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chaosduckies · 2 months

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Friends In Small Places (Chapter 4)

As I’ve mentioned when I had first started writing this, this piece is meant to be gloomy. So, I give you the fearplay chapter. I’m so sorry for the delay, but I hope you enjoy! (I have no idea how to feel about this scene-) Also, I get to put my three years of spanish classes to use :D (Translations are included)

Word Count: 3.5k

CW: Anxiety, panic attacks, slight gore mentioned

4-Liam

A week can pass by quickly.

Cas and I have been slowly getting to know each other a little more. Not a whole lot since some topics were a little too hard for him to talk about. Classes at college were getting even more tiring, and before I could ask to take the classes online it turns out that they had already handled it when I brought up the subject. So, now I was practically staying at Cas’s house almost all of the time. Although it isn’t too bad, I’ve noticed something about his behavior. He likes to stay close by me.

It’s not a bad thing, I’m not complaining at all, it’s just that it’s nerve wracking whenever he asks if I’m okay with him sitting near me. I’m not used to him all that much. I know most people are fine with being around shifters but of course I’ve believed all my life that most shifters were scary, intimidating even. It’ll just take some time to get used to living with one I guess. After all, I was supposed to be a therapist.

Today I was just writing some notes while Cas sat on the floor, a bright smile on his face as he looked at his phone. I was about to ask what that was about, but then I remembered him telling me something about seeing his parents sometimes this week. Was that today? If it was I should probably get ready. The only thing I knew was that I was required to be there the entire time. They didn’t tell me what was going to happen, how long it would be, but I’m sure Cas would tell me on our way there.

I shut my computer closed, placing my notebook on top of it before shoving it into my bag and glancing over at Cas. He seemed excited to meet with his parents. I would be too if I had been separated for however long. Then again I live in an entire different city than my parents. They do like calling every once in a while though. I don’t think they let Cas have his own parents phone number.

“Excited?” I mumbled, walking a little bit closer. I’m pretty sure we’ll have to leave soon. It was already noon and I was mainly waiting on a text or a call that explains that his parents were ready to see him. For some reason he’s not allowed to go in early which I find is kind of irrational, but I can’t just go against them. Heck, I wasn’t even supposed to be part of this organization.

“Mhm. Last time we were only allowed an hour to talk.” He smiled sadly at me, still looking positive about today’s outcome. I do hope he gets to see them today. I think he needs this. But I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as excited to see their parents as Cas was.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, but how old are you?” I asked, looking up curiously. He can’t be more than three years younger than me. He doesn’t go to school, and I doubt he’s any older than myself.

“Eighteen. I know, I act like a child.” He chuckled, messing with his hands. Nervous? I don’t really think I could do anything about that. Actually, for someone who has depression and struggles with emotions, he doesn’t lose control a whole lot. Only ever twice has he in front of me, minus the times where he starts growing a couple feet from either watching someone thing or thinking about something. I try my hardest to shut it down before anything bad could happen. Last time I freaked out and couldn’t do anything useful to help him.

“I don’t think you act like a child.” I laughed, hearing my phone go off. I hurried to pick it up, seeing Cas quite literally beam with a shocked smile. I told them we’d be right there, and then carefully climbed into his hands. Today would be a good day. I don’t know why I get the feeling something bad will happen. It’s just the way they had sounded on the phone…

——————

The building looked relatively normal on the outside, with a fancy look that had screamed “We’re rich,” there were different sized doors, but what caught me off guard was that there was an entire security system right at the front that makes sure you’r not bringing a weapon. Cas set me down near the human-sized doors, telling me to just do what they say and we’ll eventually meet up again. It’s kind of awkward taking instructions from someone younger than me, but he’s been here for much, much longer.

I went through security, answered a few questions, like who I was with, how long I would prefer the visit time be, mostly questions about Cas if I were being honest. Was this why he was only allowed a singular hour to talk last time? Because he had someone else? I don’t really mind spending a few hours here. What could go wrong? I answered as long as Cas and his parents were going to be here. I’d feel bad if I set a time limit. Plus, I’m sure his parents would love to spend some more time with him.

Eventually they lead me to a huge waiting room, where I was guessing I would be able to keep an eye on Cas. I was I trusted to stay in there in case something goes wrong, but I sincerely doubt it. What was there to be upset about in the first place? I think everything would be fine. I was just staying on the sidelines anyways. Maybe meet his parents, talk for a while. Heck, maybe I’ll even get to know a little more about him. Cas doesn’t answer some questions I have. All for good reason I hope, it’s not like I was going to force it out of him anyways. That would just be plain wrong.

Out side of the room, Cas had walked in, standing up near the platform I was guessing they’d be at. Weren’t they supposed to take me up there too? A woman wearing a suit walked into my holding room, taking a seat right next to me, “Kayla Cruz. I was Casper’s old therapist.” She giggled, holding her hand out. Oh? What was she doing here then? Why was she replaced by me of all people? She certainly looked like she was more trained for this job than I was. Something wasn’t right here.

“Oh, um, Liam Rover. It’s nice to meet you.” I smiled, shaking her offered hand and watching as Three people wearing a guard outfit instructed Cas about something to which he nodded to. Wasn’t I supposed to be up there? I think I know which way to go to get up to him. I guess I can wait an extra couple of minutes. I have no idea why, but I had a bad feeling about everything. Maybe I could ask Ryan later? I know the person he was placed with is a shifter who can only reduce their size, was this really any different? I’d have to ask.

The woman next to me watched, a frown on her face as she looked at Cas, a worried look on his face. His eyes darted all around the room, still waiting for when his parents walk through the safety of the doors high above where I was sitting. Was it supposed to take this long? Why was I the one worried? Was it just a feeling?

Th woman next to me glared at me from the corner of her eye, a smirk appearing on her face, “They told you he was meeting with his parents today?” She leaned back in the seat. I nodded my head, confused. “It’s technically true, but the company has deemed Casper here too mentally unstable to meet with anyone but shifters and his corresponding therapist, which would be you.”

My heart sank.

What the hell. This was just wrong! I have to go up there before they do anythi- I stared up at the platform, seeing a singular guard walk in, say something to Cas, have a short conversation that made his eyes grow wide and slide slowly down the metal-looking wall behind him. My eyes darted around the room, searching for a door to go and help him. Of course I was terrified about what they’ve done, mostly the outcome of what’s about to happen, but it’s not like I can just leave him here. I know what they do to shifters who can’t control their emotions. Their either sent off to a special captivity prison, or they… I can’t think about that right now. I am not about to become the reason Cas gets sent to a place like that. I don’t have the heart in me to do so.

I found a door that looked like it lead to the room, and almost as if they knew I was searching for it, it unlocked. I threw it open, rushing out, my heart beating fast and uncontrollable. My legs were about to give out from underneath me, breath shaky, my mind screaming at me to get the hell out of here. But I don’t. I knew what was about to happen. They weren’t letting Cas see his parents. I heard slight screaming and yelling in another room that sounded like a woman’s and crying from a kid. But I didn’t focus on that right now. I was more worried about the situation in front of me.

What do I do? Something tells me this isn’t going to be anything like that other time. Cas has always watched how he reacts to things, what he does, but right now he’s not. He’s most definitely depressed, and there was just something else I couldn’t pin point. People do dumb things while they’re upset. They regret it all later, so it would be best if I make sure Cas doesn’t so anything he’ll regret. Because then that’s an entire different problem to deal with after this one.

“Cas!” I managed to scream at the top of my lungs, knees buckling underneath me, but I force them to keep me standing upright as his gaze falls onto me. I jumped, chest heaving up and down as I struggled to find the words to say. My body was frozen in fear, not even able to move a single limb from it’s place. He winced when his legs uncomfortably hit the wall opposite of him. I didn’t know what to do. It’s almost like… they wanted him to lash out. Why would they want that? Soon enough, guards ran in, yelling orders while one tugged at me to head back inside, but I didn’t move. Instead, I rushed forward, avoiding the somehow careful limbs that were trying to move into a compact position on the floor.

A guard was running after me, but I guess someone held him back since I was somehow gaining ground when I was running extremely slow and tripping every once in a while. I found Cas’s head, seeing him scrunched up as much as he could manage as of right now. He laid on the ground, arms and hands covering his face and knees up against the chest. He still realizes that he can hurt people. Maybe I can actually do this? Still, the size difference between us is huge.

Cas wasn’t crying or anything. Just mumbling words I surprisingly couldn’t make out. He didn’t sound angry. Just upset. That makes it easier to deal with. People do horrible things out of anger. And I could only imagine how devastating it would be if Cas wasn’t thoughtful enough to watch himself.

I found his head, buried underneath his arms and muttering incomprehensible words to himself. He groaned a bit, slightly turning his body to face the wall, moving his arms away from his face to lay them down. I guess he didn’t see that I was so close to him because his arm almost killed me. I quickly jumped out the way just before I would’ve been nothing but a pile of flesh and bones on the ground. My heart skipped a beat, unable to stare at the spot on the ground where I could’ve died. My breathing became a ragged, and the sounds close to me were slightly muffled, but it’s not like anyone was saying anything important to me.

Cas turned his head, eyes meeting my frozen minuscule frame and gasping. He moved his arm away from me, doing his best to slowly sit up without alarming the multiple guards in the room, along with the weapons they probably have imbedded in the room itself. I could tell he was still upset, but right now I was too focused on the fact that I could have died. That reminded me just how much power Cas had over me. Even if I was the one who was watching over him.

“L-Liam I-I’m so sorry I didn’t mean-“ He tried apologizing, voice hitching just before sucked in a sharp breath. My entire body was shaky, but I forced my legs to push me back up and walk over to the towering being. More people had walked in, Cas pressed his back closer to the wall scared. He knew what was going to happen. I knew what was going to happen. I just had to make sure it wasn’t the worst possible outcome of the the two. I don’t think I could handle the guilt that way.

The week I’ve spent with Cas has been amazing really. Even though sometimes I get a little jumpy from the fast movements, or feel uncomfortable at times when he’s around me, Cas really isn’t bad at all. We’ve hung out for a while, watched movies, played a few games. I think we’re friends? With that thought in mind I’d hate to see them take him to a place he doesn’t even deserve to be in. Of course I was afraid of him still, instincts and all, but I don’t want him to end up being alone.

I stood up, taking shaky breaths as I tried my hardest to stay upright. Come on I’m not even hurt- I was just terrified. Shocked. A little unstable right now even. If I had tried talking to Cas now he wouldn’t hear me. The distance between my and himself was huge. I looked back up at him, taking deep breaths. He stared worriedly at the people making their way in, looking ready to advance if he tries anything.

“I’m not scared. I’m totally fine.” I kept muttering to myself. It usually worked when I felt like this. It’s what my dad would keep telling me. Little did he know that I was terrified of everything going on around me right now.

Cas’s attention turned to me, a hand reaching taking up my vision as I stood frozen in fear. The next the thing I knew I was pinched tightly between two of his fingers, arms pinned to my sides and barely able to move any part of my body. The pressure against my chest increased, threatening to break my ribs. That was the least of my worries. I couldn’t breathe right now.

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you like that!” He freaked out, holding me dangerously close to his face. He’s not being his usual careful self, but that was expected when a person was upset. I gasped for air, trying to free my arms from the prison I was in currently, but Cas just kept looking over the the people on the ground that was far, far below me and muttering words in a language I couldn’t hear.

My heart was racing fast as my lungs had begged me for air. I managed to free one of my arms, and I forced my voice to work for once, “Cas!”

“…Lo siento. Lo siento mucho. Estoy arruinando todo...” (*Translation: I’m sorry. I’m very sorry. I’m ruining everything…*)He kept on muttering over and over again, and it just makes me wish I had paid attention to my spanish classes in high school. Something about him being sorry? I think have much, much bigger problems at hand though.

Cas shifted me in his literal death grip, allowing me to breathe, but he was pressing down harder, and a sharp pain erupted from my leg, but I was fueled by the adrenaline.

“Cas!” I screamed again, trying to pull myself out of his grip. His eyes darted to me, wide and shocked. It took him a moment to realize, but he let go, laying me down in his open palm, running a hand through his hair. I coughed for air, wincing when I checked out the leg that felt like it was on fire. Most likely broken, but nothing I couldn’t handle. It was fine though. I know he didn’t mean to. But still, my fear never wavered at the fact that he could quite literally kill me by not even trying to.

“¿Estás bien? I-I didn’t mean to-“ I nodded my head, biting down hard on the bottom of my lip. It’s okay, you know him good enough to know that he wouldn’t do any of this on purpose. I had to remind myself before gathering up my remaining courage to actually do my job.

“Cas, just take a few breaths, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong.” I had only hoped he heard over how shaky my voice was. He slowly nodded his head, I closed my eyes, hoping that when I opened them the ground wouldn’t be so far from me. When I peaked out, the ground was a bit closer, people stood on the ground, frozen in either fear or shock. I calmed my heart down enough to actually get a few more words in.

“Feeling a little better?” I asked, putting on the best smile I could manage right now. He slightly nodded again, continuing to take slow breaths.

“What happened?” I asked calmly, genuinely worried about what was said before I rushed in through here. Cas eyes me sadly, wincing, “I won’t… be able to see my parents for a long time.” He whispered, suddenly aware of everything around him again. He moved further into the wall, away from the people below us.

“And that means?…” He bit the bottom of his lip, “Apparently I’m too unstable to even see my own family.” He sighed, and I could tell he wanted to cry, but he knew what would happen if he gave into those feelings.

“I-I have a little brother. He loves trying to climb up anything he can,” He started laughing sadly, “You can imagine how much fun he has when he and my parents come for visits.” He sniffled a little, smiling. Oh. Oh. He’s calming down in his own way.

Why was the world so adamant on having people watch over the “dangerous” shifters? Cas doesn’t need me… and maybe shifters don’t actually need anyone to watch over them.

“Yeah?” I smiled, laughing with him while he seemed to have calmed down.

“… I’m sorry, Liam.” He pressed me up agianst the bridge of his nose, this time a lot more gentle. I winced from the sharp pain in my leg, but sucked it up. I think Cas needs this. Even if I was scared he’d accidentally hurt me again.

Cas let me down, facing the crowd on the ground that had rushed to help me up, limping the entire way until multiple people were talking behind me, rushing into places. I turned back, ignoring the warning from the people helping me. Cas gave a sad smile as the red band on his wrists started blinking, clasping themselves together like magnetic handcuffs. Cas sighed.

I heard people in another room yelling, even a child’s voice. It’s his parents. I gasped, finding a door to another room I haven’t been in, seeing a guard and a person with a suit and tie in there. Through the small window, I saw a tall man trying to comfort his wife, who sat crying on the bench while the child stared, screaming at the guard to let him see his brother. My heart sank.

They weren’t going to kill Cas. I knew they wouldn’t. I just hoped I would be allowed to see him in the hospital they’ll be placing him in. This wasn’t right. Not at all.

——————

Aghhh plot build up my beloved. This chapter leads up to something reallyyy important for later.

Aww all Cas wanted was to see his little brother 🥺

I hope you enjoyed! I have no idea how to feel about this chapter if I’m being honest, but I hope it’s alright TwT work is affecting my writing grahhhh. Thank you for reading though!

The drawing I did for this chapter is right here!

Taglist: @da3dm (If you would like to be added, leave a note or dm me! :D)

#G/t #g/t writing #g/t fearplay #g/t community #Friends in small places #oc: casper #oc: liam #my writing #aghhh idk how to feel about this one either #My writing style is just going down-#I hate it so much #I hope it goes back to normal #currently three in the morning #But I do not care #I said I would post this chapter no matter what #And here I am #I hope you guys enjoyed #Thank you for reading!#love you guys ❤️

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poeticexhalations · 2 months

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March 31st, 2018 (Part I)

** This section of my blog, in however many parts it will be, has an extreme trigger warning. The writing in this section encompasses graphic descriptions of death by euthanasia, human death, thoughts of suicide, extreme depression, extreme grief, and self-harm ideologies. I will be adding the Suicide Prevention Hotline Number, which is 988.**

People don’t really talk about what it feels like to watch someone die.

I wish that I could say it was peaceful, like watching a candle be blown out. Poof. The soul was there one minute, and gone the next. But that wasn’t my experience. My mother’s death was messy, traumatic, and agonizing. It took her thirty-two long days to finally pass away. Each and every one of those thirty-two days, I would stay at Presbyterian until late at night, only to drive home and go to classes at [University] the following day.

I was often alone.

My brother rarely came, and my father never did. It was a miracle to get my father to show up for anything, really. I had to beg him to show up to my own graduation.

The doctors would pull me aside and try to explain things to me that I never understood; trying to listen to them was like trying to listen to music underwater. The words that they used didn’t make sense to me. In layman's terms, my mother’s body was finally failing her because the alcohol she consumed was going to provide her the blissful darkness she always sought.

I was at the hospital so frequently that the nurses would greet me by name.

I’d sit in the little corner of my mother’s ICU room, hearing the beeping of the machines, while I tried to type my undergrad papers on my laptop. Sometimes, she would wake up and have full conversations with me only to forget them the next day.

I can still remember the path to her hospital room: In through the northern entrance. Head straight to the elevator, take the first elevator on the right. Fourth floor. Doors open, turn left. Turn left again at the end of the hall. Turn right to head into the ICU. Turn left at the desk. Her door was third on the left.

I can also still smell the chemicals of the hospital. Everything there was artificial and bitter, from the baby blue walls to the cheap soap.

As her eldest child, it fell onto me to make medical decisions for my mother that I was woefully, woefully unequipped to do. I had zero medical knowledge. I was also young. I would be in the bathroom after heaving up my lunch, Googling what the doctors were trying to explain to me on my iPhone, before making monumental choices on behalf of the life of another. I became her healthcare power of attorney, and I made the decision to kill my mother.

“Made” is a very kind way of putting it.

It's more like the decision was thrust into my hands like a sizzling blade, and I was told that it was my choice to grasp the blade.

My mother was my mother, and then she started becoming a stranger. There is nothing more painful in this world than watching someone you treasure so deeply–a parent, perhaps–slowly slip away into the spiritual realm while you are confused and lost. I’d crack my knuckles in the corner of her room until they bled. I’d skip dinner and wait until the nurses kicked me out late at night. I wouldn’t sleep because I’d dream about her, and how ill she was getting.

Day by day, her skin grew a little more pallor and yellow.

Day by day, her eyes would lose a little bit of their shine.

Then her nails started to crack. Her bruises from the IV’s stopped healing. Her eyelashes fell out. Her lips were bleeding. Her hair was getting thinner. Her teeth became goopy. The whites of her eyes turned yellow. Her legs bloated. Her stomach bloated. Her hands shrank. Her voice blurred. Her memory began to suffer.

She couldn’t use the restroom without tubes, couldn’t breathe without tubes, couldn’t eat without tubes.

One evening, when they were trying to put the tube down her throat, a code blue happened down the hall. The nurses fled the room and assured me they’d be back. I was holding my mother’s hand as she gagged and heaved on the tube, already halfway down her throat. They never lifted her back up in her bed, so she was lying flat-down on her back.

I pressed the nurse’s call button, and nothing happened.

I ran into the hallway and asked to be helped (the sound of my mother's desperate heaving in the room behind me), and I was barely acknowledged. I was crying. A full-grown woman, ugly-crying in the hospital hallway, and was barely acknowledged. I remember wanting to collapse.

I didn’t want to leave the room, but I did. I fled down those artificial hallways to a station and told them that my mother couldn’t breathe. It took them twenty-five minutes to get to her.

In those minutes, I told my mother I loved her because I thought that was going to be it. Negligence would be the cause of her death.

No, silly me; I would be the cause of her death. I just didn’t know it yet.

She told me she loved me back, her lips moving around the tube.

Those were the last words she spoke to me; a blessing, everyone keeps saying.

The decision was put on me to remove her oxygen. I knew I had to do it, but I couldn’t. They were going to wait for me, the doctors said. They’d keep her on the tube until then.

Tuesday, I was told I needed to make the hard choices.

Wednesday, I woke up and drove halfway to the hospital before driving back, screaming and crying until I couldn’t see the road. I pulled over and cried for hours.

Thursday, I didn’t even try to drive down there. I didn’t climb out of bed. I didn't brush my teeth.

How does one wake up and fully acknowledge that it will be their parent’s last day in this world? And not only that, but that you would be the catalyst for making that a reality?

How do you choose your parent’s death day?

How do you choose what day of the week to kill your mom? It felt like I was putting down my mother the way one puts down a dog. And my younger brother was excused from making the hard choices. It fell onto my shoulders entirely.

Friday, I finally went to the ICU. It was strange eating before I got to the hospital, because I knew I would need food before I watched my mom die. Then I knew I needed to park before watching my mom die. Then I knew I needed to use the restroom before watching my mom die. I was wiping in the bathroom, thinking, my mom is about to die. My mom is about to die.

Then I washed my hands.

How weird.

Have you ever been nervous about getting a flu shot?

I wasn’t even nervous, knowing I was about to watch my favorite person die.

I felt nothing walking in.

The nurses told me they expected me days ago. It felt judgmental. I think they were ashamed of me for allowing her to suffer for so long.

I didn’t know what to tell them. My brother came with me, but he threw up in the lobby and stayed outside her room. Bless him, he got to separate himself from the murder I caused.

When the nurses took the tubes out, they pumped my mother full of morphine and told me it would be fast. She’d slip away, and it wouldn’t be long now. I held her bloody hand the entire time. Her skin was cold.

The entire five fucking hours, I held her hand and listened to her wheezing.

Fast my ass.

Five. Fucking. Hours.

(To be continued)

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ttalgi · 1 year

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cupid ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ diluc x fem!reader

:01 feeling lonely

synopsis: growing up a hopeless romantic, you always believed in cupid. however because of your social anxiety, you end up as a loner and start to lose hope,,until fate has you move nextdoor to diluc, the all-star bachelor of teyvat university

cw: small amount of depressing/depreciating thoughts; if there's more, please let me know

small smau + 2.7k written portion

Thirty-seven minutes have passed since you parked the moving truck into the residential parking space, and yet you haven't made an attempt to get out.

Actually, that's a lie.

You've been trying to mentally prepare yourself, but each time ends in failure because of thoughts like these.

‘What if when I try to move my mattress, it accidentally falls on top of me and I can't move and need help to get it off of me.' and 'I feel like there's so many people out and about right now. I know that they're going to see me alone and think that I'm a loser...'

In reality, only about four people have passed by in the time frame that you’ve been parked, but to you, four feels the equivalent to 100. Now having thought of your worries again you realize that yeah, a couple of more minutes before heading out couldn't hurt.

Slumping back into the cushioned driver’s seat, you let out a small giggle thinking of how the seat probably has a mold of your body indented into it. You start your mental timer of five minutes before an unnerving thought emerges and jumps to the front of your mind. What are you forgetting, what are you forgetting, what are you forgetting?!

You spend a good minute racking your brain until this particular sun ray angles itself to blind you momentarily an- ‘Oh my god, Lumi should be here any minute now.’

Hastily grabbing your phone, you go to the conversation between the two of you to look at the timestamps. If you take into account the six minute drive from campus to the Starbucks in front of Windwail Highlands, the seven minute wait in the drive thru line, and the one minute venture from the Starbucks to the building complex; you realize that your theory is correct.

At times you worry that Lumine is worried about you. Ever since meeting in your guys’ shared dorm room two years ago, she’s experienced just how disencouraging your social anxiety can be in your everyday life. Lumine never fails to be caring towards you, and sometimes she even reminds you of a mother hen. Wanting to show her that you can easily do simple tasks such as moving boxes in new settings, you defrost the actor in you and put on your performance called “showing Lumi that you can be semi confident doing things in public without being with someone that you're comfortable with.”

‘I should really work on my naming skills.’

Having found a new motivator, you unlock and open the weighted door to hop down from the raised truck onto the asphalt. You go to grab your phone and the rental truck keys to slip into each of your back jean pockets before turning to the back of the truck and closing the door behind you. Stepping up to the raised sidewalk, you reach up to unlock the back double doors of the truck and carefully swing the doors out to the sides.

It’s kind of amusing seeing as how you arranged all of your boxes like you were playing a game of Tetris; except the only pieces that you were given are the squares and a single line piece representing your mattress. This is making you remember that you really don’t have a lot of difficult items to haul, so the whole process shouldn't be too hard…right?

After carefully lowering the deck ramp, you grab the hand truck that’s sitting to the side and then start to maneuver some of the smaller and lighter boxes onto the dolly platform. Successfully loading on two boxes, you begin to slowly tilt the cart backward towards you; you walk down the ramp and continue until you’re about to enter the elevator doors when you notice a white sedan pulling up and parking a space over your rented U-haul.

Bea, also known by her full name Beatrice. Bea is Lumine and Aether’s shared car that they got as a present for their 18th birthday. The 2021 Toyota Camry, although still fairly new, has definitely seen some things; examples being when they drove their little sister Paimon to Klee’s birthday party. Lumine told you that since they’re great friends in their grade school classes, Paimon wanted to give a whole food platter because “food is the greatest gift.” However, things quickly went awry when Paimon “accidentally” opened the container and started to eat one of the sandwiches. Then when an unnoticed speed bump appeared, the entire platter ended up nestling into each crevice of Bea. On rare occasions, you swear that you can smell deli meat while being a passenger in Bea…

Anyways, while reminiscing about the story, you register that the driver side door has been opened and that a blonde head with its signature blue flower clip now starts to become visible above the top of the car. You automatically start to smile and call out to Lumine, who’s holding two iced lattes in her hands. "Lumi! My pookie bear! I’ve missed you so much!”

She starts to gleefully skip towards you, careful to not spill the drinks. "Y/n! My scrunkle! My pookie bear! I missed you so much while in our class today," finishes Lumine stopping in front of you with a pout on her face.

Returning it with your own pout when you say, “trust me when I say that missing Professor Ningguang's classes scare me. Like, I know attendance isn’t a part of the grade, but missing her classes?!…feels unnerving.” You start to shudder a bit just thinking about it. “Plus, starting early in the morning today was the only time that they would allow me to park and unload the U-Haul for some reason."

Lumine starts to tilt her head to the side. "Huh..that is weird not going to lie. But! I see that you've started already!” She uses her elbow to press the elevator button for the both of you. “Come on! Let's go and put these boxes inside your place already. Then we can finish our drinks real quick and move the rest of the boxes together.”

The doors open with a ‘ding!’, and you wheel the hand truck backward into the elevator with Lumi squeezing in beside you. Not being able to press the floor button yourself, you ask Lumine to push the ‘4’ button on the side panel. After pressing the switch, Lumine starts to give you a quick crash course lesson of what happened in your guys’ shared “Principles of Microeconomics” class today.

“And then Childe had the GALL to interrupt Miss Ningguang saying things that I couldn’t even bother to remember.”

You ponder for a second before asking who this Childe person is. You've never been the best with names or faces, especially since you tend to look down for most of the time. After learning that he’s tall with ginger hair and plain blue eyes, the elevator doors open and the two of you exit the metal box.

Walking down the corridor Lumine questions which number yours is, and you respond saying that it’s apartment 440D and that it should be right around, “A-ha! Here it is!”

Still holding onto the dolly, you ask Lumine to take the keys from your pocket and to open the door to your new place for the upcoming year. Walking through the door first, you set the cart to the side and spin back around to Lumine, amusing her with your impression of pretending to be on an episode of the show “MTV cribs.”

The two of you drink your lattes while you give Lumi a quick tour of your one bedroom apartment. With the beverages basically chugged down, Lumine begins to push her sleeves up with a determined look. "Alright, it's game time."

"WHEW! We…finally…hauled the mattress up…"

After a particularly rough shove of the mattress through the door, you kick the door shut and practically dive to the floor in exhaustion. You can’t stop heaving, feeling that there’s not enough air on the planet to bring your lungs back to normal. It’s at times like these where you think to finally accept Lumine’s invitations to join her at the gym.

You can tell that Lumine’s in a better state, due to being fit with her regular weightlifting sessions, but she ends up joining you on the floor to cool down beside you, allowing herself to take a break. Taking your hand in hers, she starts to shake it back and forth with joy on how the both of you finished the job. “I know that it only took two hours, but that sure was draining. I’m really proud of us, Y/n!”

The two of you stay on the solid hardwood floors and end up in small banter, not realizing another hour passing by.

“Oh yeah! I actually have a friend who lives in this complex as well. Though, I don’t know the exact unit since he switched when his old lease ended a couple of months ago.”

You were about to respond when your thought process was halted by feeling a twinge in your stomach, making you realize that it’s been a while since you ate in the morning. “Hey Lumi, are you hungry?” Continuing after you hear her hum of agreement, “Do you wanna head to the new sushi place with the revolving belt? Uyuu Restaurant. I saw that it just had its grand opening the other day."

Lumine stands up with a swiftness you didn’t know existed, and you swear that you could see visible sparkles around her figure. She picks you up from your lying position and your only thought at that moment was that this must be how her barbells feel.

After having a satisfying meal and successfully paying the entire bill as a way of thanks, Lumine drops you back at Windwail Highlands before needing to go back to campus and attend her club meet. Before Lumine drives away, she tells that the two of you should meet up for lunch on campus, and you agree while waving her goodbye.

It’s now the late afternoon and frankly all you want to do is spend the rest of your day indoors, but you still have the U-Haul truck to take back. Once again settling into the driver's seat, you set your phone GPS to the nearest location which, thankfully, was only a three minute drive from the complex. After completing the dreadful drop off process, you awkwardly power walk to get on the bus waiting at the entrance to the U-Haul lot.

A factor that you love about this area, is that the public transport is one of the best, with relatively frequent arrival/departure times and numerous locations, some being Teyvat University and Windwail Highlands. However, a factor that you hate is how public the public transportation is. Having to be surrounded by strangers is a complete nightmare that you can't wake up from.

You did have your own car that you used to commute with, your 2016 Honda Accord that you’ve named Franny, aka Frank. But since you moved to a walkable area with good transportation, your parents wanted you to leave him at their house so he could be used as an extra family car. Not having a choice, you reluctantly departed ways with Frank this morning. All you could wish for is that your siblings don’t completely ruin him.

The bus commute comes to a stop when it finally halts at the Windwail Highlands station bench. Wanting to escape the sea of people (there were six other people onboard, including the bus driver) and the abnormal October afternoon heat, you don’t hesitate to dart straight for Unit 440D.

Forgetting that you haven’t unpacked anything was a big hit to your hp meter, especially since you know that leaving it for tomorrow would completely knock you out. You start to make a list of the priorities to unpack, just so it doesn’t seem overwhelming to unpack everything today.

‘Let’s see. First I should move my mattress to the bedroom, then unpack my bathroom products, then all of my clothe- wait, my dresser hasn’t come yet…then some of my clothes with the hangers, then my snacks.'

Deeming your list as complete, you go to find your headphones so you don’t have to spend unpacking alone in silence.

The next hour was surprisingly productive, most likely from the OSTs fueling your imagination as being the main character for once. It was halted when you decided to snack for a bit to get a quick power up. Taking a moment to pause, you grasp that even with all of the full cardboard boxes surrounding you, you feel barren and alone.

'Like how it always is.'

Your first thought is to text Lumi and absorb yourself into a conversation with her, but the devil on your shoulder sometimes can't help but to indulge himself onto your thoughts.

'I said that I could do things myself, deal with things myself, didn't I.' You feel your heart heavy in your chest, tossing, turning and folding itself up. 'I know that I'm being too clingy anyways.'

Waiting to escape from these thoughts, you subconsciously put yourself in autopilot as you leave your unit and end up in front of the playground that sits across from your specific building. You allow yourself to drag your feet until you end up slumping onto one of the swing sets.

With a pathetic attempt of swinging, you only end up slightly jostling yourself before coming to a stop. You can't help but to reminisce of the times when your parents would push you since your legs couldn't reach the bottom. Kicking the ground with greater force, it gives you the momentum to start swinging your legs. You could perfectly swing yourself, but all that you could wish for at this moment would be to not have to push yourself on the swings. To have someone pushing your back. To have your back.

To have to not feel lonely anymore.

Deciding to stop swinging your legs, you let the momentum allow you to continue to ride the wind back and forth until you come to a gradual slow still. You take a moment to stare at your sneakers, the same pair that your parents once bought you as a gift for getting accepted into Teyvat University. The once pristine and creaseless kicks now appear dull and beat up, and you can’t help but think that your shoes remind you of yourself at this very moment.

‘But worn out shoes show that they're loved.’

The corner of your lip twitches upwards and you sharply exhale out of your nose realizing that even in your dim moments, Lumine’s words never fail to pierce through the shadows, illuminating themselves to be seen once again. With your head now feeling a bit clearer and lighter, you finally raise your head and notice that you’re not as alone as you once were.

Gazing from left to right, you spot a couple of teens playing basketball and/or skateboarding in the court beside you, as well as the handful of joggers on the sidewalks surrounding the area. You let yourself slip out of the rubber seat and let go of the metal chains holding the swing up. Reaching your hand into your hoodie’s front pocket for your phone, you start to panic when you don’t feel the familiar device. Your panic ends as quick as it started when you spot it on a pile of wood chips a bit to the side where the swing naturally rests.

Bending down to grab your phone, you feel your body start to ache. Now knowing that your moving endeavors from the day are catching up to you, you decide that you want to simply head straight to your apartment to rest up for the night. It should have been simple, just walking 20 meters without any incidents.

‘It never is for me.’

Your first mistake was having your headphones still connected and playing music, unknowing of the warning call directed your way. Your second mistake was paying attention to your phone rather than focusing on where you place each of your steps. Your right foot landed on a spare skateboard that rested on the edge of the sidewalk, and not thinking, you tried to take a step forwards with your left foot making you start to fall face first.

Everything happened so fast that it’s still complicated to process what happened. All you saw was a flash of red before feeling arms wrap around you and your face pressing against something firm before falling to the ground.

scrunkle: "used to describe something or someone cute" (as seen on urban dictionary; me and my friends started to use this and it just stuck with me)

the moving process could have definitely taken less than two hours,,if only you guys hadn't started talking about aespa's new album

since lumine/aether don't have canonical birth dates, i'll just say that their birthday is on 1/1, new years !!

prev • masterlist • next

notes: this chapter took so long to write,,maybe i was just too nervous to actually post it 乁₍ッ₎ㄏ

i feel like you could see where i derailed in the middle but anywho,,hope you guys enjoyed hehe

taglist: open! @whipped-for-fictionals @aisclosed @cieluna @freshlaundry

#cupid ꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x you #genshin smau #ttalgi stans diluc #ttalgi writes

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laxmiree · 2 years

Text

[CN] MLQC Lucien's Bizarre Record Date translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

“Only this painted skin demon has no story and no ending.”

“If you were him, would you hate the person who wrote you out but then forgot about you?”

Translation under the cut!

The early winter sunset shines through the glass, tinting the small room with orange and golden color.

Headless ghost: …She told me that there was never a monster like me. When we parted, she stood in the twilight. Do you know how beautiful it was?

The headless ghost spoke incessantly with his coarse voice. I tapped the keyboard quickly, noting the key points.

The street outside the house is full of traffic, no one knows that in such a modern society, the monster hide their faces and lurking in the crowd.

Headless ghost: Although we were separated in the end, in the 1111th year of my ghost life, we loved each other and she said I was a good person.

I sighed, unable to break his beautiful fantasy of unrequited love, rummaging through the cupboard to find a set of glowing green scarf.

MC: Be careful and keep warm.

He took the scarf, and his non-existent head made a depressed sound.

Headless ghost: Human, is my beautiful love story worth this much? I heard you gave her a necklace for her last story about the evil beast!

MC: Tragic love is not a novelty anymore, next time bring a more interesting story and I'll give you a better reward.

MC: But I could write you a good ending.

Headless ghost: Really?

MC: Absolutely. However, a bad ending in a story can become a satisfactory one, and a happy ending can still have regrets.

Headless ghost: Just don't let it be a regret, remember to write me handsomely.

He happily wrapped the scarf around his headless neck a few times, and then suddenly remembered something.

Headless ghost: By the way, recently there is a painted skin demon in the city, I heard that he likes to skin young girls alive.

MC: Painted skin demon?

Seeing that I was stunned, he gloated and laughed.

Headless ghost: You should be careful.

I'm not surprised by the ghost's scares, but when I hear that monster’s moniker, my heart can't help but beat a little faster.

I've always wanted to write a story about the Painted Skin Demon, but I've never seen one before. And now, I finally have the opportunity to do so.

MC: I wonder if he has any interesting stories.

??: Excuse me, I heard there's a human writer here who listens to tales of monsters.

A gentle voice interrupted my thoughts, and I looked up to see a man standing in the doorway.

He was wearing a cloud patterned robe that was out of place in this simple and modern home. Looking through his glasses, those dark eyes made me lose my mind for a moment.

There is a demonic aura lingering around in his body, deceitful yet captivating.

Lucien: Hello, my name is Lucien. I'm a painted skin demon.

I snapped back to my senses, realizing that the very source material I had been thinking about had come to me.

MC: Hi, are you here to sell a story?

Lucien: I don't have a story.

I was stunned, it was the first time I heard that kind of reply.

Lucien: To be precise, I would like to ask you to write a story about the "Painted Skin Demon".

Lucien: But once you start this story, you can't stop halfway.

Lucien: If you're willing to consider it, feel free to come and visit me.

There is nothing much to consider.

Sometimes the biggest story comes when there is no story. I have a feeling that this demon is very special.

The next day, I walked across town to the address Lucien had given me yesterday.

This street is one of the city's most famous old town streets, filled with the bustle and hustle of the crowds.

In front of me is a rather simple courtyard gate, looking like a forgotten corner.

MC: Excuse me-

After pushing open the door and stepping into the courtyard, the entire surrounding instantly darkened. The blue sky, which was breezy and sunny, now has a bright moon hanging over it.

In the middle of the courtyard stood an old locust tree hung with copper lanterns, its branches were full of blooming flowers; its fragrance was spread throughout the courtyard.

There is a small building next to the tree, when I open the carved wooden door, I can feel an insidious atmosphere coming from inside.

MC: Hello?

In the dark room, there was only a dim light in front of me, and the air was filled with the scent of sandalwood mixed with grass and ash.

Amidst the dead silence and darkness, I immediately tensed up and walked in subconsciously.

But as I lifted my foot, there was an abrupt thud behind me- and the door slammed shut.

There was a rustle of creepy snickers and whispers coming from the abyss, like millions of ants burrowing their way into my eardrums.

??: Hehehe, there's someone there.

??: Let’s dig her heart out~

??: Or eat her soul~

Even though I have seen many monsters, instinctive fear still makes my palms seep with cold sweat.

What the headless ghost said rang in my mind, the painted skin demon likes to skin young girls alive, which made my scalp go numb.

??: She is my guest, don't scare her.

A lazy voice came from the direction of the burning light, and stopped the ear-splitting sneer.

The remarkably familiar voice gave me great relief, I closed my stiff fingers and moved closer to the burning spot of light.

As my eyes were gradually lit up, I went around a screen and lifted the curtain.

I saw an elegantly decorated tea room, a copper incense stove with rising white smoke, the shelves were filled with spooky ghost masks.

The masks looked at me with their empty eyes, as if they were alive, and sneered silently.

Lucien was sitting on a mahogany chair, holding a tung blossom lamp covered with purple smoke, looking at me nonchalantly.

Lucien: Since you are here, it means that you have already thought about it.

I took a look at those creepy weird shaped masks and nodded with determination.

MC: That’s right. According to my terms, when the story is finished, I'll pay you accordingly, but you can't hurt me.

Lucien: Are you trying to negotiate with a demon?

Listening to his smirking tone, I humbly expressed my attitude.

MC: Yes, I am. However, I can promise you that I will make the best story.

Lucien: It would be something to look forward to.

He said it casually, without any expectation on his face. Instead, he looked at me with great interest.

Lucien: What's your name, little writer?

MC: It’s MC.

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I visit Lucien every day to observe and collect writing material.

The street scene beyond the wall is very lively, but the courtyard is exceptionally quiet, save for the spooky masks that occasionally like to scare me.

Today, the house was unusually full of the sweet smell of sandalwood, and I casually lifted the bead curtain.

MC: Good morning-

The scene in front of me made my voice stuck in my throat.

Lucien was hidden in the dim light; at the intersection of light and darkness, his long fingers holding the tung blossom lamp.

As he gently exhaled his breath, I can hear a soft sigh emanating from the air.

Wisp of purple smoke wrapped in Lucien's side as if it had a soul, and immediately, a ghost mask slowly coalesced in mid-air.

It is the same as the masks on the wall, like a life that has not yet awakened, without sorrow nor joy.

Hearing my footsteps, Lucien slightly glanced back at me with his calm and indifferent gaze.

This is the first time I saw him make a mask, my gaze were involuntarily attracted by that pair of sultry eyes, unable to move away for a moment.

MC:Was that you who made that sound?

Lucien: That sound wasn’t made by me, by ‘it’.

Lucien looked at the ghost mask that was gradually taking shape in mid-air.

Lucien: Each mask created by obsessions and desires has its own soul.

Lucien: They are happy to be born, but unwilling to live only as a mask for others.

Lucien gently stroke the ghost mask, a trace of ridicule flashed in his eyes.

Lucien: Did it scare you?

I snapped back to my senses and remembered that I had come here to collect materials. And Lucien was making the rare ghost mask in front of me!

MC: Wait, don't move.

I quickly dug out my laptop, opened the document, and leaned closer to Lucien's face-

MC: Relax your wrists a little, and keep your expression a bit colder…

Lucien wasn’t a bit annoyed when I "manipulated" his posture.

MC: Okay! Hold still!

I seized the inspiration that was about to leave and quickly tapped on the keyboard.

After writing a long paragraph, I looked up. The incense had mostly burned off, and Lucien was still in the same pose as before.

The moment our eyes met, he blinked, the corners of his eyes teased a little smile.

Lucien: Is it over yet?

I hastily nodded and rubbed my nose a little apologetically.

MC: Sorry, I tend to lose track of time when I write.

Lucien: Can you show me what you've written?

MC: Sure!

I pushed the laptop over to him and looked forward to what he would say after reading it.

Lucien: "His face is cold, like the cold moon in early winter reflected by a clear glimmer of light at night."

…He unexpectedly just read out the script I wrote!

Lucien: "His inky eyes seem to have thousands of butterflies emerging from their cocoons, weaving into an ethereal illusion, enticing people to gradually become lost and addicted."

Lucien: "His well-defined hand slowly approaches, carrying an unknown temptation and danger"...

MC: Stop, stop!

The words that were so satisfying a while ago, seemed especially grandiose and contrived when he read them out in his warm voice.

I felt so embarrassed that I had curled up on my toes, turned my computer back around, patted my face that was a little hot, and decided to change the subject.

MC: So… is this tung blossom lamp the prop you use for painting the skin*?

(T/N: 画皮, literally translated as painted skin is something that can transform a monster into a beauty. I assume that the masks are the 画皮 that he created.)

Lucien: This prop is called Xueqing.

MC: So you don't need actually need human skin to paint the skin…

Lucien: Human skin are too fragile for monsters. If we want to paint, it is better to use the skin of a monster.

Suddenly there was a soft sound behind us, and two monsters stood there, looking fearfully at Lucien.

Monster: W-we've come to get the mask.

Lucien immediately collected his emotions and pulled the two ghost masks off the shelf.

Lucien: I've been waiting. Don't forget the conditions you promised me, and the price for breaking the deal.

Monster: Y-yes, of course.

The two monsters nodded their heads nervously and quickly took the masks before leaving in a hurry

MC: The monsters are so afraid of you, is it because you’ve actually skinned monsters?

Lucien: Of course not.

MC: Oh… I thought-

Lucien retrieved the Xueqing, picked up an unfinished book and leisurely flipped through it.

Lucien: At most, I simply ripped out their hearts.

MC: ....

His long fingers slowly turned the pages, his tone soft as if he was talking about what he had eaten today.

Lucien: However, this is just a price I set for all the monsters who came to trade with me

MC: A price?

I got interested and moved closer to him.

Lucien: The life span of a monster is not endless. Some monsters will disappear from the world after fulfilling their obsessions or wishes.

Lucien: So the price for me to make the mask is to hand over their core to me before they disappear after fulfilling their long-cherished wish.

MC: But what if they have a new wish, or refuse to pay?

Lucien: Then I can only take matters into my own hands and forcibly execute the deal.

The masks on the wall were already terrified and kept their mouths shut.

Lucien: However…

His indifferent and mysterious eyes flickered and landed on my face.

Lucien: You don't seem to be afraid of a demon like me who skinned monsters and took their cores.

MC: …No, no. In fact, I’m still scared.

I silently gulped and waved my hand at him.

MC: But I also think that fear is part of the story.

MC: In the past, I also encountered terrible monsters when I was fetching materials, and almost got eaten a few times.

MC: Although it is scary to think about it, it is also because of that feeling of fear that what I write is more realistic.

He quietly looked at me, a glint of interest flickered in his eyes.

Lucien: Do you think that stories are more important than your life?

I thought about it and replied seriously.

MC: They are equally important. Being alive is the only way to write more stories, and stories make me feel "alive".

Lucien: No wonder there is a certain obsession in your words, in addition to your passion and imagination.

Lucien pulled off a book from the mahogany shelf and pushed it over. I was a little surprised by the familiar cover.

MC: You've read my novel?

Lucien: Mmm, the wonderful stories are always worth reading.

Lucien: I can see that you have given soul to each character, and they aren’t just characters, but more like your friends.

I blinked and gently stroked the book cover.

MC: I grew up seeing monsters, initially I was quite scared, but then I found out that monsters also just want someone to talk to.

MC: That's why I like to listen and talk to them.

MC: But in other people eyes, I was probably a weird kid who liked to talk to herself, and they gradually avoided me...

Lucien: So how did you start writing stories?

MC: Without friends, I'm always bored, so I read books to pass the time.

I smiled and flipped open the book.

MC: I've read a lot of people's stories in the book, but slowly I began to not satisfied with just reading other people's stories.

MC: I also wanted to create my own story and build a wonderful world for my characters.

Lucien steadily gazed at me with surging emotions in his eyes that I did not understand.

MC: But at the very beginning I didn't know what to write...

Lucien: So you adapted those monster stories that you heard.

MC: Mmm! My first story is a story about a fox demon.

MC: Afterwards I will actively seek out the monsters and listen to their stories.

MC: Over time, the monsters will also approach me to tell their stories, and I will also give them some kind of payment.

MC: However, I have other reason for collecting your material.

I paused.

MC: When I was very young, I read an ancient book and there was a painted skin demon in it.

Lucien froze.

MC: Although he was overlooked in the story, I always remember that mysterious aura, and I wanted to write about him.

I don't know what Lucien was thinking about. He lowered his eyes and as he remained silent, I tentatively looked at him.

MC: Lucien, do you have any imaginary scenarios? I can help you to write them.

Hearing my words, his eyes flashed with astonishment for a moment.

Lucien: It is true that I had some fantasies in the past, but they don’t matter anymore.

Lucien: I just want to leave a story, as for the specific content, I' ll leave it to the author to write it.

MC: Actually, I already have a little idea.

MC: I decided to let the painted skin demon go out of his own little world and go on a long and exciting journey of adventure!

Lucien flipped through the outline I wrote, and the arc of his brows became playful.

Lucien: So in your eyes, the Painted Skin Demon is a monster that is picky about the taste of fried tofu and gets so nervous about riding roller coasters that it makes objects around it float?

(T/N: sobbing because we’ll never get the Lucien that got nervous about riding roller coaster from third anniversary :”)

MC: A story should always be exaggerated and dramatized, contrasting with its own mysterious and powerful portrayal.

MC: I'm going to let him travel the world, meet the mummies in pyramids, and sly ghosts while walking under sakura trees...

Lucien: [chuckle] That sounds really wonderful.

MC: Monsters live a long life, so perhaps you will encounter a more exciting story in the future!

As I spoke, I suddenly realized that perhaps a thousand years later, Lucien may still be walking in the world.

And then, who will he ask to write the stories that I won't be able to see?

Thinking of this, a sense of sadness came to my heart. Lucien broke the silence just in time.

Lucien: What happens in the future, let's just leave it to the future.

Lucien: I won't leave, at least not until the end of this story is complete.

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It may be because we all live in our own worlds, or maybe because he is the only demon who reads my stories carefully.

But spending time around Lucien made me feel like I was no longer alone.

I want to write many, many stories for him.

However, this idea was soon "smashed" by reality.

MC: Ah… I can't write.

I put down the book on my head and threw myself on the table, causing Lucien, who was sitting beside him, to put down the book in his hand and look at me.

Lucien: You seem to be very irritable these days, is your writing not going well?

Seeing me nodding sorrowfully, Lucien turned to my laptop and scanned through the text.

Lucien: This story is very interesting, why are you not satisfied?

MC: I can't tell, I just feel like something is missing…

I could never write about the ‘soul’ of the Painted Skin Demon, just as I could never see through the entirety of Lucien.

Seeing my half-dying look, Lucien had a rare moment of contemplation.

Lucien: How about going to a place that I like?

Lucien: If you look at some other scenery, you may have a different idea.

I followed Lucien to the outskirts of the mountains.

The hills were bare in winter, the animals were hiding from the freezing cold, and the only sound in the forest was the sound of us occasionally stepping on dead branches.

The cool and crisp air enters my lungs and refreshes my body.

MC: Strange, the last winter when I was here to collect materials, the monsters have arranged a lot of mischief, how come there is no one today?

Lucien: Perhaps it is because you have a "big demon" in your side that they do not dare to touch.

MC: I wish I knew you earlier, and I can come here to show off.*

Lucien: With me, they might not have the leisure and grace to tell you stories.

(T/N: 狐假虎威, is an idiom that literally means “the fox exploits the tiger's might” and figuratively means “to use powerful connections to intimidate people”)

As we chatted through the trees, we saw a clear view of the cliff-side.

The sea of clouds in the twilight has spread to the end of the sky; tinted with a beautiful golden glow by the sunset light, and haloed in layers.

MC: Lucien, is this the place you like?

Lucien nodded, and we stood side by side, seeing the large part of the city through our eyes

The golden sun gradually sank into the horizon, and the dark color crept over the orange sky, giving Lucien a bit of depth.

He hides all of his secrets under an indifferent face, as if his heart was also covered with a shell.

Lucien: What's wrong?

MC: I just feel that you and twilight are somewhat alike.

MC: Very soft, yet also very distant. At times it seems as though everything is visible, yet many things seem to be hidden.

I met his deep eyes confusedly.

MC: Lucien, what are you really like?

He narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth softly when it seemed like I wouldn't be able to wait for an answer.

Lucien: A long time ago, I also knew another writer.

His fingertips landed on the side of my face and slowly descended. The instant his cold palm brushed against my neck, an irresistible force washed over me.

My field of vision turned upside down, my vision rotated rapidly, and after a moment of dizziness, I was "back" in Lucien's courtyard.

However, there is something wrong here - the trees do not have the slightest fragrance of flowers, even the glow of the lanterns have faded.

"Lucien" was staring at the lantern under the flowering tree and whispered to himself.

“Lucien”: This year's blooming season came at an inopportune time…

He is Lucien, yet he doesn't seem to be him, I subconsciously asked him.

MC: You… Who are you...?

"Lucien" turned his head to me, his expression was distant and unfamiliar.

“Lucien”: It’s you…

And behind him, a huge demonic shadow swept me away, the violent and unsettling demonic energy choking my throat and eroding every inch of my limbs.

There were many voices overlapping on the ears amidst the suffocation.

??: Who am I?

??: Where is my story?

The familiar voice bearing a sense of confusion and murderous intent, is… Lucien’s?

“Lucien”: It’d be better to simply kill-

The darkness gradually spread, and finally, only those purple eyes remained in my field of vision.

It is the first time I saw this kind of emotion in Lucien's eyes.

In the midst of perplexity and hatred, there is a certain profound obsession, and an unspeakable sadness.

My heart felt like it sensed some kind of throbbing, beating faster and faster. I reached out to him with the last of my strength...

I felt that it was becoming difficult to breathe as my consciousness was gradually leaving my body.

Lucien: MC.

Like water drops falling into the surface of a lake, this soft and gentle voice quickly eliminates the feeling of oppression and "Lucien".

I was standing on the edge of the cliff, with the brink of the cliff half a step away, and my body was trembling uncontrollably, but not out of fear.

There was burning and surging emotion, which is about to come out from the bottom of my heart.

The fiery clouds have been completely darkened by the night sky, leaving only the last hint of lonely yet dazzling purple.

Lucien stood in front of me in silence, as if he too was going to follow the twilight into the night.

He looked at me, his hand had left my neck at some point, and he softly caressed my cheek.

Lucien: Why are you crying?

MC: ...?

His rare perplexity slowly brought me back to my senses, and when I touched my cheek I realized that the place was all wet.

Lucien: Are you afraid?

I shook my head and held his hand.

MC: I'm not scared, I just feel a lot of… emotions.

Those intense and burning emotions that he hid deep inside his heart and never showed.

Lucien: Have I helped you in this way?

Lucien: I don't have a story, I only have myself.

For a moment, he silently gazed at me, and deep in his calm eyes, a crack in his heart seemed to have opened.

The darkness of the night covered us with a layer of loneliness, the night breeze was cold, but I felt that something was burning.

Was it the unending burning clouds, or the heart in his chest that had not yet calmed down?

Or maybe what was burning is the Lucien in front of me.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lucien and the burning clouds that melted into the sunset that day were like hot lava fused into my bones and blood, leaving a profound and magnificent mark on my heart.

After I got home, I sat down in front of my laptop. Once my restless mind calmed down, I typed my very first word-

The ideas come like a raging flood, turbulently flowing in an unending stream.

They tugged frantically at my hands, eager to get turned into words and stories.

I don't remember how many sunrises and moonsets have passed, and only after tapping the last dot I finally slipped into sleep.

After I woke up, I picked myself up again and started to polish the manuscript from the very beginning.

MC: The real identity of the Painted Skin Demon is revealed here, pushed the story to the climax, and then at the grand finale…

My hands stopped tapping on the keyboard, and I stared blankly at the flickering cursor on the screen.

After writing this story, do I have to say goodbye to Lucien?

My hands stopped in mid-air for a long time, and finally fell down.

After refining and polishing the story for nearly half a month, the story of the Painted Skin Demon was finally finished.

On the last day of winter, snowflakes were falling from the sky. I stood in front of the Lucien courtyard with my printed manuscript and took a deep breath.

MC: I hope this story will satisfy him.

However, as soon as I stepped into the courtyard, I noticed that something was wrong.

The locust blossoms were falling all over the place, the colored lanterns were no longer bright, and an emptiness of dead silence filled the entire courtyard.

MC: …Lucien?

Nobody answered. The tea room was also empty, and even the ghostly masks on the shelves had turned into stiff wooden masks.

Everything here seems to have lost its soul, except for the lamp left on the table, which proves what happened here.

I have a faint hunch about the reason for all this change, but I don't want to believe it.

-Lucien is no longer here.

Did he know that I had finished the book and decided to left?

The manuscript in my arms was losing its weight, and I picked up the Xueqing in a despondent manner. A huge piece of my heart felt like it had been ripped out.

Lucien: I won't leave, at least not until the end of this story is complete.

MC: Liar…

MC: Didn't you say you would read the story and ending I wrote? Why did you disappear when you said you wouldn't?

The silent room didn't respond, and the grievance in my heart grew stronger and stronger.

MC: And don't you want me to give you something in exchange for letting me write your story?

Out of nowhere, I seem to hear a familiar soft chuckle ringing in my ears.

??: What is the ending like?

MC: Lucien?

I hastily looked around, but there was no one else in the empty house.

The fire in my heart that had just ignited was quenched, and I muttered to myself in disappointment and anger.

MC: The ending is that the Painted Skin Demon is sealed in a magical amusement park. He has to ride the upside down roller coaster and the pendulum ride 100 times to get out!

The laughing voice was more pronounced than before and I could even smell the familiar scent of sandalwood.

Lucien: It seems that after the ending, the Painted Skin Demon will no longer be afraid of roller coasters.

A hazy purple demonic energy spread from the Xueqing my hand, and gradually wrapped around me.

MC: ....Lucien?

As if in response to my voice, the demonic aura was tinged with throbbing warmth, and slowly embraced me thoroughly from behind.

A familiar hand steadily picked up the Xueqing.

I looked back and met a pair of smiling purple eyes, as if they had been there for a long time, just waiting for me to crash into them.

Slowly, his face also coalesced amidst the purple mist, followed by his body… The faded room also gradually regained its original life.

I held my breath and looked at him without missing a beat, afraid that this dream would disappear in the blink of an eye.

The cool fingertips touched my face, as if they were also checking and confirming, leaving the most gentle touch.

Lucien: I want to read the stories you write.

The sound in my ears was clearer than ever, and the feeling of his hand was unmistakable, I followed the lines of his glove and clasped his fingers tightly.

Lucien once said that there are monsters who will disappear from the world after fulfilling their wish in this life.

So those dull wood masks and the quiet Xueqing…

I suddenly realized what Lucien had said about "leaving" might not mean leaving the house.

MC: Lucien, did you just… Disappeared?

Lucien: Mmm. Because my obsession is accomplished.

There are some sighs in it, and yet some unknown expectations also seem to grow.

MC: ...What was your obsession?

Lucien: It was myself.

I tightened my grip on his hand and looked at Lucien in a daze.

I used to think that the confusion and despair I saw on the cliff was his inner self.

But now I realize that the invisible wall between us has never disappeared.

MC: Lucien, your story… what exactly is it?

He slightly lowered his gaze, took an old book from the shelf, and placed it next to my manuscript.

MC: This is… The one I read when I was a kid!

Lucien: The main character in your book is powerful and lively, he likes to eat fried tofu, eats grapes without their skins, and draws a different symbol every time he writes a postcard…

Lucien: He is a lot luckier than the Painted Skin Demon that was mentioned by a single stroke.

I was stunned, not sure why he was comparing the two.

His delicate fingers flipped to the story of the Painted Skin Demon, and on the slightly yellowed paper, there were only a few words written about it.

Lucien: There are many monsters in this book, and they all have good encounters and wonderful endings.

Lucien: Only this painted skin demon has no story and no ending.

Lucien: If you were him, would you hate the person who wrote you out but then forgot about you?

I suddenly remembered the Lucien that I saw on the cliff in the lonely courtyard, and my breath hitched.

He didn't seem to know who he was or where he was going.

Even the demonic aura that was filled with fury also mixed with confusion and aggravation.

At that time, the hateful voice in my ear was like a key to unlock the secret, and a strange but reasonable idea gradually came to my mind.

MC: I would, but if others don't give me a story, then I will give myself a story.

Lucien softly smiled and gazed at me with a ripple in his eyes.

He held my hand and led me to the courtyard.

The familiar fragrance of locust blossoms spread throughout the courtyard again, and the dead branches were covered with new flowers.

If there is really a world within the story, how does he spend every empty days in it?

And how big is his obsession that it is enough to turn him into a real demon and come into this world?

Lucien: This courtyard and Xueqing are the only things I have been given.

Lucien: I don't know how long I waited until one day I found myself being able to smell the scent of locust flowers and leave the courtyard.

Lucien: At last I had broken free from my cage. So I want to find the person who wrote me and ask him what my story is.

Lucien: But the time in the book passed too quickly, the writer died hundreds of years ago, and the answers I wanted to know were forever submerged in his heart.

A white flower fluttering with the night breeze, and lightly fell on Lucien's palm.

Lucien: So I started looking for my own story. I've used many faces and become different people.

MC: And have you found it?

Lucien shook his head.

Lucien: I can't be someone else, I can only be myself-

Lucien: When I realized this, I saw my face for the first time.

My throat was a little choked up, I asked the question that I had been holding in my heart.

MC: Did you ask me to help you write your story to fill the regret you once had?

Lucien: I've found myself and have no regrets.

Lucien: I just want to leave something behind.

If wanting to leave a story behind was his last tiny wish, the moment it was finished, he had no more worries.

MC: But I think your story is far from over.

I don't know what kind of intention the writer had in mind when he created this character, but for Lucien, who had already left the shackles, it didn't matter.

He has found out who he is.

I handed him my manuscript.

MC: I want you to be the first reader of this story.

I nervously stared at him, but he just flipped through it in silence, there was no sadness or joy. When he turned to the last page, he froze slightly.

Lucien: “The early sun dawned with brilliant morning glow. He faced the first ray of light and saw the sea...”

MC: I thought about it for a long time, and I just couldn't let the story end there.

MC: So I wrote an open ending. In the future, I want to write a second and third book for him… I want to keep on writing forever.

MC: I want to know more about you, and in the future, there will certainly be more and more wonderful stories.

MC: Whether it's you, or the Painted Skin Demon in the story.

MC: That’s why… Can you please don't disappear just yet?

I held his hand tightly, afraid that if I wasn't careful, he would turn into mist and slip through my fingers.

Lucien: Why do you think I'm here again?

The moonlight reflected in Lucien's eyes as he gazed at me, cold and soft.

Lucien: A little writer said she would write the best story for me.

Lucien: But that's part of it. There is another part, which you just said.

Lucien: I want something else as a "payment" for the story I gave you, which is why...

He gradually drew closer as I gazed at him in confusion. The gleam in his eyes was even more brilliant than the colored lanterns in the tree.

And more than that, I am addicted to lost in it.

I can feel the smile at the corner of his lips as his fluttering breath hits my face.

Lucien: I want you to be my story.

Call Section- [Catching Up]

Putting this here bc I think this call is relevant with this date ahah-

Lucien: I just finished the experiment. What was the "wonderful news" that you just texted?

MC: It's about a piece of writing that I followed when I was in high school, but the author didn't write the half of it because of health reasons.

MC: Now it's back to update! Aaah my youth is back.

Lucien: Looks like I made this call at the right time. Just reading the text messages doesn't seem to give me a full taste of all the happiness you're feeling.

Lucien: The fact that you're so excited makes me interested in that work, too.

MC: Actually it is a romance novel, compared to many works nowadays; the writing is not that amazing.

MC: But the author's ideas are always surprising and the story is very touching.

MC: So I was sad for a long time when it was discontinued.

Lucien: Finding the lost and found always makes people feel happier. The readers have been waiting for so many years, and I think that the author is very lucky.

MC: After such a long time, she is still willing to finish this book, I am a little surprised…

Lucien: Maybe because the author also loves her story and each of the characters in it.

Lucien: After all, the author can choose how to write and the reader can choose whether to read it or not.

Lucien: But the characters in the story don't have a choice, they have to wait for the author to give them the ending.

MC: If you think about it, it's a sad thing for the characters in the story to be constantly waiting for outcome.

MC: I thought Professor Lucien was a logical thinker, but I never thought he would empathize with the fictional characters in the book.

Lucien: It's probably because waiting is something that everyone goes through.

MC: But Professor Lucien would have calculated the probability of the outcome in advance, so if you can’t wait, you won't waste time, right?

Lucien: It depends on the person waiting.

Lucien: Just like you waited for this story to continue.

Lucien: Sometimes it's the uncertainty of the outcome that makes it fun and worthwhile to wait- and it's the anticipation of the outcome that makes it rewarding.

Lucien: The moment you reach the finish line, you will realize that all the time you have waited was worth it.

[rambling corner]

//feel free to ignore it

AAAAA what a great date. I like every bits of it and the plot is really beyond my expectation.

The core of this date is the pursuit of meaning of existence and self-identity. Lucien in this AU is Painted Skin Demon that born without ‘self-worth’; he ‘exists’ but doesn’t know the meaning of his own existence because the person who wrote him doesn’t give him a story or ending. And Lucien, who was forgotten by his creator, can only watch as other character like him have their own story, experienced sorrows and joys, and have their endings, while he is deprived of those things. He yearns and longs for those colorful world that he didn’t have and this leads to his obsession towards pursuing self-worth, turning him from a mere fictional character to a real demon. This obsession is both blessing and curse, making him break free from his cage but also tortures him with pain and confusion. Even then, after becoming a real demon he still didn’t have a sense of self-identity. So he used many faces and become different people, only to found out that he can’t be anyone else but himself.

His last wish is to leave a proof of existence before he disappears completely and so he asked MC to write a story for him. By writing him a story, MC gives him a meaning of existence, and illuminated his dark world with color. And when the story is completed, he really disappeared because all of his wishes (self-identity, meaning and proof of existence) already fulfilled. However, the time he spent with MC and what MC taught him (to write his own story) also ignited two new wishes. First one being to continue writes his own story and two is wanting MC to be ‘his story’. This two wishes stopped him from disappear, giving him a new meaning of existence. He doesn’t need other to ‘define’ who he is and he can be the writer of his own story.

I just??? Like it so much :”””. This date and call also can be interpreted as the relationship between him and us, between the ‘fictional character’ and ‘reader’. Which reminds me of what he said in one of his moment; “也许你的出生不只是因为我，但我的存在一定是为了与你相遇” (Maybe you were born not just because of me, but I must have existed to meet you.).

Anyway thank you for reading! I hope y’all enjoy this one date as much as I do :D

#mlqc #mlqc lucien #mr love queen's choice #HALLOWEEN DATES NEVER FAIL FR #i have high hopes for his b day karma all thanks for this date ahah #i put most of my screaming on the end of the post #mlqc translation #mlqc cn #mlqc spoiler #mr love lucien #mlqc xu mo

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headpainmigraine · 1 year

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Migraine isn't a Headache Part Two: it seemed to last for hours, it seemed to last for days

Migraine isn't just a bad headache that makes you puke and have to lie down in the dark for some hours.

They can actually start days in advance, while you don't even realise it, lying in wait like a sleeper agent.

Migraine can have four stages:

-Prodrome (lasts a few hours to days) -Aura (5 to 60 minutes) -Headache (4 to 72 hours) -Postdrome (24 to 48 hours)

I've got a lot to say, so I'll break this into two and look at Prodrome and Aura first.

The American Migraine Foundation gave me those timelines, HOWEVER, like most things with migraines, these can differ from person to person.

I have daily migraines, and I still don't have a good hold on whether:

I'm just not actually getting all four stages,

if I'm getting an elongated Headache stage,

if they're all overlapping,

or if they're just cycling so fast I can't tell the difference.

Chronic daily migraine can be a dick like that, so I'm going to be talking about the 'Typical Migraine Progression' in this post, unless otherwise specified.

Remember, this is just what is TYPICAL for a migraine, and so many migraines can be atypical. Migraine can be so different to each person, its a wonder any two cases are the same.

PRODROME

Like birds ditching before an earthquake happens, your brain actually gives you a warning that the pain is coming (sometimes)

The prodrome can be the hardest phase to spot, but is actually where your migraine starts.

It's also the best time to take preventative meds and/or acute meds, locking the door before the horse bolts, so to speak.

They're more likely to be effective if you catch the migraine early.

Symptoms?

Generally feeling grumpy and irritable or depressed

Yaaaaaawwwwwning

Neck pain and muscle stiffness, feeling 'creaky'

Constant. Peeing.

Inability to settle, restlessness, lack of concentration

more sensitive, to sensory stimuli, but also emotionally

fatigue, but also difficulty sleeping

aphasia/communication difficulties, incl slurred speech, difficulty selecting the right word, stammering

Reporter Serene Branson experienced migraine-caused aphasia on live TV

youtube

It can also be an aura symptom.

People also get food cravings in the predrome stage.

***Researchers are now questioning whether 'trigger foods' are truly migraine triggers, or if they're just a correlation between eating a specific food during the prodrome phase before the headache phase hits.***

It's easy to overlook those symptoms, especially if you have other health issues.

I can usually realise I'm going to get a migraine when I start stammering and lose my words, but in hindsight I can see how I was feeling restless and irritable as well.

I've found that I =still= mostly only realise prodrome in hindsight, but it's still worth noting if you can remember having those symptoms even after you've had a migraine.

Taking your meds at the earliest opportunity is most effective for a migraine, and a lot of knowing when to take them, and understanding your migraines at all, is pattern recognition.

Unfortunately, that involves a lot of tracking and recording, but every little helps (with diagnosis too, but more on that another time)

AURA

Common misconception, especially among people who know of migraine but don't GET migraines, is that YOU DON'T NEED TO EXPERIENCE AURA TO BE HAVING MIGRAINES

I think the number is 1 in 4 people with migraines do?

I had aura without headache for about 6 years before I suddenly started getting auras, and even now I only get them sometimes.

They can be scary, even if you know what they are, and terrifying if you don't.

If you haven't taken your migraine meds, especially triptans, before now in the prodrome stage, taking them during an aura is the second best time to take them.

You can experience this stage at the same time as stage three, the headache, so they're less effective than taking them during predrome, but better than leaving it any later!

Typical aura comes on slow in about 5 minutes, lasts an hour, then goes away before the headache.

Of course, nothing is simple in migraine world, so auras can also come on fast and/or happen alongside headache.

The stereotypical migraine aura looks like this:

youtube

Grey blobby visual disturbance you can't see through and/or spiky zig-zag lines of colour like an old TV set going wonky.

Visual auras can also present as blurred vision, waves, spots, partial loss of sight, flashes - I've had times where I get tunnel vision, or blinkered vision.

Auras can also come in other flavours - remember that a migraine is a cascade of overactive brain activity, and many parts of the brain can be lit up and sparked off during a migraine.

You can have olfactory hallucinations; some people get a strong smell of flowers, but burning and bad smells are more common. I got burning electronics for a while when I had them.

You can become more sensitive to sound, hear a ringing noise, lose hearing, or struggle with listening.

You can have full blown auditory hallucinations too - I had a line of Portishead repeating in my head, and you can't drown those suckers out with external stimuli, because again, it's being produced internally.

Sight, smell, sound, aphasia affecting your speech, the fun doesn't stop there.

What else does your brain do? What else can a neurological storm rile up?

Allodynia is common during aura and headache phase, although not a phase in and of itself, and can also be it's own thing.

In basic terms, your nerves start sending pain signals to your brain in response to non-painful stimuli, eg, brushing your hair, or washing your face, etc, experiences that wouldn't normally be expected to cause pain.

You can get burning, pain, tingling, numbness, in the extremities, but also numbness.

I don't see dizziness or vertigo mentioned a lot in these conversations, but that can also happen during an aura phase too.

Vestibular migraine is a type of migraine on it's own - more on that another time.

The brain is both incredibly intricate and incredibly stupid.

I think about it like my migraine peeling back the coating on my nerves and leaving me more raw to everything. Everything feels MORE and the MORE is often uncomfortable.

NB: IF YOU EXPERIENCE AURA FOR THE FIRST TIME/A NEW SYMPTOM OF AURA THAT YOU DIDN'T HAVE BEFORE, YOU SHOULD SEEK MEDICAL ATTENTION TO RULE OUT SOMETHING MORE SINISTER (transient ischemic attack, which is a type of stroke, among other things)

Prodrome and aura are the best times to get ready for the migraine.

-go home from work and/or retreat to somewhere quiet and dark* -Taking your acute meds -Drinking water -Eat something (I usually do something salty and something sweet. Hot chocolate helps for some reason) -Applying ice packs/heating pads -Retreating to a cool, dark room -Trying to get a nap in before the main man arrives

Whatever you do to get comfortable during the headache, it's worth preparing and starting now.

*I worked with migraines for some years before they eventually fired me because of them. They were as accomodating as they could be, offering a meeting room where I could lie down if I had to, among other things, but a) that wasn't practical for me and b) that's far, far more than I expected. A lot of employers don't understand what a migraine is, and certainly won't give you the time to lie down somewhere, if there is anywhere TO lie down. Working with Migraine is a whole other topic, and I'm not going to get into it here.

================================================

I don't really want to talk about meds yet, but I don't think it'd be fair to talk about taking your acute meds early without noting the fact that the number of migraines you experience in a month can outnumber the amount of tablets they give you. (This is assuming you can even access acute meds)

I get 6 triptan tablets a month, and have migraines daily.

Likewise, you can't take OTC painkillers for migraine every time you have a migraine if you're having them chronically. I'm not talking about debateable things like damage to your liver, or addiction, or 'psychological weakness' or anything else, this is purely the fact that taking too many OTC painkillers as a migraineur can cause medication overuse headaches AKA rebound headaches.

It's a beautiful little piece of evil truth, because this apparently only occurs in people who already have headache-type illnesses.

I know.

And then you're argument is, "I have a migraine every day anyway, why does it matter if I get another type of headache every day?"

I can say, just from my experience, that rebound headaches are nasty, acid feeling things, and there is a noticable difference between those and migraine headache. Also that they hurt more than they help in the long run, and if you're migraines aren't daily, they are now.

The only way to avoid this is to keep your painkiller use to a minimum, that is:

paracetamol and NSAIDS (ibuprofen, aspirin, etc) less than 15 days a month

triptans, ergotamine, opioids, combo painkillers less than 10 days a month

And you're still expected to keep under these levels too.

The only way to stop having rebound headaches if you're already in a routine of taking them every day for your daily migraines is to… stop taking them. Cold turkey.

If that sounds cruel and difficult and painful, that's because it is.

It absolutely sucks.

Not only does the pain get worse (!!!) before it tapers away, but you're also leaving yourself unmedicated for your migraines.

The golden lining is that you really can tell when the rebound headaches stop, and when you DO take acute meds, they do seem to work a little better.

So what? What am I supposed to do, being in constant pain and not able to take painkillers?

That's where the headache specialists/neurologists are supposed to come in with preventative meds. The idea is to reduce the number of headache days so that you don't HAVE to medicate with OTC drugs.

In real terms, that puts you in a situation where, sometimes, you won't be able to take painkillers, your preventative meds won't be the ones that work for you, and you'll have to suffer through the migraine.

Non-medicinal techniques can help during those stages, but in all honesty, it's just something difficult that you have to go through.

That or take more acute meds and fall back into rebound headaches - which is understandable!

Everyone with chronic migraine knows the feeling of being exhausted and wrung out, at the limit of your cold compress/heating pad/aromatherapy/earplugs/lying down/non-medical assisstance and just needing to take the painkiller to just escape the pain, just for a little, maybe it'll help.

Sometimes that'll happen.

We're in constant pain, and when you have to wait for preventative meds to start working, when you're in agony, it's only natural that you'll reach for the bottle of ibuprofen, even if you know it's not going to help in the long run.

All we can do is give ourselves a break, inform ourselves, try to balance help and harm as best we can and hope that the next treatment works a little better than the last.

#chronic migraines #migraine awareness #migraine awareness month #migraine #prodrome #aura #chronic pain #Youtube #migraine isn't a headache

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falloftheseus · 2 years

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i can’t remember if i did this last year, i may have done something similar but i’m not always the best at gathering my thoughts and making them comprehensible enough for other people to fully understand what i’m trying to say. however, i am feeling rather sentimental, and maybe i’m also procrastinating doing my homework, so here i am writing about this year.

before this year even started i already predicted it would be a bad year, there’s a pattern in my life and very rarely do things stray from the already written pathway. i have good year and i have bad years and the good years contain bad things and the bad year contain good things. this year was a bad year, to put it simply. a lot of things can contribute to a year being good or bad but for me it can all be found in the state of my mental health.

this year was never easy, there was never a point where i felt like everything was going to be okay, which i realise now sounds really depressing if you don’t actually know me. i spent the entire year slowly drowning, sometimes i thought i could see the surface but other times i could feel the water filling my lungs and the pressure finally leaving my head.

to be honest, i can’t tell you how i got through this year, i don’t know how i did it. i read a lot, i still do, to live somewhere outside of my head. i focused so much of my time on skz, waiting for the next thing to get excited about, waiting for every sunday where i know i’d have time to just be myself and not have to think about anything.

i don’t think it’s possible for me to articulate how much love i have for stray kids, how thankful i am for these eight boys who always have enough love to give even to the people who can’t do anything to return that love back. it’s crazy to me how i’d give all of them the entire world if i could.

there were other people that got me through this year, people i’ve talked to every day, people i’ve only talked to once or twice, people that i probably mean nothing to when they mean the entire world to me. the first person, the person who means the most to me, is ezra, ezra is my person, the person who i get to put before anyone else, the person who i have after everything, the person who i have even if i lose every piece of myself. i love ezra with everything i can give, they’re the family i’ve never really had and i am so so grateful that i get to spend my time with them.

jayjay is the person i get to talk to every day without fail, not a single missed good morning or goodnight message on my half. they give structure to my day, they’re the one thing i can be certain about; even if everything else is falling apart, jayjay will always be there.

then there’s a blur of people who i love way more than i should be allowed to, inara, sao, nana, indi, there’s probably more people if i actually thought about it. these people have all done different things for me, i know them all in different ways for different reasons but at the end of the day i know if i need them they’ll be there, which is more than i could ever ask for. maybe i should give a special mention to inara, god knows she deserves it, i hope the next year treats you better than any other year you’ve lived through.

the last person i’ll talk about is the one person who will never see this, and if they are seeing this then they’ll know it’s about them. you came back go me twice this year, and in turn i also lost you twice this year. i love you way more than i should be allowed to and i miss you way more than the stars in a city sky. thank you for being my happiness and i hope you come back to me soon, in a time where i’ll never have to lose you again.

i don’t really have any idea how 2023 is going to be, i hope it’ll be a good year but we never fully know how things will go. i hope i can find a way to enjoy my studies again, i hope i will take every opportunity that’s offered to me. i want to spend this year trying to love myself and putting myself before everyone else, which seems impossible right now but i’m sure time can change that. i know i will continue to love skz with everything i can but other than that the only thing i’m hoping for is jloud’s debut.

if anyone’s read this far, i hope the new year treats you well and if not i will doing everything in my power to make sure it does.

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briamichellewrites · 1 month

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Mike and Dave surprised everyone by getting engaged. It felt like the right time. Their families were excited about their marriage! During a meeting with Muto and Donna, they revealed they were going to have a small wedding. For the past year, Dave’s mother had been fighting breast cancer. She was not doing well. The disease was progressing rapidly throughout her body. At most, she had another year left. It was because of this, they wanted to get married as soon as possible.

They gave the boys their blessing to get married. Dave would be a wonderful son-in-law and partner to Mike. Mike proposed to him before they left to go on tour. He accepted his proposal right away! They shared the news with everyone while in the air. They congratulated them! Chester already knew. He tried as hard as he could to keep it a secret.

He was antsy because he wanted to share the news, but he couldn’t! It wasn’t his news to share. When Mike spilled the beans, he felt a great relief. Rob asked if they were going to continue living with Bria, or if they would move out. They were not sure about that. They didn’t think it mattered to her what they decided. Speaking of, how was she doing? She was doing so well! Her relationship with Brad was healthy and as such, they didn’t have to worry about her running away again.

She had episodes of depression. That was part of her bipolar disorder. However, they weren’t as severe as they were before. They would have her as part of their wedding party. She could wear a tuxedo if she wanted to. They laughed. Unlike her marriage to Jason, they would never get divorced. No matter what. Mike’s parents credited him for helping him remain sober.

“You have to learn to love yourself before you can love me.”

Dave remembered how far they had come. He had to fight for him, while he struggled with alcoholism and depression. The man he loved was destroying himself with men and alcohol. He had to step back because he didn’t want to continue getting hurt. When he became sober, he started seeing the man he loved coming back out. For the first year, he was scared of losing him to a relapse.

Promoting the movie was hard work. That was why Bria was grateful to have Brad there with her. The cast had press conferences, photo shoots, interviews, and film premieres. It was a lot of early mornings and late nights. She collapsed into bed every night because she was so tired. At the same time, she was so happy. This was what she wanted to do. Every time they showed it to the media, they got good reviews. It was as if everything she did was praised.

Brad warned her it wouldn’t be like that forever. Critics could be fickle about what they like. They would love her one day and then, hate her the next. All she could do was give her best performance. He had movies where his performance was criticised, even though he gave it his all. The comments hurt sometimes and they made him frustrated. It was as if they didn’t understand what he was trying to do.

He couldn’t let the negativity ruin his career. She took that advice to heart.

Park City, Utah. The weather was colder than she was used to. She had to run to Saks to get a warm jacket and snow boots before leaving California. Anthony was used to the cold since he was from Joliet, a city outside of Chicago. He jokingly asked her if she would ever move to the Midwest.

“I would be like the retired community, who go to Florida during the winter to get away from the cold. I prefer Southern California.”

“You can take the girl out of California, but you can’t take the California out of the girl.”

“Exactly. You poor Midwesterners.”

He laughed. She did have fun playing in the snow. It made her feel like a child again. She threw a snowball at Brad. Barry, Heath, Daveigh, Matt and Jennifer joined them in their snowball fight. She tripped and fell back into a snow bank, getting her pants wet. Oh, well. She would change when they got back to her hotel suite. The festival was full of different celebrities promoting their films. They got to meet them during the various parties and events. The cast also hung out together at their hotel.

Brad scheduled everything for them. He was enjoying watching Bria experience everything for the first time. She was excited about the little things. It brought out another part of her personality that he loved. It taught him to appreciate the little moments. Her almost nonstop energy and enthusiasm inspired the cast to keep going. She thought about how excited her parents would be for her.

Bria would have asked Brad to hire Jasper as one of the crew. He would have had fun learning more about how movies were made, along with watching his daughter. Both he and Christina would have told their friends about the movie. They would have encouraged them to go see it, like the proud parents they were. Brad and Jasper would have gotten along well. He would have gotten a kick out of Jasper’s energy and enthusiasm. They were there in spirit. That’s what she had to believe.

“Meow!”

Princess looked up at Dave. She was trying to use her cat charm to get more treats from him. It was almost working. Mike told him that he was spoiling her. He laughed and crouched down to pet her. No, she would have to wait until dinner for more food. It was only two in the afternoon and she had just had lunch. She wasn’t going to starve to death before five.

Sensing she wasn’t going to get her way, she fell to the floor and meowed in protest. They had to laugh at her tantrum. Chester came in and asked what happened. Dave explained the situation in amusement. They laughed before leaving her to her tantrum. She continued meowing loudly, but they ignored her. Micha looked at his sister making a damn fool of herself before walking away. After five minutes, she got up because they were not going to give in to her demands.

The house was quiet, as it was just the three of them. The band would be coming over the following morning to work on their album. Mike spoke to Jason over the phone. The previous evening, he went out with some of his workmates. He got drunk at the bar and had to be helped back to his flat. His boss found out about it. He promised it wouldn’t happen again.

Mike was not happy about his slip-up. That was an understatement. It didn’t matter if he didn’t intend for it to happen. Not to him. Chester thought he was justified in his anger.

“But?”

“Nothing. I would usually tell you not to be too hard on him. Coddling and enabling won’t help him. Be angry or whatever you need to feel.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that”, he replied sincerely.

“You’re welcome.”

Princess went into the cat room sulking. How could the humans be so cruel? Dave came in and she growled at him. He apologised to her for not giving her treats. She growled again because she was angry. He scratched her head and told her she was still his favourite girl. She blinked at him. Was he forgiven? Yes, but she still needed time to work through her anger. He thanked her.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon

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praiseinchains · 2 months

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Returning After a Break

I’ve been struggling with a lot of depression this week—partly from not feeling well and partly from just my situation in life. I lost SO much of my life from this disease. I long for the life I had before, but honestly, I can’t even remember that time anymore. I can’t remember what it feels like not to be sick. I just remember that I was happier. I feel like my whole life basically has just been a big waste, and even though I now feel like I’m doing something that is important (my poetry book that will be published), I feel like I’ll never be able to catch up. Some days I don’t feel that anger of knowing I’ll never get those experiences back, but other days, like this past week, I do. I find myself wondering, ‘What’s the point? No matter how hard I try, I’ll never get back what I lost, and I’m just too angry to look forward to the future because that future is so uncertain.’

I want to believe that the poetry challenge I completed will be the start of a new and happier chapter—it certainly felt like that when I was doing it and just after I submitted it. Thankfully, it seems those emotions are common, so I just have to ride out these feelings I’m having and just wait to see what happens.

Another thing I struggle with so much is my weight. I was very overweight as a child (I think I was considered obese, actually), but I can’t remember feeling affected by it. I was actually happy. Unfortunately, kids are kids and I suffered a lot of bullying because of it, and after one of my classmates turned it into a game of hangman (writing that I have a fat stomach on the board) and another classmate comparing me to the size of a pumpkin, I decided I’d had enough. I set off on a weight loss journey that changed my life. I lost 83 pounds by the time I was fifteen and was in the best shape of my life, but I was still never skinny enough for my new classmates, and they (and future co-workers) found stuff to bully me about. But that weight loss journey was one of the happiest times of my life. It was so much fun exercising and planning my meals for the week and just seeing that weight gradually fall off. I could wear whatever I wanted, and I just felt amazing. Unfortunately, when my disease struck when I was 19, it became impossible, almost out of the blue, to exercise. What I once could do so easily I no longer could, and I couldn’t understand it. Unbeknownst to me, I was also suffering from thyroid issues, and weight gain is very common with that, especially if you don’t know you have it and don’t know how to adjust. But even after I was put on medication, I still have to work SO hard to keep that weight off. I’m not overweight or even close to it (I refuse to let myself get above a certain weight, even though it’s about 10 pounds more than I still want), but I’m still not happy with my appearance and haven’t been for several years. I try so hard to stay in shape, but my disease prevents it, and if I push myself farther than my body can handle, I risk putting my health at even more risk. The weight has slowly been coming off, but I just feel so angry. I think again, ‘What’s the point of losing weight? It’s not going to make up for those years that you couldn’t wear what you wanted to.’ Everything just feels so pointless sometimes, and it’s hard to pull myself out of that hole.

Something that helps a lot, however, is just taking time out for myself and just focusing on the things I love (hence the mental health days). I look forward to those days so much. When you have depression, it is SO easy to just stay there. In a lot of ways, it’s easier because finding stuff you’re grateful for and focusing on the things that make you happy just takes so much effort most of the time. I admit that some days I just stay in bed all day and let my bad mood fester, but in a weird way it helps. I need to let myself FEEL those emotions (good and bad) to work through them. If I force myself to be happy and grateful all the time, I feel I’m only making myself unhappier.

Another part of what has had me feeling down this week is my decision to create a Patreon page. I think I’m forcing myself to do too much with writing. I created my Tumblr because it was something I knew I would enjoy, and it doesn’t feel like a chore to get on it. The same can’t be said for Patreon, which I’ve still yet to get fully up and running and which I will be taking down. The moment something you love feels like a job to do, you lose some of your passion for it, and that’s not something I can allow. I love writing too much.

Like with trying to find a diagnosis for over 10 years, I feel I’m pushing myself too much. I firmly believe that what is meant for me will find me in the time it’s meant to, and trying to force myself into it will only make me unhappy, so I’m just going to focus on the stuff I love to do and wait to see where my life will take me.

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-oceanchild- · 3 months

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it's been a while

Well hello hello! It has been quite some time. I definitely feel like I need to write, it seems like this is a pattern for me. I take a long break from writing and then come back like a year later and say the same thing! Hahah okay but it is always interesting reading back on these entries and realizing how much has changed. I would not ever remember this stuff if it weren't for journaling. Well what's new? Im here, I guess the thing that's drove me to writing are my current struggles. I was on a good streak of trying to eat healthy and walking 5-6 days a week on my treadmill. Then we went on a short little weekend trip to North Carolina and since then, I have been at complete lazy stop/ or I'm not sure what to call it! I haven't been motivated to work out and I have been eating whatever with like no boundaries. it's horrible. I don't know how to kick out of it. I do feel like writing helps me face these issues though, like it makes them real or something. But I have been ignorant about it and need to get serious. I've been meaning to get started but keep pushing it off. I definitely want to get in better shape before my birthday since we're going to Maui most likely.

Since my last writings I have finished earning my bachelors degree, works been interesting and going well surprisingly! There are issues arising but for now I just want to enjoy the good. As I'm writing this, I feel like I can see the change in my writing. Lol I hate to be this academic in my personal journaling. Anyway, I'm at my highest weight ever. Uhh not cool. It's been extremely hot as hell this year. Last week we were at around 110 degrees all week and to make matters worse our A/C decided to stop working and give us mystery and issues. Thank THE LORD we were able to get it figured out and it wasn't anything costing an arm and leg. Some other issues I've been dealing with is Lola getting sick... she was losing weight and not eating. Turns out she's having kidney failure and needed treatment, good thing is that she's been doing so much better. I am so glad we have veterinarians and they always do help a lot. Ugh but the cost is a bit crazy! unfortunately. damn so I'm watching the Kardashians right now and I need to be on their level if you know what I mean. They're so rich lol. Im getting pretty hungry. I wish I wasn't though, I wish losing weight was easier. I just love food and drinks so much :'( Okay I'm hoping this will make me feel better and give me the strength to do better. I don't know. I recently started painting again though and that has actually been a great time for me and does get my mind off things. Confusing! I can't tell if I need to get my mind off things or ON things.... lol I think about my issues a lot and it could make me stressed and lead me to this depression on going downwards. but I do like to face my issues so I can solve them. However, getting my mind off the things seems to do better sometimes... Let me go start painting and I can assess the situation a bit better haha.

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papercherries · 6 months

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Previous Writings: before creation

A selection of writings that I created prior to this page, with the same intentions. To keep me grounded and to express my feelings in some sense. My therapist suggested I upload them to social media so I am "releasing" these emotions. I'm not sure I believe it though. They are in no particular order. Just the order I found them. Nameless texts will be listed as notes (also in no particular order). They also range from stories, thoughts and essays. They vary in quality, read at your own loss.

P.s. There is more but I couldn't be bothered writing up all my non digital writing.

Sleeping Under Stars:

The idea of the creative depressive

I sit in a cold living room at 2:46am. I prefer it cold as I feel less nauseous when I am cold. As per usual I try to listen to classical Spanish guitar whilst I’m “working”. Many of these songs are sombre yet hopeful. Words are too distracting for background music. My flatmate peaks his head through the door to wave goodnight.

The real question is why? Why do I tell you this? What importance does it provide to this text? Gran Vals starts playing. Perhaps one of my favourite to play.

I want to put you in my head. You already knew that. It’s the whole point of a text like this, I want you to see things from my perspective. But, the above section so far is completely irrelevant to a text that is trying to build a response to Susan Sontag’s “Under the sign of Saturn”.

However, this is probably the first essay you’d read by me if I were to die at this very moment; unless you’re my CHS lecturer (Dr . Vlastimir Sudar). You have no context of who I am, what are my interests and most importantly. How I write. This is sporadic even for me but I promise, it has a purpose. There is no point me telling you this though, as I have rambled enough for the first page.

1:1-

When I told you this was a response to Sontag’s “Under the sign of Saturn”, I meant it, however a response usually implies a disagreement. I mean to even build on a text, one implies that the text was incomplete in the first place. I think for Sontag’s text this would be insane. I am in no place to disagree with Sontag’s ability as an essayist, however I do know the people born under Saturn. Saturnines.

Depressives, mad men, alcoholics, smackheads, crackheads, potheads, winos, “a weakness for the pokeys”, thieves, grifters and pure bred lunatics. If you asked my friends, I’d probably fit in one of these categories. I wouldn’t blame them either, I have often found refuge in the bottom of a bottle. Usually two. Sometimes three, when the necessity is provided.

I don’t think Sontag specifically meant these types of people. (However I must admit, I’ve only read till the end of “Under the sign of Saturn” in the collection, I was so overwhelmed that I had to start reading something else, though it did cause me to choose Artaud to read as “something else”). I think she meant more of the depressive artist. The melancholic type, (spanish romance, beautiful) the depressed artist. The common trope that, to create great art, one must have great pain. Whilst I don’t think it always applies, I subscribe to the notion. Our pain seeps into everything we do, even if we don’t realise.

This is not a bad thing. Pain is merely, relation, remembering, recalling. A lover once lost has left their mark in the form of changing barbers because they didn’t like your haircut. A bluebell reminds you of home and the family you have lost, or have yet to lose. A song found by a close friend that you’ll listen to for the rest of your life despite only knowing them for barely a 10th of it. However, this is normal pain.

The pain of those born under Saturn is a deeply lonely one. The lone wanderer. You could relate it to the feeling of being in a crowd full of people but they’re all faceless. You don’t know them, they don’t know you, so at that very moment, you no longer exist. “How do you know you exist, you have no passport, you don’t have a job, you’re not even registered in this country” “Because of you” - Daisies (1968) (Paraphrasing).

So, when you’re neglected and ignored by every institution, person and mouse. You lash out, you need to feel real. You must be perceived. But what happens once you’re perceived? What then?

You must continue being perceived or come to terms with a different form of perception. For the painter, poet, musician, filmmaker, photographer and any other discipline of art, they must create. They’re addicts through and through. The artist must think, perceive, create. If they do not, then it is no longer art, just a product. The issue is, ignorance is bliss. Bliss is in short supply when it comes to creatives. They’re incredibly unhappy people. At least in my experience. (room smells of gas, living room smells of gas sometimes when the back door is open. Always wondered why).

That’s why many of them become depressives, drunks, smackheads, crackheads, potheads, mad men, thieves, grifters, and men of doolally. If art is the expression of thought and perception, then the opposite is the expression of recklessness and blindness.

If Sontag thought the artist was melancholic. I think the artist is rage filled. Under the sign of Mars. (However I acknowledge Sontag’s work wasn’t ruling out that the artist was rage filled).

1:2 -

So, why is art happy? If the artist is Saturnine? Why does joyful art exist? Even in the case of Artaud, he writes like a madman sure but you can feel the excitement dripping through the page.

The artist is not the art he makes. Art must be spoken to, it cannot be led with action.

A good example of this is Wes Anderson. Specifically his style of storytelling. Whilst known for his colours, framing and colourful characters, to me, his stories stand out as happily depressing. Bittersweet (however I don’t like this term for this example, I prefer sweet-bitter). Due to this, he has been compared to Yasujiro Ozu. Whilst I have only seen “Tokyo story”, I agree with this sentiment. Their films share a similar feeling.

Look at Grand Budapest. The film is based around Gustave’s search for money; essentially, he finds family (Moustafa) on the way. The film ends in success. Or at least, it could have. Right at the end, we are pulled into the wrenching death of Gustava. He didn’t need to die, the movie could have ended on a high. “Everyone lived happily ever after”. Why must he die?

Simply because he must. It is purely the nature of it.

A similar thing happens in Tokyo Story. If you cut out the final parts in the film, you could have had the same happy ending. “Everyone lived happily ever after”. Why does the grandmother die? Up until that point, the film is generally quite cheerful. Or at least neutral, however there is a looming feeling throughout the whole film. I didn’t know death would occur on my first viewing, but I could feel it. There was an air of death. Why must she die?

Simply because she must. It is purely the nature of it.

These two movies create a sweet-bitter feeling. There is either happiness or excitement which precedes sadness. In Budapest's case, it is the loneliness of Moustafa which tips us off, we know it doesn’t end well, yet why does it matter? And in the case of Tokyo story, we don’t know death is coming. But we can feel it, it permeates the air, creates clouds in your brain, so much so you can feel the tears before death even occurs. Yet why does it matter? Why don’t these films focus on the deaths more? Quite simply because it doesn’t matter. Consider these films, the fathers’ speech at the funeral. The final parting words. You don’t include the trouble, the taxes, the bad breakups. Just the fun, excitement and happiness they provided throughout their lives. A sweet-bitter feeling.

Followed by a great unfathomable loneliness.

A wave of melancholy.

The Saturnine life.

2:1-

This final section is dedicated to all the sleep lost writing this.

It is 4:15am. The door is still open. I am no longer cold. I am still listening to Spanish classical guitar. I heard a cat meow outside not too long ago. The song I'm listening to sounds like “Johnny Guitar” (El Testament d’Amelia). I am deeply sad. I am deeply lonely. However, without those feelings. This text wouldn’t exist. You get to decide whether that’s a positive or a negative.

The great loneliness waves mist around my soul

It comes and goes

Plateaus

I may be born under Saturn

I may be born under Mars

But among all the stars

I see a drunken bottle

So I float in Space

Undecided, on the human race

I hide in a drunken bottle

Forever to float

Melancholy waves, in my soul.

2:2 -

Final notes and stuff I couldn’t fit in (no particular order):

Grand Budapest and Tokyo Story, both focus on the lives leading up to the death of a spouse.

As a combined response to Susan Sontag’s “Under the sign of saturn” and my own personal relation with the idea of being “Saturnine”. As well as my own obsession with drunks, smackheads, lunatics, thieves, grifters, mad men and phonies. As like the many above, I have also found refuge in Satan’s belief of happiness.

We see the grandparents in Tokyo story from the children's (children of grandparents) perspective, I think that’s why the looming feeling of death is there. It’s that feeling when you know someone is going to die soon. They just become grey, grey is the worst colour. I also think that’s why some of the family members seem more indifferent than the others about the death. She was already a walking corpse in their mind, just filling out her quota.

This was just an emotional outlet, never intended for quality. Though I hope you enjoyed reading it.

Could you ask a question without them?

Who, What, When, Where, Why and the honorary how. The questions that we’re all taught, or all should be taught and we should all keep close to our branded souls. Who? Something in their early 20’s. What? Unable to sleep. When? 5:01. Where? Kingston Upon Thames, Greater London (formerly Surrey). Why? General destruction of sleep schedule and major debilitating depression. How? Life.

Some may ask, “Why are these questions so important?” “What purpose do they serve?” “Where would I ever use these in real life?” “Who would even ask me these questions? “When would someone ever ask me this?” “How would I even put it in a coherent sentence?”. These 6, 3 to 5 letter words, are the basis to every question ever asked. They are required for all critical judgement, without them.

They can bring down empires and spawn new life. They are humble in stature and do not oversell themselves. They don’t need explaining and they don’t need reinventing. They need only to exist. That is enough.

Could you ask a question without them?

Meditation: The hot branding in my brain

Me and my younger sister have always had strange dreams. Hers’ were nightmarish and caused late night fits of screaming and crying. This once saved me, due to her waking up and coming to my room. At this time, unbeknownst to me, my bed was on fire. Ironically, between the ages 0-19, I slept as if I were a mountain. I could not be moved nor shook awake. I even fell out of a top bunk of a bed once and remained blissfully asleep. Though it was strange waking up 8ft lower than I fell asleep.

My deep sleeps are rarer these days yet the strange dreams persist. Usually the lower into my depression I tumble the more memorable the dreams become. They say you can’t read in a dream, I don’t believe this. In my most recent dream I read a sign for a tube stop I needed to get off at. Its name is lost on me now but I know it started with a T. Dreams tend to melt into each other but sometimes I watch other things melt into each other. In the same dream I watched an American woman melt into the loving embrace of a man. They converge into one entity, mixed like paint. The colours were beautiful. It felt like I was watching water dance inside people, flowing and crashing against each other. I’m not sure if this is something I desire and my subconscious yearns for it but it seems beautiful yet terrifying.

However, lately there has been a trend in my dreams. A constant. I keep seeing visions of fire. Reoccuring themes in dreams is not a concept lost on me. However, usually for me it’s people. Ethereal things like fire and water don’t often consistently appear. The first time it happened, I was on fire. My whole body engulfed in a roaring flame, I was like a floating effigy. I was not in pain. I was at peace. The fire felt like a warm blanket against my cold skin. It brushed and kissed my hands, caressed my face. It took me into its warm embrace. The second time, I was trapped inside a burning building. In this instance I was a saviour, (this is most rare, my dreams are usually too abstract for such concepts). Carrying people “outside”, away from the fire. I only remember one of their faces. A friend of a friend. She lives in Liverpool, we’ve only ever had one actual conversation and it was about a film she really liked and I violently hated. Perhaps the only reason I remembered her in this dream was because she was an odd addition. A new player in an ensemble cast. All the others after that are not of note really, mostly because I only know fire was involved and I can’t recall the rest.

It makes me question, what do these dreams mean? Are these introspective hallucinations a gateway into understanding my true wants and needs? What does the fire represent? Am I a dying comet, flying through outer space, will I eventually burn out? Are these the questions I’m supposed to be asking? Is it a warning that I am burning out, basking in a self destructive glow?

Or, is it that I am a saviour? That people need saving from the destructive glow and I am the one destined to do it? I am bound by my self conscience to help those in peril?

It could be both. I am the self destructive glow, I am burning up and I am tasked with saving what is left before I create a colourful combustion.

The most likely case is that they mean nothing at all. We have a million dreams a minute and I am cherry picking the ones that fit my narrative. Or due to the surprise I felt the first time, it caused that dream to fill more of my psyche. My brain space is filled with fire and it must be conveyed through self-conscious expression.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter anyway you pitch. I am stuck with these dreams. They don’t mean anything to anyone else. It would be foolish to think, I could hand you my eyes, so that you may witness my creations. For they are not the creation of my eyes, my environment or even my nature. They are a full stage production, directed, written, produced and filmed by the wormy flesh that is my brain.

Bad Plane Food

I was on a plane, regrettably beforehand I had eaten some “bad food” shaped like smiling faces and fun. This was a usual occurrence for me, though usually they were chocolate flavoured. You see, planes make me awfully nervous. The vibrations and the constant hum of the engine, they just throw my compass way off course. It’s too close to outer space, I can hear our alien overlords beaming down their messages: “Submit, Surrender your weapons, we are your gods! Buy the new McDonald’s saver meal for just £5.99!”. I just can’t handle the things that those animals say. So, I eat my bad food and I sleep. However, on this particular journey, I had eaten some real bad food. Stuff that makes your stomach twist, knot and then finally your intestines prolapse out of your arse. The doctors can’t do anything about it, your bladder has shrivelled to the size of a pea and your intestines look like a snake that had recently consumed a very overweight pig. Now, I don’t fear this sort of thing would ever happen to me but one must always be cautious and if you feel your intestines slipping out of place. You must hold your breath for 30 seconds and say “I will not prolapse”. The people around you will think you're raving mad, but it is better than having your guts spill onto the floor.

I got on the plane and I found my seat, a window seat. Usually I’d prefer this, it helps with the fear, however I was about to set off on an existential journey that would rival that of future space travellers. They will look upon my work one day and dare to ask “how can we survive like this man?!”. Luckily, the middle seat was empty however a small frail, Oxford born, got everything from his daddy and, I imagine he sits at night watching homosexual movies in an act of defiance yet doesn’t subscribe to the lifestyle. He sat on the end. I had to keep my outbursts under control. A boy like him had only ever seen the violent outbursts of his white nosed friends at his school dormitory, they were probably coherent and sexually charged with pent up homosexual feelings, as most male school dormitories are. These oncoming outbursts would be like Moses reading the ten commandments. He wouldn’t be able to understand a word of hebrew. I would look upon him like that golden cattle and I would punish him for his worship of false idols.

As expected the planes’ takeoff was delayed slightly, this allowed the murmurs to creep in. I could feel my muscles tensing and I could feel my brain pulsating. It was like listening to a whale's heart. My head would shake after every pulse. Luckily, a flight attendant happened by at this moment. I asked if I could have a glass of rum and some olives. This would calm my nerves for the time being, I also asked if I could buy the boy a drink. Extending this olive branch would be more of a preemptive apology for oncoming behaviour. However, this flight attendant clearly didn’t understand the severity of this situation. She couldn’t serve us until we we’re in the air. I begged and pleaded. I’d have got down on my knees if the space allowed. But no luck, fucking flight attendants. I then swiftly went to the bathroom, I said it couldn’t wait. I must toilet, I simply must, or I’ll go on the cabin floor. Is that what you want? They allowed this, though It was probably to save themselves the trouble of dealing with the mess I would have caused. In the bathroom, I washed my face. Grabbed my hair and looked at myself in the mirror and said “you’re alive! You’re alive!” It must have been some sort of coping mechanism, as what I saw next was a harrowing face. My gaping mouth stretched larger and my jaw continued to fall and fall. Soon my face looked like a fucking rubber mask. I grabbed my jaw as I tried to return it to my face. I can’t go out there like this, they’ll call the ambulance and I’ll never get to leave this back alley city. The skin on my face slowly began to stretch with my jaw. The skin around my eyes grew loose as I tried my damndest to keep my eyes from falling out of my skull. If I survive 40c heat, I can survive this. I kept trying, eventually my face stopped stretching and I was able to force and fold my skin back into place, so it loosely resembled the face that entered the hellish bathroom. Who would leave such a trap for me? This information would never become apparent to me but it did add an air of suspicion to my trip.

I feared the plane would take off with me still in the bathroom and god knows what the altered gravity in this bathroom would do to me if I were at a 90o angle. I swung the door open, I told the lady waiting for the bathroom to be careful in there or else her face may fall off. She ventured in bravely, I’m not sure I saw her for the rest of the flight. Perhaps her skin melted to a liquid and she fell through the plane. The flight attendants would know but why would they tell us, if someone dies on this plane, they have to pay for it. They would chalk summoning circles before admitting someone's death. They are worse than the Manson’s, at least they believed in the religion they were pushing. These flight attendants were just envoys of Satan, not loyal in any way but he granted them great power.

I went back to my seat and I waited. I just stared at the fabric of the chair in front of me, it felt like hours. I could see every weave dancing in time with the one next to it, Each and every one of them eventually started fucking like animals and then afterwards they took their pleasure to new heights with extreme sadism and in more lonely cases masochism. I was jolted away when the boy next to me asked if there was something bothering me about the chair. I couldn’t answer for the first couple seconds as I was enthralled by a male weave who had managed to tie himself to a chair and set up a machine to whip his back every time he pushed his foot down. The act was brutal and deplorable but the craftsmanship was gorgeous. I told him I was interested in stitch work and I was examining the stitches in the fabric. I told him they were quite low quality but that was expected. He asked if I worked in the fashion industry and I told him I was a helicopter pilot for a rich Malaysian businessman. He then went on about his helicopter lessons he had as a child and such. I couldn't stand him any longer and I told him that I was really goddamn tired and I just wanted to rest. He kept talking so I said it again, until I was nearly at a shout “I just want some goddamn fucking rest man, can u respect that?!”. He finally fell silent, as did most of the plane. It was bliss for a moment. I had a little chuckle to myself and I was on the precipice of falling asleep and enjoying the hallucinatory station in my dreams. But just as I was about to fall off the cliff into God's loving gift of sleep. The plane started up and we started flying.

I looked out the window and saw the ground below had faded into obscurity. You wouldn’t be able to spot a human if you had binoculars. My ears felt like a gun had been shot next to them. But the calm was coming, I could feel it. Just a little longer with these tremors and then I’ll be free of this awful curse. I looked out the window again. I saw a house, and I swear I could see a band of 16 Nazi’s in their backgarden, with their leader on a podium giving a speech. If I pressed my ear to the window I could hear them. His voice was thunderous, luckily I could make out a few words. “Pillage, rape, make sure the children are cooked to medium rare and remember to grab the spiced latte from Starbucks on your way home it is to die for”. Then I saw them rush into the house and pull a man out into the garden. They tied his legs and arms to the floor and made a cross with their bayonets into the man's stomach. I was so far away, but I could still tell that the man was still alive. Begging for help, they then let their dobermans on him. They ignored his limbs, chest and face. As going for the limbs might allow him to escape and there’s no meat on the face and the chest. They went straight for his torn stomach. The cross previously left was created so the dobermans had a good peeling point, where they could reach in, grab a corner and rip it straight off. They just went straight for his guts. I swear I could see one take his heart and crush it under his paw. I looked away in disgust. I just had to focus on getting through this a little longer.

I then started to question the meaning of life and that is always the worst thing to do at a time like this. When my vibrations are so out of sync they would cause me to jump straight for the window. However, this conversation ended when I managed to quell my inner voice with thoughts of The Muppets. I was finally at peace. Imagining myself in the world of the muppets on treasure island. I was Long John Silver’s secret lover and we both sank to the bottom of the ocean in each other's embrace. Before our deaths however, I was awoken by the boy who was telling me the plane had landed. I rushed off, pushing past everyone so I could finally feel the natural sun on my face.

Meditations: “If I were an animal, what animal would I be?”

People always like to ask, “if I were an animal, what animal would I be?”. For me the answers are always the same few. From my family, a sloth. From my partners/lovers, a fox, a raccoon or a cat. From my friends, a cockroach, a rat or a mouse. I think my family sees me as this slow moving, sleepy creature. I am not a sleepy creature, I’m just awake when they are not. When I am active it’s solitary. Most of my energy is spent when I am on my own. In that regard, I am a very energetic person, it just comes in bursts. I’m not sure about the trend with my partners, perhaps they see me as sly, nervous or passive. Perhaps they just find these animals cute and I attract a certain type of person. But my friends, I have asked why they call me these creatures. It is by no means an insult, in a way it is endearing. I simply don’t die. Not that I won’t give up or anything motivational. I am just a creature of passive survival. No matter how little money I have, how deep I am in dire straits. I always continue to exist in my current state. I will simply steal and mooch until I am back in a place where I no longer have the need for such survival. I think I agree with them in that sense.

Note 1:

We like to feel like we're moving. Going toward something.

Note 2:

There's a certain sadness to their eyes, I can't place. Only behind the soul do their worries lie.

Note 3 (13th Feb 1:50am):

I feel like there is something in my body. Constantly working against me. Some sort of entity that seeks to make me suffer. I can suppress it. I have always suppressed it. In moments of weakness I've allowed it's exploits but why does it continue to haunt me? What am I? Am I even living at this point? I've been in bed for nearly 5 days now and I've barely spoke to a soul. My sleep is restless and I wake up sweating with constant headaches. What am I missing/ I see lights behind my eyelids, big streaks of blue glow, like lasers across the night sky. I've left my computer on most nights so I could encourage myself to work, at least I've turned it off now. The room is eerily dark. I can finally hear the white noise around me, perhaps it's my tinnitus. The cracking of my desk and computer under the change of temperature. The room is pitch black besides the glow of the surge light on my extension cable. In this moment I feel most alone, yet something is watching me from the shadows. I know there's nothing there but apparitions appear in the corners of my eyes. I know they're not real. I've always had these, they're not paralysis demos as I've stopped being scared of them. They don't paralyse me and as soon as I sit up they disappear. Most of the time they just stand tall over me, watching me in my sleep I presume. I wonder what they wait for? If I know they're not real and I know they're apart of my own brain, what purpose do they serve? I wouldn't know. I think I'll try leave my bed tomorrow. I'll have to leave it by the day after at least. I have work that needs doing. Perhaps they are company

Note 4 (Same night):

The blue lines are more like flashing epileptic lights now, as if they're on a crt. I can feel my heartbeat shake my whole body yet I am no afraid, worried or even excited. I want to sleep. That's all I want to do when I'm depressed. It removes time, allowing rest. I don't have to think when I'm asleep. I just have to deal with my strange dreams. I had one last night where I was on a beautiful beach in Portugal. I was trying to take a photo of the sunset over the horizon but every-time I looked into the viewfinder, the world would be kind of inverted, kind of black and white but the colours were switched. Something was covering the sun in some sort of eclipse. but I still thought it was beautiful. I continued on to the beach and eventually found myself on a mountain hike in the blazing sun, wearing shorts and a hoodie. Strange choice of clothes. At least I've not had any night terrors in a while. Hope I didn't jinx that, oh well.

Note 5:

I keep having a single vision. A single thought haunts my mind. I keep thinking about taking scissors to my face and cutting my cheeks. I think it's a way of self punishment. To have a visible mark of my own guilt. I would never commit to such a thing, it wouldn't help in any way. These thoughts will fade, they always do.

Note 6:

My hair feels like razors on my forehead.

Note 7:

We're not as sad as we are in our heads.

Note 8:

I hate the night train, I wish they'd dim the lights so I could see the surfeited night.

Note 9:

I see the God's fighting among the clouds. They spin and careen through the blue abyss till an eventual dissipation. Where they are then returned to the earth, to continue anew.

Note 10:

No wonder people though there were gods above. When random clouds shaped like fish and men dance in a perfect wind. How could you not believe in such a thing?

Note 11:

Whilst I do subscribe to the idea that you shouldn't trust your thoughts past 9/10pm, when does it roll over? When does it end? Is it only once we sleep, we are allowed to think freely of ourselves? Or is it the intensity of fatigue that wears down our mental fortitude?

Note 12:

The chances of me falling off the earth are zero to none. Sometimes I wish that number were a lot higher.

Note 13:

I admire people who commit themselves to slam poetry. There's an immense amount of bravery required to profess your deepest feelings to an audience of strangers. Especially without the assistance of a persistent beat or a harmonious pipe. The audience has no rhythm to attach to, besides that of your words. It's a private book, that most people include in their individual wills.

#writing #creative writing

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jdgo51 · 1 year

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DAILY DEVOTIONAL FOR AUGUST 25, 2023

Every Opportunity

By Nomi (Indonesia)

READ LAMENTATIONS 3:19-23

"Since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart."

2 CORINTHIANS 4:1 (NRSVUE)

"'Because of my family’s economic situation, I had to work for three years before continuing my education. I was excited for the opportunity to go to college.

After finishing my education in law, I had hoped to get a dream job and provide for my family economically. It turns out it’s not easy to get a dream job. However, I started working in a religious bookstore, and I have worked there for several months now. Sometimes I feel sad while remembering the dreams and hopes I had when I was in college. I still want a job that allows me to use what I learned in college, and I would like to help my family afford my brother’s education.

But one day the Holy Spirit spoke to my heart: “Serving God is a gift and a very special opportunity.” Then I learned to be grateful for every opportunity God has entrusted to me. This special opportunity to work and serve in a religious bookstore comes from God. I don’t know about tomorrow, but I’m grateful that today I can serve and work for God."'

TODAY'S PRAYER

"Dear God, thank you for the many opportunities you bring us to witness to your grace-filled love. In all that we do, we want to honor you." Amen.

Lamentations 3:19-23

"19 The memory of my suffering and homelessness is bitterness and poison. 20 I can’t help but remember and am depressed. 21 I call all this to mind—therefore, I will wait. 22 Certainly the faithful love of the LORD hasn’t ended; certainly God’s compassion isn’t through! 23 They are renewed every morning. Great is your faithfulness." The Lord's love is still with you. He will keep you safe all the way through. All things from Him is new every morning forever. I am a blessed individual and so are you. Joe

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onlinesportsgambling12 · 2 years

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Important Information Before Gambling Online

It is sad how many people just jump into online gambling with no thought. Sometimes, I feel these people will suffer the consequences. It sounds cold, but it is very true. There are many resources available that can help people learn more about online gambling. Since that is the essence of gambling, I can understand the entertainment aspect.

People who become desperate and lose all of their hard-earned money within a matter seconds or minutes are the ones that fall to their doom. Because I'm human, I have feelings for people who are sad and need my help. Let me start by saying this. Don't gamble if you are depressed or down. You'll do better if you can draw a line and distinguish the entertainment from the addictive side of gambling.

Before you spend even 5 seconds on any online gambling site, there are important things that you should know. Online casinos offer a completely different experience than traditional casinos. Although the concept may seem similar, different rules and regulations apply.

Please read carefully. Let me be blunt. You may need someone to help you understand the rules and if you have difficulty understanding the online casino rules. You will need to know all about the payout percentages and the odds of winning. You will want to be familiar with all information presented.

It is important to read the reports of each online casino. Analyzing the reports from previous months will be helpful. You should also take a look at the terms of the website you're visiting. Although I'm not sure how to interpret the terms and conditions, you should at least try to make an effort to learn what they are.

These rules are different for every casino. There are many casinos that will give you cash bonuses and freebies, but you need to know when you can withdraw the money. Many online casinos will keep your bonus until you have played a certain amount before you can withdraw. It's not unusual for this to happen. You should move on if you find a site with games that you don't know how to play. There are many other sites you can play on the internet. It's not a good idea to accept a site with games that you don't like playing.

Learn all of the steps. You may be able to win a lot of money if you are aiming for the ultimate goal. However, you might consider doing something with a lower risk. To make a profit out of the bonuses, you need to know how much money you can afford. You should not play for an amount that is unreasonable according to the terms and conditions. This is an important point that I cannot stress enough.

Remember to start with a budget! Participating in online games requires that you have a set budget and a fixed amount of money. You must keep an eye on your finances. Keep track of your money. Know what you have, where you are winning and what you're losing. These are simple things to do. It's basically the same thing.

You must use common sense, I know that. You have the potential to win a lot and lose a lot, but your chances of winning are higher if you lack common sense. Online gambling is a great way to have fun. However, you must play legal, be safe, and keep your mind clear.

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dreamcubed · 2 years

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the loch ness monster | tom riddle x reader

song; the loch ness monster [matilda mann] pairing; tom riddle x gender neutral!reader genre; angst, ex-lovers word count; 1,3k timeline; around harry potter's birth warnings; swearing, implied abusive relationship, implied depression, suicidal thoughts summary; y/n had watched their lover become a despicable man capable of no good, and it pained them that he still had a hold over them

masterlist

"we all started to stray, nothing lasts anyway."

———————————

« I'm just swimming in lakes in my mind »

I have been swimming in the deep, gloomy lakes in my mind for what feels like eternity; each time I reach out for what appears to be a rescue line, it disappears into the inky blackness of my memories. My dark memories. They weren't always dark, though, they used to be bright and shined crystal clear like the sun on a warm Summer's day. It's Summer right now, but not for me.

« Don't make me get out and comply »

My mother tried suggesting therapy for me, to help me get out of my mental abyss, but I don't want to leave. If I leave, I have to come to terms with and accept everything that evil man did to me over the war. Me. His ally. His friend.

His lover.

« And my coy little smile will defend me awhile »

I smile it off to people like I always do; a small grin can go a long way if your eyes are convincing enough. After only a couple weeks, people stopped asking me how I was doing, under the false idea that I was over the relationship long before he fully succumbed to the dark side.

« So I'll stay with the lakes in my mind »

My intricately crafted lakes of each and every emotion and memory I have ever experienced; some more inaccessible than others, buried deep amongst the sand thousands of metres down. The memories of Tom are near the surface, however, since they are fresh wounds carved into my brain. I don't need to hold my breath to relive those events and feelings, they are right at my fingertips.

« Don't you dare think that here you can hide »

Young, calm, charming Tom. He still lives in my mind. I have to submerge a little in order to find him, but he is there nonetheless, acting like nothing bad ever happened. Every day, charming Tom sinks deeper, though, as he is fading in my mind. Was that version of him even real? Even I don't know anymore.

« We all started to stray, nothing lasts anyway »

I lost him- the original him- a very long time ago, when he began drifting towards more and more sinister views and methods, and thus straying away from me. Not only me, but also his friends: if he ever considered us his friends. I can't remember when it was that we all collectively accepted that Tom was too far gone.

« So I'll stay with the lakes in my mind »

These lakes are simultaneously my grasp on reality and the reason I'm losing touch. There is something so human about them, yet something so dangerous and consuming. I can't get out of the lakes (not that I've tried very hard) as I can feel the tugs underwater, beckoning me to venture further into my memories.

« And now you've faded with no traces »

Sometimes I feel like I'm forgetting who Tom was, and even is. Everything that happened between us was so incredibly surreal I question its authenticity every day. Nobody mentions him by that name anymore, it's like he never existed in the realms of our minds. Well, at least not mine. He moves around in the water like it's his second home, in many different versions of himself at once.

« So, who could ever tell? »

I struggle to tell the differences between the versions sometimes. They're all submerging into one gloomy memory.

« What you've taken's been misplaced »

Tom is only ever mentioned anymore by his new sinister name, or by the name that cowards created for him. His alias of Lord Voldemort holds an unreasonable amount of power; no wonder he went insane when he decided upon it. So much so that those afraid of him refer to him as either You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

« But your name doesn't ring any bells »

Who was Tom, really?

« Since the day that they took you to hell »

Whoever he was, he now surrounds himself with only evil. He has many followers, called death eaters, but no real friends. Not that he deserves any.

« I'm just swimming in lakes in my mind »

I can hear the echoes of my friends calling me back to reality, but I push my head under the water to muffle the sound further. It isn't safe out there, but it's safe in here, with everything I've ever known and no surprises. Reality could hold a million new blows to the gut that could completely break down my already fragile state.

« Too afraid to get out and deny »

Tom was my rock for so long. I never would have imagined that he would no longer be by my side; I thought it was a for-life thing.

« And my coy little smile will defend me awhile »

My limbs are numb as the coldness of the lake consumes my shivering body, and I wish for my brain to go numb as well. It's all become too much for me to take, so I just don't want to feel.

« So I'll stay with the lakes in my mind »

The hooded form of Tom conjures beside me, his arms wrapping around my figure and pulling me to the surface. I stare at him absently as he removes his hood, sighing when I see the evil grin that belongs to the Dark Lord - not my Tom.

« And now you've faded with no traces »

Where is my Tom?

« So, who could ever tell? »

No one can explain to me what happened to him in more detail than "his desire consumed him". What does that even mean?

« What you've taken's been misplaced »

He took my heart, and now I can't find it.

« But your name doesn't ring any bells »

Tom. Tom. Tom. His name has been said so many times in my mind it's become meaningless. But at the same time, it's the word that holds more meaning to me than any other.

« Since the day that they took you to hell »

"How have you been, sweetheart?" the eery memory of Voldemort speaks, "How come you haven't been to any meetings?"

« What's it like there in hell? »

"You know what you did," I reply shakily, "You betrayed me and everyone who loved you."

"I didn't betray anyone."

I scoffed, "What's it like being hell itself?"

« Glad they left you in hell »

"Lonely. I miss you."

"No you don't," I seethe, "I'm glad I left you."

« Stay right down there in hell »

"You don't mean that, darling."

"Yes I do. Stay away from me."

"I can't do that. I'm your conjuration, your memory, a part of you."

His lips curved into a smirk.

"I'll be with you in here until you die."

"Why?" The cracking of my voice remained evident.

"Because I'm a ghost of every version of Tom Riddle you've ever known, and my duty is to haunt you."

« So I'll stay with the lakes in my mind »

"This is my mind, and I don't want you here."

"Why don't you leave? Go back to your friends out there, re-become the Y/N you always were."

"You destroyed them."

"Maybe so, but you're the one choosing not to rebuild."

"It's not fucking easy, Tom."

He let out a laugh, "I have to go now, darling, but don't forget me- it's not like you can."

"Fuck you."

"Oh, and one more thing," he spoke as he began to fade.

"What?"

"Don't you dare think that here you can hide."

« Don't you dare think that here you can hide »

————————————

masterlist

written; 04/10/2021 —> 18/06/2022 published; 18/06/2022 edited; —/—/——

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #voldemort #lord voldemort #the dark lord #he who must not be named #you know who #hp fanfic #hp oneshots

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