighting completely for survival. And his whole survival completely relied upon a stadium full of people.”

Getaway Car by Taylor Swift: After killing Scar, Grian reflects on how they met. “I struck a match and blew your mind, but I didn’t mean it, and you didn’t see it.” Their bond was formed from destruction and guilt. They were never going to end any other way. “Don’t pretend it’s such a mystery, think about the place where you first met me.”

? by Tate McRae: “It’s crazy to me because you grow up, you lose friends, you’re suddenly scared of things that you were literally never scared of before. And when I was younger, I used to think I could fly.” Grian’s final death: the fall.

Finale by AJR: Grian winning the Third Life and having to make Last Life. “Congratulations on your bit of success, we can’t wait to see what you do next.” The speaker can be interpreted the Watchers or us the audience (if you interpret them as distinct). “They wanted heaven from me, I gave ‘em hell. Now they want something bigger, I’m overwhelmed.”

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Why??? Don’t drop this chapter means a high possibility of gojo being alive him yuta and yuji will fight against sukuna trusttttt

anon i’m literally in mourning rn 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 using this ask as an excuse to rant about this chapter because i’m bitter don’t mind me

(jjk chapter 249 spoilers under cut !!)

to be clear i’m not actually dropping the manga lol i could never but i am eerily tempted <333 this is the only time i’ve actually been upset w akutami (normally i’m his white knight)……. i just feel sooo disappointed? part of me still has hope but i just. ack. :’3

first of all!!! i 100% believe gojo is alive and will return, and also that yuji & yuuta will be able to get gumi back (not sure if that’ll end well tho lmao) so i’m not worried abt that!! and i’m very hyped for sukuna vs yuuta in general, yuuta’s domain is sooo fucking sick and perfect for him!!!!

to be perfectly clear!! i’m upset about this <33

…………… i was so convinced that kenny wouldn’t die but my hopes are almost completely crushed atp… this just Feels like a death moment yk?? and i’m so disappointed not ONLY because kenny is my favorite character but also because this is such an unsatisfactory conclusion for him. :( kenny has so much depth and he’s so important for the narrative, so the fact that we didn’t get a single inner thought from him in his dying moment is like. sacreligious to me. TO BE CLEAR i LOVE his last words and the fact that he mentions takaba (kenkaba stays on top <333) and he looks super good in this panel also… but his death still feels so out of nowhere and unfinished to me.

a part of me is still hoping that he’ll survive somehow, or that we’ll at least see more of him through flashbacks or some afterlife sequence or whatnot, but i kinda…. doubt it. and that irks me. like i’m sorry but to me this just feels out of character for kenny?? he just accepted his death??? really????? he literally spent a millenium planning the merger and culling game just to satisfy his curiousity and suddenly he’s fine with not seeing it?????? i had this whole theory that kenny would find meaning in death (since it’s something completely outside his control, which is explicitly what he was searching for all along) but we didn’t get a single inner thought. no look into what he feels except that he’s happy to have met takaba (which is really sweet and i cried but that’s besides the point)…..

AND THEN THERE’S ALSO HIS CONNECTION TO YUJI. really???? we’re never gonna see a confrontation between them???? yuji is never gonna learn that kenny is his fucking mom????? even if choso tells him or whatever it doesn’t feel conclusive. i’m just mad because it feels like gege had soooo much planned that he wasn’t able to execute because the manga industry is running him ragged and that just sucks :(((( like. hahhhhh….. i just really feel that a villain as wonderful AND as important as kenny deserves more than just a couple panels for his death. naoya got more than that. obviously he was gonna die at some point but i had such high hopes for his final scene and even though i adored his fight with takaba it doesn’t feel right for him to die here.

so as u can tell i am extremely upset <333 i’ll get over it soon and i still have just a tinyyy bit of hope that we’ll see more of kenny but i just feel… so let down by this. i’m gonna treasure the kenkaba panel forever and ever and (again) i LOVE his last words but i just can’t feel satisfied with his death. for now i’m just gonna wait until tcb translates the chapter because the translation i read was clunky…. but i kinda doubt it’ll change much T_T

[welcome-to-ratterrock]

Do u the creator and Sage has a similar definition for "obsession" with death or death in general?

I think everyone has different or similar definition for that topic but I'm curious on what is Sage pov abt it

Ppl always avoid this topic and they are usually weirded out or get scared when someone talk about it (personal experience, very few ppl are comfortable with that topic and bless their heart for not being scared)

@bajingoarts says:

I was raised really catholic, grew up my whole life learning about resurrections and rebirths. Obsessed with the imagery of our messiah literally suffering and dying on a cross above our heads. I’ve always found death both fascinating and terrifying. To some it’s the beginning, to others an end. To me death is as neutral as the sea. Dangerous and unpredictable yet beautiful and mysterious. 

It doesn’t mean it does not frighten me, it’s natural to fear an end. But the approach and understanding that an end is coming makes me try and appreciate the peace and life I have.

If people stopped obsessing over the afterlife–an idealistic peace after this one and simply view death as a natural end to life…then maybe folks would open their eyes to the random, strange, horrifying, and beautiful realities of the here and now…

I think Locke is a lot like that. Viewing the violent deaths he investigates as the theft of life. He isn’t afraid of death, we all die…but some die unfairly and gruesomely. Locke wants to pick apart the reasons, the motivations, the way someone died…perhaps to better understand how they lived. I think we can all relate to feeling isolated from those around us, I think Locke feels most isolated from the living, and feels he can only relate to them through their death…

It might sound twisted, but I think Locke feels he can better service those who died than he can those who are living. When designing him I wanted him to almost look like he had a skull pattern on his face, like he was a gatekeeper to the afterlife…a reaper who collects lost souls. 

Y’know…a sexy emo boy.

@suzie-guru says:

Ever since a very young age, death and what it truly means has always been something I’ve contemplated. What would it be like, to not be a part of the vibrant rush of the living world, to have my existence truly end? If I am not my body but a soul that resides within it, where would my soul go, what would it perceive? Death awaits me, everyone - it is as natural as the tides of the sea and the phases of the moon. Mortality is a brief and precious flicker of a flame before the certainty of death comes to extinguish it. But what did death actually mean? What happens after we draw our last breath? 

For an undeniable and unavoidable fact of life, one of the key things about death is that what happens after we die is truly unknown. Church told me one thing, then relatives and or friends would tell me another. What did I believe in? Would contemplating something that didn’t align with Christianity mark me out as a failure of faith, unable to go to heaven? At the very least, I knew I wouldn’t be able to experience what I loved, what was comfortable and familiar and known, that which I could somewhat control. Death? That was, is, the ultimate unknown. 

This realization frightened me as a child, and even as an adult I get unsettled when I dwell upon it. I’ve always struggled with the unknown, that which can’t be explained or understood, and I take comfort in what is familiar and understandable. 

But now that I’m older and more mature, along with that unsettledness is an intense appreciation and gratitude to the beauty of life, its pleasures and sensations. I love exploring and celebrating new experiences, whether it’s trying a new drink or traveling to a different country, and I recognize and relish the quiet joys of the day to day, the feeling of sunshine on my skin or the nuzzles my cat gives me. Life is about sensation and we are built to enjoy those sensations. As someone who has been at the lowest of lows because of depression, I very much intend on enjoying what is enjoyable and beautiful about this world with the time that I have. 

Interestingly, that’s a trait I share with Padraic Regal - his lows of life have been so very low, so horrible and heartbreaking, that he’s very much a hedonist now, determined to enjoy the best of the beautiful and bliss inducing things his world has. Though he’s willing to break the law and bend morality to get what he wants, and I’m not (I promise!). He knows how quickly life can turn to death, how a beautiful healthy bloom can wilt and wither, and he wants to make his time on earth something special, experience everything extraordinary and exquisite to the point of ecstasy. 

He, like me, also wants to endure beyond his death, take back some of the total control by having his name live on. As a writer and artist, I want to have my work and the worlds they contain to continue on, be shared by others so that a part of me will still endure, still offer hope and comfort and inspiration and insight. Padraic wants his name to be whispered with awe, and he doesn’t care if it is awed admiration or fear. Both of us want to create something that will stand the test of time, do something meaningful and worthwhile with our lives before it is our time to go. Vita brevis, ars longa. Life is short, but art is eternal. For me, my art is literally that, art. For Padraic, his art is his profession, his criminal genius. Perhaps both of us are motivated by that unspoken promise of the briefness of mortality…

[rainbowstargazerlilies]

Hi! It’s you, surprise!

Anyway, I’m so mentally ill over “the stars claim them” a d I love it I love it I love it. Ever now and then I’ll think to myself “hey, what’s a good fic to read?” And every time it’s yours.

It’s just like [image of cat eating a box] and just so good. It honestly might get printed out and bound into an irl book just so that I can actually bite it.

(I am working so hard not to get off topic)

I don’t think I’ve ever found it harder to explain my love for something with actual words. Your writing alone is incredible. I think I’ve already said this in a comment but I am constantly on the edge of my seat waiting to see what you do next, and you write all of the character so well.

Never before have I wanted this much to reach into a fan-fictional world and scoop out an oc with my hands and just hold them like a tiny little kitten. (Technically accidentally did that with a character anyway but ah well)

Plot aside, because I’m already talking characters, I love the cast you’ve chosen so so so so so so much, I love the diversity and headcanons. And I especially love the dynamics and interactions with each other. And the parallels, oh my goo the parallels in character pairings that pop up occasionally. (Lyf and Micheal, Tim and Grifter’s Bone guy (his name evades me), even just the whole vampire Gerry thing)

Which reminds me, you’ve managed to have at least one reference to wtnv in every book so far, is this deliberate or just art?

Okay, I could talk characters all day so let’s move onto plot now and I’ll ramble about individuals later. 300+ (or something) chapter slow burn my beloved. And then everything just tumbling around around it is just wonderful.

Lyf was just out here trying to live their best life and then things just kept happening to them over and over and over and over again, first the prisoners, then the train, then the prisoners again, then the void, then space, then Nastya, then death, then earth, then the spooks, then the mechs, then the spooks, then the mechs, then the circus, then the mechs, then probably some more spooks, then [see last three lines].

Poor inspector is in the washing machine of happenings.

And of course, gotta adopt a family along the way because, as Batman has shown us, the best way to recover from your whole family dying is to just adopt more.

And the whole chaos avatar screwing with all the other fear’s shticks is an incredible concept and I adore it. I also find it beautifully hilarious. Do you think Lyf could just rainbow people like they did Gerry to help them escape their entity? Instead of like, eye stabbing?

And the fact Lyf sees the fears in colours and one of the first people they meet in Gerry, who originally referred to them as colours in the show, is just fabulous. And then Lyf being all the colours is also marvellous.

(I feel like I’ve been going too long, am I going too long?)

There’s just so many little plot points that I adore that I can’t remember them all at once let alone put them in words so maybe I’ll just doom spam ask you a live rereading so that I get all the bits.

This story is my soul, my life, I am empty without it. Anyway, off to go read it again probably.

Thank you for writing, I love it so much.

!!!!!!!

Thank you so much! I've really loved writing this story, and seeing other people enjoying it to similar levels is beautiful. And no worries about getting off topic or going too long-- I've written this story for over a year. If anyone's going too long here . . .

But anyway. Let's chat!

If you (or anyone else!) ever get this story printed out and bound, I would love to see it <3

I'm so glad you enjoy the writing and characters, too! I personally love my characters and try to let them guide the story as much as possible, so hearing that I write them well is fantastic. So. Thanks!

(And I get the feeling. I've literally made tiny knit dolls for some of my OCs along with my TMA and Mechs ones. Brenn and Juniper my darlings, for instance. And my Lyf, of course. That doll has now crossed so many state lines because I keep bringing them on road trips and the like with me. . .)

Character parallels too. . . yeah, there's a lot that can be said about the way characters parallel and interact and misunderstand each other, and I love writing them doing that. It's fun to consider, and I love it :)

The washing machine of happenings. . . yeah, that sounds about right :D

Heh, adopting a new family to cope with losing one is certainly a way to put it! Not sure how well that works, for Lyf or for Batman, particularly when said New Family also gets into danger, but. . . yep!

Could Lyf just rainbow people to help them escape from an entity? Likely! It would hurt a LOT, though, and it'd probably end up having consequences, you know? Whether it's that the person in question becomes a chaos magnet, or whether they'd be able to break reality too. . . yeah, that's an interesting one to ponder.

I love that, yep!

I'd love to see your thoughts if you do that, whether it's on here or on Ao3! Like I said, I've been writing this for more than a year now, and I really do love talking to people about it.

Thank you for sharing your thoughts like this, and I hope you continue to enjoy the story! We've got some fun times ahead. . .

[katsushika-division]

ARB Birthday Special: Rintaro Himura

 ~~ July 16th ~~

“The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.”

Login Lines:

“Eh? What the hell are you here for? My…birthday? …Fuck it is today, isn't it?”

“To be honest, I don't care much about celebrating my birthday, but I guess thanks for reminding me.”

Voice Lines: 

“I can't believe I forgot my birthday. *sighs* Whoop de fucking do. It's just another day. I don't see what the big deal is.”

“Let's see what people sent me today for my birthday. Death threats from people whose loved ones were my victims? Check. Fucked up love letters from rabid fangirls saying they want my children? Check. Honestly, I prefer the death threats over the love letters.”

“God, when was the last time I had a decent birthday anyway? I can't remember. I'm pretty sure it was at least before my bitch of an egg donor ran out.”

“No wait. The first birthday I had after Akari was born that…was pretty special. Akari was a couple of months old by then, and she was already trying to say more than that "goo goo gaga" shit. I guess she was just waiting for the right moment because on my birthday she said her first word. Rin-nii. I remember feeling so proud back then.”

“Eh? What the hell do you want, Old Man? Damn getting soft, aren't we? Well, aren't I fucking special? *smirks* Made it my mission to personally annoy you till the day you die, Old Man. Alright, alright, thanks for getting me something then.” 

“Damn Old Man, this is actually pretty useful. God knows how many times I've crushed them. Eh? You’ve been smoking these motherfuckers for how long? So you can't tell me shit about smoking. Alright, you got yourself a deal, Old Man. A mistake I'm sure multiple fuckers regret. *pauses* Also…Akihisa…thanks for everything.” 

“Goddamn it, Touya, it's just my birthday. You don't have to make a big deal out of it. Fuck…alright Touya, we can celebrate it. Just stop staring at me like that, you little shit. Do I even wanna know what you got me, Touya? *sighs* Alright, let me see it then. I swear if it's a knife from your collection.” 

“Oh shit, this is actually really nice. At least it's something that actually suits my style. *sees pricetag* Uhh…Touya? How the hell did you afford this? *blinks* Oh gross! I did not need to know that you fucking sex fiend.” 

“There you are, Akari. I haven't seen you at all today. Don’t tell me you’re trying to avoid your big brother. *pauses* Akari just…just having you back is the best gift I've ever received. Well, I'm kinda curious now. What did you get me?”

“This is a cool figure you got me Akari. *jumps* Oh fuck it just moved and…it's flying around now. *whistles* Holy shit you built this Akari? Wow…I'm stunned. I've never seen anything like it. Ouch! Motherfuck just shot fire at me?!? Huh? Well, that'll come in handy. Shit, I was never good with names but…how about Astaroth? He does, doesn't he? Well then let's get along Astaroth.”

Akihisa Lines:

“Rintaro, I'm glad I caught you. I wanted to give you something considering it's your birthday. *snorts* Hardly, but I suppose I'll make an exception just for you today. Have I ever told you how much of a little shit you are? You know you could be grateful that I even got you something, Brat.” 

“I know how much you hate it when your cigarettes get crushed so I got you this case for them. Perhaps one day you’ll reach a point where you give up smoking those cancer sticks. I’ve been smoking longer than you've been alive, but I’ll make you a deal. You cut back on smoking, and I’ll do the same. Don’t want you dying too early. *sighs fondly* Seems like it was yesterday you were forced into my prison cell. *ruffles hair* Don't mention it, Rintaro.”

Touya Lines:

“Rin-chan~! Happy Birthday! Nuh-uh, birthdays are really special. That's what all those movies say. It's also your first birthday since we got out of prison. So we have to celebrate it! *pulls out puppy eyes* Yeah! I have so many things for us to do today. It's gonna be so much fun! Ah! I got you a present too! *giggles* Here!” 

“I saw the jacket in the window of a store one day and thought it would be perfect for you. Hm? Oh, I just told the store owner I would [CENSORED] and [CENSORED] if he gave me a discount on the jacket. What? You asked!”

Bonus! Akari Lines:

“Rin-nii Happy Birthday. *nods* Ah, yes, that. It's your birthday and the first one we've been able to celebrate together in a long time. So I wanted to make sure your gift was perfect. You deserve something besides that Rin-nii. So here. I hope you like it.”

“Not quite Rin-nii. Watch this. Activate. *giggles* It's your very own dragonbot. It's just something I've been working on for a while. I was just waiting for the right moment to give it to you, and what's more perfect than today? Of course! Just in case you don't have your lighter in you. Oh, also, he doesn't like being called it. He's got feelings too, ya know? Now you just gotta name him! *smiles* He likes it! Promise you'll take good care of him, Rin-nii.”

[silvadraconis]

Been a long while since I posted about my mastersona, but I got a bit of inspiration recently so! Heres a snippet from prison tower

An even tone sound of footsteps ring out in the desolate prison as a shadowed figure makes his way forward Clack. Clack. Clack. He knew these halls well. Knew the screams and prayers and stench of blood and sea. But this new visitor. His temporary Master. She was new. And she pricked at his mind more than he would like to admit He closes his eyes for a moment, a memory of a previous conversation surfacing --- "If you despair and think you cannot fight anymore, tell me. I'll kill you, without waiting for the seven days to pass. But if you wish to continue-" "Wait and hope, right?" --- "Hmph" The look in her eyes at his words. He had expected fear. Determination even would be fitting for this fiery souled woman. But that look in her eyes, it was none of that. It was relief. It was gratitude. It was the look of someone starving being offered a piece of bread. Of someone trapped in a dark abyss being given a light He did not know what to make of it Perhaps that is what drew him back here today. They had just faced the third lord together now, and had time before the next, which was sure to be infuriating to say the least. Her souls connection was weakening to her body, but still she forged on ahead. The soft echoing of his footsteps pauses outside of her cell door, replaced by the iron creaking as he opens it. He expects to find her asleep. As she should be. A human in this hell, fighting the battles they have, she surely needs her rest But instead she looks up at him when he enters, sitting up on that threadbare cot, giving him a look of confusion "Avenger? What brings you here?" True. It was unlike him to visit unless it was time to fight the next lord. But. "You should be resting. We have far more battles and bloodshed ahead of us my temporary master." The words that left his tongue surprised even him. He hadn't intended to chastise. Though it wouldn't do for this blazing master to expire before the final hurdle after all. They had work to do She gives a wry smile that's quite at odds with her surroundings- and even still there's less of that wariness around him than there was the first two days. Mysteries after mysteries with this one "Me and sleep don't really get along. But, can I help you with anything?" Hmph. may as well ask at this point. He could leave, and was all too tempted to do so. But slight curiosity bade him to stay "Tell me my temporary master. What is it that ails you, that would cause you to look so hopeful at the prospect of death at my hands?" That causes her to pause, moreso freeze, like a rabbit caught in the eyes of a predator. Rather unfitting for someone with the metaphorical fangs she bears He waits for her answer, patient, with naught but the sound of his crackling shadows to comfort her But strangely it seems to. As she loosens up after a second with…a laugh? A soft one to be sure but. A laugh? "Well. I guess it's because I've never been offered that sort of kindness before." …Kindness? He frowns, eyes closing for a moment with a soft exhale that borders on a scoff "You act as though I've granted you a mercy. You must be more addled than I thought. It is lucky that you are spared the true hells of this place, that the rain of tortures and screams do not assault your sense, else you would truly risk going mad" He turns to leave, his cape swishing behind him, but he's stopped by her voice "What do you mean?" He looks back at her over his shoulder, yellow eye blazing "As I have said before, you are in the Chateau D'if. This place is filled with the stench of death, the smell of blood, the screams of the damned and dying. Such horrors would be an assault upon your already fragile soul" His dramatic proclamation is cut short by her increased confusion, halting his intended exit And her words next, well… "But I can." Now it is his turn to freeze. This was unexpected. She was meant to be shielded from such things, or so he thought. That is how it was supposed to be. She continues, seeming unable to help herself for a second- rambling as she seems prone to do "It's not exactly anything new for me so-" She snaps her mouth shut at that moment, her mind catching up to her words as he fully turns back around to face her He looks at her then. Truly looks at her, past the fire and determination that drives this master as she gives him a worried look- but not fearful, not wary. Not anymore of him. Not since - A kindness she said… "Hmph. If you are used to such things then you should rest while you can. The fourth lord awaits tomorrow, and I will not slow my pace for you" The worried look vanishes at his words, replaced by a small smile "Of course, thank you avenger. See you tomorrow then" Not giving her a response he walks out of that cell, the door clanging shut behind him. His mind whirred though in his silence as he walked through these familiar halls. He should put it out of his mind. They had far more to go. He knows she'll make it through so long as she keeps that heart to press on. She and him already made quite the formidable pair. Then once they reached the end… Well. It was none of his concern truly. But... Perhaps some reminders would do along the way, on the necessity of fighting for her freedom. A reminder to kill all that stands in her way, no matter who it is. Though he knows deep in his soul that someone who can see death as a mercy such as her, would never let themselves be trapped ever again.

[poison-into-positivity99]

OFMD Season 2 Love 🖤🏴‍☠️

I’m a Tumblr veteran, joined when I was 13 (YIKES I KNOW). I deleted my old account because wow cringe. I was huge into Doctor Who and Supernatural, also Hannibal. Being part of those fandoms was chaotic to say the very least. I am almost 25 now, but Our Flag Means Death has reignited the old “fangirl” in me. I love this show with all my heart and soul. I very much enjoyed season 2 and I came back to Tumblr SOLEY for this show and because Twitter has been a hellscape of people being extremely negative about it. I know so many love the second season just as they do the first, but the angry voices always scream louder than the kind ones. It’s exhausting. So I’ve come here to find like minded people. 

I have never felt that this show was insensitive, ableist, not supportive. The characters in this show have never been questioned for their identity, sexuality, or disability, they have always been embraced. Everything is normalized. There is not “the gay couple” they are just a couple. It feels wonderful to not have the things “different” about you, be pointed out. They are not seen as weird, abnormal, ANYTHING. I can’t remember the last time a show was ever like that. It’s so important. People saying Izzy had an arc, just for him to die, made it useless. That is honestly a disgusting take to me. Along with the people saying that they killed off a disabled character, and that makes them ableist. Are we forgetting the myriad of others with prosthetics or chronic pain? There are days I cannot physically walk by myself, I can’t get out of bed. I’ve had a knee replacement, two shoulder surgeries, a stomach surgery, because of my disability (Ehlers Danlos Syndrome). I did not, for once, feel like Izzy’s death was an act against physically disabled people. Just because I am disabled, does not mean I don’t deserve a “redemption arc”, it doesn’t mean me growing as a person is useless because I’ll just die someday. It hurts to see so many people turn on the show so quickly because they are upset with their favorite character dying or not getting more screen time. That does not mean you attack the cast, the crew, the show runners, the writers, the directors- ANYONE. Especially not others in this fandom. It’s often through tragedy and disagreements where we see people’s true colors. Being angry is okay, having a different opinion is okay too. But we don’t take it out on others who have ones differing from us, that is just not acceptable. When a character you love, is no longer on a show- for one reason or another- it can feel like losing a friend. A character you take comfort in, now being gone, is a loss of a different kind but can still cause real grief. People get angry. They can lash out. Just because you like something, or don’t like something, doesn’t mean it’s excusable to be angry or hostile with other people for having a different opinion. It’s valid to be upset but it’s not okay to cause someone else feel negatively about something they love. People are quick to take online to voice how they feel, it’s a readily available outlet to do so. When tensions are high, things get thrown around and people get hurt. Think before you speak, you can voice how you feel but do not shame others for feeling differently.

Calling Ed abusive, is another thing I’ve seen being thrown around. I really hate that. Not only as someone who has been in an abusive relationship before. Everyone in the crew has killed people, tortured people, done shitty things. They are pirates. That is not the point of the show, AT ALL. People are so upset that they are pulling any accusation they can, and throwing it at the wall until something sticks. 

The character I actually relate the most to is Ed. I have attempted to take my life. I have bipolar disorder, I rapidly cycle. I have been severely depressed, and extremely manic. That does not mean I am not worth loving, but it’s what I believed. I truly hated myself. I’ve hurt people. Done things I regret. It’s been a journey to find who I was, to heal and accept myself. I need reassurance from my friends, my partner, that I am enough sometimes. I hurt people before they have a chance to hurt me. I say and do things I regret. But my partner is ALWAYS there for me. He does not treat me as any less worthy. And that’s what Stede does for Ed. To think someone is only worth loving if they are “fixed” or that Ed is treating Stede as if he is “saving” him, is a bit of a concerning outlook. Saying they have no chemistry is borderline comical to me, as well. Have you SEEN the way they look at each other? They don’t even have to touch or say anything to be able to see how much love they share. 

Love is not without hardships or arguments. Relationships ebb and flow, they grow and they change. When you are separate people, living a life together, there is going to be messy bits. Just because we don’t see Stede and Ed talk everything through, doesn’t mean they don’t. So much time passes in between what we see, it can’t possibly all be shown. We fill in the gaps, we get things alluded to. It’s storytelling. Not everything needs to be spelled out. There is a planned ending for the show. Everyone involved loves making it and wants to continue the story. Saying all these negative things could really halt that process. There’s still plenty more to tell and to see. I think it’s important we get that season 3. Until then I will be continuously rewatching and hyper fixating! 

Thank you for reading my messy brain musings, please feel free to turn more poison into positivity!!!!

[cupcakes-and-pain]

Tears of Blood

Remember when I said I’d do a mini series? Yeah. Sorry it took two weeks, but it’s here now.

CW: 1st person POV, post- apocalypse, orphans, minor deaths, gun, gun violence, death by gun violence, vampire whumpee, captivity, shady apocalypse survivor group, ask to tag more

———

The thing I can remember most about it my life is being alone.

When I was very young, I lived with my sisters. But when the land started to decay, and strange creatures were found roaming, my oldest sister set out to ask what was happening. She did not return.

For a long time, it was just me and Lola. She forbid me from going outside the far gate, which separated our home from the rest of the world. For a long, long time, I didn’t know anyone my age. I didn’t know anyone at all. Just me and Lola, Lola and I.

And then, suddenly, it was just me.

A man tried to come into our house. He had a weapon that I’ve never seen before, but it made a very loud noise. Lola told me to run to the lake that was visible from our house. She had a shed there. I was supposed to hide there and she’d come for me.

But she never came. When it got dark, I went back to the house. They were both dead in the front yard, stranger and sister, not too far from one another.

So I’ve been on my own ever since.

I learned many things from some of Lola’s journals that I took. Like how, after the land rotted, many people became desperate and wicked. They saw rapidly depleting resources every moment and monsters in the corners of their eyes. It was interesting to learn how quickly people turn on each other when they think they or a loved one is being threatened.

So with the land loosing power and something making people more prone to violence, the world descended into chaos. There’s supposedly still governments and large society, but most people live with just their family or a small group these days.

I wonder why Lola never had us join a group. We could’ve certainly used it over the years. A teenager and a kid living on their own off a dying land surrounded by monsters wasn’t that easy, I won’t lie. Perhaps she was just scared of the thing that got our older sister. I was so young, I don’t even remember her name, and it’s too painful for Lola to talk about. She was twelve at the time.

It must’ve been terrifying to suddenly be all on her own with a toddler to care for and creepy, violent strangers to look out for. She did her best, and I’m proud of her. I really miss her, but there’s not time to think about it. The little game we had at home is too hard to manage by myself, plus I want to join a group. I mean, the house also holds too many memories of Lola, but I’m actively trying to not think about that right now!

…It’s funny. The more you try to not think of something, the more you think about it.

Anyway! So there I was, setting off to a new adventure!

I could only hope everything went well.

—

I ended up finding a group!

So, there I was, walking along the road. I had been for days, and although I had found edible plants here and there, I was starving.

I happened upon a little creek and decided to get some water when I noticed some small white flowers. Wild carrots! They were small, but I took what I got.

After pulling them up and starting to wash them in the river, I heard a tiny gasp. I turned and saw two kids in the forest. Looking further, there was a cautious teenager also in the woods, further back than the kids.

“How did you know how to find carrots?” One kid asked.

“My sister taught me. She told me all about what plants to eat and ones to avoid. Where’d you come from, though? Is there a settlement around here?”

The teen huffed.

“Better question is where are you from? We don’t usually get strangers in our woods. At least not ones with friendly intentions.”

Oh yeah. Probably should’ve thought of that. I put my hands in the air.

“I don’t mean any trouble! My name is Yvette. I come from an area about 6 days walk from here. I was just my family, and after an attack, I left. Now I’m trying to find another group to live with. So, if there’s people here, I’d love to talk with your leader or whatever and figure something out. Please.”

I added that ‘please’ as an afterthought. Some politeness couldn’t hurt.

The teenager considered her for a long time.

“You can forage, right? Can you do it well?”

“Yes and yes. I probably know every edible plant in this area. Like right below your shoulder, there’s some mushrooms on that beech tree. We call it chicken of the woods. Very tasty.”

“We could use an experienced forager. No promises though! I’m just going to bring you to the leader.”

I nodded. I had expected as much.

We go back to their camp. There’s a huge fence with barb wire at the top. Two guards waited at the gate. One nodded to me.

“Who’s that?”

“This is Yvette. Her group got attacked, but she wants to join us. She can forage and stuff.”

The guards looked at each other.

“Bring her to the boss, I guess.”

Eee, I’m so excited and nervous! This is all so weird.

They lead me through the camp. There’s lots of people here! Maybe 20 or 30. More than I’ve ever seen. I can’t wait to meet all of them. Their eyes seemed to follow me warily though. One mouths something to me, but I don’t catch what it was. I don’t know much about people, but that seemed unnecessarily ominous. I hope this isn’t one of those weird groups that Lola was always scared about.

There’s a big house at the center of town with a barn attached. An old man sits on the porch, but quickly stands when we arrive. I think he’s the leader.

“What is this? Who are you?”

Everyone looks at me. Apparently it’s up to me to defend myself.

“Oh! Um, hello. My name is Yvette. My family was attacked and I was the only one left. I can fight and I’m fast. I am a experienced forager. There’s so much food right outside your gates that is going unused. I’d do my part and be an excellent member of this group. I’d really like to join, if you’ll let me. Please, uh, sir.”

The man studied me, then glanced at the barn.

“Let me show you something. Then when can talk.”

He started to walk to the barn and I followed. The teenager and the guards looked afraid. One of them even grabbed my arm.

“Are you sure, boss? Isn’t it dangerous-“

“I’m sure. We have to be very careful about kind of people we bring in here. And don’t worry,” he said, turning to me. “I can keep the danger in check. You’ll be fine.”

There’s something very wrong with this place. I don’t like this man or his barn. I would like to leave. Something in me tells me this is my only chance.

“Actually, I don’t think I want to-“ My voice dies in my throat as the doors to the barn swing open.

Immediately, there’s a rattling and the sound of something scurrying. Twin red lights shoot forward at us. The guards swear and jump back, as do I, but the man stands still. There’s a clang, and as my eyes adjust, I see that the thing inside the barn had to tried to run, but a large, thick chain kept it back. The red lights were it’s eyes, glowing scarlet irises staring at the man. It’s mouth was tapped shut, but I knew that sharp fangs lied beneath.

I had heard of this creature only once before, when Lola told me why she thought our oldest sister never returned.

“A vampire… It’s a vampire.”

The man nodded.

“The secret to our success. No one must ever know.” He studied my face. “You seemed so eager to prove yourself before. Will you still stay, dedicate yourself to the group?”

I didn’t really want to find out what would happen if I said no. Besides, I was probably just being paranoid. I had never met anyone outside my family that I can remember. These people weren’t weird or threatening. It was fine, I was fine!

“Yeah. I mean, yes! I will dedicate myself to the group and be a good member. I won’t tell anyone about the, uh, vampire.”

The man eyed me suspiciously.

“Time will tell, child. For now, get some rest. You,” he gestured to a guard. “Take her to her room.”

Despite all my self assurances, I still felt really, really bad feeling about this.

[icarustica]

I refuse to title this “Dear Diary”.

Future Wednesday- 

My mother (and the court) have decided that in light of the “traumatic” events resulting in the death of the last therapist I visited, that I am fully justified in my request to not see any more. However, they did issue me this journal. And they intonated that if I don’t have it filled out in six months I’ll have to see a prison psychiatrist rather than a suburban one.

I’m considering leaving the rest of this blank. I think that prison psychiatrist and I would have a lot in common.

However, doing so would mean taking valuable time out of my day to go see some random person well-knowledged with the minds of freaks and criminals, when I could just go ask Grandmama down the hall.

So I suppose I shall have to use my effortless writing talent to fill this journal. Perhaps this is a good thing. The book I finished at Nevermore is quite possibly my best work, and I feel trying to match it with another would be both taxing and fruitless.

So. News.

Pugsley and I have been spending some quality time together. Bonding. Or, I should say, I’ve been practicing my bonding skills. He was stuck in that chair for three days last week. He loved it.

Well, I told him, if he truly has retained his zeal for torture and masochism he should enjoy spending next year at Nevermore with me. I’m deeply afraid of what it will do to him. But I suppose him and Eugene will most likely get along. What a pretty trio we’ll make.

My phone is buzzing. I’ll be right back.

It was Enid. She calls me every day at varying times. I pick up once or twice a week, when I’m feeling rather talkative. Sometimes she’ll even let me get a word or two in.

She’s cut and dyed her hair again, and this time she’s added varying shades of orange to the back. I’m not willing to tell her it looks like Garfield vomited on her head but I am willing to raise my eyebrow condescendingly and let her figure it out on her own. Hopefully the abomination will be gone by the time we resume school. Four days. That should give her just enough time to work up the courage, shave it all off, cry, and reinvent her entire personality before we get back.

Xavier and I text once in a while. He’ll send me pictures of his new artwork, and I’ll send him the pictures of Thing’s progress at dissection. For some reason he doesn’t like those. He sends me the little thumbs down emoji, which I take to be Thing doing an excellent handstand.

He’s stopped having dreams. For the most part. One time he texted me in the middle of the night, when I was having tea with my mother, that he dreamed of blood. Blood in the woods.

Odd. But not odd enough to warrant an investigation. At least, not yet.

We have a new principal, apparently. Someone new. He used to go to Nevermore, and with a name like Thaddeus Croon I doubt he’s one of the outcasts who escaped the ever-pervasive sense of superiority that plagues the Nevermore elite. Somehow I don’t think I’ll like him any more than Weems. Actually, though it makes me question things to admit it, I might miss her towering gloom. Just a tad. 

I haven’t had any more visions these last few months. Mother says that’s good, that nothing terrible is going to happen, but I worry…

Well. I worry they are done for good.

Good riddance.

Class lists came in. I’ve picked my electives - Archival Literacy, Mythology, and of course Fencing and Other Sword Sports. Mother would cut off my head if I didn’t. And I doubt she wants me to have that much fun just before school starts.

Enid and Xavier have forced me to also request an art class. I only agreed because I need the credit. And because “Wounded Watercolors” sounded easy enough to get an A in. And besides, I can provide my own paint - blood makes such a pretty splatter.

That’s enough for now. I do wish I could do this with a typewriter. Quill and ink tire me.

Wednesday Addams

Pugsley and I keep a tally of how many small animals we run over on the way to Nevermore.

It’s a good way to keep our nerves down. 

“Wednesday,” he says, his voice like the tiny squeaks of the rodents beneath our wheels. “I’m scared.”

“Good,” I reply. “They’re going to eat you alive.”

I can hear him gulp.

“Seven,” I say as there’s another bump, rattling the car. “Best guess - racoon.”

He turns over the seat, looking as we speed past. “Close,” he says, the tremble in his voice smoothed. “Possum.”

“Interesting. They’re not usually on the road this time of year.” My phone is buzzing in my pocket. I know what it’s saying. 

u here yet? 

wednesdayyy

please please please pleaaaasee

ughh im so boreedddd bestiee

Ajax doesnt get here till wednesday and everyone is literally only sitting by their parents

wednesdayy

:’(((

the new principal looks so wacky loll

“Oh, Wednesday,” sighs my mother, twining her inky hair around her finger. Her eyes are doing that droopy thing. Like a begging puppy. “Promise you’ll take care of our sweet Pugsley?”

“If you recall, taking care of him is what sent me here in the first place,” I reply, keeping my hands folded in my lap. Nevermore looms in my mind. The damp smell of cobblestone. The questions that linger like dust on books. 

“Ah, yes,” hums my father, looking adoringly into my mothers eyes. “Our little protector.”

This is all feeling very familiar.

As we get out of the car, the fall leaves crunch beneath our feet. I suppose this year might be different, seeing as I actually get to start at the beginning. 

“Wednesday!”

Fuck.

I am tackled. 

Sorry, I am “hugged”.

By the brightest, furriest, strawberry-pink being I have the pleasure of knowing. She’s wearing the shawl with all the knitted fruits on it, and I feel a felted lime scratching my cheek as she squeezes. 

“Omigosh you’re finally here! I’ve been waiting for like hours and one can only eat so many of the complimentary pretzels. There’s so many new students, do you see them all? I’m pretty sure we’ve got the same room though because I asked around and nobody’s moved so far and like everyone in Macbeth got to put their stuff away earlier so I think that we’re roomies again! Isn’t that amazing!” she squeals.

I pull her away from me, look her steadily in the eyes. 

I watch her smile fade. 

“I missed you too, Enid,” I mutter curtly as I turn away, and the gleam is back in her eyes.

“In here!” calls a teacher, ushering us towards the gate. 

“Wednesday!” My head snaps to the left as I feel a familiar hand clasp mine. “Don’t talk to anyone,” I remind Pugsley as he clings to my side. We fall in line with the students and parents trickling into the courtyard. “You never know who people are here. If you want to eat the snacks, make sure it’s actually real and not the plastic stuff they put in the middle.”

“What if someone tries to be… nice… to me?” he squeaks.

“Bite.”

He nods.

“Is that your little brother?” Enid whispers to me, louder than most people’s shouting.

“Enid,” I say by way of introduction as we pass through the gates. “This is Pugsley. Pugsley, Enid. The biting thing does not apply to Enid, Pugs. Her niceness is tolerable.”

Enid glows with the compliment. “Pugsley,” she croons. “What an adorable name!”

I’m not watching him, but I know when my little brother starts to frown.

“He’s fourteen,” I remind her curtly. “I know he looks like he should still sleep in a crib, but try not to treat him like a baby.”

She winces. “Right. Sorry, dude.”

He shrugs. Then, his eyes light up. “Oh, wow! You weren’t kidding about the snacks!”

“Here,” Enid says excitedly, snatching his hand from my grasp. “I’ll show you the pretzels. They’re actually kinda good.”

And suddenly they disappear, my brother’s suit blending into the sea of parents, and Enid’s bright colors hidden behind tables and pillars.

I feel a cold hand on my shoulder. “Ohh,” sighs my mother. “I suppose we should find a table to sit at… gosh, your first orientation day. Gomez, do you remember…”

“Yes, mi amor,” he sighs, his hand dropping onto my other shoulder. I keep my vision straight ahead, because I know their mouths are like this close together above my head. “I remember so well. So very very well…”

“That’s rather enough of that,” I say roughly, plucking their hands off my shoulders. 

“Wait!” calls my mother as I march towards the stairs up to the balcony. “We’ll see you for goodbye, right? I don’t want to keep you from your friends, honey, but…”

“I will,” I say, stopping to turn for a moment. “Provided the goodbye is less than six minutes long.”

My father pouts. “Eight?” he says hopefully.

My brow lowers. “Five.”

The balcony has overgrown with ivy. There’s a little alcove I sit in as I watch the people mill around.

My phone buzzes.

Xavier: I’m going to be late. The storm is crazy on the mountains idk how bad it is for you up there

I look up at the sky, squinting. There’s a bit of a haze around the lake, streaks of rain far in the sky, and the clouds are a dusty sort of purple, but other than that there’s nothing too bad.

I shrug.

Wednesday: Okay.

And as I look down again, at all the milling people and the awkwardly standing teachers, I see…

Her.

Red hair like a rat’s nest, all curls and grease and wet strands. She’s leaning against the olive tree on the far right, near one of the alcoves that leads out into the sides of the castle. She’s got on a red and blue jacket with the most ridiculous amount of zippers I’ve ever seen. She’s built like a twig, like a fencer, a lean candy-cane of a person.

And she’s looking right at me.

Right then, I shiver. I remember those photos. The stalker.

She cocks an eyebrow and gestures with her head to the alcove by her hip. Pivots on a heel and disappears into the shadow.

I lick my lips, glance at the empty stage, and decide might as well. I never could resist a little danger. 

“Light?” she says, offering out a cigarette. Water drips off the ivy and filters through the leaves. The world is turquoise back here, in the little hallway between the garden and the courtyard. Crowded with plants and quiet. 

“No thank you,” I say, and she shrugs. She lights her own cigarette and the smoke filters through the shade. 

“Boring, right? This whole thing. They’re just repeating all the stuff they say in the pamphlet.” She took a lavender piece of paper out of her pocket, waving it around a little.

“Do I know you?” I ask.

Her eyes flick over to mine. Blue. Her nose looks like it’s been broken, and her face is dotted with dark freckles. The curve of her mouth is cruel. “Not yet.”

“Do you know me?” 

“Not yet.”

I stare at her as she takes another drag. “It is boring,” I admit.

She snorts, rubbing her peach-red nose with the back of her hand. “Incredibly.”

“Impossibly,” I agree.

“Indubitably.”

“Increasingly.”

She thinks for a moment, licking her lower lip. “Unendingly? No, that’s… dammit. I’ve got nothing.” She sticks out her hand to shake. “Fairly won, wordsmith.”

I shake her hand, nearly, almost smiling.

And she hooks her thumb in mine and pulls me close. “Reagan,” she says, eyes twinkling as my feet stumble a little. 

“Wednesday,” I say, refusing to admit my heart has tripped a little. Because that would be ridiculous, that a cheap trick would startle me so suddenly. But we are very close, very very close. My boot is in between her converse, and I’m pretty sure I’m stepping on one of the laces. She smells like salt.

“Nice to meet you, Wednesday,” she whispers, and I detect just a hint of a southern accent.

I swallow, pull back, but my hand is still hooked in hers. “What–”

“Wednesday!”

I’m getting really tired of hearing my own name.

It turns out the whole event has started, and my parents want me to sit quietly and listen as a slim man makes his way to the stage - dressed in white, like Weems. Part of me knows it’s some school tradition, but the other half notes the sly, almost casual smirk dancing on his face and I think it might be to mock her. 

Like wearing a wedding dress to a funeral. 

“Hello, hello,” he says, waving a hand high above his head. His fingers look like they’re made of matchsticks. 

I turn, catching Reagan’s gaze as she saunters to the back, tapping her cigarette out on the damp walls. Rain hangs in the air, and as my eyes track her through my peripheral vision I can’t help but note the fog.

Everything feels heavy. Weighted.

“My name is Thaddeus Croon, though I expect you’ll all be calling me Headmaster Croon,” he laughs, like he’d said something funny. His face is long and clean-shaven, he’s got clear laugh lines but no wrinkles around his eyes. He looks fake somehow, like a statue. “Though this might be my first year here, I can assure you I have plenty of experience. Three years at Rowaker’s Detention School for Unbecoming Boys taught me much, and no, I wasn’t there as a student.”

Now that seems to be an actual joke, which, to my dismay, elicits a laugh from my parents. 

“I did go to Nevermore, it’s true,” Headmaster Croon acknowledges, flashing a pearly white smile. I can almost see the backs of his molars, how far that smile stretches. “Class of ‘72!”

I frown. He doesn’t look that old. No more than 30.

“And I can see some of the same old cliques,” he sighs fondly. “The Stoners, hey, some of my best friends back in the day. And the sirens! Too cool for me, hey,” he laughs. But then his face draws serious. “Now. I don’t want any infighting this year. I heard that last year was a lot, for all of you. For a few of you in particular.”

I think his eyes flicker to me. But I’m not quite sure.

“So this year there’s going to be some changes. The basement has completed renovation–”

Suddenly, there’s uproarious applause. I see Enid jump up from where she was perched on a table, clapping. I can see the brightness in her face from fifty feet away. It’s like a bonfire. Burning up witches.

Croon holds up a hand, smiling. “I know, I know. Ten-year-long project, I’m told. But that means that Nevermore can officially house up to a hundred and fifty more outcasts!”

More applause. 

“I know, I know. Incredible. And why not, I thought, use this little victory to get rid of some of the silliest restrictions on entry.”

The quiet applause and chattering slows, and I narrow my eyes as I watch our doll-faced headmaster swallow nervously.

“Which is why this year Nevermore is officially welcoming back the magicians.”

“Holy shit.”

“Enid. Why is this so important?” I hiss, grabbing at her coat.

She’s buzzing with excitement, glancing furtively around at the uproarious crowd. Croon was immediately swarmed by outraged parents, and over the noise I can hear him placating their cries. “Okay, so,” she starts, waving her hands. “Like, a really long time ago, I dunno, back in the like steam-engine-Sherlock-Holmes-top-hat time–”

“The late 1800s,” I correct blandly.

“Yes! That. Probably. Back then, when they all had pocket watches and everyone dressed in black and white, there were these outcasts called the magicians. Basically, witches. Or wizards. Spellcasters. Gypsies. Whatever you want to call them.”

I frown. “Spells?”

“Yes. Their powers are basically like, grow things, summon things, or set things on fire or whatever. Nobody really knows - they’ve got their own communities all over the world. See, it’s hereditary but without training people can go their whole lives never finding out. Soo…”

One of my eyebrows raises. “So?”

“Sooo, when they were in the school everyone got super mad because they can pass. Like normies!” 

She’s waving her hands, and there’s a crease between her brows. “So everyone’s really annoyed at that. And then there was this whole crisis because they ganged up on a werewolf and used him for a ritual in Jericho! And like three people were killed and there was no way of knowing which magicians did it because they pass as normies,” she whispered, eyes glittering with the drama of it all. “There’s nothing about them that’s uncontrollable or weird. That’s why everyone hates them.”

I swallow. “Enid… if I were to lose my… without my visions, I’m…”

She waves a hand. “You’re homicidal,” she scoffs dismissively. “And enough of a freak they’d let you in anyhow.”

Aww. I think I’m blushing.

“But anyway!” she squeals, holding my shoulders as she jumps. “This is totally freaky and I’m living for it!”

Before I can speak, a hand claps on my shoulder. 

“Xavier!” Enid squeals, and she tackles him with a hug. “Omigosh, you’re late! You missed so much!”

Xavier chuckles, hands raised above where Enid is crushing his midsection. He looks up at me with laughter dancing in his eyes, patting Enid’s back with one hand as he looks me over. “The rain,” he explains, and almost on cue a clap of thunder resounds in the air.

The crowd quiets, then gets louder, murmuring. 

Croon stands on the stage, cupping his hands. “Alright!” he shouts, gesturing to the entrance. “Guess it’s time to say your goodbyes! Students, come get your packets from the front office before you go to the cafeteria - they’ve got your room assignments! Luggage goes to the hallway, lovelies, line it up A through Z!”

“Hoohhhmygosh,” says Enid, jittering. “Literally so cold. I’m gonna go see if we got Ophelia. Meet you guys in the cafeteria!”

She leaves.

Xavier and I stare at each other. He’s got on a brownish-red sweater vest and a big jacket, and his art satchel is slung over one shoulder. He’s cut his hair. “So,” he says, scuffing at the floor with one heel. 

“We should get our luggage,” I say, turning to go.

“Wait, Wednesday.”

I stop, back turned.

“There’s this thing happening tonight. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, sort of forgot. Jackson nabbed me on the way out to tell me. The Nightshades - we’re electing a new leader. Tonight. On the docks.”

That makes me pause. I turn, after a second, hands in fists by my side. “New leader?” I ask. “Bianca’s got one more year left.”

He shakes his head. “She’s not here, Wednesday.”

I frown. 

“Sorry,” he says, frowning too, but it’s an apologetic sort of frown. “I know. Weird, right? She didn’t even say goodbye properly. Listen, just… come out tonight to the dock. It won’t be for long.”

I consider it. 

“Fine.”

As I turn away, for good this time, I wonder if I truly want to go or if something else is pulling me there - the thread of mystery.  

[durinde-blog]

Bones of the Old World

Bones of the Old World

“Can we talk?”

I shuddered as I felt the wind shift, as it always did when she appeared. No matter where, no matter when, if she chose to materialize so that I could see her, there was always a frigid wind that cut through to my bones.

I stopped in my tracks. It was twilight, and a few flickers of quickly dimming daylight remained, glowing like dying embers on the horizon. It was the solstice, and while many people would start merrymaking and celebrating the longest night of the year, I was bushwhacking along a forgotten game trail, the miniature ghost of a young woman hovering over my shoulder.

“Is this the right time for this?” I asked, pushing aside branches and stepping over a fallen log.

“I need to say I’m sorry,” she said.

“We’ve gone over this. You’ve apologized so many times; I’ve lost count.”

She floated directly in front of my face, forcing me to stop completely.

“If I hadn’t cursed you, you’d be home right now, celebrating the solstice with your family.”

“I have to press on,” I said, ignoring the comment. “You told me yourself, this has to be done tonight. We’ve made arrangements for the Duke’s cook to drug the mulled wine, and you said it was important that it had to be done on the solstice.”

“I know,” she nodded. “My connection to this world—to my remains—is the strongest on this night. But a few minutes here and now won’t make a difference.”

I thought about the small pouch of pulverized bone that I carried in a satchel around my neck. It was all that was left of her body. A quick image of the gruesome procedure to get her body to that state flashed in my mind.

“I’m not sure what else there is to say,” I slowly continued forward, brushing past her small floating figure. “We are here now, and the only way for either of us to rest is for you to receive your vengeance. Besides, if I stop moving now, I’ll never make it to the Duke’s manor before freezing to death.”

She floated to the front of my face again, however this time allowing me to keep moving through the bush by hovering backward as I continued along the game trail.

“Do not make jokes about freezing to death!” she warned. Her eyes flashed for a moment.

“You know I wouldn’t make a joke about that,” I snapped back.

I stopped. “I’m sorry; I know that’s a sensitive subject... for the both of us.”

**

The Young Duke was eager to prove himself a leader upon claiming his hereditary title following the death of his father. Even more so, he was eager to gain favor with the heads of the new religion, the followers of which had made certain arrangements to speed up his ascension to Dukedom.

To show his dedication to the new faith, the Duke first targeted the covens - those least prepared to fight back against the hammer of the new dogma falling on the land.

He took his men and swept through the land. His goal was to cleanse the land of “heresy” and make way for the monks of the new faith to move in.

She was a victim of one of the assaults. When the alarm was raised that the coven was under attack, she was instructed to gather the children and hide with them underneath a false floor that had been prepared for such an occasion. She had huddled with them, keeping them quiet as the horrific sound of slaughter and looting echoed through the air.

She stayed with them for hours, waiting for the sounds of the dying to fade. When she emerged from the hiding spot to see if it was safe, she found herself quickly surrounded by the Duke’s men.

They grabbed her, and the building was burned. She was tied behind the Duke’s horse and was made to walk as the screams of the youth echoed through the night.

“Merely the cries of rats,” the Duke sneered, and the building was engulfed in flame. “Those who do not follow the new light deserve to burn. Even their youth must be purged.”

“Put the blade to me,” she cried. “Let me join my people.”

“Oh, you will join them soon enough,” he gave a sickly smile. “But our faith demands sacrifice, and I think a pretty young thing like you will do wonderfully.”

Eventually, she found herself on the edge of a cliff, a river raging below. If the fall wouldn’t kill her, the raging icy depths certainly would.

A holy man of the new faith stepped forward, waving around some sort of symbolic fetish as he muttered in a strange tongue.

“Be glad,” the Duke said. “Your soul is being cleansed. You will face death with a sinless heart. After all, what good is a sacrifice that has been tainted by sin? Our deity will not accept anything less.”

“This is what your faith is?” she questioned, her back to the cliff’s edge. “Old men speaking gibberish? Pointless gestures and symbols? You killed people, you killed CHILDREN for this?”

“You dance under the moon,” the Duke retorted. “You tell old tales in an ancient language. You bind people to the land, to the past. You talk about having magic in your bones. Our way is the future.”

She scoffed. The trauma of the events was turning into a dark bitterness. She was angry—no, she was enraged at how unfair all this was.

The old man put away his symbols and ceased his gibbering.

“Now, jump,” the Duke said. “I can’t have the death of a cleansed soul on my conscience.”

“That’s your plan?” she spat. “A loophole so you don’t have to bloody your own hands? What kind of pathetic god would overlook such foolishness.”

“You told me you wanted to join your people,” the Duke said, unaffected by her comment. “So, go ahead.”

“This will not end well for you,” she said. She spread her arms and fell backward, plunging into the raging water below.

**

I squat at the side of the river, washing my hands free of the blood from butchering my most recent kill.

It had been a harsh winter, and the village was running low on food. I and the other youths had been dispatched a few days ago, sent out to hunt once the snow had melted enough for us to travel. Game seemed to be getting scarcer every year.

Something drew my attention upriver. Something was floating towards me.

Once I realized I was looking at a person, I quickly dove into the river, angling to catch the body as it passed by.

Breathless from the effort, I slung the unfortunate individual onto the bank.

It was a woman, covered in cuts and bruises. She was very pale, but still breathing. Something told me that she wasn’t long for the world.

I quickly pulled her over to the fire and did my best to comfort her while she passed. She was ice-cold. I felt pity for the poor girl, but I had seen death come upon members of my village, and there was very little that I could do.

I was leaning over her to check her pulse when her eyes flickered open, locking on me. She grabbed my arm with an unnatural strength.

“I curse you. For all that is natural in this world, I curse you. You will never rest until justice has been done.”

Her grip relaxed, and I saw the last essence of her life drain from her eyes.

I shook my head. I wasn’t sure what had happened to that girl, but her last moments were those of rage and anger. I just hoped that in the next world, she could find peace.

I buried her next to the river and packed my horse, fully intent on returning to the village with my kill. I’d have an odd tale to tell for sure.

I began to ride towards home. It was late in the day, but I was sure I could make good time on horseback, perhaps even getting back before dark.

My mind drifted, and I thought of the warmth of my bedding.

And then found myself emerging back at the riverside, the freshly dug grave before me.

I had grown up in the surrounding forests. Getting lost or getting turned around could literally be a death sentence, and yet, here I was, back where I started with no sense of how that happened.

I felt a chill run down my spine. There was something unnatural going on, and the grave had something to do with it.

I decided to unpack my horse and camp at the riverside for the night. Maybe whatever was preventing my departure would ease up by morning. I unrolled my bedroll and checked over my bow and my current supply of arrows. Finally, sleep took me. I found myself floating in a void of nothingness. No sound, no light, just terrifying black.

Then a voice.

“I.... I’m sorry.”

A figure floated before me. It was the woman that I had pulled from the river. The edges of her figure seemed to be in flux, somehow being wicked away by something ethereal.

Unlike a typical dream, I felt very much awake and in control of myself.

“You’re that woman...” I said, unsure of how to proceed.

“I am, and I’ve done a horrible thing.”

“Horrible?”

“I’ve cursed you, I’ve bound you to my body.”

I had heard tales of curses. Always taking place in some old story in some ancient land. Now, I seemed to be part of one of those tales.

“Cursed? Is that why I can’t seem to leave this riverbank?”

The floating figure nodded, looking sad.

“Why? I tried to save you?”

“In that final moment, as death approached, I was confused, I was angry. I thought you were one of the ones that did that to me. I wanted vengeance and in those final moments, I unleashed all my hatred on you.”

I shook my head. “Who are you to curse me?”

“I was part of a coven,” she said. “I worship the old ways.”

“Can you release me? You know I did nothing to you.”

“I’m afraid that you are bound to my body. The magic of the old ways becomes embedded in our bones. It’s an... old spell to keep a murderer from fleeing should one of our coven fall.”

“I’m not a murderer though.”

“No, you’re not. I was so filled with anger; I wanted to strike out at someone... anyone. The only way to be free is for you to enact my vengeance.”

We talked through the night. She told me of the attack on the coven and the deeds of the Duke.

“It will be hard for me to do anything stuck on this riverbank with your body. Let alone help you get your vengeance - as deserved as I think it is.”

“You are a hunter, yes? You know how to butcher a creature? Break it down into meat and bone?”

“Yes, but...”

“My power, my essence.... it’s in my bones.”

I felt myself pale at those words; I had grim work ahead of me.

**

I snapped back to the present. I now stood at the rear wall of the Duke’s manor. I could hear the laughter of seasonal merriment drifting through the cold night air.

“The drug should be taking effect soon,” the ghost whispered to me. “The effects of their drink should be a little more pronounced, and they should be none the wiser.”

“I just hope the cook did the second thing he promised. If not, all this might be for naught.”

The cook had kept his promise. I found an open door to the manor’s cellar.

I soon found my way to the upper level of the manor.

The hallway was decorated with greenery and holly to mark the season. The fact that these people brought greenery indoors seemed strange to me. If you wanted to enjoy the woods, why not just go out and take a walk in it?

I shook my head and made my way to the Duke’s bedroom, slipping inside.

A fire crackled, shadows danced across the wall.

"Better hide," the ghost said. "Once he goes to bed, we will act."

I slipped inside the walk-in closet and waited.

Finally, I heard the door open.

"And I have your assurances, sir, that you will let our clergy occupy the outlying villages once the spring comes?" One voice said.

As soon as the second voice spoke, the ghost stiffened. It was a voice she had heard before.

"Followers of our faith seem to be more obedient, and I’m more than happy to let them have whatever they need. Much better than those unfaithful savages that follow the old ways."

"Then I wish you a happy evening, Sir Duke.”

"Get ready," the ghost said.

I tensed, grabbing the special arrow from my quiver.

I heard the Duke move about the bedroom. After a time, things fell silent.

“Now,” the ghost said.

I silently opened the closet door. The fire, now much lower, cracked and popped, still emanating a dull and dying light. I could see a figure lying in the bed.

I recalled every lesson I learned as a hunter about moving silently, stealthily. I crept towards the bed.

Wordlessly, I plunged the arrow into where the ghost had instructed me. Before we had departed for the manor, she had been very specific about where the wound must be made. Between the ribs, the arrow slid.

The Duke bolted upright, breaking the shaft of the arrow, looking first to the wound in shock and then to me. He let forth an extremely loud wail.

I heard boots stomping up the hallway. A retinue of guards burst through the door, catching me standing over the now very injured Duke.

Even through the stupor of the wine and the drug, the guards could clearly see the assassination attempt. Before I could even think, I was grabbed and roughly carried out of the room. Shouts for the Duke’s doctor echoed down the hall.

I had failed.

**

I wasn’t sure what was colder, traversing the forest at night, or the cell I now found myself in.

I was bewildered. Beaten and thrown into a cell, I didn’t have time to process, or even think. I felt myself slipping away, drifting into an unwanted sleep.

I wasn’t sure how much time passed. The room spun, and I was sure I fell into the darkness at least a few times.

Finally, things snapped into place and I had a coherent thought. Daylight was creeping into the cell. The solstice had passed. The longest night was over.

I heard somebody stomping down the hallway. Somebody wearing a set of heavy keys was approaching.

“Leave me,” I heard the Duke’s voice say.

“But Sir...” somebody protested.

“You gave him an outright beating last night. He’s in no condition to hurt me.”

“But your wound, sir.”

“Bah, the Doctor looked at it. Barely a scratch.”

I shook my head. Barely a scratch? But I plunged the arrow straight between his ribs?

The door opened, and the Duke stepped inside. His eyes narrowed.

“Well, look at you..” he smirked. “My men certainly did a number on you.”

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a croak.

The Duke grinned, looking at my expression.

“A villager, not much older than a boy, and you thought you could take me out...”

I wanted to strike him, but my will had been sapped.

“And it worked.”

My cracked and bloody lips parted, a confused “Wha?” escaped from my lips.

The Duke’s figure glowed bright blue for a moment. The form shifted, becoming shorter and softer. Hair lengthened, and a familiar feminine form now stood across from me.

The woman from the river. She stood in front of me, more alive than I had ever seen her.

I stood with my mouth agape.

“Miss me?” she grinned.

“I’m not sure what I’m looking at..” I managed to spit out.

“You did it. The arrow that I made you forge months ago with bits of my bone sprinkled into the iron, it did the trick.”

“The power is in the bones,” she said, as if that explained everything. “Once my essence of made contact with the Duke’s heart... I was able to take control.”

“You are... the Duke?” I asked.

“When I wish to be. I can now assume his form whenever I wish.”

“And what happened... to him?”

“Oh.. He's long gone. If there’s any truth to his deity, I guess he’s with him now.”

“So, I’m free?”

She looked around the cell. “Uhh, not quite. You made an attempt on the Duke’s life after all.”

“What’s going to happen to me then?”

“Oh, the Duke will have a change of heart and pardon you in a couple of weeks, specifically when the new year is rung in. He’ll make a declaration that he will be returning to the old ways of his father.

She turned, looking to the lightening sky of the morning after the solstice.

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said. “You gave me my vengeance, and for that, I am grateful. I’ll give you any reward you wish once enough time has passed.”

I nodded, still in pain from my treatment by the guards.

She smiled sadly, looking over my wounds. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that; I’ll send the Duke’s doctor, claiming I want you in top shape for a trial.”

“In the meantime, look forward to the new year. I’m sure it will be a good one.”

She shifted her form back to that of the Duke’s, turning to leave.

“I can feel it in my bones.”

[waitingformyfavoritesongs]

1 Jan u ary 2023 Sunday 🌞 1:54 pm pdt

Incubus hurt my brain 🧠 now I feel too controlled and retarded. I believe he’s been raping my 20 year old cousin she told me a month or 2 ago she hasn’t had any period all year. Her grandfather is supposedly a very smart man. 1:56 am pdt also she has a beautiful youthful face. Also, something else they make me forget 1:57 am pdt

3:52 pm pdt earlier today he almost burned me to death ☠️. I felt liked I was dying from the heat. It’s taken a toll. Definition of toll? I’ve reached my limit.

3:53 pm pdt in high school 🏫 an old man 👴 came to lecture us about “love.” He said there are many compatible people, & there isn’t necessarily a “the one.” Do you believe in love 😍 after ❤️ love? 🎶🎼🎵 Cher. It’s NOT always rainbows 🌈 and butterflies 🦋 that moves us along. 🎵🎼🎶 porn makes the world 🌎 go round he said in radio interview. 🍩🍆. Spins round (dizzy after coughing 2:58) it took me a while to understand that part of the song. It’s okay to only have strictly physical feelings for someone I saw 👀 something online that said that. I wonder 💭 when he said that. In philosophy class I took in 2005 my philosophy teacher said it’s wrong to have sex without love. I tried to harder to not have sex after my first boyfriend who I got together with when I was 19 years old. But I failed 3 more times. It became more apparent to me though that guys really do try to get away with extramarital sex and play psychological games each time thereafter. 4:03 pm pdt. The second to last guy was the least my fault- Bcz he hinted at things and he was the son of an architect who had money 💰 to renovate? A house in a nice neighborhood- a house that probably could be sold for ≈$2 million? now unless demon lord is gaslighting me. 4:06 pm pdt. 4:07 pm pdt nature is calling. 4:07 pm pdt. He also bragged they stayed in a hotel 🏨 while it was under construction 🚧. 4:08 pm pdt. Whether it’s true or not idk 🤷🏻‍♀️ he seems to lie? It seems to me he does. 4:09 pm pdt. Cupertino. 4:09 pm pdt.

5:15 pm pdt each time I cry 😭 incubus intentionally inflicted pain on my heart ♥️. I suspect a lot of older people are treated this way. When an older person says it broke their heart ♥️ I suspect that is what has been happening. A person named sally, her little dog 🐶 somehow got outside and I think I recall her saying he got hit by a car 🚘 and that it broke her heart ♥️. Suddenly I m crying uncontrollably, spontaneously. Still coughing still hot 🥵 in some spots.

ivy is a variant name of eve, which is variant? Of chavah. Ivy League college. I realize now they are more likely to be considered for mating with gods? In high school 🏫 a lady (#3 cramps/feels 😖😞🥵😤) told me there are book 📚 smarts and was it street smarts? Without much explanation that I can recall. Street smart what is that? Experience gained knowledge? With people? If a lot of stuff published are conjectures / hypothesis and have to pay 💰 to go to public or private college then knowledge ain’t free. I took an introduction to tech class but didn’t learn much. Saw pieces I don’t recall the names of the stuff. My grandpa 👴 probably knew but we rarely talked😕. My dad did carpentry 🪚 for a little while but stopped using power tools after an accident. 🛠 Jesus Christ probably had it rough I realized this year. No power tools! Trees 🌲 dense tall? Was he like Superman? Not the same as putting a car 🚗 in neutral and pushing it?? I don’t know 🤷🏻‍♀️ 😖 bones 🦴 chest . 5:34 pm pdt. 5:38 pm pdt. 5:40 🥵😤😤😤🥵😤😤😤🥵😤😤😤😫😩 5:41 pm pdt

7:27 pm pdt incubus keeps on roasting me. Any heat would kill me now. When I took intro tech class in high school somehow I got in a group with a girl named misty moon 🌙. For some reason I (dizzy) feel like that ties in with Saint Lucia = Lucy in the sky 🌌 with diamonds 💎 the Beatles Sunday morning music video. Lunes lunar lunacy moon 🌙 Artemis (arty miss???) my dad liked to paint 🎨, traditional acrylic, air brush, photography, made stuff with wood 🪵. Also evenings = eve. In darkness she is all that I see ?? 🎶🎼🎵 music = muse I sick. Moo 🐮 moo-ing moo-n. (Vertigo? Pain 😫😩😞🥵😤😤🥵😤. I feel like I’m dying 😵 so it looks like Jesus coming back to life might’ve been a lie. The only thing we can anticipate which some how I started believing ≈2017, is that god can make our body into a puppet. 😭😵🤖😾😾 I believe it again. He toys 🧸 with my beliefs over and over. But I really feel on the verge of death ☠️ and he used me for his wicked purposes. He controlled my emotions, thoughts, and body. 🤖👾💩 don’t believe in him or anyone who associates with him presently. When a friend like Jordan dies, they are probably really dead. And he is not really sorry. He shortened his name and used it for his album jordi = whore die (español hoe-ta = j.) he label 🏷 the non whores (he attempted to use as whores) and use other women as whores but tell them “don’t ever apologize for being human.” Double standards. Don’t trust that he conducted business with fairness and righteousness behind closed doors 🚪. It is likely He will only have a few “token” cases to flaunt as a cover. You really don’t know what goes on when (heart pain 😵😖🥵😤😫😫😫) you shut people out and you don’t walk in their shoes. 7:47 pm pdt being a woman who has the deal with anemia monthly, having a kinda shitty 💩life, head/body trauma/concussions, there are lots of ways to abuse me and take advantage of me, make me crazy and dumb. If you choose to not be understanding of these things, you are walking into the dark. 7:49 pm pdt. 7:50 pm pdt