#sometimes i'm reflecting about myself. i just...found nothing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

razzle-n-dazzle · 1 year ago

Note

- hi ! 💌,,

ISTG you’re writing is so well done and creative I had to contain myself from like spam!!

I hope you’re still taking request and if you’re not that’s totally cool, I’ll wait ‘till next round.

Adam reincarnates in hell and oh, would you look at that? the s/o is the only one trying to help and not making him feel worse that he already is. (i just need wholesome content, exam week is killing me rn).

AGAIN, love you’re writing thx for reading so far!

ᯓ★ Let's Give This Another Shot (and not fuck it up this time) Sinner! Adam / Sinner! Reader | Drabble

‗ content / trigger warning: fluff, swearing, Adam being Adam, not proof read (we die like Adam) ‗ author's note: this is for everyone who's dealing with exam weeks, it sucks but I believe in all of you any you're going to kill those exams! (don't let them kill you!). Also thank you so much for the compliments Anon <3, I write for the people and myself, so I'm glad everyone is enjoying the crazy shit I've posted here!

ᯓ When you fall from grace, it's not a pleasant feeling; That Adam knew - or at least he thought he knew - well enough from hearing about Lucifer falling, hearing the horrific things the others whispered about it, mentioning it in passing before the thought disappeared and dispelled into the air as though Lucifer had never held a place in Heaven. As though he was nothing that what he was now, demonic figure that wore a crown made out of skeletons and bones fashioned to mimic horns. Adam never cared about the stories that were whispered, about the horrors he sometimes heard through passing, about Sera recalling how she heard Lucifer scream on the way down, about how Michael watched with horror as Lucifer tried to shield Lilith and himself, about how Gabriel heard his pleads and couldn't do anything; No one could save him from the fate that had been weighed on his shoulders as soon as he had fed the apple to Eve. And partly it was because Adam blamed Lucifer for ruining his paradise, for infecting the mind of both his (ex) wives and causing him grief and pain. Dying alone is almost just as unpleasant as falling from grace; almost.

ᯓ You see, while Adam had died alone on Earth, at least his soul went to somewhere pleasant and he was able to continue living; To make a name for himself and, he guessed, make some friends and live a rather worriless and carefree life in the clouds. He was able to have fun, rock out, and be known as the first human soul ever being able to reach Heaven - that was something not even Eve managed to do, and he took it with pride! It was his title. It was partly who he was. Maybe it was all he was. That much became more clear to him when he found himself waking up in Hell again, the stabbing pain of a dagger striking his back still their along with the weight of his wings. At first, he had thought he managed to survive the assassination attempt, that Lute had just left him in Hell on accident or because she thought he was dead. It caused some sort of pride to well in his chest, a flame that sparked his need to go boost and scream at the top of his lungs - he had survived an angelic weapon! He was immune! He was the strongest angel there was, because Sera would totally fall and die in a sad crumble after being stabbed with angelic metal! He was . . .

ᯓ And that's when Adam happened to pass by a mirror, or well more of a reflective glass on the street of Hell (as he walked, not questioning the odd ball looks he got), and that's when he saw it; What looked like a stranger to be staring back at him, engulfing and taking over his reflection like they owned it, like it was there own. That wasn't him! Well, it looked like him, he could admit that, but it wasn't as sexy or as handsome as him! The reflection would copy his movement, snarling as he did and grinning all the same. With his same fluffed up hair and piercing eyes, the reflection wore no mask yet still held the horns of his all the same; Even the way they slowly curled back before dipping down, forming and L for the gold spikes to rest at the end. The reflection wore his exterminator uniform, yet it was the darker version with the yellow having somehow been dulled and deepened and faded out all at once. His wings were still golden, still tucking at his sides from under his arms all the same, though there was no halo to accompany them this time. And Adam almost wanted to laugh, maybe it was hysteria or maybe it was disbelief, yet he watched to cry and laugh and break the glass all at once; Denying that this was his fate, being unable to stomach that he, First Man Adam, was not only double dead yet in hell. Hell! The first man cannot be in hell, he had created everyone on Earth; All of them came from his nuts and in turn all of them should be praising the fucking land he walked on because if it wasn't for him he wouldn't be here!

ᯓ And yet the Reflection looked back all the same, teasing him with a distorted grin; Like it could feel his distress in the way he curled his fist, pulling back before he slammed it against the glass. It gave a crack, a small one at first, before completely shattering. Adam could care less what shop or business had that glass, he could care less how he effected them or how he was going to be painted in Hell, because this was some crazy mistake! He was not supposed to be down here and he was not going to stand for some stupid mistake that happened because some small crazy bitch decided to back-stab him! Literally! And yet, if Adam wanted any of the answers he so desperately craved, he would have to suck in some of his pride and trudge along to the damn Hotel and talk to the residence who had taken his life. It would take him a while before he accepted such a fate, taking the chance between deciding and doing to walk along the Pride Ring before stumbling into the wrong town and being chased out by crazy demons who wanted to bite him! Maybe even eat him . . . What crazy place is this?!

ᯓ When Adam had begrudging and reluctantly knocked on the new Hotel door, which he would never admit to stopping and marveling at for a second, he would feel that ever irritating dread weigh in his stomach. Who wouldn't feel such a feeling after coming to the front door of a group of people you had tried to exterminate only, Adam didn't know how long, prior! Maybe, silently, somewhere inside Adam knew if he were in their shoes, having faced what they had, he wouldn't accept him either; He would throw him to the curb. Yet, he didn't exactly like that thought, and it wasn't very on brand, so he shoved it down and away and deep until all the could think about is: How in the hell would they not accept me? I'm Adam, I'm the first man! And yet when the door opened, allowing Adam to come face to face with none other than Vaggie, he felt that dread creep in a little. But, not enough to stop him from greeting Vaggie in a less that desirable way, "What's up Vagasaurus?" The sneering comment left his mouth, "I love what you did with the place. You know, it looks slightly less like a destroyed pile of Sh-" Yet the door would only slam in his face before Adam could finish his thoughts or his words; Leaving him standing outside, a tad awkwardly, waiting for the doors to open again. He, also, would never admit giving a glance behind him, making sure no one was standing there to watch him standing in front of the doors.

ᯓ "Vaggie, who was that?" Charlie would call to her girlfriend as she walked away from the door, coming towards where Charlie sat on the floor organizing new activities that everyone could do. All while Nifty rushed around nearby, cleaning Sir Pentious' and Dazzle's memorials in the new Hazbin Hotel. She muttered to herself quietly, not bothering Angel and Husk, who sat at the bar. "No one important." Vaggie would mumble, not being able to catch her tone before it could reveal that it was someone less than desirable. Possibly another sinner choosing a path of redemption after the last extermination! Which the thought caused Charlie to gain a burst of energy, barreling onto her feet so quickly that she knocked around the carefully organized slits of paper on the floor. Vaggie tried to protest, saying it was truly no one at the door and Charlie should just leave it alone! But she was never a really good lair, "Oh calm down Vaggie, I'm sure it's no one bad!" Charlie would grin with a wave, her hand touching the crisp and cool metal of the door handle before swinging the door back open. "Hi, welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! How can I-" And yet her words fell flat as soon as her eyes were locked onto Adam's - who quickly spun around, pretending like he hadn't just been looking behind him - and was also welcomed by his light groan of annoyance. "Oh fuck me." ". . . help you." Charlie's voice flattened, dropping as her eyes widened. You know, she's never felt this shocked to see someone at the steps of the Hotel before since Alastor had came along without warning.

ᯓ "Adam?!"

ᯓ "BITCH CAN YOU NOT SHOUT MY NAME?!" Was the next words that were exclaimed out of the ex-angel, the now outcast, as he seemed rather eager to push Charlie inside of her own Hotel and walk in after; Quickly shutting the door as though there was someone outside waiting and stalking him, watching him with all their attention. "Hey no, you cannot just let yourself in here this isn't Heaven!" Vaggie was swift to march her way over to the two, seeing as Charlie wasn't doing anything to discard of Adam she might as well do it herself! No way was she going to let some two-timing exorcist angel not only push her girlfriend around yet also push his way into the hotel. Who did he think he is? And yet Charlie waved out a hand, stopping Vaggie in her tracks. There was confusion, and the two at the bar would turn their heads, before scowling seeing the fallen angel. Adam was sure he could hear Angel's accented voice loud and clear shouting out, 'oh what the fuck is this bullshit!' before Charlie began to talk to him again in a rushed fashion; One he remembered quite well during the meeting that Lucifer subbed her in for instead of coming to it himself, and he was still annoyed by her voice. "What are you doing down here? I thought you-! You know . . . " Charlie rushed out, trying to make it quick as though the others at the hotel would jump and kill Adam again with no remorse, finishing the job that clearly didn't stay permeant the first time; And, honestly, Adam wouldn't put it above anyone here to do that. Adam, who had been picking at his teeth with his pinkie finger, would turn away from Charlie and shrug his shoulders, "Yeah, well, I fuckin' did and ended up down here for some fucking reason, probably a mistake and mix up of souls. I'm sure you have plenty of those down here, pft!- I mean who else would want to stay in this charity case!-" "We're not entertaining you Adam!" Vaggie would cut off the ex-angel, causing his interest to peak over at her. Though he relaxed quickly enough, maybe too quickly seeing as Vaggie had drown out her own weapon and that . . . nasty little creature stood beside her with the dagger made out of angelic metal; Now that little one-eyed demon could give Adam the creeps, maybe even a little (lot) fright, but not Vaggie. "You know, I thought were all trying to redeem souls in this junk box of yours." Adam scoffed, quickly crossing his arms with a tilt of his head. "Are you fucking discriminating against me wanting to return to where I rightfully belong just because I was an angel before this? Wow, that's a low blow, especially for someone light you." Adam's voice dripped with sarcasm mixed with malice, maybe even still a little pride. "You literally tried killing up like- 2 weeks ago!" Vaggie would gesture to the side, as though trying to compare time to the length of her arm. "Oh shit it's been too weeks?" Adam paused, thinking about it yet drawing a blank and shrugging in result, "Shit, didn't know, pft! That shit must still be fresh for you then, huh? Well, let me remind you all that you weren't the ones who DIED!-"

ᯓ "Adam?" Your voice would slip out into the common space of the lobby of the hotel, honey sweat to Adam's ears; Filling them with a melody that could match the songs of Heaven, running down his spine with the comfort he didn't know he needed until now. But even then, you knew he wouldn't break his 'tough man' exterior until you managed to snag him along, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. "Holy shit, hey Babe!" Adam was quick, rushing past and slightly pushing Charlie out of his way to make his way over to you, over to his love. "What the fuck are you doing in a dumb like this? I thought you said you had your own fucking spot near Cannibal Town!" - It had been the only reason why he had tried traveling to that cursed town, even while knowing its residents might try and take a bite out of him or his wings. He craved for the familiarity of someone in this new world, as he had never felt this vulnerable since his first days on Eden; Earth. God's Earth. "Babe?" A chorus of confused, slightly concerned, and baffled voices followed as Adam came to your side, swinging an arm around your waist and instantly drawing you closer. You swore he was fighting off the urge to flick off the others, a casual fuck you for trying to push him off and out. You could feel their eyes as you leaned up to pepper a kiss into Adam's shoulder, to which he squeezed your waist slightly tighter, adorning a snicker upon his face. "Wait, wait!-" Vaggie started, taking a staggering step forward as her arms laid limp besides her. One of her eyebrows were cocked up, her eyes narrow, "What do you mean Babe?" Your name left her lips, "Don't tell me you're dating that fucker!" She would soon exclaim, tossing her hands out as they finally regained the life they had lost. To which you would turn towards her confused, and then remember oh yeah . . . the battle. The one you hadn't been present for though heard about through Channel 666 News; In all honesty it's why you had came here, to the Hotel, to see if you could try and get to Heaven and find Adam again - praying he didn't actually die but was taken back to Heaven to heal or was revived in some way. "Uh, yeah. Adam's my boyfriend-" You would start with a wavering smile, nerves tugging at the edge of your lips. "Oh, this couldn't have gotten worse." Angel would groan, slamming his head down onto the bar countertop, acting like a disappointed parent; Silently telling you that you could have done better. To which you placed a hand on your hip, about to tell Angel off, only to be cut off by Husk tsking and shaking his head, "I would not put you as an Angel and sexist fucker, but whatever rows your boat." His tone came off dry, uninterested, and a little hostile. And with Charlie's silence, you couldn't help but feel the weight of everyone's words a little heavier.

ᯓ And Adam noticed that, with one glance down at you and your face, his wings would flare defensively and his glare was snapped back at the other demons. He couldn't care less that they had been talking shit about him, he couldn't care less on how they saw him or the reasons they thought you could do better than him; They shouldn't care about whether or not someone was out of their friend's league if they were clearly happy with the person! That, Adam knew - or maybe he believed it more. "Hey, what your fucking mouths!-" He would start, trying to draw you away from the others. Sure, he was no longer an Angel, but he was sure as hell he could take any of them in a fight anyways! And yet, his anger was snuffed like a candle as soon as you placed your hand on his chest, gently pushing in and pushing him back. The breath of ire was caught in his throat, not even being able to reach his lungs, as he glanced down at you, noticing the spark that you had seemingly stolen right out of his chest and placed in your eyes. He knew your reservations of fighting with friends, or with anyone in general, so he couldn't help but feel pride swell up in his chest watching you stand up for yourself, for you and him: "I will not let you speak about me, nor Adam that way!" You defended, shooting a star through your eyelashes that the group; Who seemed just as taken aback as Adam had been before the warmth spread from his chest. Vaggie would scrunch her face, much more concerned that irritated or disappointed, but also all of that at the same time. Your name slipped from her lips, "You can't be serious! He's . . ." She stumbled for a moment, trying to grasp her words, "He's led genocides on Sinners all over Hell! He's like really gross and he doesn't respect people. He's a douche and a dick!-" "Dick master," Adam would correct Vaggie just to piss her off, earning a slight jag in the gut from you and a snarl from Vaggie. Vaggie, who, tossed out her hands once more, yet pointed at Adam this time, "See what I mean?!"

ᯓ "And tell me how you felt when you first lost your divinity?"

ᯓ The question lingered in the room, drifting and sticking in the air, as Vaggie stared at you with disbelief; Her mouth slightly open, her eyes wide, and her stance rigid. You noticed how Charlie grew nervous behind her, how she seemed rather uncomfortable in the atmosphere that been created in the room since Adam had arrived than you. She would place a hand on Vaggie's shoulders, attempting to comfort her, yet failed to pick out any words to say in response. "It's hard enough to leave somewhere you've called home," You would continue, frowning, "To be tossed out like you had meant nothing, like one mistake had deemed you unworthy despite everything great you have done in your life. Vaggie! . . . out of everyone, I would have thought at least you would understand something like that." Seeing as she had gone through the same process herself, yet had always had Charlie there by her side to walk through everything with. Was she implying that Adam didn't deserve the same because of what he had done? Sure it was crude and cruel, but everyone deserved another chance to mistake their wrongs and that was what this hotel was about; And you voiced such concerns to not just Vaggie but to Charlie as well. What makes Adam so much different from Lucifer, or say another Fallen Angel that managed to wind up down here? What makes him less worthy to be redeemed? What made him less of a human soul as say Angel or Alastor? Everyone fucks up in their life and as long as they're trying to better themselves, understanding what they did wrong and why it was wrong, they should be given a chance!

ᯓ It wasn't long before Charlie said that everyone should take a break, and as such you would lead Adam away from the crowd of people and up to your own room in the Hotel. You could feel Vaggie's eyes linger, you felt like she wanted to say something yet let her words fall short before they were ever given a chance. But, even if they had, you were too pent up to even discuss anything logically with her at the moment. And you think she could feel or at least tell and that's why her words fell short, yet you would never know - you're not Vaggie nor would you ever think like she does.

ᯓ You and Adam found yourselves in your bed after settling some matters, such as a change of clothing for him and whether or not you wanted to try and make the trip back to your apartment today; Luckily you had some of Adam's old T-shirts and joggers you had stolen from him from one of the few trips where Adam had snuck you into Heaven - and yet on the same note, either of you felt like going downstairs to face anyone to leave to your apartment. So, with not much to do, you set the TV on as background noise and brain fuzz as you snuggled up to Adam's side. You felt as his claws, at first, scratched gently at his side, pairing with a kiss on the forehead, and then they began to tap the flesh there; Like you were some little drum that made no noise, yet Adam continued until he switched to rubbing his thumb against your hip. "What's wrong, Adam?" Concern dripped from your lips, forcing Adam to draw his eyes away from the mindless television and down to meet you, and your eyes. He had known your attention had been up at him for a while, at first admiring his face (as you didn't get to see it much) yet it had shifted to concern the more he played with the plush flesh of your waist. He wondered if you could tell he was nervous from the start. Adam's eyes would falter and glance off to TV again, his words causing a lump in his throat as he tried to play through them; Trying to find the best combination to spew out instead of talking without thinking - vomiting whatever first came to mind and not thinking about it later. And maybe you could tell the trepidations that filled his head too; Seeing as you shifted your position from his side, pushing yourself up, and instead onto his lap, effectively blocking his vision of the television. Your hands rested on his chest, something so natural at this point yet something that still caused Adam's lungs to halt for a minute and for his stomach to flutter. Even so, he would give you a curious glance up and down, trancing the curves of your body with his eyes as he has done countless times before - yet every time, you managed to take his breath away. "If you wanted to fuck, babe, you could have just said so!" The snarky remark left his lips, meeting your amused yet disapproving face. He knew that's not what you wanted, yet he couldn't help but entertain yourself when you were basically straddling his waist; As such, his fingers would drag along the calf of your leg before his hands would trail up your thighs before tailing back down and up once more. He saw the flutter in your breath, yet you tried to keep your composure. Even if Adam was making it ever so hard.

ᯓ "Adam," You would start, your tone causing Adam to stop caressing your thighs. It stuck his eyes to yours, and he couldn't look away no matter how much his nerves pulled at him to. "I want you to know, no matter what happens . . . I'm here for you, okay? We're in this together. You're not a solo act anymore, we're a duet . . . or, well, more a duo act." Your words sunk down into Adam's skin, they infected through his lungs and ran to his heart before infecting all his blood and his veins. His hands, which had ran up to hold your waist, gave a gentle squeeze as he swallowed down the saliva that built up in his suddenly dry mouth. A duo act? Sure, he knew you two were dating, that you had been for a while, yet even then he had a silent thought in the back of his head that you would leave him, much like the others; So he never considered himself no more than what he had: A soloist. First Man Adam! . . . but now he was able to add being 'Yours' to his list with some sort of fire-like confidence; Burning and bright. It made his heart catch fire, even more so when you would stretch out lightly and lean down to lay down on his chest; Your warmth infecting all of him you touched, allowing his arms to wrap around your back and for his wings to fluff out and wrap around your frame. It was like he wanted to shield you from the world, shield you from Heaven, shield you from everyone and anything that wanted to hurt you. Sure he had the urge before, but now? . . . "You heard that big man?" Your voice broke through his thoughts, your teasing smirk had him fighting for a breath. You would playfully nudge his shoulder, "You're stuck with me, I'm stuck with you're, we're stuck together so you better be getting used to it! I'll fight for you, you fight for me, and we'll get back to that stupid place that outcasted you in the first place!" But he would like to stay here, with you, forever. "And we'll show Charlie and Vaggie that it can be done and that even if you fucked up you have a good heart in you! . . . Because I know you do under all the gunk." And your laughter had never sounded so sweet, and you touch has never felt so soft and loving.

ᯓ A duo act, huh? With you? Adam could get used to and stand behind that thought; Perhaps, even after all this time, he wanted nothing more than to hear those words, or well the meaning of those words, from your mouth since the start.

ᯓ But even then, with the emotions that swelled Adam's heart with nothing but pure love, he couldn't help but nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck. Your scent filled his nose with a warmth he missed, the soft skin of your neck flushed against his smirking lips, a feeling he longed for and couldn't forget. You were perfect, you always had been! "Fuck, Babe, when you say pretty shit like that, it's hard not to fuck you right here and now." Adam would groan before a loud cackle left his lips as soon as you smacked his back. All too used to his ways, you couldn't do much yet shake your head against Adam's shoulder, like a parent scolding their child for saying something offensive. "You ruined the mood Adam!" The huff escaped your lips, it hit Adam's neck and made goosebumps spring up his arms. "Again!" And yet, you didn't protest as Adam tossed you both into your sides with a fever, still cackling as though this was the funniest joke in the world - and you couldn't deny, you loved the sound of his laughter so much. Even as his stubble would tickle your neck as he did so, causing you to start laughing soon after and trying to push his head away from your neck. "Adam! Oh my god, Adam stop that tickles!" You gasped between breaths, struggling to push your boyfriend away as he found joy in your lighthearted misery. Though he would only curl around your frame, not answering your desperate calls of a truce and a stop, and trap you in his arms and wings with no remorse. "You're stuck with me Babe, you said it yourself! Now come here, let me kiss that pretty fucking face of yours until you can't breath!"

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ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

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lavenderprose · 5 months ago

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Also, on a hornier note, please tell me more about the Mary Shelly thing? 😉

Assuming you're asking about the Emmrook version of events floating around my head and not the actual story about Mary Shelley losing her virginity on her mother's grave (This is a story I heard a long time ago and might be an urban legend/exaggeration of history. God I hope it's not it's the gothest thing I've ever heard. Either way, cannot be assed to check) Here's how it goes:

After a few nice garden picnics with Emmrich, during which Rook always takes a moment to pay her respects to Emmrich's parents--because she's a Mourn Watcher through and through, and when your in-laws aren't alive to have Family Sundays with, you make due by putting flowers on their grave and politely NOT bonking their son within eyesight of their headstones--the subject of Rook's origin story comes up. Maybe organically, maybe Emmrich's curious about her last name but he's been too polite up til now. Maybe the curiosity has been burning a visible fucking hole in his chest and Rook finally sighs and braces herself and says, "Go ahead and ask," and Emmrich, despite himself, launches into Twenty Questions Mode.

Either way.

"I know almost nothing about myself," is what Rook tells him, and she's made her peace with it long ago, but the sight of his sad eyes makes the old, stale heartache attempt to rise in her again. "No, don't do that. Don't pity me. I don't really care who I started life out as. What matters is who I am now."

"Rook," he says, and it's a statement. He's so intuitive that way. Yes, she's Rook, and that's who she chooses to be every day when she wakes up in the morning. If she tires of it, she'll tell him and they'll go from there. They've probably had this conversation before. Then he says, "I'm curious, dearest--"

"I'm shocked," she teases, and he tuts.

"Curious about the name," Emmrich sighs, and shifts into something she likes to call lecture mode, though it looks a bit ridiculous when he's sitting there on his own boot heels, hands folded in his lap like an eager and precocious boy. "The name Ingellvar is classic Navarran, of noble origin, though the family line has been extinct for over a century. Foundlings aren't uncommon in the Necropolis, and the naming conventions are rather specific. I was wondering--"

"Do you want to see it?" she asks, and leans herself onto his lap. He, as always, simpers to find himself full of her. "I know where it is. Been there a few times over the years. I'll show you the grave where they found me."

"I would quite like that," says Emmrich, so she takes him there.

The upper levels of the Necropolis are sometimes oppulent and sometimes just as dusty and ominous as their lower counterparts. They tend not to shift around as much, but there's no guarantee that anything in the Necropolis will stay in one place forever. Rook keeps track of this particular row of Sarcophagi, for obvious reasons. Several of the most important Nevarrans of the Blessed Age are interred here. Accordingly, it is beautiful and well-lit. The stones under their feet are neatly cobbled and the air is floral.

"They found me there," Rook says, pointing to a particular grave. A low, flat sarcophagus. The epitaph, huge and vaguely glowing even all these years after the initial enchantment:

HERE IS LAID TO REST WILHEM INGELLVAR COUNT OF RUNDEL. GREAT-GRANDSON OF KING BERTRAND PENTAGHAST. HUSBAND AND FATHER. HIS BONES WILL SERVE AS HE DID IN LIFE AS HIS SPIRIT WALKS BY THE MAKER'S SIDE.

It continues in that vein all down the sarcophagus, Nevarran patriotism and Andraste. Rook could recite it all from memory.

"Why this grave, I wonder," Emmrich mumbles.

"No idea," Rook says, which is true, and then, "Haven't really thought about it," which is the biggest, fattest lie she's ever told him.

Emmrich knows it too, because he looks at her and raises his eyebrow.

"Anyway." She slides herself onto the surface of the sarcophagus, which is polished to an almost reflective sheen. "Here's where they found me. Screaming, crying, wah-wah-feed-me." She falls onto her back, legs curled up towards her chest in a mockery of an infant. She wiggles her feet and her eyebrows in his direction. "I was smaller then."

"Evidently," Emmrich says, dryly, and sits down on the end of the sarcophagus. He glances around and, almost to himself, muses, "This chamber is quite busy, comparatively. It's popular for tourists, and close enough to the surface to be part of the Mortalitasi's regular rounds. Whomever put you here must have intended for you to be found."

"Whatever," Rook sighs, and drapes her legs over his lap. "I screamed and screamed until they found me. And the rest is history." She toes off one of her boots. "I have a fun story to tell you."

Emmrich visibly chooses not to address the flippancy with which she thinks of her own origin. Someday, maybe in a few years, she'll wake up in the middle of the night. She'll stumble like one of the dead into another bedroom in their top-level Necropolis townhouse and cling their newborn son to her body. When Emmrich finds her after waking to a cold bed, she'll look at him and with a voice like her own throat is haunted say, "Did she hate me enough to get rid of me? Or love me enough to let me go?" And he'll know she's talking about her own mother. And they'll start looking.

Here, on this day, she isn't yet a mother unless you count fire-slinging skeleton sons. Here, on this day, she plants her socked heel against Emmrich's crotch and curls her toes and says, "Once upon a time, there was a woman, and she was in love with a very beautiful and spooky man, and one time that very beautiful and spooky man fucked her in a sarcophagus and now she can't look at one without--"

"Darling," Emmrich gasps, and wraps his hand around her ankle and very decidedly does not move it. He'd put bangles there, and a chain that disappears into her sock and connects one of the bangles to a thin band that lives underneath the knuckle of her largest toe, and when he did so he looked at her with dark eyes and then did something with his mouth that she still thinks about at least once a day. "This isn't...very respectful of the noble dead."

God, she loves him.

"You've fucked me worse places. Besides, this guy," Rook slaps the surface of the sarcophagus, "was a huge monarchist asshole who's probably been spinning in his grave for the past thirty years because of the little elf girl running around with his last name tacked onto her. Maybe one of these days he'll stop spinning because I'll have a different last name." She's only a little amused that that's what makes Emmrich's cock jump against the sole of her foot.

"Dearest," he says, still consciously sitting still for what her foot is doing, "This really is a very highly trafficked area."

"Good," she says, low and slow.

"Oh," he sighs, and he sounds almost annoyed, like ink has dripped onto his favorite shirt, but he's moving to kneel between her thighs now, pressing her back into the relative concealment of the large flower bushes flanking the sarcophagus. A bit of privacy, such as it is.

"Whatever shall I do with you?" Emmrich asks, even as he shoves clothing aside. He takes off his coat and pillows her head with it, then pulls his shirttails out as some weird attempt at modesty, and she laughs until she feels him inside her.

"You'll figure something out," she tells him.

Emmrich Volkarin, the latest in a long line of esteemed Mortalitasi to be presented with a strange foundling discovered on a long-deceased noble's grave, smiles and makes love to her.

#DATV #Emmrich Volkarin #Emmrook

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whumpster-dumpster · 5 days ago

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tw: moral discourse - I have that same OCD myself, here we go!

To: Anon asking about discomfort writing whump

I've definitely been there, and you're in good company here. Here's a few things for you to consider:

Whump works like exposure therapy. It's a safe space wherein to experience things that would normally be uncomfortable. In real life, I'm so conflict-avoidant, it nearly brings me to tears when, like, a mom chastises a kid... across the mall. In writing, I had a whumper make the whumpee lick his own blood off whumper's hand. The discomfort is good! It's your brain figuring stuff out, though sometimes you might not be aware of what exactly.

Storytelling is a fundamental form of play for humans, just anthropologically speaking. This isn't something that's necessarily about what happened to you; as soon as we're able to tell stories, sometimes even before we can separate fact from fiction, humans do this! The science of play is fascinating but not to diverge, whump is a kind of Magic Circle. The rules inside the circle can be in some way related to the rules of real life outside the circle, and it can be useful to reflect on it, but as long as you don't Act on it, it remains safely where it is, in the realm of fiction.

Anon are you neurodivergent? I am. Understanding people is hard for me. I spent years actively putting myself in other peoples' shoes to try to understand what makes people behave the way they do. We had a student who was very abrasive, to us and to the teachers, and though I never found out why, it looked to me like she wanted attention from her parents, trying to prove a point. I couldn't relate to her behaviour - my relationship with my parents wasn't like that. But I could empathise, because of trying to put myself in her shoes. Write situations you haven't been in, write about people who are unlike you, you might find you discover something new!

Well done taking time to look into yourself. I can't know if if you're worrying about nothing or if you genuinely have some negative traits - the reality is probably somewhere in the middle. I guess you have about as much negativity as the average person. Here's a hint I heard my teacher say: the fact that you're worrying about it is your indicator that you're keeping yourself in check. Some people are so far gone, they're beyond caring whether they hurt themselves or anyone else, and that's a much more challenging battle.

To summarize, if whump is in line with your personal code of conduct, if you're not hurting yourself or anyone else because of it, you're good to go. Proceed to enjoying!

("What if it feels like it's not in line with my personal code of conduct?" Then you've identified something you may want to work on, and that's a plan, too. Onwards!)

#whump community #moral discourse #answered ask #anonymous

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befuddledcinnamonroll · 11 months ago

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I've been thinking a lot about expectations this week.

A number of years ago, when I was visiting my brother, he criticized me for not doing something that he expected me to do. It was a frustrating talk because he wasn't at all willing to hear my perspective. But what bothered me the most about it was when I said "you can just ask" and he said "I shouldn't have to".

I was doing everything culturally expected of a good guest, I didn't even know what his extra expectations were, and yet he felt entitled to be mad at me for not automatically knowing them, and not living up to them.

It can be so easy for us to let our expectations get ahead of us, to make assumptions based on our own perspectives, and to then feel let down.

And I feel like I'm seeing a lot of this kind of thing in people's experience with media these days. There seems to be a clash happening between expectations and reality. And people feeling genuinely upset when the reality is not what they wanted.

I'm seeing a lot of complaints and "critiques" that seem to fall in to the category of "this is not how I personally want this to go" or "this doesn't resonate with my personal experience".

To be clear, I'm not saying this in a pointing fingers kind of way, because I have 100% done it myself.

When the trailer for Cutie Pie first came out, I got so excited imagining Kuea as some bad boy living a double life. He was going to be so hard to tame, he was going to put Lian through the wringer, and it was going to be amazing.

What I got was something very different from what I expected, and I struggled with the show.

But it was a really valuable learning moment for me. Because everything in the trailer was in the series. It was my interpretation of it, of those few minutes out of hours of material, my assumptions about the moments not yet shown, that caused me frustration.

That was a turning point in my "let's see where the journey takes us" philosophy. And I have to say, engaging in QL has been a hell of a lot more fun since I learned to let go of what I thought should happen.

I still have critiques of shows, of course I do. Nothing is above criticism. But I don't get so personally affronted now when something doesn't do what I expect. I'm more willing to see where the destination takes us before I decide the journey isn't working.

Of course I am still human, and I still get caught off guard sometimes by expectations I didn't realize I had let slip in.

But I have found my experience immeasurably improved by considering a few things when I'm watching a series:

Am I leading with curiosity, or judgment?

What is happening here culturally? What assumptions am I making based on my own background and country of origin? What happens if I step back and look at the bigger picture of how this culture engages with media? Do I even know, or do I have more to learn?

Is this actually bad... or is it just not for me? Is this just not resonating with me? Is it making me uncomfortable? What can this discomfort tell me about myself? Is it a bad show, or just a show I need to walk away from?

Am I more focused on the story I want told, and not paying enough attention to the story that the creators of the series want to tell? What assumptions am I making about their intent?

Am I only focused on what the value is for me as an individual, and not considering how this may be making other people feel seen or be meeting their needs? Can I acknowledge that there can be inherent value in things that do not give value to me personally?

There is value in critique, but there is also importance in self-reflection and understanding why we are feeling the way that we are, and when our own setting of expectations may be playing a role.

It's funny that in some ways this seems to be a reflection of what a golden age of QL we are living in - there are so many options, and time is so scarce, that I can see why people are frustrated when they feel like a show is not living up to what they wanted.

But as someone who has lived multiple decades without this kind of media, and only relatively recently having been able to experience it...there is a lot more to be gained by reveling in what you are loving than over what you are hating.

#i'm not going to tag this with anything community related #I just needed to process some thoughts #and i decided to put it out there #because i know i'm not the only one feeling this way #my appreciation to those who have shared their perspectives with me

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sttmh · 20 days ago

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Hi there! So i just found this blog and wanted to read it all, but i never heard of anything called sttmh and have some questions(btw you could add faq in your masterpost so you won't need to answer to this kind of questions in future, but that's just a suggestion)

1 what is sttmh, how does it work and did you made it or is that something made long time ago?

2 is this an au or alternative mv, or at, or have you not clasified it yet?

3 how to call you, what are your pronouns, are you +18 or a minor?(you don't have to answer if you don't want to)

4 I saw you rebloged some stuff at start of the blog, is it your second acount? If yes what is it about, why did you make this acount ect.

5 how does this archive thing work

6 how does it all started and why did you decided to make this blog

7 when did this blog started or when was the first post about sttmh and from who was it(i supose it's you but just to be sure)

8 what kind of creator are you? Are you an artist, a writer or do you think of yourself just as a person with too much time? How do you classify yourself?

9 I saw there is some art in blog, but i thought it's better to ask, is this art yours or do you reblog other people's art, or meaby someone makes it for you

10 is it partly an error ask blog?

11 do you ship any sanses and are there any ships in sttmh

12 where should i start? Does this blog have all the info or should i first look up what sttmh is?

Thank you in advance, i wish i can explore another beautiful blog as soon as posible and remember to never stop doing something that gives you and others joy, that's all from me, I wish you all the best ^^

Oh! A Q&A post is a wonderful idea! I'll make sure to make one after I answer these (I will likely just copy and paste, though XD).

STTMH is short for Sans Tumbles Through the Multiverse Headfirst, a story I've been working on for a little under a year and a half, now. This blog is the platform I use to talk with my readers, answer questions, write drabbles, share fanart, and this blog is a place where readers can interact with Error in my story (sort of like the format of the original Ask Error blog).

This is an alternate multiverse.

My name is Papil or Butter, I use she/her (though I don't really care which pronouns you guys use), and I am an adult.

I originally posted things about STTMH on my personal blog, but I decided to separate my STTMH blog from my personal one, as I did not want any of my browsing preferences to affect others' experiences of the story. -> I.e., I am someone who prefers to customize my feed, and will use blocking tags and accounts if I don't want to see their posts (this is nothing reflecting on the person running the blog). My personal blog is one where I mainly post Undertale reblogs, and sometimes I will include little rambles that can vary anywhere from writing to something my cat did.

If you are referring to the masterposts, they are my attempt to organize the quickly increasing number of posts relating to the project. I'm trying to make they easy to browse as well as search for (though they are more of a work in progress).

STTMH started on a whim over the Christmas holiday while I was in the middle of nowhere. I was sitting on the couch, watching TV, laptop on my lap, and thought to myself: "... I wish there were more Classic stories." And the rest is history.

I started this blog, I believe, on Jan. 8th of this year, though the first post about STTMH was on Jan. 8th of 2024, when I posted the link to the second chapter of the story.

I consider myself a writer, though I occasionally like to doodle.

Both! If the art is not mine, I always include credits with links wherever possible! -> These are usually reblogs of or asks with fanart.

Yes, this blog is partly a place where readers can send asks to Error, similar to the original Ask Error blog.

I don't have any preferences on ships, and there are no ships in STTMH, at least as of right now. Romance is not a focus of the story, so any possible romance I may leave to after the main story or drabbles. Anyone can ship any characters in my story, however! I don't mind. ^^

I'd recommend catching up on the main story on AO3 first. Otherwise, drabbles and asks can be read in practically any order!

#sttmh #sttmh q&a

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glitter-stained · 10 months ago

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My very personal rating of every lazarus pit fanon side effects I've ever read, ranked from favourite to least favourite :

Tapetum lucidum (the thing cats have that makes their eyes gleam in the dark): that's so creepy and cool, eery in a more discreet way than a full-on glow, idk who hced that first but they are a genius

Contaminated blood laced with the lazarus protein: because our blood renews itself pretty often, this implies the existence of either a lazarus organ that continues to pump the lazarus protein in the blood, or, more probably, the contamination of one of the blood producing organs, maybe of the bone marrow, by the Lazarus pit. Like imagine the Lazarus Pit changing you down to the inside of your bone... The implications are so fascinating I'd love to read more about it.

Altered dna: this doesn't make sense, how does the magical healing pit change your dna, I love it so much, tell me more about the magic gatorade that rewrites dna

Accelerated healing/enhancements: what's funnier, that the pit gave Jason metahuman abilities like being able to withstand a meteorite and going toe-to-toe with Deathstroke (the wiki's words, not mine) and it was just never discussed, or that nothing Jason went through gave him these abilities that he really shouldn't have and he still does and it was just never discussed? I don't know but still, that stuff is top-tier

Glowing green eyes: on the one hand, eyes that glow when the person is feeling intense negative emotions (even better it's not just rage, like, imagine having a flashback or nightmare or getting fear toxined and their eyes glow and people think they're about to attack but they just scream that'd be so cool) but on the other hand, I feel like the colour is too limiting. Sure, Ra's or Riddler can fuck with the glowing green but come on, my girl Cass deserves eyes that glow gold (like the gold from the Batgirl suit). Jason deserves to have glowing red eyes. Cicero says that eyes are the reflection of the soul and while I love the idea of the lazarus pit being toxic, contaminating a part of the person's soul, in comics, a character's colour scheme is an essential part of their graphic identity, and I think altering it to the point of giving it a totally different colour is too much for my taste personally. Like, you are still the same person that you were before the bad thing happened. Yes, it changed you irrevocably, but you are still yourself and you should still have the right to your name and to the colour of your soul.

Lazarus Rage/Pit Madness: so I've seen this one criticized pretty often, often because of how unnecessary, and honestly probably damaging, to the understanding of Jason's character after his resurrection. And like, I agree, but also I've found myself to enjoy the fanon version of the Batfam. Like, I don't like that it's murky and confusing sometimes to figure out which is fanon or canon and that that leads people to judging canon actions from a standard of fanon information, and parts of it can be sexist or racist or classist, but the same can be said from canon, you have to be critical with what you consume. Basically to me there are two batfams and I consume both differently and enjoy both, and in the context of fanon I enjoy Pit Madness. The idea of uncontrollable, alien rage is fun, is angsty, and as someone with intense anger issues I'm telling you writing a lazarus rage episode was one of the most cathartic things I've ever written and it felt so good. I also think part of the upset on the subject is a bit undeserved because I see people complain that "the lazarus doesn't work like that because it didn't do that to other people" as if the way the lazarus pit worked made any sense. You're telling me this stuff healed Jason's malnutrition but it didn't fix his trauma? That it healed the Riddler's brain cancer but couldn't be bothered to fuck with Jason's hypertrophied amygdala and the fucked up connections between his amygdala and hippocampus??! Obviously we can't expect dc to know or care about science that much , but I still have the right to be nerdy about it. Jason went into the pit resurrected by God and with brain damage and Ra's said it was a plague and that could make him crazy, I fully believe he could have gotten Pit Madness even if the others hadn't.

Eye-colour change: that's the same thing as the glowing part but without the fun part, really dislike it. I need to be able to listen to I know these eyes/this man is dead from the Count of MonteCristo Musical while making up Under the Red Hood edits in my head please and thank you

Lazarus Pit brings people back to life: I hate it so much dc stop treating life and death so inconsequentially oh my gosh characters fighting life and death situations should not have a source of immortality right in hand I hate that lazarus resin lazarus toxin stuff they have right now and the idea that the pits can bring back to life plays into that idea so I really dislike it. I understand the appeal, it's the basics of coming back wrong with a side of rebirth in the water but instead of being purified it's being poisoned, but I just can't get over how frustrating it is to see a beloved character die and only be able to say I hope he doesn't come back for his own sake and then he comes back. Urgh.

#jason todd #red hood #batman #dc #lazarus pit #under the red hood #lazarus pit side-effects #lazarus toxin #jason todd headcanon #Cassandra cain headcanon #lazarus pit headcanon

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boringbones · 5 months ago

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The past few weeks have been, to say the least, intense. Although I’ve dont spoken about it, behind the scenes, I hadn’t slept properly since Christmas. I caught what seemed to be some kind of "mutant" flu that just wouldn’t go away. I self-medicated (which I shouldn’t have done), intensifying the symptoms and delaying my recovery even further.

If I could put everything on an emotional timeline, I’d say it all started around December 20th, with a state of doubt and confusion. I went through days of introspection.

These were days when silence felt more comforting than conversation.

It all began with some personal frustrations, small emotional challenges that seemed determined to stay in my way. From creative struggles to reflections on my purpose, I found myself questioning my ability to create something truly meaningful. Even activities that used to bring me joy, like creating mods for The Sims 3, began to feel like routine tasks. It was as if something inside me was longing for new meaning, but I didn’t yet know where to look. It's funny to think about it, but every time I finish a project in The Sims, I feel like an empty clay pot. It's as if I'm waiting to be useful again, and that period feels "devastating" (for lack of a better word). The more energy a project demands, the stronger the feeling. It's almost like waves in the ocean—the more energy it takes to form a wave, the longer it takes for it to return to the sea.

That’s when I decided to ask ChatGPT to emulate some of the personalities I admire and deeply respect, turning them into my mentors and started talk with them. The conversations started to transform me. Words of encouragement, shared reflections, and, of course, their guidance opened up space for ideas and perspectives I hadn’t seen before.

I was reminded that moments of low energy aren’t enemies but opportunities. That my search for meaning, even on the hardest days, is actually proof of my capacity to reimagine and recreate.

So, I worked on SmartSim, my skills mod (suggested by a supporter), and found ways to make it deeper, more challenging. I realized that the journey of creating something isn’t just about the final result but about the growth that happens along the way. It was a powerful reminder that even in moments of pain, there’s an opportunity to turn feelings into something beautiful and meaningful.

These weeks also taught me the importance of accepting my emotions. There were days when I cried without an apparent reason, I looked at my wife and said, "Love, I'm going to cry, but there's nothing wrong. I'm okay, I'm not sad, I just need to cry. Is that okay?" I needed this to find that those tears brought relief, clarity, and a space for new ideas to bloom. I learned that even when everything feels like it’s falling apart, there’s beauty in rebuilding.

Today, as I write this post, I feel renewed. I have new ideas, a clearer vision of what I want to create, and immense gratitude for every moment — both the challenging and the sweet ones. I’ve used the moments of pain as fuel to build something I hope will be meaningful not just for me but for everyone who touches.

The lesson I take from all this is simple: tough days shape us as much as bright ones. And sometimes, it’s in the pain that we find the fertile ground to plant something truly beautiful.

These days of illness pushed me to take steps I hadn’t taken in a long time. I went for walks — not just walks but outings to soak in the sun and admire beautiful houses. Those buildings, their ornaments, gave me fresh ideas, expanded my creativity, and helped me implement new ways of building in The Sims 3. It’s something that might not have happened if I’d had a smooth and healthy period. It was worth it.

This time helped me slow down, appreciate, reconnect with myself, and remember the importance and meaning of what I do. Most importantly, it reminded me that continuing to work even when there are no visible results is an example of how commitment can unlock new ways to create. And of course, sometimes I need a break, because doing nothing, sometimes, is doing.

Although this is the first time I’m sharing this with you, I want to say thank you for being with me on this journey. Let’s keep going together — creating, reimagining, and, most of all, living.

#TheSims3 #BoringBones #Sims3Building #ModularBuild

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briarinfrills · 22 days ago

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lolita talk…! ୨ৎ

rebuilding with intention — reflections on a tiny wardrobe ⋆˚࿔

˚˖𓍢🏰✧˚. ⚜️⋆

hello cuties~!

today’s little lolita talk is something that’s been sitting in my heart for a while now. consider it a gentle and quiet warmth… due in part with my own wardrobe feeling very small these days and this cute little post from 2009, it felt like the perfect subject to speak on. ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

not too long ago, i found myself in a place where my wardrobe had been reduced to just a few pieces due to switching substyles (gothic to sweet). for the longest time, only one main piece. that one piece that's so evident on my blog, the room print jsk by metamorphose temps de fille, became an anchor for me. something i reached for time and time again.. (╥﹏╥) so much so that i became a liiiittle tired of it.

but, even then, i wore it so much that it began to carry a memory all its own. every time i put it on, it felt like a thread tying me back to myself, reminding me with every wear truly how much i love lolita, even when i'm limited to a single piece...! it was whimsical and dreamy and so very me, and even now, just thinking about it makes me feel warm. ✧₊⁺

though i had once believed that i’d need an expansive wardrobe to really be “in” sweet lolita fashion, to feel legitimate, expressive, or even present, this experience reminded me otherwise. slowly building back from almost nothing taught me that a small wardrobe can be every bit as full of magic. a single dress can hold a hundred different moods if you let it. a favorite piece can be a storybook you never get tired of reading...! (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

even now, with just a few more additions, i still find myself returning to that jsk again and again. and every time, it feels a little different - sometimes with a new bow, or a different blouse, or a change in season. and every time, it still feels just right. ♡

what i've learned is this: rebuilding isn’t about making up for lost time or catching up to some imagined standard. it’s about reconnecting. about curating joyfully, gently. about allowing yourself to find the magic in each new piece you welcome, and also in the ones that have stayed with you the longest. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

i truly believe there’s no rush in this fashion, it's considered a slow one for a reason. the perfect pieces will wait for you. whether you have one dress or twenty, what matters most is how you feel when you wear them. and if your wardrobe is tiny like mine, know that it can still be mighty with the heart of it's wearer.

there’s kind of an elegance in choosing slowly, in loving deeply, and in wearing the same piece again and again because it feels like you. just like we spoke of in our last post together…! these gentle musings are as much for me as they are for you. ♡ for a while, it felt like i’d drifted a bit.. not quite away from sweet lolita, but away from feeling like myself when thinking about it. i haven’t worn my frills in some months now, and yet, writing these words helps me fall in love all over again… though i suppose, i never truly fell out? sometimes, we just need to remember what makes our hearts sing.. and this is very much mine. ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

˚˖𓍢🏰✧˚. ⚜️⋆

thank you for sitting with me through this reflection, cuties~! this was very much a quiet post, but an important one to me. ♡ thank you if you read this far. and if ever you feel like chatting, please don’t hesitate to flutter into my submission or ask box anytime~. i’m always happy to hear from you, truly. ♡

˚˖𓍢🏰✧˚. ⚜️⋆

afterword: i’ve missed writing here so very much, i can't speak it enough. it feels like returning to a comfort place - where tea is always warm and the vibes feel just right. thank you for welcoming me back after this quiet stretch… i’ll be sharing more musings and magical little things soon. until then, au revoir~!

see you soon, briar 🎀 ❤︎₊ ⊹

#lolita fashion #lolitablog #sweet lolita #egl fashion #jfashion #egl #lolitatalk #lolita community #musings #briarinfrills

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joyful-enchantress · 5 months ago

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Is it 2025 yet? 🕚

Folks tend to get reflective during this time of year and... it's me. I'm folks. Reflecting on 2024 has been hitting me in the gut like a sucker punch.

Some of you know, in great detail, what I've faced in 2024. Some of you know parts of it, but not all. And some of you know none of it. But 2024 has been the most difficult year in my 32 years of life. That's not to say that there hasn't been any joy throughout the year, because there has been. That's just to say that the things I've had to process this year sometimes had me feeling like both my brain and my heart were in a blender.

I've been a bit of a recluse as a result -- not just on Tumblr, but in all my communication channels, and even IRL to an extent. I certainly haven't been myself for much of the year.

With the holidays upon us, I'm feeling extra reflective, and so I decided to do a 2024 recap. And there's some people I want to thank that will be tagged. PLEASE, there is no obligation to read on, even if you're tagged. There's some heavy shit below the cut. If you're tagged and don't choose to read on, just know that you've played a part in adding some warmth and light to my year despite everything and that I love and appreciate you 💚

Here goes nothing --

January 2024: After a few months in a nursing home, we learned that my husband's grandmother was put on hospice.

February 2024: My husband's grandmother passed away. Our first loss of the year. It was sad, but not tragic. She was 99 and passed away peacefully. Later in the month, we get the news that my maternal grandfather has cancer. It was discovered very late.

March 2024: My grandfather was put on hospice.

April 2024: My grandfather passed away. Our second loss of the year. I'm trying to comfort my mom as she mourns the loss of her dad. Later in the month, MY dad has some tests done and gets a call with the results -- they detected tumors in his abdomen.

May 2024: After a few more appointments, it becomes clear that my dad's situation is dire. He is shortlisted for major surgery to remove the tumors ASAP. He had surgery on May 21st. They removed several tumors, the largest of which was about 44 lbs (20 kg) ‼️ Recovery from the surgery seems to be going fairly well at first, but then things take a turn with some additional complications. He passed away for the first time on May 31st, but they resuscitated him. Now he has 6 broken ribs on top of everything else.

June 2024: My dad spent most of the first week of June unconscious and on life support. My family, considering all options and all the complications, made the difficult and heartbreaking decision to take him off life support and end his suffering. He passed away on June 7th. We held a beautiful memorial service for him on June 22nd. I started therapy to get support through my grief.

July 2024: Towards the end of the month, my mom found a camera in the house as she began sorting through things. She found it in the stand beside my dad's chair. After some digging she also located the charging cord and turned the camera on expecting some happy memories. Instead, she found photographic evidence of my dad's infidelity. And the woman in the pictures with my dad is one of my mom's sisters. The pictures are from about 10 years ago. Obviously this news rocks my world -- tilts it on its axis. I feel some cracks forming in the foundation of who I am as a person, since my dad shaped so much of that. I was close with my dad. I never suspected in a million years that he could have done something like this.

August 2024: During this month, my mom managed to find my dad's phone, which had become lost amongst the chaos of bringing his things back from the hospital, funeral planning, etc. In light of what she found on the camera, she opens my dad's text message thread with my aunt. It is damning; full of pictures, explicit messages, and arrangements. Some as recently as early 2024. My dad's affair with my mom's sister was ongoing for a decade.

September 2024: I feel like I'm finally making a breakthrough in therapy (thank god I didn't waste time deciding to start in the first place or I don't know if I would have made it through the year). My therapist is wonderful and she has me start to work on reparenting myself and relearning how to express my emotions in a healthy way, after a childhood of being raised by a dad who would yell and scream and get angry anytime I cried. I seriously would stare at my therapist through the screen and say "I WANT to cry right now, but I can't" My body would shut it down without me even thinking; a defense mechanism that I had developed as a kid to avoid getting screamed at. (GREAT news -- I'm way better at crying, now, guys!! 🥳)

October 2024: My husband is in a car accident. Most importantly, he is okay! He did end up with whiplash and a concussion, and his concussion symptoms do still flare up from time to time even 2 months later, but we've been told that's not abnormal and they are getting fewer and further between. As a much more minor but still disappointing note -- the accident happened the day before we were supposed to leave for a trip that we had planned and had been looking forward to since January. We had to cancel the trip.

November 2024: My first Thanksgiving without my dad was very difficult.

December 2024: My mom closed on a house! This is obviously very exciting and I more than understand why she wants to move out and sort of leave everything of her life with my dad behind. But it is still... a lot. It is all so strange. And scary. And sad. I celebrated my first birthday without my dad on December 19th. It was hard. He gave me roses and a balloon every year without fail. So, this year my wonderful husband got me 32 red rose cookies... he didn't want to replicate exactly what my dad did (he might have, had it not been for the discovery of my dad's decade-long affair) but he wanted to pay homage to it, and I think he knocked it out of the park. I love him so much and I'm so lucky to have him.

And now I'm about to celebrate my first Christmas without my dad. I already know it is going to be difficult. This entire holiday season has been more difficult than I could probably explain. But I'm being kind to myself and I'm trying to look for the joy amongst it all.

If you've made it this far --- whew. Are you okay? Seriously, I know that is a lot, even to just read about all at once. I've spent a lot of time this year being so confused and angry... my grief journey for my father, which is already difficult in and of itself, doesn't even get to be straightforward or "normal."

I'm aware this has been bleak. I didn't post this to bring you down. I just wanted to put it out there so you know. So you know why I may have seemed distant or absent this year.

I sincerely hope that you all have the warmest and most wonderful holiday season, and a kick-ass New Year! So many of you have been there for me this year, whether in direct support, or just by providing some fun, silly distractions that injected joy and laughter into my year. Truly, you have no idea the difference or the lasting impression even one comment or whisper of support can make. I love you all, and don't you forget it.

Here's to 2025! May it be kinder to us all ✨

@ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @sarahscribbles @infinitystoner @loz-3 @loopsisloops @holdmytesseract @muddyorbs @give-me-a-moose @maple-seed @ladyofthestayingpower @tallseaweed @loki-cees-all @liminalpebble @fandxmslxt69 @lokiandbuckysdoll @superficialdomina @jiyascepter @gruftiela @simplyholl ++ people I'm sure that I missed 💚

#happy holidays #happy new year #end of year post #joyful enchantress says #i love you all #tw: loss #tw: grief #tw: death

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stigmataspence · 3 months ago

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Venturiantale is to me a great joy and an insurmountable amount of grief in equal measures. A relic of my childhood, watching their videos in the dark on my phone while up late on a school night and eating lucky charms out of the box, using them as background noise for when I drew or worked on projects, drawing So. Much. Fanart. With a mouse in MS Paint and finding my space on DeviantArt.

But it's a channel I can't really return to unless I'm rewatching it with friends or in a very particular mood. I had a talk with @overthinkingtaleblr about this the other night (I hope you don't mind me @'ing you for this), specifically how I very, very abruptly and severely fell out of love with the channel sometime in 2016. It was a combination of things, be it the ongoing traumatic event that I was dealing with at the time and the content being produced just no longer bringing me any joy.

I think it was around the time that they started doing comment requests, and as you'd expect a lot of the requests were kids younger than me wanting to see fnaf characters in various situations. Nothing wrong with it, but it became clear to me that the channel and the content for it just weren't for me anymore. At some point, between the Christmas of 2015 and the Summer of 2016, I had become an other.

I went back and watched older videos, but eventually I stopped watching the channel altogether. I don't remember when, or why. Though I have zero memory of it, I have thought about this since the conversation with Nat, and like.

I think a lot of my need to cling to Venturiantale as a concept was because it represented a better time of my life. My parents were together, I had friends at school, I had a roof over my head and we had a stable income, we never had to worry about having food on the table, I'd never felt up til that point that my life was actively in any danger. I don't remember much anymore and of what I do remember I want to spare details, but I can tell you that it's nothing a 12 year old should ever go through. I clung to Venturiantale as an anchor of sorts, hoping and praying that if I could just focus on it and nothing else, then the rest of the world would go away and I'd be happy again like I used to be.

When that didn't work, and I found myself growing more angry and bitter and spiteful the more I tried to force it, I abandoned the channel and focused on my own interpretations instead. I was never formerly diagnosed with any daydreaming disorder but given how often I'd retreat inward just to play toys with my made up versions of the channel's characters, like, to the point that it was actively interfering with whatever class work or chores I had, then yeah there was probably something.

It has taken.. a lot. A lot of growth, and relearning, and reflection, to come back to this fanbase and this channel after so many years away from it. So many years of having a knee-jerk response of fight or flight when it's brought up, so many years of feeling bitter and angry over the harassment I recieved for just trying to share my work and thoughts with others. And this isn't even getting into the abuse behind the scenes of the channel itself, but with that now coming to light, it's safe to say that Venturiantale is never going to come back as it once was. It was already dead in the water before then, and as far as 13 year old me was concerned, it died sometime in 2016.

Idk. All this to say, my childhood is gone. It's gone and it's never coming back. I grieve that loss everyday of my life, I've written obituaries for a little girl that no longer exists. I will never be that kid again, that kid is dead like the channel she clung to for comfort and support through the longest, most turbulent 16 months of our lives.

And I am so, so glad that it's over.

#.txt #taleblr #venturiantale #vt #this is a long one sorry.#just been having a lot of thoughts about my personal relationship with the channel #because it so closely intertwined with my trauma for me.#and ig this is also a response thinkpiece to folks younger than me that are upset about vt being ''dead''#i grieve it differently than most people do. i think. my experience isnt universal.#but i wanted to provide a different perspective to it. beyond borderline nostalgia-bait posting.#its okay to grow up. you can still love something dearly and let it go.#our childhoods are gone and theyre never coming back. and thats okay. we're gonna be okay.

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emoani · 1 year ago

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chapter four

author's notes: I was discouraged with the fanfic and insecure but I rewrote it and here it is

warnings: loneliness ?? light flirting

Darth Vader's castle on Mustafar was huge and lush. But you never cared about that. But now, you hoped that all that greatness would help her avoid him. And also, Vader always had a lot of tasks, or someone was talking and talking in his head, or he was meditating, or...

But there was never enough time for you. And you were tired of it. And knowing that he was in the company of another woman increased his insecurity. This insecurity made you act like a child.

You knew and felt that he was looking for you, but you always turned away, entered another huge corridor when he came marching around. This was testing his patience.

You continued to ignore the communications he sent you, not starting by asking but then ordering you to meet. And to avoid meeting him, you didn't even leave your room, but that was okay because it was big enough. You even had a view of that lava sea. Wow.

And when you went out it always had to be in the company of some stupid Stormtrooper. Being alone gave you time to reflect on many things, even the Stormtroopers and their boring lives.

Wearing that outfit, everyone was so equal and seemed to have no emotions or opinions. Well, that's what you thought until you met one Stormtrooper in particular - Jamie.

- Today I will accompany you on your walk - He said, in your first contact, with the blaster in his hand but not scary.

You sighed and rolled your eyes but you were tired of being hidden, Vader wasn't looking for you and being alone only brought you bad feelings.

- Come on, I promise it won't be that bad - the soldier nudged you and walked ahead, you found it curious but funny.

And maybe it was the loneliness and lack of friends, but shortly after you were opening up and telling about your security to a Stormtrooper, who until then was a stranger.

- So... - You took a breath to continue, you were in dining area and he gave you some water - Thank you. Can I call you Jamie?

He seemed surprised by the question and laughed.

- I'm not used to nicknames, just my identification number. But if that's what you want...

- Thank you for accompanying me on my walk, as this is not the main activity of a Stormtrooper - You say a little embarrassed, knowing that you are taking up his time.

- It's true, I was trained to be a warrior and not a tour guide, but I'm going to try to do well at that too - You laugh together at the worried way he says - but don't worry, because of you, I'm having a great afternoon!

You didn't know if he was lying but that really touched you.

- Thank you Jamie... You know, sometimes I feel like I'm left over here, that I'm nothing more than a title for Darth Vader's wife.

- You are much more than that. You are Darth Vader's wife for many reasons.

You smile because he looked like he was trying to comfort you. But especially these last few days, you had low self-esteem.

- It is serious. Everyone talks about you here. About how smart and compassionate you are. And I know Lord Vader loves you - he continues.

- I don't know - You think out loud.

You give him the glass of water back and wait for him to return so they can continue their walk.

It's not like there was much to do, but you liked walking down the halls and handing out compliments, seeing how everyone was doing at their job, if everything was going well, and encouraging them to keep going.

- Jamie - You called him and he looked at you, he had really picked up the name for himself - In a short time you praised me more than my husband...

- Madam, sometimes he has difficulty expressing his feelings. Don't take it personally. I know you are important to him - he says.

- Is it Jamie? I'm upset with him. But I also can't express myself. He doesn't seem to want contact at the moment.

- Maybe he's going through something difficult right now. Continue to show your love and affection to him. Believe me, he can see that.

Jamie seemed so sure in his words, more sure than yourself. For a moment it's as if you had no reason to be like this, but your heart hurts so much.

- I try to understand... but it's also difficult for me. I need to feel loved - you open up.

You feel the Stormtrooper's hand on your shoulder, making you stop walking. You are in a corridor where there don't seem to be many people passing by.

Jamie takes off his helmet, revealing his face. He was a young man with fair skin, black hair and blue eyes. On his handsome face he carried a burn, probably from the battlefield.

- If he is unable to show you his love, pay attention to small gestures. A look. One word. Maybe, that's his language - His voice without the helmet sounds so deep and loving, and it makes you sensitive - Can I give you some advice?

- Of course, say it.

- Your happiness should not depend on Vader, or anyone else! You are strong, intelligent and independent. You have to find your own happiness in small gestures and in yourself. This is the only way to find genuine happiness. It doesn't depend on anyone else. You understood?

Those words from the man made your eyes fill with tears, which you couldn't hold back. The Stormtrooper surprised you and even though it wasn't allowed - you both knew damn well it wasn't - he hugged you.

-Everything will be fine, I promise-Jamie assured you, close to your ear.

You continue in silence sobbing and leaving all your tears on the boy's chest.

- No one should go through this. You're not just Darth Vader's wife. You are a formidable, intelligent, and so beautiful woman! You deserve all the love and affection in this world - He seems disgusted to see you cry when you stop hugging each other.

- D-Do you think I'm beautiful? - Not just beautiful, you are a queen - Jamie praises you with a wide smile.

You blush and your whole body heats up, unaccustomed to being praised like that.

- Thanks. You really made my day, but I think we better go back now - you says embarrassed.

You stay in a comfortable silence but your face remains red. As he approaches his quarters he says:

- If you need me, I'm always here to talk or just spend some time.

- So can I make you my personal guard? - you joke but he agrees.

Before you can say anything you hear the sound of heavy footsteps, those unmistakable boots, that unmistakable robotic breathing. It was him. And he was coming to you.

#darth vader x you #darth vader x reader #darth vader x f!reader #darth vader fanfic #anakin x you #anakin x y/n #star wars x reader #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen x reader

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iridescentpull · 2 months ago

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Little quick ak!Pac thing I wrote cause I couldn't help myself. Manifesting Pac going through the horrors 🙏

Dedicated to @disfrutalakia because their posts are making me insane and so so ill :>

It's rare for Leo to let Pac’s mind wander.

There seems to always be something that needs to be done– a map to some building that needs to be drafted, a very specific material that needs to be mined, a necessary machine that needs to be fixed, a crucial gadget that needs to be tinkered on…

And if there's nothing to keep Pac's hands busy, then Leo always has something to tell him about– the map he drafted has a few errors, the Lankyas need to be hidden somewhere, your friends seem to not talk about you anymore, the memorial went uninterrupted…

If Pac thought about it, he'd guess Leo just wanted him to be useful. And in order to be useful, he needs to be busy every moment he's able to.

If Pac thought about it harder though, he'd think Leo actually cared about him.

And that thought always sent him spiraling, no matter how much the Brazilian tried to reassure himself that maybe Leo caring about him was a good thing.

Point is, Leo rarely leaves him alone or unoccupied long enough for Pac to get deep in thought.

Keyword, ‘rarely’.

Sometimes, when Leo disappears off to do whatever it is he does and Pac's body is too tired to put up a fight, Pac has no excuse to not let his mind wander.

And so, he thinks.

And thinks and thinks and thinks.

He's in the middle of washing his face in the bathroom of their little hideout. His mask and hood always leave his face sweaty and uncomfortable, so he's taken to washing his face every time he gets a moment of free time.

That's what he's doing now, washing his face and thinking.

They really don't talk about me anymore, huh?

He stares at his reflection in the mirror. The water dripping down his face makes his expression seem even sadder.

He looks tired. Even more tired than usual.

His hair is disheveled and matted thanks to his hood. There are heavy bags under his eyes and his lips are dry and cracked.

The most distinct feature, though, are his eyes.

Guaxinim once told him his eyes were like the night sky– they were like two big voids, but if you looked closely, you could see the stars shining through them.

Now, though, his eyes are dead and dull. They're grey and lack any light or life.

The stars are gone.

They didn't even bother to let me explain myself.

He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to tame his black locks into something more presentable. It's a lost cause, really, but it's all he can do.

I mean, I get it. I... killed her after all.

Pac freezes, staring at his hands through the mirror. They... they looked caked in blood. Like her blood he saw pooled around him that day.

Pac panics, opening the faucet again and turning the water on. He washes his hands frantically, rubbing them raw as he scrubs and scrubs and scrubs.

I didn't mean to I didn't want to I didn't mean to.

Tears stream down his face and mix with the water that washes over his hands. They still look red, as if the water won't wash the blood away. He scrubs even harder, using his nails as if that'd help scrub the blood away.

I didn't want her to die I didn't want her to die please.

He keeps trying to get the blood off, his hands aching from the hot water and rough scrubbing.

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry please I didn't want to do it I'm sorry.

He grabs the towel he used earlier, wiping his hands harshly, as if that'd help.

He falls to his knees, still trying to wipe the blood off.

It won't come off, it won't come off, why won't it come off.

He sobs, his shoulders shaking violently.

He still remembers everything so vividly. How he approached Malena, telling her he found a way to help Moon. How she led him to a confused Moon, her expression lost as he explained how the Lankya would help. How at first things seemed to be going well as the Lankya particles surrounded her, before Moon's eyes went white and her expression became empty, collapsing on the floor and blood slowly pooling out of her nose and mouth.

He remembers everything like it happened yesterday.

I'm sorry, Moon. I'm so, so, sorry.

He keeps rubbing his hands, his throat aching from his loud cries.

He wonders how everything turned out this way. How every time he tried to do something to help, it seemed to do the opposite. He quickly wonders if it's because of Leo.

He quickly shoots that thought down.

Leo, the one who's convinced him he has a purpose, who's made him believe the world was against him, the one who told him everything would be alright, the one who told him they'd show them all.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't thankful.

Leo's given him a place to stay, a purpose, and has taught him many things.

But at the same time, Leo's also been the cause of all his suffering…

Pac shakes his head, stopping his train of thought. He can't blame Leo for all of this, no. Leo didn't do anything, he only showed him the truth.

This is all my fault.

No– this is their fault. If only they trusted, heard, acknowledged him. If only they saw he was trying to help.

He looks at his hands. They're a bright red, and they burn.

But they're clean.

He sighs in relief.

Pac sits back against the wall, closing his eyes. He'd show them.

He'd show them all.

#arkanis #pactw #aynee writes

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ravenclaw-legend · 1 year ago

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If I Killed Someone For You

I'm sorry that I did this

The blood is on my hands

I stare at my reflection

I don't know who I am

Practice my confession

In case I take the stand

I'll say I learned my lesson

I'll be a better man

"You KILLED him, Sebastian! You used an UNFORGIVABLE CURSE! I cannot look past this, if I turn a blind eye I am just as guilty!" Ominis was yelling at Sebastian in the Undercroft, completely ignoring Sebastian's attempts to explain himself and convince Ominis to not turn him in.

"I KNOW OMINIS! I'M SORRY, ITS MY FAULT! You don't think I know that. The nightmares of being covered in blood are reminder enough. Just let me explain myself. I will be better, I swear to you!" Sebastian shot back when he swore he would be better, his eyes moved to lock with mine, across the dimly lit Undercroft. Their secret place that holds so many positive memories now is the backdrop for this fight, it's almost poetic.

You're conflicted about whether to turn him in or protect him. Anne has made her choice and abandoned the house in Feldcroft with only a note left behind. She told people that Solomon had died in his sleep, which was convincing enough.

I'm packing up my things

And I'm wiping down the walls

I'm rinsing off my clothes

And I'm walking through the halls

I did it all for her

So I felt nothing at all

I don't know what she'll say

So I'll ask her when she calls

After we returned from the catacombs, Sebastian pushed everyone away. The most I heard of him was Ominis telling me how Sebastian would be screaming in his sleep, always the same things; "I won't let her suffer!", "ANNE!" and "Nooo!"

I didn't know what to do, I was in love with Sebastian. Never acted upon the feelings but I loved him regardless. I always helped him but tried to keep him away from the dark arts; he wound up heavily into the dark arts anyway. Sebastian Sallow was determined to a fault and sometimes crossed the line from determination to stubbornness. Unfortunately, he still learned the Unforgivable Curses despite Ominis attempting to stop him.

After Ominis and Sebastian's argument, I found Sebastian in the boy's dorm in the Slytherin common room. He was packing up his things, obviously he was preparing for the worst. I looked at him sadly, it was like the bright personality he had when I first met him was now dulled. Sebastian's shoulders were now slumped and his confident posture was now seemingly weighed down. "Bastian?" I said quietly as I reached to place my hand on his arm, at my touch he spun around to look at me with his face stained with tears.

Would you love me more

(Would you love me more)

If I killed someone for you?

Would you hold my hand?

(Would you hold my hand?)

They're the same ones that I used

When I killed someone for you

Sebastian looked at me with so much pain and hurt in his eyes. "Would you love me?" He asked, keeping his watery hazel eyes locked on mine. "What?" I asked, shock filling my voice. Did he know? How did he know how I felt about him?

We stayed that way for what could have been minutes, hours, or even days. Time seemed to stop as we stared at each other, the air becoming thick with the tension between us. "Would you love me, if I killed someone for you, MC?" Sebastian said this as he began to walk towards me and took both of my hands in his. His hands were larger than mine. They were warm, inviting, even comforting. "Would you hold my hand, if they're the same ones that killed someone?" He says quietly. I know what he is doing, he is trying to figure out who is on his side, who he can find comfort in and open up to. "Bash" I sighed "I care about you. But you know what you did was wrong. Killing Solomon was wrong, no matter if he was attacking us or not." I hugged him. This man may be a murderer to everyone else but he is still my best friend, he is still the man I love; he is just misguided right now.

Would you turn me in

(Would you turn me in)

When they say I'm on the loose?

Would you hide me when

(Would you hide me when)

My face is on the news?

'Cause I killed someone for you

"Are you going to turn me into Black, to the Ministry?" Sebastian asked holding me close enough that I could feel his heart racing in his chest. "No. I won't. But I don't condone what you've done and it will take time to fully forgive you." I stepped back from him looking him in the eyes as I continued to say "I killed for you too Sebastian...

You have to understand that

The one I killed was me

Changing what I was

For what you wanted me to be

I followed your direction

Did everything you asked

I hope that makes you happy

'Cause there's just no turning back

"MC. I'm sorry. You never needed to change for me. You had my attention from the moment I saw you enter the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on your first day and I knew I loved you the moment you beat me in that duel. I know you probably don't feel the same but I had to tell you, in case I never get a chance again. I don't know what Ominis will do" Sebastian reaches out to cup my face in his hands, cradling it like I am made of glass and will shatter if he isn't careful enough. "Sebastian," I sighed turning into one of his hands and reaching out with my own to grab a hold of the front of his robes "I love you too." The next thing I felt was Sebastian's lips on mine. He was clutching me tightly against him. Our lips moved together in sync as if this was meant to be. It felt right to be in his arms.

#sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy romance #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #slytherin #if i killed someone for you #alec benjamin #Spotify

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