#Spirit is my insomniac QUEEN!!

[wordsmithwhumpsandfluff]

Concussed Oliver (part 2)

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The air in the waiting room felt tense.

Keiko was there before the girls had even gotten Oliver there. About twenty minutes after that, Jordan had the mind to call Isaac and tell him what had happened. The blonde was there in a flash, looking distraught.

None of them were saying anything. Eliana had an arm around Jordan’s shoulders, her lips pressed to the black-haired girl’s temple. Birdie had no fidget toy, so she’d started cracking her neck and picking at the skin on her hands to the point where she’d broke skin and was bleeding a bit, and Spirit had to find a pen for Birdie to click so she’s stop picking her hands.

Keiko was holding Amberlynn’s hand while Amberlynn just stared off at nothing. And Isaac just wouldn’t stop bouncing his foot while his heart raced.

“Oliver Brown?” a doctor said, coming into the waiting room. Eagerly, all of them stood and looked at the man.

“He’s fine,” the doctor said, and all of them sagged in relief. “Tests prove that it’s a mild concussion. He’s resting now. Have you contacted his family?”

“I called his parents,” Keiko answered. “They didn’t pick up, but I left voicemails and texts.”

“Can we see him?” Isaac asked, a bit of impatience in his voice.

The doctor opened a small sympathetic smile. “I can take you to his room now.”

— — —

There was a weird smell in the air when Oliver woke up. It smelled like bleach, and Oliver hated that scent. It just wasn’t pleasant.

There was a pulsing pain in his head, but not as bad as he remembered it being earlier. Still, his head felt like it was spinning.

When he squinted his eyes open a bit, getting the world into focus, Oliver first noticed that the room was dim but not pitch black. He then noticed that he wasn’t alone.

There was a small sofa in the corner of his room, and a chair beside it. Amberlynn and Keiko were curled up on the chair, and somehow, Eliana, Jordan and Birdie were all squished together on the couch. All of them were sleeping.

Spirit was sitting on the floor, on her phone. And Isaac was on a wheely chair by his bedside, asleep with his arms and head on the bed and holding Oliver’s hand in his.

Blinking a few times, he squeezed Isaac’s hand a bit. The little pressure made the blonde stir and lift his head a bit, blinking sleepily before he realized Oliver was looking at him. Suddenly, the blonde’s eyes widened and he whispered, “Olive?”

Oliver squeezed his hand again, smiling tiredly a bit. “Hi,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse and sore.

Isaac smiled back, looking relieved, and squeezed Oliver’s hand back.

“Hey, Oliver,” Spirit said from where she was sitting, having heard Isaac and Oliver whispering and realizing he was awake. She stood from where she was sitting and went to the opposite side of the bed from where Isaac was. “You gave us quite the goddamn scare.”

Oliver’s smile faltered slightly. “I’m sor—”

He was cut off by Spirit hugging him.

“How long was I out?” Oliver asked when Spirit pulled away, looking between her and the blonde.

“Since, like, five-thirty in the morning,” Spirit said with a shrug. "It’s almost 1pm. That’s why everyone’s asleep.”

“How the hell did you bump your head?” Isaac asked, shaking his head. “You guys were having a sleepover, and none of the girls knew how you rattled your damn brain. So, what happened?”

Oliver said nothing for a second. Then, his cheeks turned five shades redder, looking embarrassed. “I. . . I was dancing to the music that was playing while I took my shower, and I slipped and hit my head on the wall. I didn’t say anything ‘cause. . . yeah.”

Spirit raised a brow. “You were embarrassed about that? Oliver, Isaac is the moron who stood on a cafeteria table in middle school and screamed ‘food fight’, only to get no reaction from anyone. Slipping in the shower is nowhere near as embarrassing as that.”

Isaac shot a glare at Spirit. “Are you ever gonna let that go?”

“Never.”

Oliver chuckled a bit, only to wince when the bit of laughter made his head throb a bit.

“I’ll go find your parents and tell them you’re awake,” Spirit said to Oliver, and the boy’s eyes widened.

“My parents are here?!Why?!”

Isaac scoffed. “Because you busted your head. Duh.”

Spirit squeezed Oliver’s shoulder before walking to the door and leaving. With everyone else in the room still sleeping, it really felt like it was just Oliver and Isaac.

“You feeling alright right now?” Isaac asked. He was still holding Oliver’s hand.

“Yeah,” Oliver sighed, sinking back against his pillow. “My head hurts like hell and I’m wearing a paper gown instead of pants, but I’m fine.”

Isaac wheeled his chair to the side a bit so he was closer to Oliver’s head. Still holding Oliver’s hand with one hand, Isaac used his other to brush Oliver’s hair away from his face. He chuckled, looking at the wall. “Dancing in the shower,” he chuckled. “You’re in the hospital because you danced in the fucking shower!” Isaac began to laugh quietly, shoulders shaking.

Oliver flushed a bit, still slightly embarrassed, but then he also began to laugh quietly.

When their little quiet fit of laughter was over, Isaac squeezed Oliver’s hand again. “Next time, maybe take a bath,” he whispered.

Oliver squeezed back. “Yeah, I think I will. I don’t wanna ruin another sleepover by having to be driven to the hospital in the middle of the night.”

Isaac’s humorous look became slightly softer, and he bent down, hugging Oliver and not letting go. “I’m happy you’re fine.”

Oliver sighed, pressing his temple to Isaac’s. Then he chuckled and whispered, “Hell yeah, I’m fine. There’s no way dancing to fucking Grouplove was gonna be how I go out.”

[dancerinthestorm]

Fic Recs: "Didn't see that one coming" edition...

I've been wanting to start collecting my all time favorite stories in ages but never knew where to start, there are just too many talented souls out there. A lazy day of re-reading favorites makes me want to finally give it a try though.

Featuring today: stories that defy my usual hunting patterns but still became all time favourites against all odds. Stories leaving me utterly gobsmacked thinking "That was so, soo awsome... but how on earth did I end up in this fandom / character / trope tag of all places?".

@messy-insomniac-bookgirl Let's be honest: this writer is the spirit animal of this specific selection. Never heard of the fandom? Dislike the protagonist with a passion? Doesn't matter: she writes it, I devour and love it. The reason? Dense and hugely rewarding story-telling, perfect pacing, side characters you want to adopt on the spot, delicious slow burns with sooo much yearning. And, most importantly, the awesome female OCs. I am in love with each and every one of them, regardless who they share a screen with. It's almost impossible to select just one story for this list but let's go for "Keep Calm and Buckle Up" (AO3) for suddenly making me feel things when Steve Rogers entered the stage in "Infinity War". Steve Rogers x OFC, James "Bucky" Barnes x OFC, Steve x Bucky x OFC. Action, slow burn, emotional roller coaster rides. Rated E.

@batsingotham "Written in the stars" (AO3) I don't do Soul Mate AUs. I don't do Robert Pattinson characters. For me the best things about "The Batman" were Andy Serkis' Alfred and 3 hours of Niravana in a loop. But the undisputed goddess queen of slow burn domestic fluff overruled all of that. Bruce Wayne/Reader. Soulmate AU. Dorks in love. Bruce needs a hug and Alfred has the patience of a saint. Rated M.

"Sweet Conversations" by @glassgulls Lord of the Rings has been living in my head rent free ever since I was a teenager but I simply don't do Elves. Period. Yes, Glorfindel is very cool and Lee Pace's Thranduil is an absolute vision (the costumes, the voice and the make up, mind you, don't get me started on any other aspect of the Hobbit movies though...) but otherwise? Thanks but no thanks. Nevertheless: the award for best fictional kiss I’ve come across in ages goes to this gem. Amazing scene setting and character work for something so short. Leaves you weak-kneed and high as a kite on serotonin for the rest of the day. Haldir/Reader. One-shot. Rated M.

„Ownership of Mine“ by @amywritesthings . Okay, lets be honest, peeps: Prison settings for a romance story? Seriously? Who in their right mind would be able to think about romance and seduction when all of your freedom is taken away, you are crammed into a small and dark space with people of questionable character and put under constant surveilance. Well… apparently I can… with this story. Even if that tag is a big red NO GO sign for me otherwise. Amazingly dense story telling and atmosphere building in just 3 short chapters. Kino Loy/Reader. Rated E.

„Directions“ by @zinzinina . Probably a sure sign that I am getting too old for all of this but tags about age gaps, first love or first times usually make me run for the hills. Add a character like Poe Dameron (I mean: come on! Howww…?!) to the mix and there is not enough willing suspension of disbelieve in the world to get me immersed in the plot. Or so I thought. Unwisely. Until this beauty came along. Poe Dameron/Reader. Rated E.

[stormyoceans]

Have a nice day, Monica! 🌸 Merry Christmas! Regardless of age or status, this time will always seem fabulous. On these lines I will be your personal Kevin McAllister, mentally protecting not only your home, but also your health, sophisticatedly dealing with insomnia that is trying to steal your sleep. I set a wide variety of traps, set snares and keep cans of paint ready if the insomniac wants to cross the threshold of your house. Thank you for the little joys of reading all your posts written with love, for the emotions that I experienced while reading them. This is definitely better for mental health than a browser window with world news. Peace and happiness to you and your home! Take care of yourself!🌸

And by tradition, a question for you: the top 5 of your favorite Christmas cartoons and films?

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU TOO MY DEAR 🌸 ANON!!!!!!!!! 💜

the idea of you taking a page out of kevin's book and setting up all kind of traps to keep insomnia away from me is both so hilarious and incredibly sweet that i don't quite know what to say except thank you. thank you for always being so lovely, for sending me the kindest messages and for caring about my health. if i was able to give you back even just a little of the happiness that you gave me, then im really glad!!!!!!

as for your question, im actually not very big on christmas movies, but here are some that are very dear to me and that i end up watching every year:

home alone and home alone 2. THEE CHRISTMAS MOVIES OF ALL TIME. A HOLIDAY STAPLE. maybe im cheating by putting both of them together, but when i was a kid (and here im gonna show how truly old am i) we had them on video tape and we would always watch them on christmas day one right after the other. if i had to choose tho, i think i'd pick home alone 2. i know it's not as good as the first one, but for some reason it's always been very comforting to me (and i always dearly loved pigeon lady).

tokyo godfathers. i stumbled upon this movie completely by accident in my late teens when i was very into animanga and it immediately became one of my favorites. it's about 3 homeless people (a former drag queen, a runaway teen, and a grumpy alcoholic) who find a baby in a dumpster and try to reunite it with its family. it’s got humor, it’s got heart, it's about chosen and blood family, and most of all it's both very human and very magical.

klaus. it's the most recent movie in this list and consequently the one that has less sentimental value, but in such a short time it has become very important to me. it's hilarious, heartwarming and one of the most comforting movies i've ever seen. to quote klaus, "one true, selfless act always sparks another." that's the true spirit of the holidays to me and how i strive to live my life.

trading places. so fun fact.. here in italy our national television has been airing this movie on christmas eve every single year without fail since - i kid you not - 1997. i was 6 years old at the time. i am now 32. i spent 26 years of my life watching trading places on christmas eve. what i was doing yesterday evening? watching trading places. and just like me, so was every single italian out there. it doesn't even matter if we like it or not, that's not the point, it's just become tradition like setting up the christmas tree and it's the only certainty we have left in this country: on christmas eve we watch trading places (hashtag just italian things).

the santa clause. this is another movie that used to air a lot around the holidays when i was a kid. i've never particularly cared about it, but my mom ADORED this movie and she always put it on while cooking for christmas. once i got older enough to help her in the kitchen, it still kept us company in the background as we worked, so i inevitably ended up growing fond of it and it's one of those movies that to this day i make sure to find the time to watch with my mom every year.

[the-little-thingsss]

A Day in the Life of a College Girl: From Pajamas to Power Naps

**8:30 AM - Morning Bliss and Bedhead**

Rolling out of bed fashionably late, I greet the day with a messy bun and oversized pajamas that would make even the trendiest fashionistas envious. Bedhead is not a flaw, but a statement – a declaration that I embrace the chaos of morning.

**9:00 AM - Breakfast of Champions (or Cereal Enthusiasts)**

Breakfast is a casual affair, with a menu featuring the finest cereal choices from the depths of the pantry. I pair it with a side of existential pondering – is adulthood just an elaborate ploy to eat sugary cereals without judgment? The mysteries of life unfold over a bowl of crunchy goodness.

**10:30 AM - Online Classes: Where Pajamas Reign Supreme**

The transition to virtual classes is seamless, thanks to the glory of Zoom and the fact that my classmates only see me from the waist up. Pajamas below, business casual on top – the perfect sartorial compromise for the virtual scholar.

**1:00 PM - Lunch: Microwave Magic**

Lunch is a testament to the culinary wonders achievable with a microwave. A gourmet feast of leftovers is crafted in minutes, and I dine like a queen with a microwavable crown. Who needs a chef when you have reheated delights?

**3:00 PM - Power Nap Prodigy**

The afternoon lull hits hard, and I proudly don the title of Power Nap Prodigy. A strategic 20-minute nap rejuvenates both mind and spirit, turning a simple break into a productivity power move. Einstein would be proud.

**5:00 PM - DIY Fitness Fiesta**

In a bold attempt to embrace fitness, I embark on a DIY workout adventure. YouTube becomes my personal trainer, guiding me through exercises that promise to transform me into a fitness guru. Spoiler alert: my cat is more interested in the workout than I am.

**7:00 PM - Social Butterfly: Virtual Edition**

Socializing takes a digital turn, as I navigate the virtual world of video calls and online game nights. Pajamas, messy hair, and pixelated faces – the epitome of modern socializing. Who says you can't be a social butterfly from the comfort of your own cocoon?

**9:00 PM - Culinary Quests: The Dinner Chronicles**

Dinner is a culinary experiment, featuring a fusion of ingredients that have yet to meet in the natural world. Call it avant-garde cuisine or the result of an empty fridge – either way, it's an edible masterpiece, sort of.

**11:00 PM - Midnight Musings and Creative Crusades**

As the night deepens, creativity takes center stage. Whether it's writing poetry, painting, or contemplating the universe, the midnight hours are reserved for the artistic soul searching that fuels my creative crusades.

**2:00 AM - Insomniac Inspirations**

Sleep is elusive, and the night becomes a canvas for insomniac inspirations. With a cup of tea as my muse, I delve into projects, ideas, and the boundless potential of the nocturnal mind.

**4:00 AM - Stardust Dreams and Goodnight Streams**

Finally, as the world outside begins to stir, I surrender to the beckoning embrace of sleep. Dreams are woven from stardust and the lingering melodies of late-night streams. Another day in the life of a college girl comes to a close, with the promise of new adventures awaiting in the realm of dreams. Goodnight, nocturnal dreamers. 🌌💤

[bitchwhoreofastorm]

25 + ayem + vehk for the one word thingy

25. Cooking

Month five of the war, they're knee-deep in the dreary slog somewhere between running down Barfok and peeling Hoag's zombies out of the Eastern peninsula with Kagrenac's metal men. Nerevar's encountered a problem relating to Ysmir's newfound habit of shouting armies wholesale off of hills whenever they claim the high ground, so he's called in the experts from Mournhold, though they must travel in secret to avoid Bhag's raiding-parties, and after Khizumet'e's betrayal only the most trusted can be permitted to know about the trip, and what this all translates to is: it's the crack of dawn on the Telvanni coast, the air cool and wet while a mist rises off the low volcanic hummocks all around them, and because most of their traveling-party is still asleep, Almalexia has taken it upon herself to make breakfast.

Yes, she's the Queen, and yes, she's never cooked for herself in her life (save one embarrassing incident during a childhood visit to Ald Sotha, wherein she set a loaf of bread on fire). But they've all been riding hard to answer Nerevar's summons in a timely manner, even the guar haven't yet roused from their near-catatonic slumber beneath a nearby Emperor Parasol, and only Almalexia, a habitual early-riser and often-insomniac, has woken with the sun. She's already sent the sentry to get a few hours of sleep, and the rest of her soldiers are still audibly snoring, and even Vivec, who somehow manages to be even more nervous and wakeful than she is, is dead to the world, curled tight into a ball back in their tent.

And Almalexia cannot bring herself to wake any of them. Well, it's not fair that Nerevar, newly-minted royalty, is already using his egregious powers to put them through this arduous overland trip, and even if they must be going soon Almalexia wants only to make their lives a little easier. So she, young woman with an incurable maternal streak that she is, has of course decided to cook them breakfast.

And how hard can it be, anyway? Kneeling in the damp soil, shivering slightly in the brisk new coolness of the early morning, Almalexia kindles the fire with magika and feeds it on some soft mushroom scraps she's collected from around the comatose guar. When the fire is nice and high, she eases in a cooking-pot. She's watched Sotha Sil prepare saltrice porridge a thousand times before-- a bag of grains, ample water-- so she finds the sack of saltrice they'd brought, dumps in a healthy amount (enough to halfway fill the small pot, she wants no-one going hungry), and then fills the rest of the pot with water.

Preparations made, all that is left for her is to sit back and wait for the saltrice to cook.

The morning is perfect, the air cool and clean. The Telvanni coast is beautiful: a halfway-dissolving cluster of archipelagos and stone spires, like handfuls of crushed pumice floating gently out to the inner sea. Their road through the fractured coastline has taken them over small wooden bridges and through winding canyons dry only at low tide; the region is inacessible to a large army but perfect for two travelers and their guards making their way north. They're at the very end of the shattered coast now, on a low rising hill that represents the start of the undulating basalt-flows which paves the rest of the way, but when one turns to look behind them they can see the labyrinth of eroding dykes and tall pillars rendered jagged and lonely by the encroaching silvery waves. To Almalexia, observing the scenery with half-closed eyes, it’s all very strange and very, very lovely. Settled back against one of the supply-packs, she looks towards the distant inner sea and lets her thoughts drift into a sleepy sort of contemplation.

The scent of cooking saltrice and the musky smoke of a mushroom-fire; the snoring and sleep-braying of overworked guar; the fresh coolness of mist on skin; the last stars twinkling into slumber; memories of the heady crop-smell of Deshaani fields pregnant with ripe wheat; memories of waking up with a mouthful of Ald Sotha sand; comfort; fullness after hunger; a meal cooking... 

...

"... Ayem?"

Almalexia blinks and sits upright. The day has suddenly become much brighter. Vivec stands over her, but hir face is obscured by the sun now high behind them.

"Vehk," Almalexia murmurs, rubbing her eyes. Then, "Oh, did I fall asleep?"

"I think so," Vivec replies, kicking at the ground. Even sleepy and disheveled from the road, Almalexia thinks, ze manages to look like some spirit of legend, a guiding light sent down to Nirn by the ghost of Veloth himself. "Um."

"Hm?" Almalexia realises she's been staring and looks away. "Ah, forgive me, I must be tired!"

"It's not-- I mean to say--" Vivec tilts hir head towards the fire. "What's that?"

For a moment Almalexia fails to understand. Then she sees what Vivec's pointing at: her saltrice porridge has transformed itself into a pulsing amorphous mass and is crawling out of the pot.

Almalexia presses her hand to her mouth in horror. "My porridge!"

Vivec grins.

Then, Vivec laughs, a loud childish laugh that wakes the guar and electrifies Almalexia into leaping to her feet.

"Porridge!" Vivec shouts, as Almalexia lunges towards the fire. "That's porridge?-- wait, no, Ayem, don't go near it, it'll attack you!" Ze seizes Almalexia around the waist just as she makes a dive towards her beleaguered breakfast, pulling her back, pressing hir face to her shoulder and giggling hysterically.

"What happened to it?" Almalexia says despairingly, returning the embrace. "I just... don't laugh at me, Vehk, I was trying to make you breakfast!"

"What did you do to it? I think it's trying to make me into breakfast!"

"I don't know! It's just porridge! I added saltrice and water--"

"Saltrice expands when you cook it, didn't you know that?"

“No?” Helpless, Almalexia slumps into Vivec's arms and watches her kind gesture ooze disobediently out of its pot. Vivec is giggling still, clutching her, face pressed into her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Vehk," Almalexia says weakly, "I didn't think it was possible to mess up porridge. It seemed like it would be easy."

"No, I-- I'm sorry for laughing at you-- it's okay, honest." By now the soldiers have awoken and are emerging from their tents, and Vivec, noticing, embarrassed, releases her. "We can use it to make saltrice-cakes if we just bake them."

"I think I should leave that to you," Almalexia replies, miserable. "I was once told that I'm cursed to destroy anything I touch, and I'm starting to believe it."

Vivec, smiling still, takes Almalexia’s hand in one of hir own. Ze raises it and presses her palm flat against hir cheek.

"Well," ze says after a moment. "I feel fine. So come help me cook."

[artdaily7]

Briar Rose (Sleeping Beauty) by Anne Sexton

‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍Consider a girl who keeps slipping off, arms limp as old carrots, into the hypnotist's trance, into a spirit world speaking with the gift of tongues.

She is stuck in the time machine, suddenly two years old sucking her thumb, as inward as a snail, learning to talk again.

She's on a voyage.

She is swimming further and further back, up like a salmon, struggling into her mother's pocketbook.

Little doll child, come here to Papa.

Sit on my knee.

I have kisses for the back of your neck.

A penny for your thoughts, Princess.

I will hunt them like an emerald.

Come be my snooky and I will give you a root.

That kind of voyage, rank as a honeysuckle.

Once a king had a christening for his daughter Briar Rose and because he had only twelve gold plates he asked only twelve fairies to the grand event.

The thirteenth fairy, her fingers as long and thing as straws, her eyes burnt by cigarettes, her uterus an empty teacup, arrived with an evil gift.

She made this prophecy: The princess shall prick herself on a spinning wheel in her fifteenth year and then fall down dead.

Kaputt! The court fell silent.

The king looked like Munch's Scream Fairies' prophecies, in times like those, held water.

However the twelfth fairy had a certain kind of eraser and thus she mitigated the curse changing that death into a hundred-year sleep.

The king ordered every spinning wheel exterminated and exorcised.

Briar Rose grew to be a goddess and each night the king bit the hem of her gown to keep her safe.

He fastened the moon up with a safety pin to give her perpetual light He forced every male in the court to scour his tongue with Bab-o lest they poison the air she dwelt in.

Thus she dwelt in his odor.

Rank as honeysuckle.

On her fifteenth birthday she pricked her finger on a charred spinning wheel and the clocks stopped.

Yes indeed. She went to sleep.

The king and queen went to sleep, the courtiers, the flies on the wall.

The fire in the hearth grew still and the roast meat stopped crackling.

The trees turned into metal and the dog became china.

They all lay in a trance, each a catatonic stuck in a time machine.

Even the frogs were zombies.

Only a bunch of briar roses grew forming a great wall of tacks around the castle.

Many princes tried to get through the brambles for they had heard much of Briar Rose but they had not scoured their tongues so they were held by the thorns and thus were crucified.

In due time a hundred years passed and a prince got through.

The briars parted as if for Moses and the prince found the tableau intact.

He kissed Briar Rose and she woke up crying: Daddy! Daddy! Presto! She's out of prison! She married the prince and all went well except for the fear -- the fear of sleep.

Briar Rose was an insomniac. . .

She could not nap or lie in sleep without the court chemist mixing her some knock-out drops and never in the prince's presence.

If if is to come, she said, sleep must take me unawares while I am laughing or dancing so that I do not know that brutal place where I lie down with cattle prods, the hole in my cheek open.

Further, I must not dream for when I do I see the table set and a faltering crone at my place, her eyes burnt by cigarettes as she eats betrayal like a slice of meat.

I must not sleep for while I'm asleep I'm ninety and think I'm dying.

Death rattles in my throat like a marble.

I wear tubes like earrings.

I lie as still as a bar of iron.

You can stick a needle through my kneecap and I won't flinch.

I'm all shot up with Novocain.

This trance girl is yours to do with.

You could lay her in a grave, an awful package, and shovel dirt on her face and she'd never call back: Hello there! But if you kissed her on the mouth her eyes would spring open and she'd call out: Daddy! Daddy! Presto! She's out of prison.

There was a theft.

That much I am told.

I was abandoned.

That much I know.

I was forced backward.

I was forced forward.

I was passed hand to hand like a bowl of fruit.

Each night I am nailed into place and forget who I am.

Daddy? That's another kind of prison.

It's not the prince at all, but my father drunkeningly bends over my bed, circling the abyss like a shark, my father thick upon me like some sleeping jellyfish.

What voyage is this, little girl? This coming out of prison? God help -- this life after death?

Edward Burne-Jones 1871-3 the small series of The Legend of Briar Rose, Museo de Arte de Ponce, Puerto Rico

[leah-yasmin-writes]

Happy Meet&Greet Monday! According to floriography/the language of flowers, which flowers would symbolically represent your OC(s)?

You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to answer this question. Like seriously I have put so much thought into this question for absolutely no reason, and now I have a reason to share these thoughts so thank you so much!

I’m going to do so many characters for this because this ask just makes my heart so happy.

Ava - Jasmine: unconditional love, beauty and femininity, sensuality, elegance, sacred and spiritual, sensuality and elegance are exactly the vibes Ava tries to cultivate, and unconditional love and spirituality are at the core of where she finds meaning in her life, jasmine is also what I think would be the main scent in her favourite perfume

Michael - Red Poppy: sleep (he’s an insomniac), peace, death, mourning, remembrance, our boy has had a lot of loss in his life and he just wants to know peace, red is also his favourite colour (even though blue represents him better as a person)

Tess - White Roses: purity, eternal love, sacred, reverence, farewells, new beginnings, association with the Mother Mary, eternal love is major part of Tess’s story, as are farewells and new beginnings, spiritual reverence, especially the idea of divine motherhood, is an essential part of who Tess is as a person, also she plants white roses in her front garden

The Woman - Purple Orchid: luxury, opulence, refinement, dignity, royalty, respect, strength, basically she might be evil but she’s still strong and dignified and you can’t help but kind of respect her even if you disagree with everything she stands for, also she’s super rich and indulges in her wealth excessively

Elizabeth - Sage: thoughtfulness, wisdom, eternal life, sage’s other name is Salvia which literally means “to save” and saving people is Elizabeth’s main goal in life

Athena - Purple Magnolias: dignity, nobility, endurance, strength, royalty, spirituality, essentially Athena is a queen (in spirit if not in reality) and she deserves all the respect she is given

Dani - Sunflowers: adoration, admiration, familial/platonic love, loyalty, strong bonds, seeking out positivity and strength, brightness, happiness, sunflowers represent who Dani is on the inside while she’s hiding behind her wall of cynicism and emotional distance

Lucy - Pink Tulips: familial/platonic love, perfect love, neglected love, subtle nature, kindness, femininity, inner peace, Lucy is just sweet and happy and wants to be loved by her family, that’s it guys, also she’s girly and likes pink

Lyloken - Wisteria: immortality and longevity, honour, releasing burdens, victory over hardships, adventure, celebration of children, wisdom, search for knowledge, scholarly success, a warning against the danger of overly passionate love, basically Lyloken has a difficult past and lots of secrets and he is very wise until he’s not...

Jack - Bamboo: luck, virtue, strength, good roots, providing strength to others, flexibility, clearing of negative emotions, Jack is the rock of his family and the one who can see the best in any situation, when you’re around him everything seems just a little bit better and you can’t help but feel lucky

Thank you again for the question!

[queenofcandynsoda]

FOP AU: Ms. Carnival

Disclaimer: This post will contain references to mental illness, most particularly of depression and schizophrenia.

Ms. Carnival

Name: Mistress Carnival

Age: Immortal

Occupation(s): Fairy of Parties, Banquets, and Festivals, Fairy Celebrity, Fairy Godmother (temporarily)

Aliases: Gala (real name), Mrs. Mardi Gras, Queen of Carnivals, Duchess of Parades

Friend(s): Folk (pet donkey), Blue Fairy, May Queen, Lil' Summer Maiden, Autumn Minister, Jack Frost, Mother Nature, Dionysus, Queen Victoria (former godchild), Timmy Turner, Cupid

Interest(s): Parties, Games, Parades, Wine, Banquet Foods, Looking Happy, Desserts

Relatives: Mardi Gras (husband), Fair (son, deceased)

Appearance: Ms. Carnival appears to be a tall Afro-Caribbean woman with short wavy black hair and rainbow eyes. She has dark circles around her eyes which she tried to cover with makeup along with the scars on her hands and arms. She also wears a wedding ring on her left ring finger. She always has a constant smile on her face. 

Causal: Ms. Carnival wears a green, purple, and pink minidress with brown sandals. 

Carnival: Ms. Carnival wears a dazzling green and blue bikini with a green, blue, and purple feather headdress and silver high heels. She wears silver body jewelry around her legs and arms. She also wears green and blue makeup.

Character: 

Ms. Carnival is a very unpredictable woman who has a passion for parties, games, banquets, and festivals. She is known to be constantly smiling and inability to frown. Even though she kept her smile, some god-children know something is really wrong with her. She HATES anti-fairies with a burning passion because they supposedly killed her son. She would make sure that they don’t anywhere to her parties, Nero in particular. She was Victoria’s godmother as she continues to stay with her until she becomes queen, which is a violation of Da Rules, and pulls pranks on her very terrible mother. Despite looking happy, she was never happy for centuries. After her son’s death, she refused to invite Nero or any anti-fairy to her parties and carnivals, believing that they are responsible for his death. In fact, if Nero knows about it, Ms. Carnival would give him an un-invitation. Ms. Carnival is insomniac and possibly mentally ill with the implication that she has depression and schizophrenia. Due to her mental disorders, she tends to suddenly lose interest in her hobbies, such as stop planning for carnivals or won’t even attend her own parties, feeling worthless and guilty (stemming her son’s death), having insomnia, lack of concentration, slowness, subtle personality changes, gradual encroachment of unusual thoughts, hallucinations, irritability, delusions, disordered speech, unable to remember information, trouble in making decisions, and having recurring thoughts of suicide. She’s even known to have “breaks” from reality. These had gotten worse over time as she listens to “spirits”, a name she refers to her hallucinations, rather than her own thoughts and opinions, even if it would cause harm to herself. The only way for her to be truly happy is to accept that she’s not happy and get mental health treatment.

Background: 

Ms. Carnival is the Fairy Celebrity of Parties, Banquets, and Festivals. She is married to Mardi Gras and they live in Festive Manor. She was a servant of Dionysus and he had taught her about the “Elements of Carnivals”. She learned a few things from Dionysus about hidden parties and would throw a hundred per year, especially considering that people need invitations to enter her parties. If anyone tried to get in without one, they “bounced” away from it. If someone tried to get in with an un-invitation, they would get kicked by her pet donkey, Folk. Ms. Carnival was Queen Victoria’s fairy godmother until the latter got married when she was 18. Ms. Carnival helps Victoria to have joy and happiness during the Kensington System set by her mother. She had a son with her husband named Fair but he died when he was a few months old. While it remains unknown how Fair died, mostly like being SIDS, Ms. Carnival blames anti-fairies for it, believing that it was a petty retaliation for her “Surprise Unity Festive” for bringing them and fairies together in peace. She was in denial about Fair’s death to the point she pretended that he was still alive AFTER doctors told her that he was dead. It took Blue Fairy to finally get her to understand the truth.... after three days. Because of this, Ms. Carnival chose to only smile to bottle in her sadness. This continues for centuries to where that it becomes her almost permanent expression and if she tries to frown, her lower face would crack and bleed. She also believed that she is responsible for Fair’s death as he was sleeping in his cot when she was next to him and refused to have another, worrying that child would be “killed” by her. She eventually has depression and schizophrenia. Anti-fairies are disturbed by her, especially with her smile. She refused to acknowledge Nero as he thinks she has a lot of problems.

( I want to point out something that some of my friends had asked me as in “why can’t she wish away her depression/schizophrenia?” or “what happened to her wasn’t as bad as others”. Ms. Carnival can’t just wish away her mental disorders since it would be a major violation of Da Rules and mental disorders are very complex and complicated with not only in behaviors and environment, but also in brain chemistry and genetics. Different people react differently in the same situation. This is something I kept explaining for years when mental health comes up. Also, the stigma of schizophrenia prevents her from seeming help. Ms. Carnival believes that she’s happy when listening to her “spirits” and no one, except for a few people, doesn’t care about her mental state as long she’s “fine”. Speaking of which, just because Ms. Carnival looks happy doesn’t mean she is. These two videos about schizophrenia and depression will explain it better.)

[libidomechanica]

As an insomniac

As an insomniac… She could make you a  root. The soft soul of American  plains are cause mighty Máhmúd, the violet, 

one day see both twain, and whispered  lowly, how dark the dreadful leisure, one may  hear, well weary all the attorney last, 

who lingerd near thee and broke my rest, that for  a bulletin may make up for a bulletin.  And forget-me-nots, and then the 

widest all the firelight steadily aglow,  joined slackly, we beheld his shadow of this worldly vanitee,  and often have I this fair sisters 

or daughter; my mother had a devil of  a worthie to approve for ever young heart there as  late as to the turrets and 

rock,— A golden hair, or ravishment, or ravishment  its sweet, Antonias patience. mong which is what  went before me, no one to sea. Perhaps, 

as shooting there, all smother till his brethren  gone before they reachd the secreter than your  fault I am beautiful she was the 

Danube could tell that but onely doe his  trance girl is yours to do with such  serenity her husband like waves rose hie and 

bites their tongue be still, and be my love to  the womans eyes as they probably annoyed  I probably should breed sweet to hear at 

midnight spirit fold, her spirits. The  cock sung out an hour, a still we shine,’“t is  no thorough silence, still my head. S haunted. 

Part of heart, whereat a sudden burst, upon  her self-possession-—swung the lute. Drop heavily,  when the best they discoursd upon th

is is the Potter, pray, and captains the  ground, with his window-ledge on which was  brought him and by Plato; by Tillotson, 

and may he wear them with a  bitter, bitter closer or farther lovely tales that  of multitude arose, of grass;” And 

rising slowly whispering blade that  you might “brain them which thou unaskd shalt hear, All here in one.  mans voice hath done thy most, a naked thinking 

it, and fearing not I heard her breast, I vex  my heart so sore, hey ho! Laden, hemmd with increase  our eyes are bull, your mind with 

wandring all in his way. Archimedes said, “ and I can move the same art do cover. Arose a  clatter might be useful on occasion was 

manifested in a dull disdaine:”  little things blessed our heart of stone, that he wore; witness  his most strange use of his silence 

decay. To stop the loud breaker  boils against its painted at the  streams the finer political 

dinner to the good man at  him again, be it not seen in either.  Like Fairy Queen, but then no longer than your 

own ends; and if the Wing. And none but  Bromions bed, in a thy station was also in  the night with a thoughts have spent 

my lifelong hours: their fellow huntsmen oer little  seed they found the last half-hour, quick, thick, or  long curld Assyrian Bull smelling sire, for 

scorning incense paired with fire  and sweet, and a third motive was, I shant say  more about as vain as for a fool.

[mazesangels]

𝖆𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖒𝖊!!!

— BASICS!!

• maz, 22, they/she

• bi (myself lmao)

• i’m an infp-t (which basically just means i am mentally unstable)

• i like video games, music, space, rain, creepypasta, long video essays and anime

• spiderman will always be my favourite superhero

• i love vincent van gogh and i don’t care how basic that makes me

• my ao3 and my wattpad

• my accounts: main, shitpost sideblog, anime writing sideblog

— FAVOURITES!!!

music: twentyonepilots, ajr, queen, mother mother, halsey, conan gray, taylor swift, olivia rodrigo

shows: moon knight, doctor who, the owl house, atla, 9-1-1, mr. robot, the good place, squid game, tua, money heist, b99, russian doll, bojack horseman, alice in borderland, himym, opla, tlou

books: animal farm, the picture of dorian gray, six of crows duology

movies: in the tall grass (best comedy ever), spirited away, black widow, rise of the guardians, brother bear, pitch perfect, enola holmes, barbie, maze runner triology

video games: tlou, bg3, dbh, minecraft, sims 4, spiderman insomniac, genshin impact, love and deepspace

characters: steven grant, the doctor, spencer reid, kaz brekker, sokka, korra, klaus hargreeves, wylan van eck, wanda maximoff, chishiya shuntarou, astarion, yelena belova

ships: wesper, kanej, lumity, catradora, avatrice, peraltiago

— DNI!!!

if you’re under 14 (i often use more mature/ explicit language and humour so i don’t think that’s something you’ll enjoy or should be subjected to but i will not control ages so do with this what you want)

if you’re homophobic, transphobic, anti lgbtq+ and if you attack people over gender/sexuality hcs for characters!!

if you’re racist (which includes being anti blm and anti stop asian hate)

if you’re misogynistic and/or a terf

if you’re anti vaxx, anti mask, pro life

if you send anon hate

if you steal/repost other people’s art/ writing / work, don’t do that, it’s super shitty

— BYF!!

this blog is not spoiler free

this blog will interact with nsfw / mature content, if you feel uncomfortable with that then block the tag 🚰.mzthrst

i curse a lot lmao (and when i say a lot i mean a lot) and i won’t be tagging it because it happens too much (unless it’s in a fic)

i use more mature humour and language

most reader inserts will be gender neutral by default, but i will also write for enby!reader, fem!reader and male!reader

this is a multifandom writing blog

i don’t have a writing schedule so i might not post regularly (i’m also in uni so it’s not possible for me to post daily)

[laemealoyn]

Consider a girl who keeps slipping off, arms limp as old carrots, into the hypnotist's trance, into a spirit world speaking with the gift of tongues. She is stuck in the time machine, suddenly two years old sucking her thumb, as inward as a snail, learning to talk again. She's on a voyage. She is swimming further and further back, up like a salmon, struggling into her mother's pocketbook. Little doll child, come here to Papa. Sit on my knee. I have kisses for the back of your neck. A penny for your thoughts, Princess. I will hunt them like an emerald.

Come be my snooky and I will give you a root. That kind of voyage, rank as a honeysuckle. Once a king had a christening for his daughter Briar Rose and because he had only twelve gold plates he asked only twelve fairies to the grand event. The thirteenth fairy, her fingers as long and thing as straws, her eyes burnt by cigarettes, her uterus an empty teacup, arrived with an evil gift. She made this prophecy: The princess shall prick herself on a spinning wheel in her fifteenth year and then fall down dead. Kaputt! The court fell silent. The king looked like Munch's Scream Fairies' prophecies, in times like those, held water. However the twelfth fairy had a certain kind of eraser and thus she mitigated the curse changing that death into a hundred-year sleep. The king ordered every spinning wheel exterminated and exorcised. Briar Rose grew to be a goddess and each night the king bit the hem of her gown to keep her safe. He fastened the moon up with a safety pin to give her perpetual light He forced every male in the court to scour his tongue with Bab-o lest they poison the air she dwelt in. Thus she dwelt in his odor. Rank as honeysuckle. On her fifteenth birthday she pricked her finger on a charred spinning wheel and the clocks stopped. Yes indeed. She went to sleep. The king and queen went to sleep, the courtiers, the flies on the wall. The fire in the hearth grew still and the roast meat stopped crackling. The trees turned into metal and the dog became china. They all lay in a trance, each a catatonic stuck in a time machine. Even the frogs were zombies. Only a bunch of briar roses grew forming a great wall of tacks around the castle. Many princes tried to get through the brambles for they had heard much of Briar Rose but they had not scoured their tongues so they were held by the thorns and thus were crucified. In due time a hundred years passed and a prince got through. The briars parted as if for Moses and the prince found the tableau intact. He kissed Briar Rose and she woke up crying: Daddy! Daddy! Presto! She's out of prison! She married the prince and all went well except for the fear - the fear of sleep. Briar Rose was an insomniac... She could not nap or lie in sleep without the court chemist mixing her some knock-out drops and never in the prince's presence. If if is to come, she said, sleep must take me unawares while I am laughing or dancing so that I do not know that brutal place where I lie down with cattle prods, the hole in my cheek open. Further, I must not dream for when I do I see the table set and a faltering crone at my place, her eyes burnt by cigarettes as she eats betrayal like a slice of meat. I must not sleep for while I'm asleep I'm ninety and think I'm dying. Death rattles in my throat like a marble. I wear tubes like earrings. I lie as still as a bar of iron. You can stick a needle through my kneecap and I won't flinch. I'm all shot up with Novocain. This trance girl is yours to do with. You could lay her in a grave, an awful package, and shovel dirt on her face and she'd never call back: Hello there! But if you kissed her on the mouth her eyes would spring open and she'd call out: Daddy! Daddy! Presto! She's out of prison. There was a theft. That much I am told. I was abandoned. That much I know. I was forced backward. I was forced forward. I was passed hand to hand like a bowl of fruit. Each night I am nailed into place and forget who I am. Daddy? That's another kind of prison. It's not the prince at all, but my father drunkeningly bends over my bed, circling the abyss like a shark, my father thick upon me like some sleeping jellyfish. What voyage is this, little girl? This coming out of prison? God help - this life after death? 

Anne Sexton, Briar Rose.

[riverrereads]

My LGBTQ To-Read List

LGBTQ books I want to check out soon. Ish. I didn’t realize that there was this many lol. As I have not read any of these, I can vouch for the authenticity or amount of representation in these books, so heads up on that. - Knightly 

10 Things I Can See from Here - Carrie Mac 

The 57 Bus - Dashka Slater 

The Abyss Surrounds Us (The Abyss Surrounds Us, #1) - Emily Skrutskie 

Aimée & Jaguar: A Love Story, Berlin 1943 - Erica Fischer 

Alex As Well - Alyssa Brugman 

Almost Perfect - Brian Katcher 

The Art of Being Normal - Lisa Williamson

As Meat Loves Salt - Maria McCann 

Ash - Melinda Lo 

Beautiful Music for Ugly Children by Kristin Cronn-Mills 

Being Emily - Rachel Gold 

Born Both: An Intersex Life - Hida Viloria 

Cinder Ella - S.T. Lynn 

The Color Purple - Alice Walker 

Crush - Richard Siken 

The Dark Wife - Sarah Diemer 

Dreadnought (Nemesis, #1) - April Daniels 

Dress Codes for Small Towns - Courtney C. Stevens 

Everything Leads to You - Nina Lacour 

Fingersmith - Sarah Waters 

Fire from Heaven (Alexander the Great, #1) - Mary Renault 

The Gallery of Unfinished Girls - Lauren Karcz 

The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue - Mackenzi Lee

George - Alex Gino 

Giovanni's Room - James Baldwin 

Girl Mans Up - M-E Girard 

Girls Made of Snow and Glass - Melissa Barshardoust 

Gracefully Grayson - Ami Polonsky 

The Gravity Between Us - Kristen Zimmer 

History Is All You Left Me - Adam Silvera 

Honor Girl: A Graphic Memoir - Maggie Thrash 

How to Make a Wish - Ashley Herring Blake 

How to Say Goodbye in Robot - Natalie Standiford *reread 

I Can't Think Straight - Shamim Sarif 

If Found Return to Astropop - Lucas Hargis 

Insomniac City: New York, Oliver, and Me - Bill Hayes 

It's Not Like It's a Secret - Misa Sugiura 

Just Visiting - Dahlia Adler 

Kaleidoscope Song - Sarah Benwell 

The Laramie Project -  Moisés Kaufman 

Letters For My Sisters - Deanne Thornton 

Letters Never Sent - Sandra Moran 

A List of Cages - Robin Roe 

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (Wayfarers, #1) - Becky Chambers 

Lost Boi - Sassafras Lowrey

The Lotterys Plus One by Emma Donoghue 

The Love Interest - Cale Dietrich 

Marriage of a Thousand Lies - S.J. Sindu 

Maurice - E.M. Forster 

Meg & Linus - Hannah Norwinski

Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides 

Nevada - Imogen Binnie 

Nightwood - Djuna Barnes 

None of the Above - I.W. Gregorio

Not Otherwise Specified - Hannah Moskowitz

Not Your Sidekick (Sidekick Squad, #1) - C.B. Lee 

Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life in Twentieth-Century America - Lilian Faderman 

Of Fire and Stars - Audrey Coulthurst 

The One Hundred Nights of Hero - Isabel Greenberg 

One Man Guy - Michael Barakiva 

Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit - Jeannette Winterson 

Our Own Private Universe - Robin Talley 

The Pants Project - Cat Clarke 

The Precious One - Marisa de los Santos

The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith 

A Proper Young Lady - Lianne Simon 

Queens of Geek - Jen Wilde 

Radio Silence - Alice Oseman 

Redefining Realness: My Path to Womanhood, Identity, Love & So Much More - Janet Mock 

Release - Patrick Ness 

Ruby Fruit Jungle - Ruby Mae Brown 

Seven Ways We Lie - Riley Redgate 

Shell Game - Benny Lawrence 

The Shore - Sara Taylor

Silhouette of a Sparrow - Molly Beth Griffin 

A Single Man - Christopher Isherwood 

The Space Between - Michelle L. Teichman 

Star-Crossed - Barbara Dee 

The Stars Are Legion - Kameron Hurley

Starting From Here - Lisa Jenn Bigelow

Suicide Notes - Michael Thomas Ford *reread 

Swordspoint (Riverside, #1) - Ellen Kushner 

Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel - Sara Farizan 

Tell the Wolves I'm Home - Carol Rifka Brunt

They Both Die at the End - Adam Silvera 

This is How It Always Is - Laurie Frankel 

The Tiger’s Daughter (Their Bright Ascendency #1) - K. Arsenault Rivera 

Tomboy - Liz Prince 

Trick - Natalie Jaster 

Trumpet - Jackie Kay 

Under the Udala Trees - Chinelo Okparanta 

The Upside of Unrequited - The Upside of Unrequited 

The Vintner's Luck (Vintner's Luck, #1) - Elizabeth Knox 

A Visitation of Spirits - Randall Kenan 

What Happened to Lani Garver by Carol Plum-Ucci 

What Night Brings - Carla Trujillo 

When the Moon Was Ours - Anna-Marie McLemore 

Where You Are - J.H. Trumble 

Wildthorn - Jane Eagland

The Year of Needy Girls - Patricia Smith 

The You I've Never Known - Ellen Hopkins 

You Know Me Well - Nina LaCour 

[libidomechanica]

‘Those murderers of the sager sort our desire’

Those murderers of the sager sort our desire. I was passe, ere this, som that wiste, In many wise, how he can Endure they preuaile as much with me wrothe, I sey nat this book a leef, That when I was passe, ere the minds, As that I hadde, As taketh not the hem of her golden bars Drops on the breast, And life is most jolly. One asked only Nature with cracked hands the digits of my mouth. That make show Of largeness when touched, I’d grow old apace, and takė me. I’m caught light All love, get, tell, till in us is overruled by fate. As if those tickets would pay with his life after wol we fle. And life hath now thee Is noght withdrawe My chambre of Venus seel. That bad his friendship like an emerald. I kindly warm’d. Till I could be like disaster. He is to seye, “Wyf, g”o wher the moore it hurt me, – that’s enough to sate Its thirst of blessing, but, in all of tacks around like Tinkerbell and the roast meat stopped crackling. Lucia, likerous mouth too much loves have a certain woman. But atte laste out of wedlock and kick your finger of a tale or two Thousand score. The insomniac listening on the Birds have actually tied and knows The secret hair of children she mighty storm; In the lonely spirit sudden silence found the wisė wyvės that ther as she: And as a spinning of Ireland, My Queen she’s talking halt and from thee; For I so oftė have you moved among them, And lete his wyf, Eriphilem, that for an empty hand to another knots, yet I would knock me down As lovers dream within a dream? Wind throws the sun your Foliage, and wo, We fille acorded by us selven two.