#might delete if i remember this exists when i wake up

[shykittensub]

CW: PTSD, CSA, Child Abuse

This is just a rant/vent/yelling into the void so feel free to skip.

God I hate this.

Second night in a row my ptsd won't let me sleep, if I'm lucky I'll finally pass out around the 5-6am mark. If not I'll officially have been awake for 48hrs.

I know it's PTSD and it's not logical or rational but that doesn't change how stupid the whole thing feels. Like yea sure I spent 4 years under the thumb of a pedo but like, it's been over a decade since I saw him. I'm 3 times as big as I used to be and am trained in multiple martial arts and am competent with a knife. There's a literal guard dog in my bed and my brother is still awake bc night shift. Logically I am perfectly safe yet here I sit in bed at 2am on a Saturday night unable to sleep bc my brain/body is convinced I'm in danger.

Tensed up like I'm getting ready to fight, alert and listening and looking for anything out of place. God I hate this so fuckin much. Wish I had a bf/gf/date mate to cuddle up with to help me feel better. Hell maybe I'd be able to wake them so they could be on guard till I fell asleep. Nah I could never ask for that, doesn't feel fair/right. Feels selfish. At least I'd have cuddles tho. God I feel like shit rn. Hmm this is turning into a stream of consciousness. Well at least it'll be interesting to look back on when I'm more awake.

Don't remember seeing a stream of my own consciousness before, then again I don't remember lots. Went to get tested for ADHD and the doc said "I can't tell if you have ADHD or are just traumatised to hell and back so go do therapy and come back later" That was fun. Turns out you're actually supposed to remember most of your childhood and not just 5 or 6 specific moments across 7 years. Which absolutely blew my mind when I found out. 2 years into therapy and it's helping so that's something I guess. I can understand why people don't want to do therapy tho. Shit fuckin hurts and can make you super sad sometimes. Worth it tho, healing hurts but I'm healing. Slowly but surely.

Hmm idk if ranting like this has helped or not. Do I feel lighter bc I got this off my chest metaphorically speaking or is it bc my weighted blanket has fallen off my bed at some point? Who knows bc I sure as hell don't.

Ugh.

To anyone who read this far, thanks and have a good one be it day or night.

[lumivoid]

👁️‍🗨️ What the Void actually feels like...

Based on my own experience.

The year was 2023... If I remember correctly. I learned about the existence of the void state for the first time and my initial goal was to shift through the Void to my DR. I don't think I knew I could manifest whatever I wanted in the Void at that point in time. To me it was just a shifting method.

I found mxrahkis void state subliminal on YouTube. That was before they deleted their channel. I sat down and meditated with it for a good 30 minutes and almost nodded off a couple times. I didn't think much about it and went about my life for the next few days when suddenly...

"Huh? ... What is this." I became aware in the Void randomly in my sleep. I didn't recognize that it was the void because I knew so little about it. I was only barely aware that I was existing. I knew that I was observing something... But I didn't know more than that.

All I saw was darkness all around me. But despite only seeing darkness, it felt like I was in an endless space filled with pure potential. Vast, infinite. It felt like constant anticipation. Like anything was possible and I was just calmy observing, waiting for something to spring to life.

I did not feel my body at all. I didn't breathe, I didn't feel floaty, there were no physical sensations at all. I felt like I was a singular floating point of consciousness suspended in animation. Like a floating third eye... pure awareness.

It might sound scary but in all honesty it was the most peaceful and serene experience I have ever consciously had. It felt so beautiful and tranquil. Indescribably still and relaxing. Infinitely wonderful. It felt like home. It felt innately familiar.

I was able to form thoughts but it felt somewhat exhausting. When we're awake and thinking, our thoughts come flying in pretty quickly and effortlessly but inside the Void, they required some focus. It felt like thoughts had weight and I needed to "try a bit" to think them within myself. Like wading through knee high water. It's doable but requires effort.

Not thinking was incredibly easy. Natural. it required no effort at all. So I just existed and stopped trying to think. Just being aware of the vast beauty that is pure awareness. I was soaking that ish up like I was a teabag steeping in hot water lmao.

Then I found myself waking up in my CR bed, slightly confused and surprised about how beautiful it felt not to be attached to thoughts, worries, expectations etc.

It was a great experience and something I'll never forget. I am positive that if I had set the intention to remember to be conscious and intended to manifest something specific, I would've remembered.

I've been back in the void 2 more times after that just to experience the wonderful stillness.

Ive made my own subliminal recently and I've shared the post {here}

~LumiVoid*

[wayfayrr]

Sky being self aware had been plaguing my mind since I wrote this other piece where he confronts you about having played through his game, however while you could read this as a sequel it is written as something separate!

before the main thing though just gonna say, I don't actually support yandere behaviour in real life - I don't usually mention this because in my opinion it goes without saying, however since reader borders a little bit on being one in this I just wanted to make it clear!

[masterlist]

It’s been so long since I last played Skyward Sword, Really I think the last time I picked it up was at least a year ago now. I’d almost forgotten I actually had it on the switch, if it weren’t for me needing to do a clear out I might have never remembered that I had this. I’ve got some spare time right now so really there shouldn’t be an issue if I took a break to play for a while would there? In the worst case I’d get distracted for a bit, but it’s not like I can’t just carry on cleaning tomorrow. Setting up the game was easier than ever, not like setting up any switch game is particularly hard though. My old save was still waiting patiently, I could never bring myself to delete it even after getting a hundred percent. Perhaps it’s finally time to try out hero mode for the first time?

The opening cutscene is nice to watch again, even if I can’t help but feel bad for Link in it, seeing what it’s building up to. Huh? I could’ve sworn my controllers were working a second ago, they can’t have disconnected during the cutscene either, could they?

“[Name]? Dearest… you’ve finally come back…”

What.

It’s like I’ve just been plunged into ice water - I- I’m dreaming right? I have to be, there’s no way this could possibly be real. He’s a game character. Link can’t be speaking to me as if he’s a real person. He can’t be.

“Darling, You - you look so pale are you alright?”

Another step toward the screen, a head-tilt and clear concern on his face. More than possible. I knew it, this has to be a dream.

“Darling, I know that this is strange for you - don’t you think it’s strange for me as well? I mean - I know I’m not supposed to exist as I do. I’m only supposed to be a blank slate for you to play this game as not - not have my own feelings.”

A sharp inhale laced with the sounds of static reverberated throughout the room, with a far too alive sounding sniffle as he wiped his eyes and took yet another step closer. Even eerier was the laugh that followed when he made eye contact with me, something sad and wet sounding like he’s barely holding himself together. It sounds too real.

“It’s been so long I thought that you - I thought that you forgot me. That you weren’t going to come back. I hoped - no I knew - that you didn’t though and you didn’t! You came back to me my love and now I’m not going to let you out of my sight again. I know that it wasn’t your fault that you took so long, I - I mean you didn’t even know that I’m alive but I’m not going to risk it happening again.”

He’s right up against the screen now, staring at me as he presses his hand up against it, like he’s testing it. Gently testing as if he’s trying to see how much pressure the glass can take. If there’s any time best to wake up already it would be now. 

“I’ve been stuck in here alone for so long, if I didn’t have something to focus on I would have gone insane! Can you imagine that? If I didn’t have you to think about all that time I would have lost myself! I was made for you; I know you care about me as well. Please [name] I - I don’t know who I’m supposed to be any more, I’m not - not your character. I’m so much more than that empty husk.”

His hand pushes further on the glass as his fingers tense up, now like he’s preparing himself for something. Link, I’ve never seen him - any version of him in any version of the games acting even half as emotive as this. That proves that this is all a dream, he can’t be - this can’t be real. 

“There’s one other thing that being trapped in here for all this time has let me focus on I think I know how to get out now… If I press this just-”

A sickeningly twisted smile found its way onto his face with each shrill crack of the glass screen under his hand. The other moving up to join it as he pushed even harder, intending to shatter the barrier, he’s convinced himself is standing between us. My chest feels so tight right now, why am I so sore in a dream?  If I were awake I’d be convinced I was having a panic attack but - no- no I’m not awake.

“Right. Then - Well you can see can’t you dearest? If I carry on like this, there won’t be any-”

A loud wince as his hand shatters through the screen, the glass shards cutting through his skin effortlessly marring both him and the remaining screen with - with his blood. The laughter that followed the screen cutting to blank with his hand reaching through seemed to tighten the band that’s seemingly wrapped itself around my lungs making it harder still to breathe. How could I breathe when link - the link is dragging himself out of my tv. 

“Come on darling..? I know you feel the same way about me, I’ve heard you say it all. So please don’t just stand there looking terrified. You have no reason to be scared of me, I love you so much [name]. Can’t you see I’m doing this so that we can be together? I can’t wait to finally hold you in my arms.”

Frozen. That’s the only way I can describe how I’m feeling right now, my once-warm blood has turned to ice within my veins. He’s not stopping. His shirt that was once a pale beige is now stained with red patches, as his head and torso are out of the screen now. What was once a comforting face to see, one of my favourite characters is staring me down with a downright vicious grin while he is dripping with his own blood. Even beneath all of that though, there’s still something so tender, so scared about him, something is worrying him.

“Please darling you’re so pale, you don’t need to be scared - I promise you everything is going to be alright. [name] please just say something to me…”

Dark spots are starting to show in my vision now and… I’m not sure if this is a dream anymore. There are too many things adding up that don’t make any sense. But if it’s not that, I don’t…

“[NA]-”

><><><><

Did I pass out? I mean it really feels like I did, but I don’t feel like I hit anything. If I passed out when I was alone then I would’ve hit my head on something. Maybe I’m just waking up from that weird dream. Hopefully. Although that wouldn’t explain -

“You’re alright darling, I’m here. I’ve got you, you’re safe, you’re alright.”

Why I feel like someone’s holding me? 

“Oh dearest you’re finally awake… You - you scared me you know? I didn’t think I was going to be able to catch you, that you were going to get hurt. I’m so glad that I did though love.” It wasn’t a dream. That was Link’s voice, the same one as before. It’s link thats holding me in his arms. Link that’s nuzzling into my hair as he seems to be fighting off tears. That means… That means…

“...Everything was real..?  I - you - it…”

He’s holding me so gently like he’s scared of me disappearing. If what he said is true? I can’t hold  that against him with what he’s said, but even still. I can’t just stay in his arms pretending that him stroking my face with bloodstained hands isn’t bothering me. He’s so happy though and he isn’t hurting me really why don't I just - no I have to tell him that this is making me uncomfortable. 

“All of it, all of it was real [name] and I couldn’t be more glad that it is, because it means that I’m finally here with you.”

“Link…”

“Yes dear?”

… this is all real. I’m actually talking to him. He’s real. And he’s downright obsessed with me. 

“You - you’re still bleeding, you should deal with that and- and with everything.”

I’m not sure that was the right thing to say, but why shouldn’t I not accept him. This isn’t some stranger, it’s Link. One of my first fictional crushes, he’s probably heard the things I’ve said about him; since I’ve said in the past if I got a chance like this that I would take it… why not see where this goes? He looks adorable like this, hopefully, if he stays like this long enough I’ll be able to get the image of him crawling through my tv out of my mind. 

“I - you’re worried about me, love? I - I knew that you’re my soulmate, oh my dear. You're so beyond perfect.”

“We should go get you some bandages Link. I know you’re not quite used to everything yet so I wouldn’t want you to get an infection immediately.”

Yeah, I’m not going to let this chance slip. He’s so much nicer in person, why should I throw this away? He’s perfect and now?

He’s mine.

[outofconcheol]

Exit West (LMH x F!Reader)

pairing: Minho x f!reader (afab)

genres/au/rating: angst, smut, some fluff, post-apocalyptic au (based on the Netflix series Sweet Home), 18+

summary: Even when the world is plunged into its darkest hour, you find the faintest light in Minho.

warnings: heavy angst, lots of mentions of blood and injuries (i tried to make it as non-graphic as possible), minor character deaths, weapons, panic attack (again not graphic), it's heavily implied OC struggles with agoraphobia and PTSD, brief infidelity, Minho and reader do get into verbal arguments (they're a little toxic lol), Minho is a true loverboy, ambiguous but hopeful ending, smut warnings: kissing, fingering (f rec), unprotected sex, brief nipple play

word count: 6.3k

a/n: i'm so sorry that this took so long, google docs decided to be a jerk and delete a huge chunk of this while i was working on it (I apologize in advance for the poorly written angst)! It is based on the world of Sweet Home but honestly you don't need to have watched the show or read the webtoon to follow along. the title is from the book by Mohsin Hamid. I hope you enjoy! &lt;;3

The sharp wire of the metal fence cuts into Minho’s palms, digging into his mottled skin, and he braces himself for the jump. Leaping over, Minho lands silently on his feet, skills honed from many years of observing his cats take the same leap from couches or counters. But none of that existed anymore.

His eyes remain sharp, taking in the cover of woods around him, and he remembers that while the trees helped him stay hidden, they hid the monsters from his sight as well. No sooner than he’s managed to calm down the ever-present racing of his heart, he’s swinging the door to the bunker open, closing it quietly behind him.

Wincing, he examines the cuts on his palms, tinged with dirty specks of rust. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep doing this, knowing the small supply of rubbing alcohol he’d managed to collect over the past few months was now down to the last bottle. And there was no more to be found.

The small bit of sunlight that streams in through the barely-qualifying window illuminates your sleeping figure nestled amongst a pile of dirty blankets, and Minho almost hesitates to disturb you like this. You look so peaceful like this, a stark contrast to the emptiness that fills your eyes when you wake, the pain of living through two starkly different lifetimes contained in their depths. He knows his eyes hold the same.

“___,” he shakes you awake gently, watching you stir. The gashes that mar your face have begun to scab over, leaving ugly scars in their wake.

“I brought dinner.”

That gets you to jolt up, rubbing sleepily at your eyes. 

“Are you okay? Anything hurt?” You shake your head, a small frown on your face when you see the fresh red marks that litter his palms. He has the feeling you’re lying to him again, but he doesn’t push it. A lot went unspoken between you two.

Minho wordlessly hands you over a full sleeve of crackers, your eyes lighting up. You chomp down eagerly on one, before pausing, holding it out to him.

“I already ate,” he lies, knowing he didn’t want you to sacrifice any kind of meal for his sake. He’d eat the less full sleeve when you fell back asleep.

Moments of silence pass between you, the soft sounds of your eating lulling Minho’s tired eyes to fall, becoming heavy with sleep. He rests his head on his knees, fighting back the shiver that night brought with it. 

A deafening roar breaks through the stillness, and you freeze, dropping the crackers to the ground. Minho is by your side in an instant, hand tentatively reaching out towards your shoulder. But he never closes the gap.

“Ten seconds,” you croak out, so softly that Minho thinks he might not have heard you. “If the distance that sounds travel is 343 metres per second, then ten seconds means it’s far enough away from us.”

The ghost of a smile twitches at Minho’s lips, and he wants to praise your sharp skills, considering he’d only ever been a pabo, but you’ve turned around and fallen asleep again, your back to him. 

Minho settles into the blankets across from you, watching you for a few minutes before his body is weighed down by the exhaustion of the day, knowing the exact same thing waited tomorrow. The end of the world was more boring than he’d expected it to be.

It hadn’t always been this way. The chaos had naturally broken through the quiet, starting one night when a fire broke out in his apartment complex. Amidst the screams and sounds of windows shattering, Minho’s only concern had been the cats, scooping them up, taking special care to cover their ears from the blaring alarms. But all of it hadn’t made a difference anyway.

He thought it was his neighbour at the end of the hallway. Or at least, it looked like him. He’d always had some sort of disdain for the man - in Minho’s eyes he talked too much. Always interrupting him during his morning mail runs to brag about his latest conquests when it came to dating. It was a sore spot for Minho, especially considering his own romantic interests were so singular, something he didn’t want to get into whenever his neighbor cornered him.

But the vain man who talked Minho’s ear off about sleeping with as many women as possible was nowhere to be found, lithe limbs transforming into ropes that broke through the ceiling. Heading straight for Minho.

Somewhere in the chaos, Minho briefly had time to register that whatever was in front of him was no longer human. And so, he did the only thing he could do. Run.

The floor slipped underneath him, hurtling Minho to the ground, the cat carrier thrown open next to him. Soonie, Doongi, and Dori are nowhere to be found. His palms claw against the tile, trying and failing to lift himself up, eyes widening when he sees the red that coats his palms.

“Please,” Minho croaks, attempting to break through to the human underneath the monster. “Don’t do this.”

There’s a brief flash, a spindly arm reaching out for Minho’s face, and he ducks. The sound of shattering glass follows, the grotesque body flinging itself out the window. Minho heaves, hot tears leaking from his face as he remains curled in the fetal position, arms braced over his head. When his breath returns to him, he looks over at the empty carrier and lets out a sob. Slowly, his eyes turn to the shattered window. 

Blood lines its jagged edges, dripping to join the mess on the floor. Peering downwards, Minho sees the mangled body of the thing (he refused to acknowledge it had been his neighbor) that had attacked him, unmoving. 

He had to get out of there.

…

The knock at the door startles you. It’d been days since you’d locked yourself away from the chaos, days since you’d heard a sound. But the screams would never leave your head. 

You’ve been huddled up in the same corner since it all started, exactly ten feet away from the door. Close enough to act quickly in case someone (or something) came knocking, but far enough away to duck into one of the rooms of your apartment for safety. 

However, the splitting pain in your ankle prevents you from doing either. The bruises are turning a nasty shade of yellow, mixing with the unsightly violet from before. You’re pretty sure it’s broken, your bookcase toppling over onto it the day this had all started.

The knock startles you again. It’s soft, gentler than the ramming you’d expected if a monster were to come knocking. But still, you could never be too safe. 

“Churu,” a soft voice whispers through the darkness, and you freeze. There was only one person in the world who’d know that word, and come knocking at your door.

Your palms burn as you drag yourself against the floor, taking extra care to make as little sound as possible. Fighting the urge to curse when the door creaks, you brace yourself against it, peering through the peephole. 

The banged-up face of Lee Minho greets you on the other end, and you nearly sob with relief. Swinging the door open, you take him in at the threshold, peering at you with a strange gaze. You’d often joked to Minho that his eyes resembled his cats’, curiosity mixed with having seen too much contained in their depths. But it seemed especially true today, his lip split open and face haggard while he clutched a baseball bat in his hand.

You know the first thing he’s going to ask before it even leaves his mouth.

“Are you hurt?” he huffs out, watching you collapse against the door frame.

“Junho is gone.” You watch Minho’s entire figure tense up when his best friend’s name comes off your lips, his grip around the bat tightening.

“I-, I tried to talk to him, but there was a weird sound on my phone that kept breaking us up, and then I heard him scream, and then…”

You collapse against Minho in a fit of sobs, forced to recount those awful last moments when you’d heard your boyfriend die over a phone call, the chilling screech of something that wasn’t human cutting off his screams for help. And you were trapped halfway across the city, crumpled on the floor, unable to do anything to help him.

Minho’s arms wrap around you, supporting your weight, and he’s moving you both over the threshold, taking care to shut the door softly behind him. You don’t know how many minutes you spend wailing against his chest, the sight of another human forcing you to confront the horror you’d dealt with in the past few days, but eventually, the pain in your ankle makes itself known again, and you slide to the floor.

Minho rests his head against the door frame, his own eyes red-rimmed, and you watch his face contort, trying to hold back the tears from falling.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, watching Minho’s gaze snap to yours. 

“What for?” he croaks. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I’m so scared, Minho,” your eyes fill with tears. “I thought that no one would come for me, that I’d be alone here, and that I’d…”

You choke, unable to finish the sentence, and you watch Minho straighten next to you. The warmth of his hand wrapping around your waist startles you, watching his lithe body contort as he helps you up off the floor, taking special care not to put weight on your ankle.

“You’re with me now. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

There’s a furrow in Minho’s brow when he hears your request, lips tightening into a thin line while his throat bobs.

“Absolutely not.”

The decision is final, resolute, stubborn — Minho’s arms are crossed over each other, and he stares down at your figure among the blankets, eyeing the makeshift splint currently tied around your ankle.

“Minho, please.” It comes out as a whine, years building in your eyes from the frustration of being trapped in the bunker for months on end. 

“I said no.”

Minho had dragged the two of you to safety not long after he’d found you, stealthily dodging the strange creatures that had begun to pop up on the city landscape. There was little in common between them besides their monstrous appearances, but Junho’s screams lingered in the back of your mind, causing you to wake up every night in a cold sweat for the first few weeks.

The tiny bunker became your new home, and Minho your roommate, forced together by circumstances beyond your control. You’d snapped at him when he brought up the idea of leaving, wanting to search for food and supplies outside. 

Unfortunately, your ankle made the final decision for you — Minho would have to be the sacrificial lamb, risking his life for you both. It filled you with an immeasurable amount of guilt, knowing he put himself in danger every day to provide for you both. But it also made you angry, the listlessness that had begun to brew inside you only becoming stronger when you felt more and more useless every time he’d come back with food and medicine for you and nothing for himself. 

Regret cut through you like a searing knife. Who was Minho to do all these things? He’d been Junho’s best friend, not yours. The relationship between you two had been cordial at best, Minho barely managing to string more than five words together every time he was around you. It always seemed to you like Minho stood at the other end of a vast abyss, impossible for you to reach in any way. Admittedly, you’d been no help in closing the chasm, even since you’d both escaped together, the pain in your ankle lulling you to sleep as soon as you swallowed the meds he brought every day. 

Your eyes flit to Minho across the bunker, holed up into the corner. You watch his hands rummage around in his pocket, pulling out a switchblade. The shiny metal gleams in the rays of the sun, Minho’s fingers enclosing around a lock of his messy, overgrown hair—

“STOP!” The switchblade clatters to the floor at the sound of your voice, Minho’s lips parting in surprise. A deep flush creeps across your neck, wondering what had prompted you to interrupt him in the moment. His eyes study you with a curious glint, a thousand questions hidden in them.

“You’ll dull the knife,” you manage to get out, amazed at the calmness in your voice despite your heart racing at a million miles an hour. “What if we need it?”

Minho’s lips twist up into a smirk, and you wonder if he can see through your thinly veiled excuse. If he does, he doesn’t say anything, throwing a baseball cap over the shaggy strands, smiling when they fall into his eyes. 

“Fine,” he acquiesces. “You can come along. But any sign of trouble and you have to leave me and get back here, okay?”

“What do you mean, leave you? You’re coming back with me, of course.”

“___.”

“Minho.”

You push yourself off the ground with your palms, hobbling over to Minho’s side. 

“Thank you,” you whisper softly to him, and Minho rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly, before the door to the bunker creaks open once more, this time the two of you stepping out into the sun together. 

. . . 

Sweat pools on Minho’s shirt, the sun beating down on the two of you while you make your way through the woods, eventually finding yourselves in a vast field. You’re slower than he is, trailing behind him while you skip on your partially healed ankle, but Minho finds he doesn’t mind.

In fact, he thinks he must look like a fool, the huge smile that threatens to take over his face creeping up every few minutes. Somehow, it feels different now, having you here with him. The sun’s rays feel less ruthless, and there’s the faint rustling of a breeze through the meadow. It's almost like he’s on an adventure, and not caught in an endless struggle for survival. He’s filled with the hope that maybe the two of you can come out of this alive. Together.

Pushing through the blades of grass, Minho pauses when he hears a small thud behind him, followed by the faint sound of wheezing. Turning on his heels, his heart turns to ice when he sees you, knees curled to your chest, the faint sheen of sweat lingering on your skin. 

“Shit!” Minho curses into thin air, crouching onto the dirt next to you. “Stay with me ___!”

His arm swings out to steady you, but recoils at the last second, not wanting to startle you. Guilt eats away at his chest when he realizes this is all his fault. He’d been the one to agree to let you go outside. Realization dawns on him that there’d been a reason you stayed in the bunker the entire time, his mind flashing back to the days you must have spent alone in your apartment, full of pain, wondering if anyone would show up.

Minho panics, looking around the field for something, anything that could help hold you over until this passes, when a thought crosses his mind.

“Do you want to hear about the time I tried to walk my cats?” He babbles out, cheeks hot at the silly interruption. It works though, your face jolts up, the trance finally broken. Your eyes are red-rimmed, hair dampened with sweat, snot running down your nose. Minho thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“It was in a field just like this, I brought them out here with their harnesses,” he continues, the smile growing on his face when he sees the stream of tears that run down your cheeks dry up.

“It was a disaster. I thought Doongie ran away for sure, and Soonie just laid down in the grass on his belly, refusing to get up. Dori was the only one who took to it,” he reminsces fondly, a half-sob, half-chuckle escaping him at the memory, trying to soothe the hollow ache in his heart when he thinks of them.

“I wish I’d met them,” you reply softly, your hand resting on Minho’s shoulder.

“It was my fault,” Minho spits out bitterly. “Junho was over all the time, I could have introduced you. They would have really liked you I think.”

Just like I do.

“I hope we find them,” your voice is quiet, but there’s a resoluteness to it that surprises Minho. “They have to be out there somewhere, waiting for you.”

That strange feeling of hope bubbles up in Minho’s chest again, and he helps you up, fighting the burning in his cheeks when your hand remains clasped in his, the two of you hobbling through the field.

Half an hour later, and you’re stopped outside the remains of what looked to be a convenience store, completely ransacked. Minho ignores the emptiness he feels when he lets go of your hand to peer inside, his heart dropping at the bare shelves.

Behind him, a twig snaps, your sharp gasp echoing amidst the silence. The gleam of the switchblade is apparent in seconds, Minho pulling it out of his pocket.

The woman is whimpering, her gauzy white dress in tatters. His eyes trail to her hands, the discoloured nails offset by the glint of a fancy diamond ring, and for a moment, he could almost believe she’d just walked out of the church, beaming from the happiest day of her life.

But her eyes say differently. Hollow pools of black, nothing behind them. She’s one of them.

“___, run.” Minho commands, not even turning to look behind him. He hopes you’re gone already, hopes you won’t have to stick around to see this dark side of him, the one that was used to doing battle with monsters every time he left the safety of your little bunker.

But you’re not gone. Your hand wraps around his, lifting it up to study the switchblade in his hand. He looks into your eyes, full of fear but also sadness at the sight in front of you, and he wonders if you see yourself in her. What things could have been with Junho.

“I don’t think she’s going to hurt us,” you wrestle Minho’s blanched fingers off the blade. “We should just go.”

You pocket the knife, Minho’s jaw tensing at the thought of leaving the woman behind, unsure of the potential harm she could cause. He opens his mouth to protest, but realizes you’ve already begun to walk away, your slumped figure visible against the setting sun. You’re crying again.

The woman wails harder when she sees the two of you go, her cries echoing into the silent night.

It’s cold tonight in the bunker. 

You shiver among the pile of blankets, watching your breath turn into mist in the frosty air. Teeth chattering, you look over to Minho. His pile of blankets is even more sparse than your own, and you catch sight of his own trembling figure. 

It’s cold, your voice echoes in the back of your mind, your feet dragging across the floor, the blankets dragging behind you. 

It’s cold, it echoes again, Minho stirring when you lay by his side, throwing the extra blankets over the two of you. His eyes go wide with shock when he sees your face across his in the darkness, studying the way your hair falls messily in your face, the rapid rising of your chest with every breath. 

It’s cold, it repeats a final time, your lips surging forward to meet Minho’s, a strange noise escaping his throat before one of his arms comes up to wrap around you, his other palm steadying him against the floor. It’s cold and Minho is warm, the heat from his body burning through you when his tongue traces your lips, before slipping inside, a low whine escaping your throat. 

You break away from him, flushed and shivering, but no longer cold. Minho’s hot breath fans against your cheeks, his thumb resting tentatively at the curve of your jaw.

“Touch me please,” you beg him, and his grip around your waist tightens, hands tracing circles on your side. His lips find yours again, thumbs slipping underneath the hem of your shirt, resting against the curve of your hips. You burrow your face into Minho’s neck, leaving featherlight kisses against his jaw, heat rising in your chest when you hear Minho hold his breath. Breaking away, you meet his gaze, the tips of his ears turning red. 

“Anything,” he whispers against your lips. “I’ll do anything for you.”

Sparks crackle in the air between you, the once stagnant air in the bunker becoming filled with frantic energy, you slipping a leg over to straddle Minho, him fumbling with the buttons to your clothes, pushing aside just enough to feel how wet you are. The fingers of his other hand trace under your shirt again, climbing up your stomach, thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts before he tugs at your nipples. 

Sighing, your hips move against Minho’s hardness, pushing aside the worn fabric of Minho’s flannel to press kisses to his collarbones, his thumb working on your clit. Your back arches when he presses another finger inside, and the familiar burn of your orgasm begins to rise, building in your stomach.

“Let go for me,” Minho groans, and the deep growl in his voice has you hurtling over the edge, trembling as you fall apart on top of him. The two of you exchange shallow breaths, Minho’s fingers still buried inside you, and you feel your core begin to clench around them, whining from the oversensitivity.

“Please, please, can I fuck you?” Minho whispers, desperation in his tone. You nod, head spinning with everything that had happened, and you reach back under his sweats, fishing his cock out from underneath them.

He pushes into you slowly, groaning when he feels your walls widening to accommodate him. The two of you stay there for a few moments, catching your breath before you tell him it’s okay to move. His hips snap lazily against yours, fucking you slowly and deeply, soft pants and the sound of your wetness reverberating through the bunker.

You rock against him gently, and you reach for his hands, his warm fingertips slipping through your own easily, limbs tangling together in desperation. 

“You’re perfect god, you’re perfect, I love you, I love you so much,”  he slurs the words, the confession ringing in your ears, soft groans accompanied by the speeding up of his thrusts before he spills inside you. 

Lifting you off of him, his arms reach around your body to press you against him, his lips ghosting your forehead, and you feel the wet trail of tears on his cheeks. Eventually, his breathing slows, soft snores telling you he’s fallen asleep, but you remain restless for the rest of the night.

The headache hits Minho like a freight train in the morning, as he stares up at the rust-covered ceiling. There’s a faint chill in the air, one that became even more pronounced when he woke up and you weren’t by his side, and he wonders for a second if he’d imagined it all, from the softness of your lips to the way the words he’d been wanting to say, waiting years to say spilled out of his throat, every kiss and laugh you shared with Junho burned into his memory. And all he did was look on, hopeless in his desperation. Until everything changed last night.

A loud clang startles him, and he jumps up, watching you throw a heavy sack containing the supplies he’d stockpiled against the walls of the bunker, your back turned to him. He lifts himself off his feet, padding softly behind you, his arm reaching out for you.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss, words clipped and venomous, and you keep rearranging, completely ignorant to the way Minho stands there, unable to formulate a response, his tongue feeling as though it’s weighed down with lead. 

Rage lights up inside him as he watches you move around him, the silence making his heart freeze over, and he decides that he can’t take it anymore. It’s been months with you acting this way, cold and distant, refusing to let Minho in. Before, he’d been able to write off your happiness with Junho as an excuse, as a reason why he couldn’t let himself get close to you. But Junho was long gone.

“We’re not doing this,” he spins you around to face him. “You don’t get to walk away from me like that.”

You push against Minho’s chest with all the might you can muster, and he staggers back. The look in your eyes makes you seem like a wounded animal, ready to pounce.

“Why’d you say it?” Another push, the words leaving you in a broken sob. “Why’d you do that?”

You bat against Minho’s chest until he can no longer take it, grabbing both of your hands with one of his, pinning you against the wall.

“Because it’s true,” he breathes, looking past you through the window outside, unable to meet your eyes. “I love you ____. I’ve loved you this entire time, even when you were with Junho. And I hate myself for it.”

He lets go of your arms, stepping back, his shoulders beginning to shake with the force of his own sobs. 

“Why do you think I stayed? Why do you think I put myself in danger every day to make sure that you had medicine for your ankle, food to fill your stomach? Why do you think I go out there and kill every single monster I run into, because I need to make it back here, to be with you again?”

“You shouldn’t!” you scream at him. “What kind of life is this? Love should be the last thing on your mind right now, Minho! You should fucking worry about your own neck, and stop giving a damn about me!”

The words tear through you, because you know that if it weren’t for his love, you wouldn’t even be alive right now. And it hurts, hurts to think of how long he’s spent living like this, merely surviving, a wall of ice around his chest.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t. But I do. Do you know that these past few months, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been? What kind of fucked up logic is that? I have nothing, nothing in this world besides this stupid bunker and the clothes on my back, and it makes me want to sob with joy. Because I get you. I get a chance at life with you, after so many years of wishing for it, and knowing I could never have it.”

He falls onto the ground, tucking his head into his knees. 

“The universe gave me another chance,” he whispers softly.

Your blood turns to ice, and you crouch down next to him.

“What do you mean, another chance?”

He looks at you, and you finally see all the pain in his eyes come to the surface, everything that he’s kept bottled up inside.

“It should have been me,” he mutters, lost in his own head. “I told Junho about how I wanted to go up to you that night, how beautiful I thought you were, but before I could do anything, he was there. It ended up being him.”

Your head reels from his confession, and you think back to everything that’s happened through the years. All those memories you had with Junho, Minho lingering in the background, purposely keeping his distance. Memories that you could have had with him instead. Bile rises up in the back of your throat, and you back away.

“I can’t do this, Minho, not right now, I can’t–” 

“I know.” He’s at the door before you can stop him, one foot on the other side of the threshold. “Don’t worry about it.”

He leaves before you can even ask him to stay.

Minho knocks back another shot, stomach churning when he sees Junho approach the pretty brunette, chatting her up. She’s batting her eyelashes and giggling at him, and he knows he should be grateful that his best friend is helping him out, on a desperate mission to cure Minho’s singleness.

But all he can focus on is you in the corner, nervously watching your boyfriend flirt with another girl, and Minho wants to vomit when he sees your lip tremble, eyes glassy with tears. 

He’d driven himself nearly mad with the fantasies about what he’d do if he was in Junho’s position, how much better he could treat you. But at the end of the day, that’s all they were. Fantasies. You two were happy together, and he had no place in it.

Minho suddenly remembers the shiny ring that Junho had shown him last week, tucked away in the drawer of his dresser, and decides promptly that he needs to step outside, the stale air of the bar burning his nostrils.

There’s a faint breeze outside, and it calms him, rewiring his muddled senses enough for him to plop down on the curb. Minho heaves, the alcohol coming back up his throat, but he tries his best to breathe deeply, like his therapist had told him. The pity in her eyes when he’d explained his feelings for you lingers in the back of his mind. You were a vice he couldn’t quit.

A shadow looms next to him, and Minho looks over to see you standing on the curb next to him, studying him curiously.

“Not a fan of cheap vodka?” you chuckle, taking a seat next to him, and Minho internally curses when he feels your thighs brush. He was too drunk for this. 

“Just needed some air,” he tries to laugh it off too. “Gonna have a killer headache tomorrow.”

“She was pretty,” the statement startles him. He couldn’t give less of a damn about the girl Junho was talking to, but it seems that wasn’t the case for you.

“Not interested,” he grits out. Not when she’s not you.

“You know, dating isn’t all it’s cut out to be,” you sigh. “I mean, there are good times, don’t get me wrong, but the bad times feel a thousand times worse when you care about someone. Like seeing your boyfriend flirt with another girl right in front of you.”

There’s a bitter edge to your words, and Minho surprises you, reaching over to cup your cheek and tilt your head towards him.

“Junho is a fool,” the words come out in a slow, heavy breath.

“Happy birthday, Minho,” you whisper, a small smile on your face, and Minho leans in, lips searching for yours. The kiss is quick, a brief graze full of shy reluctance, but you’re surprised you don’t back away, dizzy when he retreats, and missing the feeling of his soft lips.

You lean your head on his shoulder, the two of you lingering on the curb for a few moments, before Junho’s loud voice echoes in the background, startling you apart from each other.

“Hey dipshits, the party’s inside,” he drawls, walking over to swoop you off your feet. Junho presses a peck to your cheek, wrapping his jacket around you, and your eyes roam around frantically, looking for any sign of Minho. But he’s already gone, the faint outline of his leather jacket the only thing you see before he disappears around the corner of the bar, vanishing into the night.

Minho stumbles through the forest, the pounding in his head only growing worse, the memory of the kiss you’d shared consuming his thoughts, splintered with snippets from the conversation with you. The one he’d been waiting so long to have.

The spell had been shattered, and Minho thinks he’s foolish to imagine that it could have lasted, the two of you playing house together, and he cursed the false hope he’d harboured for so long. It was a fucking apocalypse, you were desperate for release, and you’d never cared. Not like he did.

But then his mind flashes back to the kiss, and he doesn’t know what possessed him that night, or possessed you to return it. The moment was the single spark that kept the flickering flame of his love for you going, even now, when you’d basically banished him.

A sharp pain surges through him, and Minho staggers to the ground. He clutches the fabric of his shirt, lifting it up to see the ugly wound he’d been letting fester for weeks, a stray swipe from a monster he’d run into. It’s pulsating now, stabbing into his side, and he wants to kick himself. Why had he been so selfless?

Sometimes, he thinks loving you was the worst decision he’d ever made, the way it consumed him completely. He thinks that maybe if time could reverse, and he had a second chance, that he’d never do it, never lock eyes with you from across the party, your smile forever etched into his memory. But that was a lie. Minho knew he’d do it all again for as long as his heart continued to beat.

Minho feels something squelch on the ground below him, a metallic tang hitting the back of his throat. He swipes at it, crimson coating his fingers. Blood. His blood. He presses a tentative hand to his face, swiping at his leaking nose, but the bleeding won’t stop. There’s too much of it.

Minho screams when his spine cracks, the pain splitting through his entire body, and he feels his eyes roll back into his head. 

When he opens them again, the world is dark. And he runs.

. . .

Your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse, parched for air as you make your way through the forest, wobbling through the trees, looking for something, anything that could lead you to Minho. 

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears, accompanied by a ringing that hasn’t ceased since you left the bunker. The decision still made your stomach turn, afraid to confront the outside world without Minho by your side, but you had to find him. Had to let him know that you wouldn’t let him suffer anymore.

Mind lingering on a specific memory from Minho’s birthday, you realized there’d always been a strange undercurrent between you, even when Junho had been around. Despite how many times he drew away from you, you never let him escape completely. At first, you’d thought it was because he was Junho’s friend, but it all changed after that night outside the bar, your attraction to Minho settling in your chest like a lead weight.

You think back to the months you’d spent together, the world falling apart around you, and how Minho had become your entire world, the reason you’d continued to hope. How you’d fallen in love with every part of him, from the way he’d let you take the first share of food to the messy strands of his grown-out hair. 

The wind whips through your hair, the dense cover of trees thinning around you, and you stumble upon the meadow, a lone figure illuminated in the moonlight. You know it’s him.

“Minho!” you scream, watching as he stumbles across the field in response, trying to get away from you. “Minho!”

You scream until your voice runs hoarse, fighting through the pain in your ankle, and eventually, Minho draws closer and closer, collapsing in the middle of the field. His back is turned to you, and he ducks his head, avoiding your gaze.

You think he’ll run away when you approach him, but he remains lifeless, as still as a statue. Crouching down beside him, you lift his chin, turning his face up to you, a gasp caught in your throat at what you find.

There’s something wrong with his eyes. They shift from the dark brown irises you’d come to know to hollow pools of black. His face is smeared with blood, and his breathing is shallow.

“____, you have to go, I’m turning, it’s not safe, I’m not safe–,” Minho grabs your arm, looking at you with desperation in his eyes. His speech is garbled, but you can hear the gentle tone of his voice still trapped inside. He’s still Minho.

“How dare you tell me to run,” you hiss at him. “How dare you tell me to leave?”

“You don’t understand,” he growls, hands shaking in rage. “I’m a monster!”

Fear strikes you at the realization that something was very wrong with him, something neither you or him had ever been able to anticipate. But it’s overcome by a stronger, more profound emotion.

“I don’t care,” you take his face in your hands again. “I love you, Minho. I loved you through the world ending, and I’ll love you through this. Because your life is mine now, just like mine is yours. It’s our second chance. And we will do whatever it takes to survive.”

Minho clasps your hands in his, fingertips rubbing against your knuckles, and you smile when you notice that his eyes are normal again, no longer filled with darkness. Maybe there was a chance.

“We’ll head west,” Minho rests his forehead against yours, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I saw a hospital nearby. Maybe there are other survivors, people just like us.”

You nod, throwing your arms around him and burying your head into the crook of his neck. The two of you would exit west as soon as the sun rose, ready to start a new journey together.

Perhaps the life you shared was far from perfect but you realized that you’d clutched onto it as desperately as him, because he was the only thing you had. You were each other’s home.

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[sunflowersunite]

I've been meaning to ask this for some time now, since I've realised as we're working on a fic together that you tend to make little headcanons about the characters here and there.

So I would love to hear some about your fic "to live". I tell you it's a masterpiece and it'd be a crime if you DO have hcs or side notes and you've kept them all to yourself

ohh?? Thank you so much for asking me this, swordslinger!! I maybe kind of have a few, actually...

to anyone interested, the fic is to live, an aot villain AU where Levi never left the Underground and Hange followed a different path. Assassin Levi x torturer Hange (she's a torturer for the Military Police). This post will contain spoilers for the fic.

The first person Levi killed when he became an assassin was the pimp who left his sick mother to die without providing her with any healthcare.

when Levi pushed Hange against that wall, (this is what I'm talking about) he was genuinely impatient and wanted to intimidate her. However Hange's feelings were a little... different. Danger has always exhilarated her and I have to admit that she did think about kissing him right then and there. She knew she'd end up with a knife at her throat but oh well, all the better.

Chapter 5:

“Say you’re sorry.” A pause, during which she imagines his lips pursing into a thin line. “What does it matter if I do?” It does, for the sake of their weird, twisted friendship. Because however little kindness he's got left, he spared some for her. “Just say it, midget.” “Tsk. Dumbass shitty-glasses.” “Stuck-up clean freak.”

this was inspired by Six of Crows and it according to the note I'd initially made, it would go like this: (context, Levi is bedridden, injured and they're bickering because Hange wants to go do murder stuff)

"midget" "shitty-glasses" "clean freak" "Hange. Don't go."

4. I found a fanart that reminded me of the fic and kept it in my notes. torture buddies Levihan here!

5. When Levi adopted Mikasa after her parents died, he really had to be a parent to her. She'd wake up by nightmares and he'd have to?? calm her down?? who, Levi Ackerman??

He was better at it than he expected, though. He wanted her to throw that stupid scarf away because he claimed it provided a grip for any attackers, but she refused (because it's Eren's. Mikasa still remembers Eren as the boy who taught her kindness still exists).

6. In an earlier draft, while hazy from some attack (idk which), Hange was supposed tell Levi that she liked it when he called her by her name, because initially he only referred to her by the infamous nicknames.

Later, Levi would find himself in the same predicament (hazy from an attack) and this would happen

She comes closer and he sees her, worried and bloodstained. “Levi? Are you okay?” “I’m okay.” He wraps a tendril of her hair around his finger. Holds it like a lifeline. “Hange.” “What is it?” “Nothing. You like it when I say your name.” That fact might have been a memory or a dream, but he doesn’t bother trying to figure that out. He's tired. “Don’t fall asleep!” she urges him. “If you keep shouting like this, I can’t,” he mutters.

(well, this might make it into the fic eventually. I don't know 😅)

7. Another deleted scene which I liked very much. They've found themselves in some abandoned village and sleep side by side.

Hange inches closer to him, her hands press against his chest. He finds it rough and calloused from holding hammers and buzzsaws, not swords or scalpels. From creating, not destroying. Levi wishes for the first time that he could do something useful for the kids like the one he used to be, frail and weak and alone. Without being sure why, he snakes an arm around her waist and pulls her closer. Her breath fans over his face and he’s only millimetres away from pressing their foreheads together. It’s a tenderness he feels like they’re stealing from another kinder world. This world is cruel, though, and they know that they’ll be each other’s demise or die trying. I’ll kill you, her kind smile says. The inquisitiveness with which her eye roams his face, the way her hands press on his beating heart. I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you. A twisted lullaby. //  She studies his stormy eyes, the smooth bridge of his nose, the line of his mouth. She drinks in every little detail, tries to read his expression. He gives her nothing.

this scene. ohhh I forgot how much I liked it. I got goosebumps. 😄

7. deleted scene #3679 (context: Hange would return to the Scouts here and Levi rode his horse next to her until the camp. It happened a bit differently in the final product)

“Is this goodbye, then?” she asks. “I guess.” She looks like she wants to say something and Levi finds himself once more awaiting her next words with a knot in his stomach. “I never liked goodbyes, you know. Us Scouts never say goodbye, only good luck. So, good luck, Levi. Kick their asses.” The first rays of the morning sun dance around her hair and she looks more like a painting than a person, a painting with soot smudged on her cheeks and a stiff back and an eye the colour of soil and life. Bright and hopeful and alive, that’s what she is. That’s what she deserves to be. Hange’s horse starts to trudge towards the camp, and Levi calls out for her before he can regret it. “Hange!” She stops and looks back. Her name rolls off his tongue as if he’s said it countless times before. It’s familiar, it feels right. And if it takes never saying it again for her to live, maybe it’s okay. “Good luck.”

heyyy I liked this scene too, would you look at that.

8. Levi likes to kiss Hange's neck (I headcanon that for canon as well, but let's mention it here). He's too short to reach her cheek so he just kisses her neck fleetingly when they become canon. Also he likes to cuddle up to her and use her as a pillow.

9. Chapter 3:

The tip of his nose is cute, so mismatched for a murderer like him. That’s what piqued her interest when he pinned her against the wall that first night. Maybe when she kills him, she’ll cut off his nose and preserve it in a jar, it’s too nice to let rot.

fun fact, you have @quillsandblades to thank for that because they were the one who made me not scrap that scene and actually use it somewhere.

10. After Levihan becomes canon and assuming everything works out eventually, Levi becomes the Scouts' scary parent and Mikasa their scary sister. Assassin Levi with Connie and Sasha.

"soo what do you do in your free time?"

"I murder people"

"tight"

11. Kenny ships Levihan. Granted, he did send them after eachother, but chemistry is chemistry and Kenny has eyes.

This turned out to be a compilation of deleted scenes, but it's good that I found an opportunity to share them! If anything else occurs to me I'll let you know 😉

[bubbleglitterbust]

I have so many ideas, but I never know how to execute them—whether as a fanfic or a comic. So, I’m going to write them down here. If you guys have anything to add, please comment below! I can never seem to come up with enough to fully write the story or make the art.

Idea 1: 

I’d love to draw something about baby Poppy and Viva before the escape—when Poppy first hatched and Viva was learning how to be a big sister. It would be so wholesome and cute! Maybe in the present day, Viva is telling older Poppy stories about her baby days.

Idea 2:

I want to make fanart for this one: A girl who has seen the Trolls movie dies and wakes up as a female version of Creek. Everyone else is still the same gender. She tries to change the story, but things go in unexpected directions the more she interferes. Poppy starts wondering why "Creek" is acting so different, and Branch is just glad she’s stopped bothering him about chilling out, haha. I haven’t figured out what her main personality should be yet…

Idea 3:

What if Branch felt so ashamed of being grey that he painted himself in colors? He always came up with excuses for not singing or dancing. Poppy is constantly trying to figure out why a “happy” troll isn’t doing those things. During the adventure to rescue the Snack Pack, the paint melts off—and that’s when he finally reveals he’s grey and explains why (he explains Grandma Rosiepuff death and nothing else).

Maybe the reason he painted himself blue at the beginning was because he was afraid his brothers might come back, and he didn’t want to disappoint them by being grey. Eventually, it just became a routine. This could honestly work as a one-shot or a comic.

Idea 4:

What if Viva found Pop Village before the events of the first movie and was devastated to realize her sister didn’t even know she existed—and that their dad had never told anyone about her? If she’s with Clay, he’d be her emotional support, even if she’s happy just to see Poppy again, even if Poppy doesn’t remember her.

Unfortunately, Clay would see Branch in his full grey era… and yeah, he wouldn’t like that and does feel guilty. Viva would quickly realize that their dad didn’t prepare Poppy at all for a Bergen attack, and that she’s way too carefree and unprepared.

Idea 5:

Miss Guffin, a deleted old Troll character, was originally Princess Poppy's mentor. However, like Creek, she betrayed Poppy and the other Trolls because she didn’t want to be eaten by the Bergens. She was eventually replaced by Creek in the final version of the movie. I feel like it would’ve been interesting to see an evil grandmother figure for Poppy—especially since Branch had a kind and loving grandma. Who knows? Maybe this would have made Poppy stay gray a little longer.

[galvanizedfriend]

hii Yokan <3 How are you??

I was wondering how many people from Mystic Falls did you keep alive in TW4 !!! 👀👀 In TVD/TO, by the time Klaus was released, Enzo(💔), Stefan, and Tyler got killed. In addition, Elena woke up and took the cure with Damon.

Not that I really care about any of them (except my dad, aka Lorenzo St John), but I did notice that you mentioned Stefan visiting the girls during these 5 years, and after a worrisome amount of times I re-read that story, I got curious!

Is Enzo alive? Is Elena awake? Is Enzo alive? Is Tyler alive? Did Elena and Damon take the cure? Is Enzo alive? Did Alaric create the school, but in a different building? Is Enzo alive?

I remember you saying that, besides Alaric, someone from MFS will make an appearance, and i kinda want to know how much canon did you bring in to understand how much fucked up they are 😭😭😭 (my take was Bonnie as a "special guest", due to the whole Hollow thing, but I know you're a Klefan girl, so I wouldn't be too surprised if Stefan would be the one to show up)

love u, have a good day!

Hii, friend! 😊 Your messages are always so good 😂

So in my heart, and this might come up at some point in the story (I had a whole extra scene planned where they would talk about some of the things Klaus had missed out on in chapter 2, but then I deleted all the extras at the end of that chapter, starting with that scene I posted as an Outtake, because it wasn't vibing): Damon is the one who died to save the city or whatever, and Stefan is very much alive. Enzo is also alive because I can't forgive Stefan for killing him, so that never happened. Elena was heartbroken and in mourning for a while after waking up, but let's face it, she was always supposed to end up with Stefan anyway, so they are now both human and happily together (I think it hasn't been enough time for her to have finished Med School and be married with kids yet). The school does exist because Stefan gave it to Alaric on Damon's behalf (they were besties, after all) when he was looking for a place. It's not Jo's and Alaric's school for gifted kids or whatever the hell that's called (Jo is also alive, if you remember from TW2, because Mikaelsons were present while Kai was wreaking havoc). Tyler is dead, Damon still killed him (fuck Tyler tbh). As for the special guest, I could keep the mystery, but the truth is I think I've already mentioned this a few times? It's Bonnie. She will play a part in the resolution at the end of the season. I could bring Stefan back as well, but in this context it doesn't really make much of a difference because Klaus is a happily married man 😂 There is nothing for Stefan here. I think that answers yours questions? Let me know if I missed anything 😂 Thanks for the ask, friend! Have a wonderful week!

[squarebracketsmileyface]

I also created a brim child too, her name is vivian, I'm not sure if she'd exist in the same au as judy though. (Tim is trans masc)

Like in 2006, when Brian and tim are simply in college, they'd get drunk one night and then one thing would lead to another, before tim eventually finds out he's preg (when he's almost three months along)

When tim announces it to brian (obviously he'd be the first person to tell since yk he's the dad), brian is shocked/surprised but supports tim, he doesn't leave tim either, and brian supports the decision that tim wants to keep it.

At the time period where tim and brian audition for Alex's film, tim is at the end of the second trimester. So his bump is medium sized not exactly a nine months pregnant type bump.

And during the beginning part of filming the movie, tim has the baby (vivian), tim spends less time filming since he's recovering and such. But he does do some scenes.

And a cute moment in the time period where vivian is a newborn. During behind the scenes stuff (pre Alex's influence) Alex would hold vivian and try to get Jay to hold her but Jay would be nervous at first but would relax. Eventually holding vivian. (Alex has a soft spot for babies and kids in general, same for jay)

-

When Brian goes missing, tim is left to take care of a infant alone, being a single dad. (Those two entries that take place during filming where tim is in Those abandoned buildings with alex and such, vivian is somewhere with a babysitter or something so vivian does not get any trauma being a newborn)

Tim is VERY protective of vivian, and soon enough, she turns three in 2009, tim meets with jay and such. Jay finally remembers that vivian exists. (Vivian obv wouldn't remember him though either way)

For that whole 'screenplay'/interview in entry 15, vivian is clinging to tims side, being shy around Jay.

-

When tim and Jay have that argument in the parking lot, vivian is asleep in the car just casually sleeping through arguments (if she can sleep through tims coughing fits and such, she can sleep through that)

At Alex's house, tim keeps her in the car as a precaution, not wanting her to have anymore issues with the operator.

-

Anyway Jay dies, Alex's dies, she's in the car for when those things happen, tim and her move out of Alabama.

-

What vivian calls people that she knows:

Jay = birdie (idk I thought it was cute)

Alex = lexi (or just alex)

Brian = dad

Tim = papa

-

She has tims hair and Brian's eyes, a portion of her features is from tim the other half is Brian's.

(I MIGHT GIVE HER A TOOTH GAP BC OF BRIAN OMG)

Why am I so passionate about the oc children I created?

-

Bonus:

If brian lived, he and Tim would've gotten married, then they would've had another baby, their second and last one.

Their son, Michael. (If he was in the same au as judy, they'd basically be incredibly close in age.)

FUCKING TUMBLR JUST DELETED EVERYTHING I WROTE

I fucking love this. I love this. I love the angst you can do with Tim and his paranoia. He has to leave Vivian somewhere to keep her safe but the second she's out of his sight he's panicking that someone's found her and is either gonna hurt her or take her away. He wakes up somewhere he doesn't remember going and panics about whether Vivian's okay. Did he leave her with a babysitter? Is she on her own? Did he lock her in the house and now he's been gone for a month??

Also like, when Brian goes missing would Tim think he abandoned him because of Vivian? That Brian was just pretending to also want to keep her to make Tim happy, but now he couldn't stand it any longer and left?

Also Alex holding her is so cute. I love that so much. Cos like, idk I just think he'd be good with babies. Not with kids so much, he doesn't really know how to cope with them once they're a toddler or older, but a baby? You give him one of them to hold and he's rocking and swaying and humming little songs to them. He's making sure they're warm enough, making sure they're not TOO warm, he's holding them so carefully and all his love and attention is on this kid, whether they're his or not.

And Michael is such a cute name, Tim and Brian deserve to get to be dads of two. They just do.

[jimahalangel]

Gelatin Skeleton

Summary:

Apparently the multiverse doesn't need your permission to Isekai you. It doesn't even have to give you the courtesy of letting you know it happened.

…

Undertale is gone, like it never existed.

…

You would know—you've looked.

…

"Wait- so you're telling me the void ate my universe? I'm living the weirdest 'I survived' book?!! Introducing to scholastic book fairs everywhere: 'I survived the destruction of the universe when the void decided to get all schlorpy schlorpy!?'"

…

"I am unfortunately fully aware of what information your universe had in the way of… fanfiction about my friends and family-"

...

Notes:

Formatting is better on AO3 (italicized font and such)

Update schedule: AO3 will get new chapters earlier (probably about a day) than Tumblr. (Aiming for once a week, on Thursdays or Fridays - not set in stone)

Link to read on AO3:

Chapter 1: Wikipedia, my beloved.

(read chapter 2 here)

Going to sleep in one universe and waking up in another sounds like the kind of thing people would write about in various types of fiction. Because it is . It's such a prevalent trope that it has its own genre: Isekai .

As defined by Wikipedia, "Isekai, ( Japanese: 異世界, transl. "different world" or "otherworld") is a genre of speculative fiction—both portal fantasy and science fiction are included. It includes novels, light novels, films, manga, anime and video games that revolve around a displaced person or people who are transported to and have to survive in another world, such as a fantasy world, virtual world, or parallel universe. Isekai is one of the most popular genres of anime, and Isekai stories share many common tropes…"

You'd think someone would notice being Isekai-d; that you might feel different upon waking up in a world where things are changed in new and mysterious ways—perhaps feel empowered? Surely when one is suddenly transported into another reality, they might remember the day it happened?

Apparently the multiverse doesn't need your permission to Isekai you. It doesn't even have to give you the courtesy of letting you know it happened.

Or, well, you think this is another universe, at least? Because an entire chunk of internet-culture/pop-culture was missing when you went to Google it yesterday.

Is missing.

Still.

Undertale is gone, like it never existed. You would know—you've looked.

It's not like years' worth of memes and fanfiction and fanart pertaining to a game that changed the entire gaming industry could just up and disappear out of nowhere, could it?! But you can't find any sign of it anywhere online or offline—and you definitely had physical evidence.

You'd stayed up all night last night searching for a single trace of the game and fandom you'd spent years of your life looking toward for comfort and entertainment. You’d looked everywhere.

But it's gone.

All of it.

Everything.

It's impossible.

There has to be an explanation.

Which brings you to your current Isekai theory: Maybe it's not gone— you are. You might be somewhere new where it never existed in the first place.

Either that or your brain is really majorly messed up and created an alarmingly huge chunk of false memories.

.... Actually… How long has Undertale been missing for you?

Has this happened before and you just can't remember it?

You check your search history. Nothing about Undertale before yesterday. Which is definitely strange because you'd been on AO3 looking through Undertale tags two weeks ago. And there's no need to delete your search history when you live alone. Your most recent search history from right before your rabbit hole yesterday is still the same Wikipedia article you remember reading.

Strange.

So Undertale being wiped from the face of the Earth must've happened sometime in the past two weeks.

You check the Google search trends for the words, 'Undertale' and 'Meglovania,' among several other words and phrases more unique to the game and fandom than 'Sans,' and 'Papyrus.' You want to get to the bottom of this, but you're pretty sure those character names won't get you any closer to an answer with how common they are to describe non-Undertale related things.

It's somehow not a surprise to you when search trends show that exactly zero people are looking for the answers you are.

Okay, so that kicks the possibility of finding anyone else who remembers Undertale.

You check search trends for 'alternate reality,' 'alternate universe,' and 'alternate dimension,' and you also open up a separate tab to the Wikipedia article for 'Isekai.'

It seems like there's definitely a good amount of search queries related to each term, but upon further inspection, they're mostly about isekai anime and tv shows like Dr Who.

Not really all that helpful, but maybe when you're not dealing with the real-world issues of dimensional travel you can take a break and watch the ones that seem interesting.

You bookmark a few articles that seem to be about actual science and not sci-fi media, but besides scientific papers and articles misquoting those same scientific papers, you've hit a dead end. You turn your attention towards finding discussion posts or forums on the topic —Maybe something on Reddit?

…..

Okay, nope.

You're not going to have much luck bringing in other people to help you with this unless you're looking to end up institutionalized. Not that there's any shame in that, but you don't think it'd help you much in this particular situation.

Man, you are really hoping for your Isekai theory to ring true. Otherwise, you're SOL with no way of finding out what's going on here. You feel like that guy who had to rewrite all the Beatles songs from memory in that one movie. What was it called? Yesterday?

Not that you think you could reproduce any of the content you remember about Undertale.

No, you definitely couldn't, especially not the game itself. You aren't a one-man game dev team, and the idea of trying to profit off someone else's ideas like that makes you feel slimy. Even if you're in an alternate dimension or if your brain actually came up with everything and created false memories, you couldn't bring yourself to claim what you feel is someone else's intellectual property. You'll just have to quietly remember on your own and create fan-content privately from now on. That thought makes you feel kind of alone…

You push that down and bottle it up for future you to deal with. Right now you need to determine how and why this happened through some gentle research. No need to end up on any government watchlists.

[axenyan]

😭😭😂😂😂❓

I had a bizarre dream that we can only link our tkdb account to twitter, and I keep getting logged in into random people's accounts instead of mine 😂😂😂😂😂😂😭

It all started when I woke up from a 'nap' and suddenly have SSR Yuri as my assistant. I didn't pull for him! Did I accidentally press summon when I was asleep?

When I checked the name, apparently the account wasn't even mine.

😳😳😳😳😳😳

I tried to look for ways to switch accounts, but I keep getting logged in into other people's accounts instead. They range from inactive newbies until big accounts.. and no, I didn't do anything to them!

When I finally got to the page where I can supposedly switch accounts via backup code, there is a warning that the current logged in account might get deleted if I try to do that. Yeah, completely deleted. Imagine waking up and finding out your acc had been deleted by some randos. I don't have the heart for that, so I stepped back 😁👊

I can't login normally using username and pass too. I can instantly switch accounts, but still... to other people's accounts.

So my tkdb acc still exists but it's floating somewhere, in a similar fashion to a game acc that hadn't been linked to any email address. But what happened in this dream is more wacky because I have linked my tkdb acc to twitter acc, but I, for some reason, is unable to get into my own acc no matter what. The only way I could get it back is by mindlessly switching accounts, hoping I'd finally land in mine.

Fortunately, I woke up. My SSR Ritsu is still there in the casino. Whew 🤧🤧

OKAY, THE THING IS... The tkdb i saw in my dream is slightly cooler, because:

- We can use warding cards as avatar and home screen illustration!

- The SSR illustration is ANIMATED........ BOTH CHARACTER AND WARDING CARDS.............. Imagine animated SSR Jiro.

And the Yuri I saw in my dream is... How do I say it. He looks more gentle and soft? The overall composition of the illustration looks similar to the SSR we have, but the vibe is different. I wish I have enough skill to portray it, because I still remember it vividly...

[aita-blorbos]

(OC) Am I the asshole for accidentally killing the person who killed my mother (by accident), who also INTENTIONALLY tried to kill my now-boyfriend?

(This is an updated version of a previous post by me, if that's not allowed please feel free to delete this)

For those who don't know, I was born on Earth, but am technically not human. Human mom and dad + intentional introduction of DNA from a human/dragon (which are apparently aliens) hybrid. Let's call the poor (dead) sap I got this DNA from E1, and my (also dead) mom E2 - my father is not in the picture at present. A third person (also a human/dragon hybrid), K1, is my boyfriend now that all of the incident has been resolved (for the record, I was declared not guilty due to having done the act in defense of K1. Person four is K2, the (now dead) attempted murderer of K1. 5 is A, who was supposedly my interpreter for the trial since I didn't speak the dragon language (who turned out to be allied with K2 and tried to get me a guilty verdict.) A was also a major governmental figure on K1's home planet - being the leader of the language optimization branch.

Something I should mention ahead of time is that these alien "dragons" tend to have strange psychokinetic powers (pyrokinesis, for example). E1 had the ability to generate hardlight - as well as various levels of radiation. I have inherited this power through sheer happenstance, in addition to regeneration (somehow?)

Most of this started when K2 broke into my house after a chance encounter with K1 (who I lived with after the break-in) - which eventually led to me discovering that I have DNA from E1 in addition to E2 and A, after K2 accidentally tried to kill me while looking for K1. K1 was eventually kidnapped by a crony of K2, and of course considering the police wouldn't believe a word of what I said - I had to go rescue him myself.

While I was in K2's laboratory, I found out my mom, E2, had agreed to let E1's DNA be injected into her to allow me to survive what was expected to be a miscarriage - at the unintentional cost of her own life. As it turns out, K1 was being used as bait for K2's plan to draw out K1's grandfather, who is apparently the grandson of Hektor of Troy - and also a serial killer on K1 and K2's home planet after he was spirited away from Ancient Greece? I'm not even sure he's alive still, but judging by how convinced K2 was, I have my doubts that he's dead.

This eventually escalates into a full-blown fight between K1 and I against K2 - Knowing what I had just discovered, K1 and I attempted to resolve the conflict peacefully. K2, of course, wasn't having it, and pins K1 to the wall Dio from JJBA-style, and threatens that if I don't stand down, they will kill K1. As I was debating what to do, K2 stabs me - accidentally causing the powers I inherited from E1 to kick in out of reflex. K2 was irradiated out of existence, and I don't remember much in between that and waking up in the infirmary in the jail of K1's home planet to face trial for the murder.

This leads to the (apparently a sham) trial by A - who was arrested for treason afterwards (Since K2 failed to accomplish any of their goals, A attempted to kill me in revenge after the verdict was handed out, landing me in an actual hospital). I managed to regenerate after a few days, but I've decided to stay on K1's home planet after confessing how I felt about him. However, I fear I might be the asshole here - K2 had a family here, and by accidentally killing them, I've denied them the chance to reunite. Ever. I am the only person with regeneration from mortal wounds to be known to exist, and even then, I don't know how far that goes. K2 also turned out to have been the detective on the case about Hektor's grandson - also named Hektor, apparently. Hektor Jr. (as I will call him for future reference) was also the one who murdered E1, and attacked K2 himself, turning them from their dragon appearance to practically human due to the method. So, I've also unintentionally killed any further leads into his potential whereabouts.

[theharellan]

Past/Birth, Present/Life, Future/Death.

DA4 spoilers

Note: go to source to copy/paste because I deleted some questions for the sake of not repeating myself.

Past/Birth:

- Does your muse know their name day? Which one? Solas remembers being born on a cold day, the bare branch of a tree cast a shadow that would become his chain. - What's their sign? (Which month were they born in?) Haring, aka December. His sign would be Capricorn. - What is your muse's background? Spirit taken flesh, he was Wisdom first, his body moulded from the blood and bones of Titans. - Where are they from? The Fade. Dreams. They didn't have names when he was willed into being, his nature growing around the burgeoning wisdom of the dwarven people. - Is your muse born with any distinguishing characteristics (heterochromia etc) or disabilities? None. - Do they discover anything strange about themselves in childhood? Everything felt strange, even the most normal aspects of a physical body took time for him to adjust to. He thinks infancy must be a blessing, to learn how to live while the mind is still in a state of ignorance of its own existence.

Present/Life:

- How long has your muse been alive? Do they know? He does not know, and neither do I! I put him as existing pre-history, before time was measured, but it's been millions of years. - What is your muse doing? Presently? Attempting to tear down the Veil and restore the nature of the world, ease the passing of spirits, and amend his mistakes. - Does your muse have a "day job"? Something to go back to when their "cause" is over? No! And there is a reason he refers to it as a din'anshiral. Why he believes he must pay the price. He has existed in struggle so long he cannot imagine what will exist for him if it ever ends. - Who are your muse's closest friends? Iander (they are lovers, too, but friends first, and the difference is not always so stark in Solas's mind), Thora, Wisdom, Cole, Felassan, Miraen, Mythal. - What are your muse's favorite hobbies? Painting, dreaming/research, playing music. - Does your muse have a place that they live? Multiple places? I would say multiple places. Until shortly before the ritual preparation, the Lighthouse was his home, as it was centuries ago. His home has typically been people rather than places, and even those have changed over the years.

Future/Death:

- How long after their "home game" or media will your muse live? FOREVER. If there is one thing DA:TV's ending and I are in agreement with, it is that Solas is outlasting the heat death of the universe. - What are your muse's goals for the future? If you asked him what he will do when the Veil is gone he will short circuit. In conversation with Ian, he might have hopes, but no goals. - Does your muse have plans for building a family if they don't already have one? None. - What does your muse want done with their body when they die? If he dies, he would want it buried beside Ian's, preferable in the same grave. - What kind of funeral rites does your muse believe in? I headcanon the tree burial tradition came from the rebellion, who hoped the roots would hold their bones while the branches lifted their spirit back to the Fade. I wouldn't say he believes in it (most likely his spirit would fracture as Mythal's regardless of where his body lies) but he likes the thought and would like to be buried as the people he was most proud to fight alongside were. - How does your muse want people to remember them? As Solas. To be remembered only as Fen'Harel without any inkling of the person he was is in large part why the Dalish frustrate him in DA:I. Akin to the Inquisitor waking up and finding out their own identity was smoothed away into something more palatable. - Does your muse suffer any long-term illnesses, disabilities, or injuries from the events of their story? How do they cope with those changes in their life? I'm still debating exactly how he will end his story, and if he will possess the same powers as he does at the beginning of DA:TV. The vision in his right eye will take years to fully heal, to say the least, and that would frustrate him given how visual he and his hobbies are.

[whatsupbrah13]

Help! I’ve been looking for a fic for like a week and I cannot find it! I’m hoping someone might recognize the fic I’m looking for!

It was about Morgan and Peter getting sent back to the past but Peter had raised Morgan after happy and pepper died in a helicopter crash? And so Peter was an adult and then he died when he’s on his way to space or something and he then wakes up in his teenage body and I can’t remember what happened right after but eventually he goes to dr strange and I guess Morgan came back too and since she doesn’t exist yet, she didn’t have a body so Dr strange had to save her from falling through the sky or something????

I can’t find it anywhere and I’m hoping the fic wasn’t deleted so if you know that fic I’m talking about, please help!!

[mysterybooks-world]

chaotic glitch AU

this is kaz glitch This is what it looks like The pictures are first

second with a hat

I've got an epic idea What do you think we make Kaz like error sans My idea is what When Kaz dies on Earth  At the same time, Chaotic  self returns, a glitch occurs.   spirit or ghost Kaz  Earth +Chaotic self Mix  We get  glitch Kaz .I want to write the story,  So my story: When he wakes up  Somewhere in Perim.  Feels strange in the body and head In his eyes he sees numbers and codes He tries to remember what happened to him  When I realize what happened to him  Decide from the best hide Kaz knows it's glitch He doesn't know what to do, he's afraid that  Code Masters deleted  him  Because they might think it's dangerous  Or does not know if the body is stable I mean it's glitch maybe disappear from existence .  He didn't want to tell his friends, especially Tom Look, he's trying any way to bring him back And if Kaz's idea was correct about his body  Not wanting Tom to feel blamed for his death, he failed to save him from his condition  glitch Code After a while, he tried to find out about this power It's good luck that is Computer genius  has power : (Clothes design can be changed ) (It has the ability to enter the system Chaotic without knowing Code Masters ) (They make things out of  code things like making weapons, vehicles, Mugic, and almost anything)(They can change the shape of any creature from Perim He can choose to create a creature's design and abilities Names a creature behaves as a different creature  ) ( he owns the ability to  teleportation any part of Perim, Chaotic, and   Earth)( He can open screens and watch anything from anywhere and time, past and future Perim, Chaotic, and Earth But of course he does not enter into people's affairs ) (He can scan things from his eyes like a scanner without blue light)(And other different power abilities)(An ability that can tell anything  In his head he can see information about this person Or a creature or information about things About his past, present, future, or their personalities It is not used, it respects people's privacy, but it uses it. It has  simple information But only necessities ) The plan is to enter the Chaotic and pretend that he is a new player named Zack  Code name: ghost glitch Create another account in Chaotic and his tribe Underworld When he plays he uses all the tribes  For no one to find out, if he plays in his own way, friends will notice   Represents that the first match is won by luck And of course he did not use his abilities to cheat. Kaz told one creature named Apollo  From the episode Chaotic | Season 1 | Episode 26. He lives with Apollo and Apollo teaches him how to use his abilities and fighting techniques 

The third is Kaz enters Chaotic with the name Zack

[tapmora]

Your Body Remembers: 5 Physical Symptoms of Unhealed Trauma

Your Body Remembers What Your Mind Tries to Delete

Let's cut through the chum of "moving on" and "letting go." That toxic positivity we get on inspirational posters and Instagram captions? It sells a dangerous illusion — that trauma goes away once you're no longer thinking about it. It doesn't. It digs itself deeper.

Years went by questioning why my body was like a war zone despite all the medical tests coming back negative. Why my heart would pound in empty spaces. Why small talk could turn my stomach into knots. Why bone-tiredness followed me regardless of how many hours I slept. The reality hit me with the force of a freight train: my body was screaming in a language I did not know how to speak.

Why Your Therapist's Couch Isn't Always Enough

The thing nobody mentions when you first begin therapy? Talk is not enough to heal trauma completely. Yes, you can analyze your childhood, list every betrayal, and create exquisite awareness of your patterns. But after all those years of mental clarity, your body still might betray you at the smallest trigger.

Why? Since trauma isn't just deposited in your conscious memory — the sort that you can verbalize. It resides in your implicit memory, the automatic system that exists below the radar. That's why you can intellectually understand you're safe but your body behaves like you're in a mortal situation. It's the gap between your thinking brain and your survival brain — your limbic system doesn't require permission from your neocortex to douse your body in adrenaline.

5 Physical Signs You're Still Carrying Trauma

So how do you know if your body's still carrying trauma? Here are five physical signs to be on the lookout for:

1. Chronic Tension and Pain

You wear it in your jaw, your neck, your shoulders, your back. This isn't the usual soreness of a poor night's sleep or a lousy chair. It's chronic, low-grade tension that won't completely let go — because your body's still tensing up in anticipation of impact that never materializes.

2. Gut Troubles and Digestive Distress

Your second brain is in your stomach, and trauma just loves to camp there. Chronic nausea, IBS-type symptoms, bloating, and cramps with no apparent medical cause tend to indicate unresolved emotional trauma residing in your gut.

3. Palpitations or Breathlessness in "Safe" Situations

Ever caught your heart racing while scrolling your phone on the couch? Or gotten winded during a normal conversation? That's your survival system overheating. It's reacting to ancient threat signals your conscious brain isn't even aware of.

4. Fatigue That Sleep Doesn't Help

Trauma puts your nervous system into hypervigilance or shutdown. Either state is exhausting. You might be able to sleep 10 hours and wake up feeling like you were hit by a truck because your body's still heightened internally.

5. Startle Responses and Sensitivity to Noise or Touch

If you flinch at startling noises or get jumpy when someone suddenly touches you, your body's stress alarm system remains overresponsive. It's not weakness, it's a survival-wired body after chronic stress.

The Path Toward Healing

Trauma recovery isn’t about pretending you’re fine or analyzing your pain until it stops hurting. It’s about learning the language of your body and building practices that help release what talk therapy can’t reach. Somatic therapies, breathwork, EMDR, yoga, trauma-informed massage, and other body-based healing methods can help reconnect your physical and emotional self.

Your body has brought you through each storm, it should be listened to. And healing, true healing, occurs not when you forget the trauma but when you cease resisting your body's remembrance of it.

[easily-bullied]

alright updates. I texted them. things blew up. I was made to feel like my feelings exist to make the other person feel bad. that my having needs was unreasonable. and bigggg realization... that was a microcosm of the whole relationship. making myself as small as possible hoping that would be small enough and then it wasn't. real bad. a roller coaster. and I I was addicted to it. at least I have closure. at least I know that I can't and I won't go back. at least I know that they hurt me and I hurt me. at least I know I have the capacity to dilute myself still. that I can still go to that toxic well. I'm so fucking used to it. daddy issues. god.

so I move forward? god I'm desperate to be loved again though. like I have this need to have someone tell me I'm special. I was reading back what I wrote last time and it was both sad and enlightening. that girl was still so love sick. I'm sorry baby but that was a waste. not that I blame you. but I'm glad to see that lookin back in it feels like almost someone else. and it wasn't long ago or anything, just that door is firmly closed. by me. but hey girl in the past, they did miss you, they told me. and then they still couldn't prioritize your feelings in any way. same as always. me doing all the work for them. apologizing to myself for them, making excuses for them, limiting what I say for them. huh sounds like there might have been a reason you were so tired Momo.

god I'm loving writing again. mosa, don't forget this helps you. I forget every thought I have lol. when I record them and look at them again it's like oh RIGHT ya she figured that out. I need to give myself more credit.

a lot of people telling me that I have a life they're jealous lately. that's something to think about I guess. not to placate my depression or convince myself of something untrue, but to at least be grateful for the good things, the things I started to take for granted. a full social life, a found family, a great apartment, the perfect kitty, an identity that's growing and changing but there, firmly planted. I've been feeling like I'm not filled in lately, like I'm an outline. mosa give yourself grace. you're a sapling still. just planted. you still need extra water, you're still just making roots. but you're out of the soil, you're reaching for the sun, you're definitely visible and here. there's still lots to go and isn't that exciting? the tree you're becoming. the tree that you are, the seed that you were.

I hate that I'm going to have to just love myself. that that's the solution. god doesn't someone else wanna do that for me? can't I have someone be like oh wait you like vacuuming and I like loving you?! let's split the chores! oh well. more improvements needed I guess. never gonna be finished. always fighting my demons. guess I'm gaining exp (barf)

not me trying to focus on how at least I've fucked hotties all summer. like that's something I can hang my hat on. so stupid Mosa. well if I participate in hook up culture, I get to hook up with cuties. unfortunately I want to be WIFE. I am good at wife I think. apparently I'm good at hook ups too but thats less fulfilling. and I'm always trying to be good enough at hook up to become wife.

hey mosa, can I talk to you for a second. don't creep on ex's socials. bad idea. we've now felt bad again for 24 hours. stupid and you knew it. let's be stronger than that. let's brag about how strong we are. you deleted all that shit for a reason. let's forget about it. god mosa, you're a teenage girl at the end of the day. and it's cute but fair warning... those years suck. remember?? oh but I love so hard, oh but my feelings are so big. what a blessing. fuck me. seriously fuck me. I want a big feeling.

my new job is waking up and checking every dating app for new trans cuties and then swiping left on everyone and then being mad. it's GREAT for my mind. it's been so helpful. I feel so settled. I don't feel desperate and crazy AT ALL. can you settle down for one fucking second mosa? would it kill you to be alone?? you did it for 2 years, then after 4 months now you're like AAAAHHHGHH. pathetic.

you're not tho babes. it makes sense. we all want that. everyone you know wants that. and hilariously you're the one who had it most recently. why do you think you're never gonna find it? you're having the most luck! you're having the most sex! ingrate! (jk jk baby. you just got hurt bad.)

I should end this. but it's good to get down the big things. they hurt you. you're mad. you're moving on. it's their loss (classic bs) but you know they feel that too. how do I stop people from falling in love with me they said. and I know the answer, it's don't tell them you're falling in love too. that would help. minimize their own feelings, maximize mine. that fucking sucks. and meanwhile I did the opposite lmfao. I fucking suck. ok now go find love or else you'll have to die