#since my attempt at a love poem when i was 6

[temporalbystander]

Okay, reading some fanfiction has gotten me teary and in the mood to write. So, after the cut, see what I think a conversation between Tom Dupain and Faybon would sound like in regards to Marinette. Guess the inspiration. Hint, I reblogged it earlier.

Tom always considered himself a kind man. Sure he could be as stubborn as his father was and he got emotional whenever his daughter was involved, normally to disastrous results, but he always thought of himself as kind. So it was understandable that he felt like he had to do something regarding the current situation, he just didn't have a clue what it should be.

The day had started off the same as any other with the sole difference being how sick Marinette was. Her friends had all come over after school to cheer her up of course, it made Tom's heart swell to see how many people cared about his little girl, and eventually the large group had split in two. The girls were all in Marinette's bedroom while the boys were playing games in the flat. That is with one noticeable exception. Tom glanced to his side at the boy who was helping him clean as his thoughts drifted back to when they were first introduced.

Tom had been so excited to have one of Paris' superheroes over, especially one who his daughter was in love with, that he had forgotten that Marinette had invited someone else over that day. The large man frowned as he thought about it again. He was sure he would have remembered being told of Marinette having a boy over yet the idea that she would invite him after knowing Chat Noir was coming? Well that didn't make sense to the baker. Still, Faybon had mostly kept to himself during the meal and had seen fit to go after Marinette when she ran to her room crying. There were brief flashes of memory from when he had become WereDad as well, seeing the normal boy standing next to Chat, his jacket torn from the thorns the Akuma had summoned. It showed a loyalty unlike most. But it showed something else too.

"Mr. Dupain?" Tom was brought from his thoughts as the boy spoke up. "May I ask you something?" The teen was hesitant as he began to talk, his hand going to tug at a cord he wore around his neck. There was laughter from the other room that put a smile on both their faces, before it faded from Faybon. Clearly he was worried about something.

"Of course dear boy." Tom responded with all the cheer he could muster. Against superheros and villains the boy was full of courage. Yet the moment it came to talking to an adult? It seemed to fade. Marinette had filled her father in after that day though and, while part of him couldn't quite grasp some of what she said, one part stood out clearly. Faybon was an orphan who had spent the majority of his life overlooked only really coming out of his shell that year. "What's on your mind?"

The teen's hands stopped their movement as he seemed to think of what to say. It wasn't like Tom needed the help but, when the boys and girls seemed to split off without a thought earlier, Faybon had been left standing there, unsure of what to do. So he had promptly been enlisted in clean up duty. Tom couldn't bear to think that the boy could just head home with nobody really taking notice so had wanted to at least make him feel needed for a bit longer.

"Have you ever thought about what life would be like once Monarch is defeated for good?" Tom had been expecting a question regarding Marinette, personally he thought the boy would be a good match for his girl. Patient and caring but able to be firm when needed. Not to mention brave and protective. Yet from the way his daughter spoke about the boy that didn't seem likely.

"I can't really say I have." The man answered the question as he put the last tray away, ready for business tomorrow, before wiping his hands on his apron. "I do believe it will happen." He added at the confused look the teen gave him. "But after having Ladybug and Chat Noir showing up whenever there's trouble? I can't think of Paris without them."

"Me neither."

"What brought this on?" Tom asked when it seemed like Faybon wasn't going to continue.

"it's just..." The boy trailed off as more noises of excitement came from the flat above. His look seemed almost sadder than it did a moment ago but it was gone so quickly that Tom wasn't even sure it was there. "So much has changed this past year that I can't help but wonder what will happen next." Faybon stopped tugging on the cord and instead began to fiddle with the charm bracelet on his wrist. "Not only with the super heroes but in everyday life as well. I mean." He paused before looking back up towards the flat. "Did you ever think that so many people, from so many different walks of life would be under your roof? All for Marinette?"

"I always knew my daughter was special if that's what your asking but I guess that might be my bias as a father." It didn't occur to Tom until after he spoke that it might have been a little insensitive to say something like that but Faybon's chuckles quickly eased whatever worries the baker may have had. "But I will admit, a lot has happened in so short a time that it is kind of hard to keep track of it all. However, I know my little girl can handle it."

"Of course she can. She's our everyday ladybug after all." Faybon chuckled as he said that, it must have been some sort of in joke the kids had. "Without her I probably wouldn't even be here now." There it was again. That look Tom thought he remembered from his time as WereDad. What should have been an innocent statement about opening up became something far more somber.

-------

.

..

...

.... Well I completely and utterly fucked that up! What was supposed to be a nice deep and meaningful conversation completely shifted out of focus. I couldn't even think of an appropriate ending to the stupid thing!

Before anyone tries to cheer me up let me say this. I've been trying my hand at writing for 15 years. So when I say that this is the worst piece of shit I have ever written I say that knowing I wrote a damn crossover for Harry Potter and the chipmunks cartoon when I was 12 that was meant to be a musical. That made sense, that had emotion and pacing. This? This sucked.

So since I can't accurately describe what Tom was supposed to have figured out by the end of that conversation I'll just tell you. Faybon is an extra in a movie, there to make Paris look alive but generally blurry and out screenshot whenever the good stuff is happening. Thanks to Marinette he got pulled into the spotlight. Faybon has read the script, he knows he's not meant to be in it as much as he is but, until the director cuts him out, he's improvising the best he can.

[leavingsunsets]

Helllloo!!

I would like to request a senkuu x reader if possible! (Preferably some angst + romance but anything works!) Been looking for some inspiration and I love your work!

Also hopefully you're okay if I draw some of your work too

Thank youuuu!! (>u<)/

im okay with you drawing my work! saw some of ur art, and wow! glad ur a fan tehee :33 i see you've given me an angst plot, with romance? yes i will definitely fulfill this. i waaaassss ssupposed to make this action filled with scene wit reader dying in battle of treasure island arc and senku going "WHAT" and head in hands and sobbing and the gang has to go back to the mainland hat on stomach like ":(" but exams and research defense finished and i also jus watched cute little vid of an old couple so this is jussttt hmmm a softer angst set between events ig

"ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴍʏ ᴡᴀʏ."

[ꜱᴇɴᴋᴜ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

It wasn't really a secret. You didn't even try, honestly.

Since the first of times of where you'd glimpsed his face at school, to the latest catch of him swirling fluid in a beaker, you've always been confident in your feelings.

Albeit a bit clumsy in your attempts, you were honest, never mincing them, never embarrassed.

"Senku, I really really like you!"

"Yeah, okay, could you pass me that screwdriver?" he says, both of you 6 years old in his room, as he gestures to the tool beside you.

"Senku, I want to date you. I heard Aimi had a boyfriend recently and I was thinking-" your voice goes interrupted as the loud sound of Senku's machinery overpower yours. 13 years old, another one of his favorite past times.

"Senku, if we were both nobles in medieval fantasy and I had to marry someone in order to get a persistent suitor off my back, I'd go to you. Offer a contract with an eventual divorce, but then we fall in love in a slow burn romance and start rethinking about our agreement."

"Can you- just- HELP ME, DAMN IT." Senku heaves, 16 years old, face turning red as he struggles to hold the boxes of equipment you came to help him with.

All these confessions, all these words, even before everything changed. The clatter of a can hitting the ground.

...

In this new life, surely, you know, Senku's had an absolute goal for this world. To rebuilt it as it was, from his own two hands. In your own way, you've had to learn how to pace your feelings.

Instead of words, as you always did, you decided to translate your affections into a language that matters most in a time like this.

Actions.

For every problem, every step he takes, you take with him. Express your thoughts, concerns, ideas. Any progress, you're there to celebrate with, any process, you're there to assist.

Declarations of love aren't so frequent, though you do like to sneak it in rarely. Announcing it in bursts of passion at the top of your lungs. Quite an antic you do, much to his embarrassment. It's become a well known fact, and often a joke between company.

Though, sometimes you wonder if it's what makes him doubt it. Your overt confessions, cheesy poems and bustling energy that could rival Taiju's. Was it too clumsy? Too obvious that he feels it's an exaggerated farce for show?

To this, you whisper gingerly in the dead of night, in the earliest of mornings,

"Senku. I really really like you."

In the times of uneventful hours, peacefulness in comfortable silence,

"Senku,"

You know, of course you do, of all people.

No one knows him more than you and that fact would've made you happy of such a thing if it couldn't break your heart more. The love of your life, saying everything said in a language that matters most in this time.

An unreadable glance. When the sun beams down brightly and you stare at him lovingly like he's hung the stars in the sky.

Winter strikes mercilessly, days are rough, tensions are high. When everything's all good and done, a bold pinkie inches towards his own. He doesn't pull away, but his hand moves back just as further.

Late at night, behind the tree he leans upon, watching, just watching. His ruby eyes enraptured by the night's celestial pearl.

Gaze too high, to see you.

You close your eyes.

You don't think you can ever stop loving him, despite that. That man doesn't like dragging things out, so you're sure a rejection is soon to come. Whether you approach first or not.

Why he doesn't do it sooner? You know why. As much as he doesn't reciprocate, you know how hesitant he is when it comes to close relationships such as you. Is he scared of breaking your friendship?

It's not the warmth you're looking for, but it's the warmth you can get. Even so, you would never expect him to return just as much as you've given. You love him for him, and not for anything else.

Tragic, how terribly you do.

Maybe one day, you'll learn to forget, to move your heart from where it isn't supposed to be. Maybe one day, you would stop gazing at him with something much more than fondness, waiting for his eyes to find its way back to you.

But until then,

"-I love you."

[pixiedustjellicle]

I have such a difficult time connecting with the Cats community now. Part of me feels like maybe I'm too old for the current fandom(I don't feel old, but I'm certainly not 19 anymore). Or that perhaps it's because I don't much care about ships. Sometimes I worry that I intimidate people, and I'd hate that. Let me introduce myself and how Cats has shaped my life, and maybe I can find my people?

I first saw Cats at a tiny local theatre when I was eight. I fell in love with it, and even though I didn't have the movie yet, I spent months afterwards with just the poem book and highlights album. Eventually I got the 98 VHS too- and then another local theatre put it on when I was ten! I got to see it twice there. And afterwards, I made up my own attempt at a costume, turned our spare room into my attempt at the set, and put some chairs in there to put on the highlights show for some friends of my mother. The CD was worn out, I went on with the show, and they even gave me a card and a new CD afterwards- the London 2 disc set! Looking back, I think how embarrassing it probably was, but I was so happy and proud of myself in the moment. Two more years later, US Tour 5 came through Nashville, and I got to go and stagedoor for the first time. I wore a tail I made and one of the actresses told me I had a perfect Bombalurina tail twirl. For all those years, I worked Cats into school projects, I drew nothing else. My mom put up with it for so long, and I still thank her to this day.

And then I went into middle school. New school, new students, and I started getting bullied for it. I found other musicals I didn't get bullied for- Phantom, Wicked, and Sweeney- to latch onto, and I kinda put Cats in the back of my head. I still loved it, but my hyperfixation had waned thanks to mean kids, and other than occasionally watching the 1998 movie, I didn't think much of it for years.

But the US Tour 6 announced a date in Nashville. I hadn't seen the show in eight years, and I wasn't about to miss it. I had already started taking an interest in cosplay, but I'd never made a costume like that. I remembered admiring the CCDB as a kid though, and I told myself I was totally capable of making my own, just to go see the show in costume. And I did.

And the cast were SO sweet, and I started finding Cats fans on Instagram. I thought I could do better on the costume, so when the show stopped in Chattanooga a couple months later... I did it again.

The pandemic hit and I lost my job. Immediately I started getting work making Cats cosplays for others, and I haven't stopped since. And when the show resumed, I made an overnight trip to Memphis to dress up again!

And then, I saved until I could finally go see the Royal Caribbean production (front row all three performances), and got to cosplay on the cruise and get a picture on stage with the cast! This was absolutely everything to me, especially seeing the original choreography as opposed to the revival. I definitely cried. (I'm in the middle bottom row!)

I've gotten to make some costume pieces for three regional productions of Cats, in the Dominican Republic, Atlanta Georgia, and most recently Georgetown Texas. I've won some local cosplay contest with my costumes, too! And I'm lucky enough to own a few original pieces- though I've had to part with some too.

My love for this show has spanned just over 17 years now. I adore the story, the costumes, the choreography, the sets, and the characters. It's part of how I learned I am autistic. It's given me confidence I didn't know I could find. And every time I get to see it live, I feel like I'm where I belong. The fandom has felt quiet. And I'm not sure if that's just because I don't know where I fit in? So here's hoping I can find my tribe.

Favorite productions: Original Broadway, Moscow, and Mexico 2013/2018

Favorite Cats: Jemima/Sillabub, Bombalurina, Demeter, Munkustrap, Tumblebrutus, Jellylorum

Favorite songs: Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats, The Song of the Jellicles and the Jellicle Ball, Macavity

Favorite cats to cosplay: Etcetera and Victoria

[kydrogendragon]

Hey love :)!

If you're taking prompts, I would love to see number 6 from the Valentine prompts for Dreamling. Please.

This was a cute one to write. Thank you for the prompt!!! <3

Pairing: Dreamling Words: 1000 Warnings: None Ao3 Link Here

Hob has been acting... strange.

He has become more physical as of late. Dream finds he does not mind the gentle touch of his friend’s hand on his shoulder nor the way he will grab it and lead Dream where he wishes to go. He especially finds he does not mind the way it feels to have Hob’s arms wrap around him and pull him close before Dream leaves. Most recently, he finds he does not mind the way Hob’s fingers feel when they card through his hair after they ducked inside from the sudden downpour. Dream, of course, could fix his own hair with a single thought, but Hob, instead, flopped a towel atop his head and dried it himself. He even went through the effort of trying to fix the styling. Dream lets him. It is, perhaps, a selfish desire. But Hob does not seem to mind and Dream does not either.

Friends touch. This is a simple fact. Human friends, especially, as humans in general require such things. This is easy enough to explain away. The gifts are slightly harder to, however.

Hob, as Dream has come to learn, enjoys giving gifts. At least, he enjoys giving Dream gifts for each time he has come to visit, there has been something that Hob has left him with. First it was simple foods or drinks he’d bought with Dream in mind. Then it was a sweater — all black with hints of silver thread woven within — for Dream to have should he wish to wear something else while in the Waking. All of these, as Dream flipped through the collective unconscious, could easily be explained by friendship. Even the flowers that Hob had bought for him could be, though Dream would be lying if he did not wish they meant something more.

The bouquet of roses and chocolates from the shop they have visited previously — the one Dream had commented on enjoying the daydreams infused within — could also, theoretically, be gifts from a friend. It was harder to believe, however, given the day was currently Valentine’s Day; a day for lovers in the modern mortal world.

Dream stares down at the offering that rested on the kitchen table in Hob’s flat. Hob was not home. Not yet. He would be soon. And Dream should not assume that these were for him, either. It is more likely that Hob has purchased these for someone he wishes to pursue. Or perhaps these were given to him instead.

He trails a finger across the supple red petals and allows himself a sigh. Were they for him, though, Dream would in turn shower Hob with all the riches the Dreaming could provide. He would show him the love and affection he has wished to ever since his friend first laid a hand upon his own. These are foolish thoughts. They are unproductive and no nothing save harm Dream’s heart further. Hob is his friend. He would not jeopardize that for anything.

The front door opens and with it enters a smiling Hob. “Hello duck! You’re early! Saw your gift already then, did you?” He says, chuckling as he sets down his bag and shuffles off his coat onto the rack. Dream’s eyes trail back down to the offerings on the table.

“These are for me?”

“Yeah,” Hob says, kicking his shoes off and walking closer. He stuffs his hands in his back pockets as he approaches the table, a color rising to his cheeks. “Figured it was worth the final, classic attempt. Ya know? Given that it’s Valentine’s Day and all. Bit cheesy, I suppose.”

Dream blinks. “I... I do not understand.”

Hob stares up at him as he bites his lip. He is disappointed. Dream frowns. He does not like that Hob is disappointed. “Should I write you a fancy poem, instead? Maybe that’ll work since nothing else has yet.” He says, laughing with a sorrow tone as he turns his gaze to the flowers.

“Hob…”

“I just… I thought I’ve been really obvious about how I feel, but apparently not. This is me asking you out. This is me doing my damnedest to court you.” He looks back up to Dream, his eyes wide and also fearful.

Hob... wishes to court him. Perhaps he should have viewed his friend’s actions more critically. He has caused him undue suffering because of it.

Dream feels a myriad of things. Mainly elation, but also confusion and worry. His relationships do not have a good track record, as Matthew would put it. And he would not wish to lose Hob in his life, even if it meant the chance at having him as he wishes. He must have been silent for some time as Hob’s face has fallen by the time he next speaks.

“Just tell me, Dream. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, God knows it was a long shot as is. You’re still my friend, that hasn’t changed. I just... I need to know if this is pointless for me. So I can start working on getting over it, you know?”

He finds his lips moving before he thinks. “It. Is... not. Pointless. I— I am not good at friendship. In truth, you are one of the few I have ever had. I did not want to make assumptions and drive you away from me.”

Hob’s brows shoot into his hairline. “You... you feel the same, then?”

Dream nods, slowly. “Well, that’s good news indeed.” Hob reaches out his hand and Dream sets his own in his hold. “We can take it slow, you know. We’ve all the time in the world. No need to rush. And if for whatever reason, we decide this isn’t working, I’ll still be your friend, yeah? You can’t shake me that easily.”

He huffs, a smile working its way onto his face. “No. No, I suppose I should not have expected anything less of you, Hob Gadling.”

“So you liked your gifts then?”

“Very much.”

[lskisms]

YOU, AT LEAST, WERE BUILT TO GO, J. MILLER

. . . which is why you are able to be loved

synopsis — joel is getting older, he is getting frail, and you, still in your youth, have to come to terms with it. you just have to do so much sooner than you thought when he’s hurt during your attempt to escape the university of eastern colorado.

genres &&. warnings — angst, hurt/comfort, (post) apocalypse &&. canon compliant, spoilers for ep. 6 “kin” and ep. 7 “left behind,” contemplation of death, canon-typical violence (wound, gore, blood, wound care), age-gap (reader is in their mid-late 20s).

word count — 3.2k

note from r — title comes from the poem “elegy for my innocence” by steven dunn. i suppose i need to introduce myself a little: i’m rhi, i’m 22, and i’m in my second to last semester of college where i’m majoring in english. obvi, a big fan of the last of us, but also resident evil (which is what i’ve based my account aesthetic on, courtesy of my beloved leon s. kennedy). my ask box is open for people who want to send in asks and things. i’m really looking forward to writing for my fellow joel miller lovers.

if your parents were still alive, if they were around to see the life you’ve carved for yourself over the last few months, you’re certain your dad would want to smack the shit out of you and your mother would disown you from the family faster than you could blink.

you can hear the chastising now: a man old enough to be your father? are you joking? what the fuck is wrong with you? this is not what we meant when we told you we wanted you to start a family. 

and you can’t fault them really. you are almost twenty years his senior, having been just a young child when the cordyceps outbreak decimated the world. if the world had stayed normal, if none of this had ever happened, you’d probably have a dead end corporate job that has you wanting to drop off the face of the earth at the end of every grueling day, married and going home to a man complacent and yielding in every aspect, never too sure of himself to assert any kind of dominance, stuck in his own dead end job that keeps you comfortable just enough.

but the world isn’t normal and it hasn’t been since 2003. and there’s nothing you can do about it. you feel like a child again, wholly the depiction of the angsty teen in dramas and romcoms, as you tell the ghosts of your parents that the heart wants what it wants and i can’t help that i fell in love with a man going starlight gray at his temples. it is wholly melodramatic, something that you would have seen in any number of teen dramas written by out-of-touch, old white men.

joel miller came into your life like a lone crimson leaf during the fall, sometime during your first few months at the boston quarantine zone. it wasn’t like he’d meant to because everything that man did and does is deliberate; he’d simply waltzed across your line of vision as you’d walked back to your apartment after a long day of doing menial chores, the new world equivalent of that mental-health-issue inducing corporate job that the older people of the zone talked about.

you’d heard of him, of course: joel miller, flown in from somewhere down south, a menace to anyone who crossed his path prior to his arrival in boston, a brother somewhere out in the midwest who had taken off and joined the fireflies. he was decidedly unapproachable, gruff and mean and stubborn. most people were more scared of him than they were of fedra for the simple fact that he was more deadly with his two bare hands than any fedra idiot (sorry, “soldier”) with a gun.

he wasn’t a person who you intended to mess around with, no matter how handsome you’d thought he was when you saw him that first time. but then you’d started hanging around with tess, one of very few people who had any kind of stable-enough connection with him and that had led to you meeting and hanging around with him too. tess invited you to go on runs with them, sneaking out of the zone at night to stretch your legs and look for supplies that fedra definitely had and refused to give up. she’d preached your capabilities to joel and, stubborn as he was, he’d allowed you to keep coming with them after the first time because you proved to be spry enough for things that he and tess had grown a little too old for: you were useful to him and that filled you with a kind of thrilling gratification.

by the time marlene had tasked your little trio with getting ellie out of the city, you were a year deep into your entanglement with joel where you did all the recreational talking and he was the one who made the deals with the fireflies, the fedra goons he had in his pocket, the people who had things to trade. it was a balance that worked well for you: joel was well-versed in persuasion when he wanted to be and you were seemingly the only person who could draw out the rare ghost of a smile or a laugh from him.

it was supposed to be a quick job, one that joel had insisted you sit out but you’d refused. just a quick round trip tpe thing, that’s what you’d said to him. we’ll be out and back before anybody even realizes we’re gone. 

that had gone belly-up, of course, because anything that involved the fireflies had at least a 99% chance of not turning out the way anyone planned. and when you’d left the museum, you were down a friend and up a whole ton of miles. joel had tried to convince you again to leave, but once more you’d refused. tess died for us, joel. i’m in this until the end because i’m making sure her sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.

and he’d let you stay. even months after that discussion, you think that he must feel at least a tiny bit grateful that you’d argued with him over it, that you’d fought to tag along. you’re an extra set of eyes, of hands, someone capable of taking over when he needs a break, which is hardly ever because he’s still as ornery as always, but knowing that there’s someone there who can must be nice enough.

and you’re glad he’d given in for once in his life because he’s dying beneath your hands and you’re not sure what to do. he’s going sallow and gray on the concrete floor of this ransacked house, breathing raspy and eyes slipping between you and some far-off point above him. joel is dying and for the first time ever since entering his life, you’re useless.

“joel, stay awake, please,” you beg, clutching at his hand as you kneel beside him. “ellie, you have to stop the bleeding.”

“i’m trying,” the young girl snaps. when she looks up, all you see is a girl who is reliving a loss, a deer caught in headlights, frenzied and terrified. her hands press the cloth harder over joel’s stomach in an attempt to staunch the blood flow and the man groans.

“leave,” he mumbles and your head snaps to look at him. he cannot possibly be saying this right now, not after everything you’ve been through. “leave. head north, go back to jackson. find tommy.”

“like hell we will,” you reply, trying to channel as much of his stubbornness as you can. you’d rather give up and drop dead right now than leave him to die alone in some fucking house in colorado. “we’re gonna fix this, joel. we’re not leaving, i’m not leaving.”

he’s slipping again, eyes glazing over. you can tell he wants to fight with you, but he’s losing the energy for it. for any of it. ellie stills and then tosses his jacket over him in a bid to keep him warm. she fixes you with a look, his look that says stay with him, so you nod solemnly, brushing his hair back from his forehead. you hear her footsteps on the stairs and only when the door shuts behind her do you finally let yourself break, weeping openly over joel’s chest, rising and falling so, so shallowly.

falling in love with this man has been something beautiful, some kind of phoenix rising from the ashes of a long-dead world. over the last few months, you have come to learn the feel of his knuckles brushing against yours, the warmth of his chest against your back when you share a sleeping bag, the sound of his soft breaths as you’ve trekked through miles upon miles of woods and abandoned highways. you have come to appreciate those things, facets of him that only you are privy to, the only person to know the weight of his arm over your waist and feel of his breath against your shoulder.

but in doing so, in reveling in the knowledge that you are the sole person to experience these hidden away pieces of joel miller, you’ve forgotten just how much older he is than you are. that misty gray at his temples and in his beard have been so permanent, you’ve started to believe that he’s always looked like this, that it’s not a marker of his age. you’ve forgotten that he is older and growing frailer by the day, conveniently forgotten how his heart stutters and how his knees act up after hours and miles of walking.

you had always known, of course, that joel would eventually leave you, but not this soon. and not like this.

maybe it’s your fault for putting him on a pedestal: the great, unstoppable joel miller. in your mind, he’s untouchable, some formidable opponent who people fear because he’s strong and knows his way around a fight. it shouldn’t be a chunk of a broken baseball bat that ends his life because it’s not fair, none of this is fair. you’ve been a fool for thinking that the three of you, your unlikely little family, would make it out of this unscathed, for believing that you could live a life like bill and frank’s after this all was over: fulfilling, safe, and the closest resemblance of before.

“god,” you whimper out, still brushing your fingers through his salt and pepper hair. “how could you even consider telling us to leave you here, joel?”

he gazes up at you, blinks slowly, the smallest signs of life that tell you he’s listening and wanting to fight you back about it.

“y’can’t leave me alone here, old man.” a short, wet laugh. “we’ve got so much left to do. i can’t get ellie back to jackson without you. i can’t do anything without you.”

he shakes his head in response and narrows those dark eyes of his just a bit. you read it for what it is: don’t you start talkin’ about yourself like that. he’s always been hard on you for not believing in yourself and your abilities, and it makes you laugh again.

“i mean really, joel. first man i’ve ever loved and you’re telling me to leave you here to die alone in fucking colorado.” you shake your head, looking away to try to blink back tears. “i can’t- i can’t just go. i need you alive.”

you can’t even stop yourself from babbling through the tears, brushing his hair back and wiping away his own tears. even though you should be desensitized to death and loss, you’ve always been particularly sensitive. but you’re young and this is your first love, your only shot at it, and he’s bleeding out on a cold floor because you were too focused on everything else that you hadn’t been able to stop him from getting hurt.

“ain’t your fault,” joel rasps out, eyes shining in the dull winter light. you realize you voiced that, a placing of responsibility that you’d meant for yourself and yourself only. “don’t do that.”

you stare at him and you know what’s going through that head of his. all kinds of thoughts that he wants to voice out loud: it’s not your fault and you were doing the best you could in the situation and this was going to happen sooner or later. damn pessimistic realist, always focusing on the worst possible outcomes than entertaining any kind of optimism.

and in a twisted turn of events, you start to think of your parents, long gone and relegated solely to memory, buried somewhere between atlanta and boston: an optimistic dad and an overwhelmingly realistic mother, so far on opposite ends of a spectrum that they complemented each other perfectly. your dad, ever the poet, had stolen poetry collections from every bookstore he’d came across during your treks from settlement to settlement. his favorite poem, by far, was about the death of a person’s innocence, something always meant to die eventually, perpetually blushing and always coming back a little less pristine each time.

you remember it now as you’re holding joel’s hand with your own, pressing his knuckles against the soft plush of your cheek. you, at least, were built to go, you hear your father’s voice say in your head, which is why you are able to be loved. you haven’t thought about this poem in years, not since you lost him to a runner somewhere in south carolina, but it feels sickening that you’re recalling it now as you’re watching your first and only love die under your hands.

and yet, somehow, it feels comforting, the idea that to be human is to know that one day, a loved one will die, but to know that is to cherish them better, to love them harder. you’re not at all okay with joel dying because you’ve had so little time to love him, but it helps you to cherish those few late nights more, to revel in the memory of his warmth enveloping you on particularly cold nights.

you can let me go. joel’s dark eyes are going glossy again and you smile knowingly at him, still crying. he’s not dead yet and there’s a possibility that he’ll make it out of this alive, the outcome that you’re praying to every god that has ever existed for. you can let me go; it won’t be easy, but you can do it.

ellie’s feet as loud on the old wood stairs as she comes barreling through the door and down the stairwell. she looks rabid as she all but throws herself onto the floor beside joel, ripping the tan coat back and pulling the soaked cloth away. joel’s wound is still gushing blood, a sure sign that he’s well on his way to death, but when ellie makes eye contact with you, you know for sure she’s found something to help. she holds up a needle and spool of thread; she must have torn the entire house apart looking for her hail mary and she found it, she fucking found it. she stares at you, eyes wide and face red, breathing hard, waiting for your go ahead.

when you finally nod at her, fresh tears in your eyes, you look down at joel. his fingers curl around your palm tighter and he’s staring back, his eyes wide. you laugh tearfully, totally and entirely stunned that ellie had actually found a way to help.

“you’re gonna be okay,” you weep, pressing his hand to your forehead, letting your tears drip into your lap. “you’re gonna be okay, joel. just hang on.”

the next few minutes crawl by cruelly, joel surely leaving bruises on your hand from gripping yours too hard, too tight, but you can’t even care because when his hand finally goes slack, ellie is done. her handiwork isn’t so bad and the bleeding has stopped for the most part. when you sigh, it feels like the weight of the world leaves your shoulders, a degree of relief you’ve never felt in your life.

joel, stubborn as always, is fighting unconsciousness as you turn to look back at him and you know it’s because he knows he’s not entirely out of the woods yet. there’s still bleeding to stop, a potential infection to fight, medicine you need to find to keep him safe and healthy, but this has to be good enough for now. it has to be because he’s joel miller and he’s mucked it through gunshot wounds and temporary deafness and all kinds of other shit the world has thrown at him. 

ellie, clearly emotionally gone, stands, her dark eyes empty and her face void of everything save for exhaustion. without even looking at you, she turns towards the stairs and says to nobody, “going for a walk. i need a break.”

her footsteps echo in the stairwell and then creak overhead before she disappears out the front door, leaving you in an empty house with joel and the horse in the garage. you look back to joel, still holding his hand. his face, always so devoid of anything minus annoyance and anger, looks so relieved right now and it makes you want to cry again, but you’re shit out of saline. you lay his hand down beside him before you tuck his winter coat back over him, up to the chin.

there’s not much that you can say, no thoughts come to mind. nothing more than i love you, but you want to save those for when he’s safely out of the thick of this. as true as they are, it’s not the right time, but you’re sure he knows. he must when he scoots his hand out from under the coat and nudges it against your thigh, some gesture that you can’t decode, but that you understand as i’m still here, like he’s able to read your mind. you smile at him softly.

i’ll tell him when this is all over, you reason with yourself as you move to lay beside him, exhaustion finally overtaking you. wherever we end up after ellie is safe with the fireflies, i’ll tell him and he’ll say it back and we’ll be okay.

he can’t turn onto his side, but he turns his head to face you, looking every bit the age of fifty. his eyes are tired and the crinkles of his skin run deep, his cheeks and chin dusted gray. this close, you can see every pock mark, the dip of skin at his temple from some long-forgotten cut, the deep scar that mars the space between his eyebrows. his defenses are down and he looks his age, for the first time in a long time because it’s so easy to forget how old he is when he’s doing the things he does to protect you and ellie.

you scoot in as far as you’ll allow yourself, knees knocking against his legs and your head pillowed on the arm underneath you. you raise a hand and rest it on his cheek, a touch he immediately leans into, like your palm was made to caress his skin. as far as you care, it was. he tilts his head towards you and you find yourself doing the same, foreheads touching. this is one of the small gestures joel allows you on most days, but right now, it feels more monumental than that. like always, it’s a moment shared singularly between the two of you, but it carries so much more weight because he gazes at you with so much more softness and love than he’s ever let himself show before and it reminds you that underneath all that rough exterior, he is a man capable of gentle touches and adoration, no matter how many times the world and himself have tried to beat it out of him.

as his breathing slows, but deepens (a sure sign that ellie has mended the problem for now), you move your arm to rest on his torso, hand pressed into the sturdy spot just above his heart. the beat is steady, solid, a reminder that he’s okay. he was built to go, but now more than ever, you feel he was also built to be yours, to be loved by you. and you’ll make sure he makes it through this, no matter the cost.

(c) lskisms, 2023. do not repost, translate, or otherwise plagiarize my work. the only official versions of my work are available on tumblr and ao3 under the name lskisms.

[dont-blame-it-on-the-kids]

50 Random Character Asks: Lin

may be some repeats in here BUT its done lmao

1. Canon I outright reject

The 16hour nap and suddenly shes okay with Su like thats not how that workssss 

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

HC i will die on is her scars going up to her eyebrow and shes blind in that eye, i loveeeee her surviving easily off the seismic sense and then when shes in the south without her bending people realize they can sneak up on that side and quietly adjust how they approach her so they stop scaring her.

3. Obscure headcanon

She paints! Shes been painting since before she could bend and it’s something she had that was all hers and no one else in her family could compare it to Toph. 

4. Favorite line

“I am a detective you know.” 

5. Best personality trait

I love that shes that ‘good is not nice’ its so in line with her being the beifong of the LoK series and seeing how much she genuinely cares under that tough armor is endearing

6. Worst personality trait

Dude she jumped at every chance for a suicide mission. Thats gotta be some deep seeded issues lmao

7. Age/height/weight headcanon

Shes like 50-53/54 in the show 

5ft 4inch (she is SMOL and ANGY and you cannot stop me)

Again probably the appropriate weight for being her size and muscular. After book one tho she has a hard time remembering to eat and i hc in the south she lost a ton of weight in the recovery.

8. Unpopular opinion about them

idk if i have a wholly unpopular opinion. I know the fandom can be a bit divided on things. 

I have gotten a lot of backlash for my height hc in the past tho lmao 

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character

The first scene MY HEART i love her soo much. I saw her in screen and went, that ones mine! 

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)

I love the scene where bumi is trying to talk in code names and lins like “WTF are you saying???” 

11. Faceclaim for the role

I love @mgthejerkbender ‘s FC of Joan Chen 

12. Crack headcanon

She and Noatak were involved shortly after the breakup with tenzin but it didn’t last long. 

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

In canon she brings an RCPD skyship into Ba Sing Se and aids Korra and Tenzin in stealing the EQ’s air bender army. All in uniform.

14. Most heroic moment

Oh god pretty much every time she’s on the screen lmao, but I hc she goes down for good protecting Korra not long after canon. 

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done

Hmmm I’m so caught up on this question because does it mean  A) thing they did with Bad Intentions that had a Bad Outcome  B) thing they did with Good Intentions that had a Bad Outcome  C) something they perceive as a failure / personal sin they’ll be forgiven for?  There’s so many ways to take thissss 

I’m gonna say during one of the first undercover operations with Saikhan she had to kill a man to keep her cover and he’s a cold case file in her office. 

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

that through all her good intentions and desperate attempts to keep people she loved and the city she loved safe, she’s always left defeated and broken with a new scar on her somewhere and blood on her hands. 

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

Pluto by Sleeping at Last this song was fucking made for Lin i swear

Blame it on the Kids by AViVA 

I have a whole Spotify playlist and more linked in the pinned post lmao

The Void calls in sweet tones and false promises, by WolfSkullJack /FaceBook plink/ This is just sooooooo Linmon I’m writhing in agony 

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about

She wouldn’t. But there’s a MIGHTY NEED for her to see one lmao 

19. Vices/bad habits

Smoking, drinking, burying herself in work. 

20. Scars

Burn to her left shoulder - house fire she was first responder to 

Three large gashes on her back - criminal animal 

Burn left hip - firebender (Zolt possibly) on her second patrol 

Right hip back and front - rebar puncture from building fire/explosion 

A handful of Cigarette burns across her shoulders, collarbones and one on her neck - her bio father was upset she wasn’t a firebender 

Facial scars from su are higher and damaged her eyesight. 

Then a smattering of lines and smudges from her time on the force 

(if where in my dark timeline she’s got tally marks across her shoulders and down her back from amon 👀)

21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)

Jasmine tea 

22. Best physical feature

👀 

I really love her face lmao 

23. If they were a scented candle, what would they smell like?

You know that smell when a heating vent just turns on in the winter? That “oh god something has gone wrong and it’s burning” but it’s not actually gone wrong. And mint. 

24. Most annoying habit

She picks at the skin around her nails when she’s nervoussss Kya’s constantly healing up scabs where she’s pulled the skin off too far. 

25. 3 things they’d want to take with them if they were dropped off in the middle of nowhere

Her uniform, a jeep, and rations. She’ll make her way home left with nothing but those will make it easier lol. (She is a detective you know) 

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

she would probably just metal bend the elevator to open, most likely leaving it more broken than it was but still. At least they’re out safe. 

27. Their guilty pleasure

She has the entire collection of the in universe equivalent of Nora Roberts or Jane Austin novels. 

28. How they feel about [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

probably neutral to slightly annoyed. 

29. Eating habits

you guys ever hear about Snake Meal? 

30. Sleeping habits

She can sleep when she’s dead. 

31. If the had a tumblr what would it look like?

it would be a mostly dead blog that she made because asami and mako Insisted she did so they could send her memes. 

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh

Bumi, always. Hes always had a way of getting through the armor and helping her loosen up a little and smile. 

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry

People reinforcing the idea that she’s alone and not worthy. 

34. How they react when they are feeling X emotion (sad, angry, excited, scared, etc.—can specify as many as you like)

No emotions. 

Only action. 

35. Their idea of a perfect day

Up for a run at 3am. 

Make Kya coffee and breakfast 

At work by 5am 

Moving cases along, no losses.

Back home for dinner at about 7-8pm 

Relaxing with Kya until bedtime. 

36. Their favorite season

Fall, before the air gets too cold. 

37. What they really think about themselves

she’s worried everyone is right honestly. Sometimes the letters from Kya dwindle as responsibilities emerge, dinner with Saikhan and Akira and the kids get put on hold, tenzin not allowing her back to the island she grew up on because of the bitter words shared between them. Maybe she will be a stubborn old woman left alone with her wounds.  

38. Favorite holiday

Probably a new years holiday 

39. Favorite game

Card game for sure like solitaire or trash 

40. Favorite book

She read a book in school for a study hall about the history of the arts and historical pigment making. She has a few copies and one dedicated to her notes and swatches from trying out the methods. 

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be?

Aang, 10000%%% she would want to see Aang again and update him on all the crazy shit korra was doing and about Tenzin’s kids. 

42. 3 comfort items

The bison whistle Aang gave her. (Bumi has his original one but he had more made for the other kids) 

The stuffed badgermole she’s had since she was like 4 

Then they were preteens Tenzin had made her a bracelet with a small thumb sized stone pendant that he carved for her to rub/pick at instead of her fingers. She used it for a while but ended up putting it away when she started the junior league ProBending. 

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise

Fav - mochi, that seal jerky she’s always loved it, a chicken curry type dish Akira makes. 

Des - eggs if they’re alone like fried or scrambled she won’t eat it unless it’s mixed in with a bigger dish. Milk and cheese, She's not a fan of them. 

44. Their happiest memory

It was her 4th birthday before her element showed and shes sitting in the gardens with aang and tenzin and some of the other kids on the island for her birthday. Her uncle aang gives her a stuffed badgermole toy and a warm and very soft blanket bumi and kya made with katara from Appa’s shedding fur and she still has both items on her bed with her to this day.

45. Their favorite celebrity

And old old singer from when she would listen to the radio at night. 

46. The person they most admire

Oh gosh probably Suki, she was a strong warrior and led her life how she wanted to. 

47. Their dream job

she would love to be a sculptor/artist full time, she makes the most gorgeous sculptures. And paints some amazing landscapes. 

48. Scariest moment of their life

Oooof there’s a few. If day the times where she KNEW she was going to die without help. When she fell under the ice when she was like five or six. Then again when she landed on the rebar in the building explosion. The agony of being in pain and the realization that she was too hurt. She couldn’t get herself out of there. At least when she was tortured by Amon she chose to put herself in the situation. Even if she didn’t know the extent. The others though, it was random. She couldn’t control that. She didn’t have a choice. 

49. Favorite toy as a child

Her stuffed bagermole toy for sure 

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

Basically the entirety of Suyin's father living with them. 

[finalfrontierpublishing]

Ulysses by @girlbookwrm

Ok so my next chaparral_crown bind is pending bookboard for a cutout design, so that's on the back burner till bookboard arrives! Did this in the interim, since I've leapt onto the 00q train pretty hard! They're my new favourite ship and I love the fic dynamics!

Statistics:

89,065 words || 294 pages

Chapter titling: Brigmore Thin

Body text: Liberation Serif

Accents: Petrona

My initial plans for this bind was to do a ship-shaped cutout from chiyogami paper - to which my cricut blade said f-no and proceeded to shred my very precious paper. So back to the drawing board and to the tried and tested method of HTV I went.

Boy, did I have trouble with colour for this bind - I am ridiculously bad at colour, my friends, I am one of those people who can maybe match 2 colours but ask me to pick a contrasting one to match and I'll go fjrbdidsmfbejsnbxks how does one do such sorcery. Again, Manda my sounding board who is excellent at colour matching contrasting colours had to listen to 3 different separate colour rants/panic attacks, not that I actually listened to them because I am an absolute wuss when it comes to colour.

Ugh I had so much fun with the typesetting. I actually found this font - Brigmore Thin, which the background decor for the font was London Bridge and I went yup, that's the font I want. As per the fic, I included parts of the Ulysses poem by Tennyson, which corresponded to chapter titles.

The main cover title page is less striking then I had wanted - curse my lack of colour printing and inability to colour the middle of the target sight red.

Also did my best to include a black and white spread of that image of the meet infront of The Fighting Temeraire. Absolutely iconic. My printer wasn't very up to it, but it tried.

Anyway, so- endbands!!! I had a good time making them, this is my first attempt that isn't a trial book, and I have fallen in love with capricious capricious silk. It just looks so good, even though it's slippery as hell.

I took two tries at this textblock because I overtrimmed the first one. Still thinking of what to do with it- it's actually fine, and readable, the page numbers still exist but it's just got such a thin margin I went eugh no and had to make a second copy.

Despite my general anxiety regarding this bind, it didn't turn out too badly.

I'm starting to prep for binderary so I'm overwhelmingly excited about that. My goal is officially 3-4 in February but I've planned for 6-7. Unsure if it will happen but I'm hopeful as I do have some leave then.

[sawrinwrites]

Sawrin does Bumbleby Week

I know I said I was going to use this month to focus on OC content, but I am a recklessly impulsive dumbass, so when the prompt list for Bumbleby Week went up and I realised I was accidentally completing the prompt for day 1, my brain went “Welp! Might as well do all 8!” and I agreed.

Some of these are based on concepts I've already been developing for future multi-chapter fics. I've marked those ones with a * by the title so you guys can let me know which ones you want to see the most.

Here’s what you can expect to see over the next 8 days:

Day 1 - Bumblebaby

Title: Expecting

Summary: A new story in the As Told By Ember collection. This tale follows the best girl as she helps her humans prepare for the arrival of their first child.

Author’s Comment: You can thank @reeves3 for this one. Without their suggestion, I wouldn’t have had the inspiration to build out a collection of Ember’s adventures.

Day 2 – Jock & Nerd AU

Title: I See You*

Summary: Weiss knows Blake and Yang are in love, she just hasn’t figured out a way to get them together yet. When Blake accidentally submits the wrong poem to her class and Yang ends up writing an essay on it, Weiss finally finds the opening she’s been waiting for.

Author’s Comment: This fit the prompt better when it was from Yang and Blake’s POV, but the story worked better from Weiss’ so that's what I wrote. Bees trauma-bonding through literature (a concept that is very near and dear to my heart).

Day 3 – Soulmates / Reincarnation

Title: And Every Time I’ll Find You

Summary: As another one of Blake’s lives draw to a close, she and Yang return to the place where it all began.

Author’s Comment: My beta reader banned me from writing soulmate stories because of this. It’s a sad one.

Day 4 – Nomad Blake & Farm Girl Yang

Title: Maybe This Year

Summary: The Kuo Kuana dragon riders make their annual visit to the floating island of Patch. For most, it’s a chance to relax. For Blake, it’s a chance to reunite with Yang and wonder how many more times she’s going to be able to leave.

Author’s Comment: Pretty sure the last time I wrote about dragons was when the years still had 00 in the middle of them. My inner child had a field day with this one. A more fun and light fic than the summary might suggest.

Day 5 – Evil Yang / Blake (or both)

Title: A Weak and Foolish Heart*

Summary: Sequestered to a keep in the middle of the Vacuo desert, the blood mage Blake leverages her skills and her history with Yang to try and ascertain the location of Princess Weiss Schnee.

Author’s Comment: This one’s the reason why each day is getting posted as a new piece of work instead of chapters under one project. Tags for blood, gore, graphic violence, and depictions of torture. I spent hours researching tendon names and positions for this. It’s also the fic that most closely resembles my preferred writing style (make of that fact what you will).

Day 6 – Comfort

Title: The Way It Feels*

Summary: Blake and Yang attempt to be intimate for the first time since Yang’s accident but the loss of sensations in Yang’s arm triggers a panic attack instead. Blake comforts her wife in the aftermath.

Author’s Comment: I’m sorry, it wouldn’t be a Sawrin fic without angst before the comfort.

Day 7 – AU Day

Title: Double Date*

Summary: After Weiss accidentally accepts an invitation to be the third wheel at a dinner date with Pyrrha and her girlfriend, Yang, she begs her best friend, Blake, to join as her fake girlfriend. An easy ask, if Blake didn’t find herself attracted to the blonde on the other side of the table.

Author’s Comment: I was going to put up a vote on which AU to do but the second I added “Fake Dating” to the list my brain went “What if the Bees weren’t the ones who were fake dating?” So here you go, fake dating monochrome with (assumed) Greek fire. Bees & Schneekos endgame. Also an excuse for me finally write Blake into that dress.

Day 8 – Bonus / VA Appreciate Day

Title: Downtime

Summary: Blake and Yang discuss the lives of their VAs, as well as their own budding relationship.

Author’s Comment: The shortest one of the lot, this is really just a small love letter to the Bees and to Barb and Arryn.

I'll be posting a link to each fic under the Bumbleby Week tag as they go live.

[maidstew]

can you drop your livia/felix beef thoughts here?? i'd love to hear them!

omg gigi hello yes of course

so before i start saying all my silly little things- we have to talk about when the livia & felix beef started.

like all the best ravinstill lore- it originally came from @felixravinstills (thank u abyssal)

anyway, in chapter 6 of close your eyes abyssal wrote about livia and felix having to have play dates when they were kids and how they didn’t get along. she wrote:

maybe, from the first moment that she saw him, she had known him for an annoying brat. Whatever, she had first thought didn’t matter. What did matter was that he was, in fact, an annoying brat.

and it stuck with me ever since. so to me, the beef started with these forced play dates, felix being a total bore, and him insulting her book choices.

and i think they carried on with their petty dislike of each other throughout…well, forever.

i think there’s a part of felix that actually respects and appreciates livia’s outspoken dislike of him. when he can’t tell who likes him for him and who likes him for his last name- he likes that livia treats him like a person, and not a politicians nephew (but he will take that little secret to his early grave)

and livia for her part respects that felix doesn’t flex his power as the presidents grandnephew to force her to be nice to him (she won’t tell him until she’s saying it to his gravestone).

anyway, back to the petty stuff.

→ they bicker a lot when they’re really young. over literally everything- to the point the teachers have to separate livia from felix. felix tattles on livia for talking nearly everyday and livia makes fun of felix’s feeble attempts at coloring.

→ as they get older, the chill out a little. they don’t go out of their way to be petty (usually) but if the opportunity presents itself…

→ once they’re finally able to be civil most of the time- felix goes and starts his situationship with festus knowing that persephone has feelings for him.

→ livia takes that as a personal offense (because no one messes with her girls) and essentially starts world war 3 (or is it 4 by this point?): cardew v ravinstill edition.

→ she goes on a rampage- she comes for felix for every little thing that he does. his stupid hairstyle, his lack of table manners, that time he messed up the poem he was supposed to memorize in his speech class.

→ felix, in turn, criticizes her for not getting the lead in her ballet and does an impressive impression of her laugh that he uses to make fun of her.

→ eventually festus and persephone have to get involved to defuse the situation. they’re both forced to apologize (“i’m sorry i said your hair was stupid. in my defense, it is stupid. but i won’t say it out loud again.” and “i’m sorry that i made fun of your shrill, annoying laugh.”)

[alexilulu]

Books I Read in 2024 #4: The King In Yellow (Robert W. Chambers, Warbler Classics (originally F. Tennyson Neely), 1895)

The King In Yellow is a series of nine short stories and poems, linked primarily by the narrative device of The King In Yellow, a play and general text in the world of the story that is associated with madness and the forbidden.

It's fun to return to older modes of writing from time to time, especially the established classics. I've known about The King In Yellow for a fairly long time at this point as a touchstone of cosmic horror and an influence on H.P. Lovecraft, along with about a billion other people working in the horror space since the 1890s. My personal first experience with stories influenced by it is SCP-701, The Hanged King's Tragedy, which is an SCP object that manifests in the form of a Carolinean era English play that is associated with madness, suicide of its participants and the manifestation of a mysterious figure at productions of said play. It's a pretty direct reference point, but I did fall in love with the idea of a play founded on madness.

You see it referenced all over the place; Hastur (sometimes a place, sometimes a person), lost Carcosa, the Hyades, though these are actually borrowed from the stories An Inhabitant of Carcosa and Haita the Shepherd by Ambrose Bierce (but not linked directly, as the only thematic link is that the Carcosa of Bierce is that the city is a long-lost and destroyed city of antiquity), or most prominently after the King In Yellow's publishing, the Yellow Sign.

The fascinating thing to me is how broad the stories of The King in Yellow are. There are nine stories in The King In Yellow, but only 5 (or perhaps 6, if you consider the 6th story, The Street of the Four Winds, to be supernatural; it's mostly just eerie and affecting, to me) of them have clear or obvious influence of the supernatural. The final three stories of the book are simple romance narratives set against the backdrop of contemporary or recent (at the time) Paris and the French art industry, something Robert Chambers had long personal experience with as an American studying abroad in Parisian art schools in the years before.

This is the first novel in this list that I've gone back to read historiography about after finishing. Part of that is that there is not a great deal of reporting around modern novelists and their legacies for obvious reasons, but part of it is that this book was truly a baffling read for the final three stories.

I don't say this as a criticism, but it replicated a feeling I get reading some fandom zines of the last few years, especially ones that include fiction. There is sometimes a breakdown that happens in a themed project where one author or artist doesn't seem to be on the same page as the rest of the team on what is supposed to go in the zine, but was nevertheless accepted. It's just funny to read stories like the first couple, stories of madness and loss, and then have a Parisian story of romance in the city of lights amidst a siege or art-school intrigue.

Robert Chambers' work is extremely evocative in its work about place and dress, giving a great deal of attention to mood and scene. His dialogue is very much of it's era, sometimes sharply funny, sometimes eluding me until I've repeated it two or three times to myself to find the cadence of what it was attempting to convey. It's far from unreadable, and even when it dragged the most I kept myself in the game by the strength of his imagery, and it felt surprising to me to see critiques of Robert Chamber's work from his contemporaries.

H.P. Lovecraft was undoubtedly influenced by his work, but also described his work as such:

Chambers is like Rupert Hughes and a few other fallen Titans – equipped with the right brains and education but wholly out of the habit of using them.

It feels a bit mean, but it's definitely not wrong. I think the grandest part of this novel is its legacy and the elision of detail for its major thematic work, allowing a great deal of expansion for the myth over the century since its published debut. The King in Yellow can be many things; it's been the subject of podcasts, stories and movies and television all drawing upon its influence to greater and lesser extents.

[bxttxms]

Orchid Oasis

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

words: 1,077

Summary: PJ falls in love very easily. Hazel works at a bouquet shop. They are both losers.

Note: HI! This is my first fic so like if you have any constructive criticism please tell me but I also made this late at night before a 6-hour shift so :D I hope you like it though, I know it's pretty out of character but I love thinking of PJ as a complete wreck around women and someone who falls in love very easily and I mean, look at Hazel. Like I was in love at first sight too.

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

Unknown to most, PJ gets bitches. Even though she's never had her first kiss, a girlfriend, or any girl even slightly flirt with her, she has amazing "rizz," as she likes to say, and it makes Josie cringe every time.

From Josie's perspective, she has seen every one of PJ's attempts to get girls, and every time, it ends with a slur of curses and Josie having to comfort a wailing PJ outside of a Baskin Robbins with Snickers ice cream melting in her hand. So, when PJ grew another quick crush on a new, very obviously straight girl, she knew it was only gonna end in lesbian despair.

"She's just so amazing, Josie; she was all like, "Hey, I think it's your turn to order, so can you, like, move?" and I was like, "You can go first actually," and she was like, "OK?" ugh, you just had to be there."

"I was there; it was an extremely tough watch, actually."

"Yeahhhh" was PJ's only reply; she was already daydreaming about their domestic life together in a cramped Chicago apartment with 2 dogs. In reality, though, they were in PJ's dorm room, where Josie disapprovingly looked over at PJ, who was literally kicking her feet while thinking about the girl she'd probably never see again.

"You know, that new flower shop down the street from the movie place just opened; maybe you can get her a bouquet and express your undying love for her in a poem!" Josie sarcastically exclaimed while flailing her arms like a Disney princess.

Then, an idea struck within PJ.

"Holy shit Josie!" was all she said before suddenly jumping up.

"Wait, no, PJ, I was joking! You can't just leave; we have a class in like 30…minutes.."

Running down the street, PJ dashed to the old DVD place that's probably been open since the Roman times and searched for the previously mentioned flower shop. Once she saw the bright, pastel green exterior with flowers bordering the sign saying, " Orchid Oasis," she knew she found it.

As soon as PJ stepped into this place, however, she realized she was entirely out of her element. PJ didn't know shit about flowers, especially for girls. She'd never even received flowers before, let alone given them to someone. She saw a group of pretty purple potted flowers out of the corner of her eye that reminded her of the girls outfit, so she went up to inspect it.

"Hi! Did you need any help with-"

"JESUS FUCK" PJ shouted, and basically jumped out of her skin and knocked the poor plant over, shattering the pottery that was holding the aforementioned flowers.

She quickly turned around to yell at whatever teleporting asshole jumped behind her to make her piss her pants when she caught sight of the most bottomless blue eyes she's ever seen. They were wide with shock, staring at PJ like she was the one who snuck up on her!

"Dude, you scared the shit out of me! Do you always just sneak up on people like that?!" PJ blurts out before she can actually think about what she's saying. She should probably apologize, but fuck that, this weirdo shouldn't have snuck up on her!

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you; you just looked confused, and I wanted to help if you were looking for something specific or something. I'm really sorry." She starts to ramble as she scrambles to pick the pieces of broken pottery up from the floor. Was this girl from Mars or something?

"What the fuck are you doing? You're gonna cut yourself!" PJ grabs her hands from picking up the broken pieces, which causes her to stop rambling and God. She looked up at PJ with the biggest puppy dog eyes she'd ever seen. She looks extremely panicked, making PJ both confused and even weirder, sad. PJ never feels bad for people, especially people who freak out about minor things, so why does she feel so bad now?

"OK…" PJ briefly looks down at her nametag that says, "Hazel :)." "..Hazel, so do you have a broom or dustpan or something to clean this up before you go all Jeff the Killer on your hands?" Hazel looks up into PJ's eyes so hard; they stay like that until the other girl realizes what she said and looks around.

It takes her a while to respond, but eventually, she replies, "Yeah right, broom, it's um, it's in the back. Let me…go get it."

She stumbles into the back room and emerges a second later, holding a bright yellow broom and a small handheld dustpan. She then bends down to clean up the dirt and clay everywhere. At the same time, PJ stands awkwardly, admiring the girl and taking a moment to examine her.

She looked like someone you'd find working at a place like this, down to her shaggy haircut, multiple bracelets and rings, and oversized green sweater that matched the store's vibes. She looked like someone who just jumped out of Josie's Pinterest page, aka the exact opposite of PJ's type.

And yet, for some reason, she's absolutely enthralled by her. Everything about her is just so endearing; it makes her forget about, whatever she was doing before. Wait, what was she doing before?

After Hazel is done cleaning up PJ's mess, she stands up and looks back at her. They stand like that again, the two staring at each other in awkward bliss, until the dark-haired one finally says with a sincere grin, " So, did you need any help looking for anything today?"

"Do you wanna go get coffee with me after your shift or on your break or whenever you want to, ya know? I'll pay to make up for the whole, yelling at you and knocking that over, then making you clean it up," PJ blurts out before she can even think about it. Smooth.

Hazel's face turns a lighter shade of pink. It's a fantastic sight, her hair slightly ruffled and her face flushed, and PJ can't help but let her mind wander.

"Um, I like tea better, actually." She responds while slightly giggling.

"Yeah, no, me too; I think tea's great actually."

"OK, my break is at 3, so if you wanna wait for a bit, then we can go?" Hazel was full-on beaming at this point; it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

"3 is perfect actually."

[wyrmfedgrave]

Pics: Great Pulp Interior Art, mostly.

1. The 1st piece reminds me of a much later HPL revision tale that was about soul stealing mosquitoes¹!!

I kid you not!

2. But, the 2nd seems to illustrate the dangers of 'outside' mental influences on mere human sanity²...

3. This bit of line work seems to be a modern imitation of the early pulp aesthetic.

Still a great bit of art. Very close to Lovecraft's original description of the Deep Ones³.

4. The secret origin of Aquaman's telepathic circle/thoughts?

Hardly.

It seems to be some type of torture device - which were in heavy demand in the early pulps & Wonder Woman comics!

Or, it could be that she's a spy - using a telephone type device.

Or...

5. What a great piece! This is truly 1 of the best pulp illustrations that I've ever seen!!

It's a busy little picture depicting rather obvious Egyptian Gods in a royal tomb - &, they don't look happy...

Would go best with Howard's ghost written tale of Egyptian horror⁴ - done for Harry Houdini⁵!!

Now that's a story that I'd like to see adapted to the big screen...

But, all of that is coming sometime in my future. So, let's drop the heavy hints for later...

1914: Poetic Output.

Intro: At this time, HPL is still writing poems - as Sarah (his mom) expected him to become a great poet...

"Gaudeamus⁶" is originally thought to have been written around 1914.

It was revised in 1922, for use in "The Tomb."

The existing version comes from a 1928 letter to (it's now known) Zealia Bishop.

She was 1 of Lovecraft's revision clients & later claimed to have solely written some of Howard's work��� for her...

But, more about that in its proper time...

The poem itself is a boisterous party piece - hardly what you'd expect from the future master of Cosmic Horror...

But, there's a morbid streak running thru it.

Work: Gaudeamus starts off with a rather friendly greeting -

"Come (nearer), my lads, with your tankards of ale⁸, And drink to the present before it shall fail⁹."

The poem continues in a good mood -

"Pile... on your platter a mountain of beef, For (it's) eating & drinking that brings us relief."

Now the fun & games turn serious -

"So fill up your glass, For life will soon pass; When you're (all) dead (you'll not) drink to your king nor your lass!"

Then, we have a small silly mention of Anacreon's¹⁰ red nose!

But, HPL makes things creepy with -

"God split me¹¹! I'd rather be red¹² while I'm (still) here, Than white as a lily¹³ & dead half a year!"

This is followed by the (as yet virginial) writer's attempt at writing drunken 'love craft' (Sorry couldn't resist!!) -

"... Betty, my miss, ...Give me a kiss; In Hell there's no inn keeper's daughter like this!"

Then, the funniest bit comes around -

"Young Harry, propped up... as straight as he's able, Will soon lose his wig¹⁴ & slip under the table."

Now, it's back to the (nightly?) party, mixed up with a bit of creepiness -

"But fill up your goblets & pass them around - Better under the table than under the ground!"

The party/creepiness pattern seems to be the dominant one thruout -

"So revel & chaff¹⁵; As you thirstily quaff¹⁶; (For) under 6 feet of dirt (it's) less easy to laugh!"

Then, Lovecraft (ever the teetotaler¹⁷) goes in for some comedic, drunken side effects -

"... Fiend¹⁸ strike me blue¹⁹! I'm (hardly) able to walk, ...Damn me if I can stand upright or talk!"

Now, the drunk asks "Betty to summon²⁰ a chair", though he wants to go home - since his "wife is not there!"

Oh, Howard. If only you knew how prophetic you were being...

Gaudeamus ends with a last mix of drunken weakness & creepiness -

"... Lend me a hand; (As) I'm not able to stand, But I'm (happy while) I linger on top of the land!"

Explanatory notes will follow with the next posting...

(HPL's works are getting longer... &, more complicated. When he returns to writing his stories, I'll be forced to return to quotations & smaller plot descriptions.)

[okamirayne]

I finished the entire BtB series (and HHU) about a week ago and it hasn't left my mind even once.

I'm not quite sure how to put my thanks into words: You managed to make me feel so obsessed with reading like when I was a kid. I stayed up until 4 am, had to literally force myself to sleep because I was (am!) so incredibly invested. No other piece of literature has done that since like... 6 years? I cried, screamed, laughed, gasped, blushed at so many scenes - the heartache was genuinely so beautiful.

I know the first part of BtB is quite old and your writing has improved a lot since then but all the parts read incredibly seamlessly.

I could *hear* the characters voices in my head while reading, picture the scenes like a movie in my head. The attention to detail and the accuracy of the characters makes me so incredibly happy. Usually when reading, I notice every single distraction going on around me and it's so rare that something pulls me in to the point I just zero in on the story.

There's a lot of scenes that stuck in my mind and to my surprise, I resonated most with your characterisation of Genma. I went in a die-hard Neji fan (and still am) and came out with a deep appreciation for Shikamaru and Genma. (That being said, I also really love then way you portray the other characters, especially Hiashi and Ibiki who I really didn't like before.)

Genma's story just... God it has my heartstrings in a death grip. His never-ending jack-assery and dirty jokes and the way Raido sees right through it.

The fact he held onto items important to him and related to the people he loved most...

The way he handled Shikamaru and Asuma and Kurenai's baby while still insisting he doesn't do well with children.

The way he made Kakashi say what he feels near the end of UtS in an ass-backwards way but a way that didn't allow for deception and empty words.

But, I think the moment that made me sob and laugh and feel the most was when he said "You ruined it" - that fucking killed me right then and there.

When I first met Genma in your story I was really sceptical and suspicious of him, thinking he was somehow the bad guy. And then I grew to love him and hurt for him. That was so extremely well done.

I also have to get off my chest that I love, love, love the way you described his drug trips (and Kakashi's little endeavor with medicines) as well as dreams and flashbacks. I find that these things are mostly feelings and oh so confused and confusing that it's hard to put into words but you genuinely excel at it.

I also love the transitions of dreams back to reality. Keyword here being "back". God, nothing hurt me more than reading that word in HHU. I think you know which scene I mean.

I also read through old asks and found out more about Naoki and Karibi. I love these two so much as well. Karibi struck me as very interesting and I'm glad I got to find out how she lived and died. Especially because HHU kind of alluded to her commiting or attempting suicide.

Naoki... My heart hurts for him. This poor, poor man. I'm so fucking glad he didn't have to die alone. He was so strong for Genma though, building him up, putting him on the right path and giving him a verbal slap for being an addict, giving Kakashi and him his blessings eventhough he used to be so possessive and protective of Genma.

His story really is tragically beautiful and incredibly complex. I really wanted him to live but realistically I knew it wasn't going to happen.

How old were Karibi, Naoki and Genma when they joined Team Yokai? When Inoichi saw Genma and Naoki kiss and Genma talks about his Senbon hitting certain nerves (hehe), they're said to be about 17 and I remember it being mentioned that Naoki took a while to "bottom" in bed due to his childhood trauma.

Also can we talk about the Tsubomi poem? That is so *beautiful*. Did it come easy to you or was it hard to write? It fits so incredibly perfectly to Naoki and Ino.

One thing that confuses me about the storyline is the epilogue of Requiem, where Genma has a flashback(?) about Shuken holding Naoki hostage and making him reveal his name. Could you explain to a confused-maybe-stupid-me when that takes place and how Genma and Naoki escape from that situation?

I can't stop gushing about your story so i won't:

Shuken's character is also so well written. When we first meet him in Shikamarus flashbacks, I was also oddly intrigued eventhough I had an idea about what sort of fucked up things he'd done to Shikamaru. You wrote his seductiveness really well. And then he reveals his age and I got *deeply* disturbed and as we learn more I just got more and more disturbed. The progression was so well done, I felt like I was sort of experiencing what Shikamaru was going through. The use of "Shika" sent cold shivers down my spine.

I also really loved your wheels within wheels and walls within walls metaphor for the ANBU. It creates such an amazing mental image that can be played around with so creatively.

Aaa. Okay. I think I got most of my thoughts down so far. I'm sure I'll come back to gush some more, maybe ask some more.

Thank you so much for this amazing story and all the work and hours you put into it. I can't wait to read more from you 💙

My dear @sunlightrays 💙💙 Thank you so much for both your patience with me as I finally secure the time to respond, and of course, for the phenomenal feedback you've given me. As expressed in my private DM. It impacted me immensely...and I am still moved and altered by it -- thank you. I will endeavour in this reply to answer your Qs to the best of my ability, given that I do tend to revert back into a blob of incoherent feels every time I revisit this message...💙

I know the first part of BtB is quite old and your writing has improved a lot since then but all the parts read incredibly seamlessly.

Oh dear lord...that first installment....*cringes* oh the temptation to rewrite it, luv...THE TEMPTATION....(aww, thank you though, I appreciate that you felt it all flowed together).

There's a lot of scenes that stuck in my mind and to my surprise, I resonated most with your characterisation of Genma. [...] Genma's story just... God it has my heartstrings in a death grip. His never-ending jack-assery and dirty jokes and the way Raido sees right through it.

Oh, luv, I do so love writing Genma and his respective relationships, whether platonic or romantic.

I'm so freaking happy you took a shine to his portrayal in BtB! The feedback you have given me with WHY and WHAT you loved about Genma's portrayal and story was just...I can't even begin to describe how nourishing that was to my writer's soul. If every writer were to receive this kind of feedback, I can see their proverbial cups running over with gratitude and inspiration. Thank you so, so much.

I also love the transitions of dreams back to reality. Keyword here being "back". God, nothing hurt me more than reading that word in HHU. I think you know which scene I mean.

Ah god damn, but you hit me hard with the love you showed my OCs. Thank you so, so much for that and for sharing what it was that drew you in -- especially with Naoki. 💗💗💗 (Even Shuken, dare I say)

How old were Karibi, Naoki and Genma when they joined Team Yokai?

13 to 14 years old. Naoki joined when he was 13, Karibi and Genma at 14. By the time they were assigned to Team Yokai, they were all 16.

When Inoichi saw Genma and Naoki kiss and Genma talks about his Senbon hitting certain nerves (hehe), they're said to be about 17 and I remember it being mentioned that Naoki took a while to "bottom" in bed due to his childhood trauma.

Correct! They'd have been 17/18 years old at that time. Age 19 is when Naoki tragically accepted Danzo's offer and was listed as KIA after his 'fake death'.

Re: intimacy issues. Right you are. Due to his childhood abuse, Naoki refused to "bottom" for the longest time. It took a hell of a lot for Genma to work through that with him. Karibi helped with this too.

Also can we talk about the Tsubomi poem? That is so *beautiful*. Did it come easy to you or was it hard to write? It fits so incredibly perfectly to Naoki and Ino.

Aww....I'm so touched you felt that way about Naoki's poem for Ino. It's such a tough question to answer. Anything that is deeply personal or painful for the characters always twinges my heartstrings when writing...but for Naoki, his guarded emotions came out in his seldom seen/heard creativity / art, so writing it was easy in the sense that it flowed into my head easily from the character, but it was hard in the sense that it reflected so much of Naoki's pain as well as his love.

One thing that confuses me about the storyline is the epilogue of Requiem, where Genma has a flashback(?) about Shuken holding Naoki hostage and making him reveal his name. Could you explain to a confused-maybe-stupid-me when that takes place and how Genma and Naoki escape from that situation?

Oh my dearest, YOU are in no way the confused-maybe-stupid party in this. In fact, "I" am the idiot who cut a LOT of scenes surrounding Naoki's torture at Shuken's hands and the escape situation *epic facepalm* In hindsight, I would love to go back and edit that by re-writing/editing and INCLUDING those scenes. I can see the holes there from the reader's perspective, and if I hadn't been operating like a runaway train at the time, I'd have slowed down to correct that error.

So, that scene where Genma has the nightmare flashback of Shuken holding Naoki hostage. Let me do a breakdown chronology as it's the easiest way my fucked-up spiderweb mind-map can be translated into a linear sequence....

Naoki gets stabby-happy with Shuken (plunges that needle into his neck) and fucks up his ROOT mission, but prioritises saving Shikamaru

Naoki needs Genma to "buy him time" while he tries to fix the trauma and everything coming undone in Shikamaru's head

So Genma goes happy-hunting on the Freak Show as Naoki deep dives into Shikamaru's brainpan

(DELETED SCENE) Naoki stablisies Shuken so the natural energy doesn't kill him. Then Naoki deep-dives into Shikamaru's brainpan and meets with some complications because of the natural energy swimming around inside him.

(cont. DELETED SCENE) Naoki tries to stabilise Shikamaru too, but gets interrupted mid-brain-and-body-fix by more Freak Show cross-breeds looking for bossman Shuken. Naoki can't complete what he's doing with Shikamaru and needs more time. He hides Shikamaru and takes out the opponents interrupting him before rushing to assist Genma

He assists Genma lol -- ends up getting injured (takes a nasty blow to his hip, if I recall)

He tells Genma he needs more time with Shikamaru to fix the kid

Genma is too busy freaking out about Naoki stabbing his mark/Shuken in the neck and the consequences of this action

They get interrupted by more Freak Show mutants, which sabotages Naoki's plan to regroup with Shikamaru and use the Nagu blood vial to get them the hell out

Naoki opts to stay behind to distract the Freak Show and give Genma time to get Shikamaru out, so he kisses Genma in a heated moment to shut him up and save time by connecting their minds where he " communicated in seconds what would've taken minutes to put into words; why Tenka had killed those children; where he'd hidden Shikamaru; what he'd tried to do to fix him; the secret route he planned to use to get them out; and lastly, what he was asking Genma to do – no, ordering him to do." -UtS

He tells Genma to get Shikamaru out, basically, even though he hasn't finished 'fixing' the kid. Naoki gets caught (DELETED SCENE)

Genma does as he's ordered, only he can't bring himself to leave Naoki behind again so after crossing through the portal so Shuken can't reach the kid, he hides and secures Shikamaru (DELETED SCENE) and returns to go and help Naoki, letting himself get caught in the process

Naoki in the meantime has been at Shuken's mercy (or lack thereof) and is receiving a traitor's punishment (DELETED SCENE) -- it is at this point that Genma's flashback dream comes into play where Shuken is starting to shown signs of transmogrification due to the natural energy in his system (think Sound Four on steroids) and wants to know Genma's name and where he stashed Shikamaru

(LONG DELETED SCENE) Meanwhile, Kurayami is borne in Shikamaru's consciousness and THAT is the person that wakes up when Shikamaru finally comes to. He secures himself some Nagu blood, re-enters the portal and goes on the hunt for Shuken

(HUGE DELETED SCENE - hinted at in Genma's memories when he's talking to Tsunade) Shikamaru/Kurayami finds Shuken. He goes for Shuken like a heat-seeking missile, taking out mutants as he goes, unintentionally freeing Genma in the process, his shadows bringing chaos. He does damage. A lot of it. But in the last minute Naoki comes between Shuken and Shikamaru and gets Shuken's knife in the back. Shuken is out for the count after that. Naoki, knife in back, prioritises clamping his hands to Shikamaru's head, trying to shut down Kurayami and lock the alter away, as the whole building is coming down.

This was Naoki's last bid effort to try to save Shikamaru's mind by sealing off all the alters, knowing he didn't have time to integrate them.

Shocked Genma snaps into Kaika mode and gets his shit together, scooping up unconscious Shikamaru and running like a mo-fo with Naoki in tow

Naoki can't run any further, he falls and is bleeding out, tells Genma to run one last time and get the kid to safety, reminding him that Shikamaru can't be allowed to remember etc. Makes Genma swear an oath to him.

Though it costs him his heart, Genma does as he's told one final time. And it's too late to go back again after getting Shikamaru to safety at last. He believes Naoki is dead.

Phew! Sorry for that LONG list. I hope it clarifies for you those missing/deleted scenes, sweetie? Sorry again for any confusion. I own that as a big mistake on my part; sadly at the time, the mammoth wordcount and my runaway brain steamrolled ahead. In hindsight, I'd absolutely fix those gaps upon revision.

Aaa. Okay. I think I got most of my thoughts down so far. I'm sure I'll come back to gush some more, maybe ask some more.

You are most welcome to, luv. I am delighted and humbled by your interest and your huge support for my fic. Thank you for your patience with my response and thank you again, so, SO much for such an outstanding response to my insane contribution to the Naruto fandom.

I am grateful beyond measure and meant every single word I wrote you in that DM. I repeatedly revisit this review and I shall for as long as I write. 💗💗💗 Thank you.

[maroonbreeze]

Will it be a good dream or a nightmare?

I have health issue. A case that only happens to 1 in 100,000 people. I hava Achalasia, a rare disorder that affects the esophagus. I have trouble swallowing, usually feels like the food is stuck when i'm eating or drinking water. Sometimes I will have terrible cases of food got stuck, choking, unable to get the food down down my damn esophagus and vomit it out. Sometimes, with deep, deep multiple breathing, it goes down.

So you can say that I have fear eating outside. In case, the food stucks and chokes me. It happened once when i was alone eating lunch. I got choked by chicken porridge. By porridge, soft food. It lasted for a quite long time. I was crying internally, suffering, and breathing deep enough multiple times. It took long time. Multiple times. It went down. After a long long time. I feared eating alone since that day. I do but that day traumatised me.

I had this for 2 years now. It started with acid reflux, regurgitation and reflux at late night when i'm sleeping. Then this achalasia came. I realised that i am a food lover, that i love to eat afterwards. Too late already is it? I took it for granted. My weight dropped. I went from M to S sometimes even XS. The comments that i got from outsiders, body shaming me for being skinny. Especially those who are being insecure about their large size. I got it a lot from them. They know i am sick and still they let their mouth run. My dream when i'm sleeping consists of me eating non-stop without trouble. Yes, without trouble. Without pain. But dream is just a dream right? They haunts you and show you colorful images but it is not possible. They don't know this. No. They don't have the capacity to understand this. Believe me, i tried making them to understand. That i did not want this. I hate this. I want to change this, but I can't. I can't.

The comments that I got

1. Please take my fat and all my extra skin. You need that. If you reduce it, i will give it to you again.

2. Wind would knock you off.

3. Your shirts looks big on you. (I KNOW)

4. You would look better if you put on some weight.

5. What is your hip size?

6. You should eat a lot.

7. You do not need hot air balloon. Even cold air balloon will lift you up. (this was totally degrading)

8. I will look like your mom if people sees us together outside.

9. What is your kg/weight?

10. I just want to fill up this officce space and let you eat a lot.

11. You only eat that?

12. You done eating?

13. What are you eating?

They don't know the pain i am going through. I have no problem eating, putting food in my mouth. The swallowing part is the problem. My esophagus is the problem.

And you might be wondering, whether did i get consultation from doctors yet. I did. I went to them after getting terrible acute gastritis, twice. Just because my food got stuck and i vomited that time. Man, i tell you acute gastritis is not a joke. I would not wish it for anyone. Pills did not work. Only injections did. That too for 3 days. I couldn't eat. Felt like putting rocks inside stomach. Felt thirsty but kept on vomiting it out. I'm on the verge of dehydration. I prayed after a long time to let the pain go away. For me to eat. For me to live.

Did lots of procedure afterwards. Endoscopy, barium swallow, x-rays, ct scan and manometry. Dousing nasty liquids, getting exposed to rays, getting my throat to bleed. I did it all. And doctor suggested to do a surgery called poem. They gave lots of hope. Telling me that it would cure me. I was happy. I was excited. To let my weight increase. To be healthy. To eat good food. I didn't feel scared to go under sedation. Kind of happy and relieved actually. People even asked me whether am i feeling nervous. I said no. Because i would be healthy right?

Hmm. The procedure. The surgery failed. The doctors attempted twice and my skin couldn't be lifted up. I went through a failed surgery. The 1st surgery in my life, and i wasn't lucky. It failed. I had to kept fasting for another day, a total of 48 hours so that they could do me another procedure. To check whether they had caused any holes in my esophagus while attempting the surgery. I did not eat for almost 3 days. I drank water. I was scared that my gastric would flared up. I cried while calling my mom. I rarely cry in public, but to hear that my hope got snuffed out, broked me. Tears kept falling. It flows now as well.

I was okay after that. Thinking whatever happens, happens. I could handle it. I have been eating blended food for 3 days now. Tomorow is the last days for such diet. Then i could go back to normal food. Damn, the gas trapped in my stomach was real discomfort and pain. And i'm writing this because i have a lot in my mind right now. It will go after this. A little. I read that this problem with esophagus could cause cancer. It is high risk for cancer to develop. Hahaha. What a life. I don't want to die painfully. I want to live, healthily if possible. And sometimes other thoughts, that it's okay if i die. We are humans afterall. Not everyone gets lucky. Not everyone have a healthy life. Not everyone had failed surgery. I did. I am not lucky. I am not healthy. I had a failed surgery. I want to be healthy. I want to eat without pain.

Will it be a good dream or a nightmare?

(Not edited)

[untoterxhund]

Rules, tag 10 followers  you want to get to know better!

Tagged by: @fanaticist &lt;3 ​​

Tagging: steal it! just be sure to scream at me if you did steal it! wanna learn some facts about the mutuals

Name: rat

Star Sign: Aquarius

Height: 5′9 ( 175.25 cm )

Middle name: Marshal-James

Put your itunes/spotify/youtube on shuffle. What are the first 6 songs that popped up?

deep stone lullaby by Michael Salvatori

slims pickens does the right thing and rides the bomb to hell by the offspring

into the sun by the white buffalo

what the dead men say by trivium

lost by linkin park

gzdie jest viał węgorz by cypis

Ever had a poem or song written about you: not that I can remember?

When was the last time you played air guitar: a long time ago me'thinks, probably back in the barracks when I was doing corporal-work plunging toilets and obviously not doing the work I was told to do trying to stay sane on our desert air-strip

Who is your celebrity crush?: either ella freya or scar-jo when she has her red hair! i'm the biggest simp for red hair-- don't judge me.

What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?: i hate the sound of my tinnitus but as for a sound i do like? honestly the sound of firewood crackling, it scratches my brain the right-way tbh. that an the accents of Newfoundlanders, love their goofy little viking accents. 

Do you believe in ghosts?: sometimes tbh.

How about aliens: it'd be silly to assume that we're the only life in the ever expansive universe--  

Do you drive?: everything but a car lmao, need to get my eyes retested before I even attempt to do my first driver's test. i've driven glider-planes though, was going to work on my power license but dropped out of flight school due to bullying and my poor self-esteem at the time.

if so have you ever crashed: i've crashed plenty of lawn tractors, plenty of planes in VR back during my air force time .

What was the last book you read?: it was either Ender's Game, The Gunslinger or Metro 2034 iirc, it's been a long time since i've actually sat down an read an actual paperback book. 

Do you like the smell of gasoline: definitely killed some braincells back in the day being a dumb kid who liked the endorphin release of smelling gasoline. 

What was the last movie you saw?: that's a very good question tbh, i don't watch a lot of movies anymore but i think rightfully it may've been top gun maverick? either that or another annual rewatch of the last samurai. oh and bladerunner 2049 is still quite fresh in my mind so i'll add that as well 

What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?: either being shot in the eyelid by a pellet gun or getting impaled in the arm by a branch, although my breaking my knee and tearing the muscles was also definitely pretty unfun- there's a lot of nasty injuries that come to mind, all of them not very good or fun to heal. oh, another one was getting 14 stitches in my right hand from shrapnel, the tip of my pinky to a few inches past my wrist.

Do you have any obsessions right now?: resident evil, monster hunter world, for honor & general emulator stuff- it's all gaming but that's just my way of passing the time, not a lot of other hobbies or obsessions that i can think of tbh. yakuza definitely used to be a massive obsession for me but being poor i couldn't get like a dragon: ishin so i haven't been able to keep up with that as of late

[a-carrion-crow]

Hello :) ! For the Bloodborne anniversary ask can I ask for 1, 6, 17 and 25 ?

hi, thank you for the ask!!

1. When and how did you discover the game?

i discovered bloodborne by having previously played dark souls 1 on my xbox 360. i fell in love with fromsoft’s games, and have been a fan ever since. i actually knew about bloodborne when it released, though i wouldn’t have a ps4 or the game for probably another 6 months after.

6. Did you played any other soulsborne/Fromsoftware games before or after it? Is Bloodborne your favorite?

yes! i played dark souls 1 before playing bloodborne. after playing bloodborne, i played ds2, ds3, elden ring, and even attempted sekiro (gave up bc i was terrible at the combat)! bloodborne is absolutely my favorite. while it does have its issues, i consider it to be from’s magnum opus.

17. Your favorite character?

queen annalise all day!!! besides her, the doll, the bloody crow, and eileen are some of my absolute favorites :)

25. Did you make fan content of the game?

i did once write a poem about one of my hunters experiences through the night of the hunt! however, while i love the sort of gothic and cosmic horrors the game contains, i find myself to be awful at writing these genres, so i never really made any other kind of bb fan content.