#sometimes its screaming into the void! (positive) but other times its screaming into the void (negative)

[flowerthornsart]

my art isnt made for attention but god damn is it sometimes just

[crispy-kitten-princess]

If i ever were able to list all the things i dislike in Magisterium series, this post would've been endless. Instead, I'd mention smth i love so much that it makes me re-read the series for the fifth time and gives me inspiration for new drawings and playlists

The first one is aesthetic. I don't think I've ever read a YA book with the death and necromancy as the main lore theme. Also, the first book in series is so sweet and innocent compared to the fourth I can't believe it lol. Corpses. So gothic. So edgy. Love it

The second is very similar to the first - chaos magic. We come across elemental magic in all sorts of media, but they don't usually have the 5th element, or if they have it's more likely to be electricity or smth. Not ACTUAL NECROMANCY omfg... I love it. Also Makars being able to manipulate not only chaos (the void itself) but the soul.... Cute

So next. The main character ofc. Callum Hunt. What can I say he is such a cinnamon roll hating himself for what he is not. Screaming, crying, throwing up. I can feel his pain with every fiber of my soul he's so relatable. He is a type of chaotic neutral main character which is rare I guess, and at the same time he doesn't act like a total jerk and piece of shit. Can't name some other like him, idk. He's sweet but also edgy. His self-confidence is below the surface of the earth. He's just like me frfr my poor little meow meow. Also he is disabled and it influences the events of the book. Sometimes. Cool, representative. Not a disabled person myself but can appreciate it

Another reason for me to love the series is the changing of Call's secrets idk how to call this. The structure of his character lore. His secrets and abilities, they're layered.. you know... And every book one by one uncovers these layers: 1 - he uncovers that he is the reincarnation of Constantine. 2 - he gets his powers (which made Constantine evil at the first place). 3 - he learns more about Constantine's family, and the whole world finds out that he "is" the Enemy of Death. 4 - omg how much he uncovers here lol i can't. May be my favourite book thanks to its maaad vibe. Everything he learns here makes him closer and closer to Constantine. 5 - i know that most of the fandom thinks it was stupid to make Constantine himself a reincarnated thousand-years-old evil Makar. And i may agree. But in the moment of reading this it was so impactful for me idk why.... I literally cried idk!!! Lol. Love the moment where Call opens his memory to help his friends to fight wolves or smth, and PASSES OUT. KING. So, the other secret is uncovered here. Everything he learns makes him understand Constantine's/Maugris's motives, but he never ever becomes anything like them nor wishes to follow their path. Pretty symbolic and meaningful

Upd. SOME MOMENTS ARE FREAKING HILARIOUS

So what can I say? Every series has it's weak and strong points. Some of them become classic literature, some are forgotten in the abyss of YA books. I understand why Magisterium's place is with the second type of series, and it's not even saddens me anymore (we're so underground teehee). But i see many posts where the series is shitted over, and not much of posts appreciating the things that we actually love in it. Aren't they the reason you started and finished it sometime? So I'm here spreading positivity! And also because I'm so tired of being a fan of this shit so i tried to acknowledge all that i love, and why am i here in the first place

I think it's all for now, maybe I'll come with more ideas later

Fandom are you alive? Heh am I a Call kinnie to the point that i become necromancer?...

P.S. sometimes i think I'm so cringe to be periodically obsessed with this STUPID POOR-WRITTEN CHILDISH BOOK ABANDONED EVEN BY IT'S OWN CREATORS BUT I CAN'T HELP IT...... AND THE WORST THING IS THAT I DIDN'T EVEN READ IT IN MY EARLY TEENS (except the 1 which i read when i was around 13. Read it twice in one week so maybe that's the moment my brain was damaged) I READ IT WHEN I WAS 16 ALREADY aaarrrhh I'm so cringe. Why obsession why why why why why why i hate this but this is literally the only book which makes me cry and scream and feel every fucking time i re-read it even when i know EVERYTHING THAT'S GONNA HAPPEN LITERALLY EVERYTHING reading it all again for the 6th time FOR GODDESS SAKE WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME

[iamyoursonly]

The ghost inside me (17/02/2024)

I may not be active again for awhile because it’s almost the end of the holidays and school will be back :(( This is a story I wrote when I felt really confused and didn’t know what to do so, if you ever felt the same, I think you’ll like it.

Sometimes I feel like there is a ghost lurking inside of me, like it wants to devour me starting with drinking all my positivity away. It’s like a shadow that you can see but cannot touch, one that just follows you through every step of your life, unconditionally. But this time, in a bad way. It’s feels like I have lost touch over everything, and there are no ‘sparks’ between anything that comes in my way, no matter my hobbies, my favourite people or even my comfort show. I couldn’t even feel the tears leaking past the boundaries of my eyes. I just sit there, emotionless, just like a puppet put up for show, questioning myself, ‘Who even am I?’

I breathe as I walk down the streets while I was on a midnight stroll, the wind feeling extra chilly in Autumn made me shiver. Even so. I kept on walking. I held on a can on alcohol, talking big sips out of the can, just trying to stop myself from feeling numb. I couldn’t feel anything despite my stomach burning in opposition. I just kept on drinking, until I felt like I could see that ghost inside of me come out.

“What do you want from me?” I ask it, trying to maintain my posture and a proper mind.

It just looked at me, its glance chilly and cold as ever. Like it’s staring into my soul and was trying to eat me whole. Its existence alone was enough to make me freeze and not ask more.

“What do you want from me?” I repeat, hoping it would respond. But its gaze still cold as ever, and all I could see was its eyes. Black, so black like it was reflecting the depth of the sadness within me. The overwhelming amount of feelings inside me started to explode as tears started gushing out of my eyes. I cried my heart out until the streets echoed my cries.

The ghost walked over to me, its steps heavy yet it can’t be heard at all, only its footsteps can be seen on the wet concrete. As if it could understand my feelings, it wrapped its arms around me, hugging me tight, just like how a parent would while comforting their child. Yes, that’s what it feels like right now. Like future me telling me everything will turn out fine and I will be okay.

I cried and cried, but the tears only fell through it as I try to return its warm embrace.

“Who are you?” I croak out, my voice hoarse and heart sore. Then I just attempt to scream out all my pain and sorrow into nothingness, into a black void no one could reach. Though the ghost’s stare is cold, its embrace is warm and soothing… How I wish to be held by someone like that.

I lie down on the concrete, tired eyes looking up into the darkness of the night. I could feel the ghost do the same as me, it holding my hand as we lie in silence. I didn’t say anything, we were just enjoying each other’s calm serenity, our calming atmospheres. I almost dozed off after lying down for so long, why is the feeling of home lying within the ghost, one so mysterious I can’t even learn anything about it.

“Who are you?” I ask again, my tears have stopped, though my mascara has been ruined already.

It still did not respond, its eyes just looked into mine, as if it were exploring mine, and uncovering my deepest secrets and insecurities. The terrifying silence seemed like it was wrapping around us, but I loved every moment of it.

Being alone and feeling alone are two different things, I believe. Being alone is like when I am actually alone, but feeling alone is when I am in a crowd but I still feel like no one is around me. And I feel alone. Not because I have no one around me, but because I have no one that understands me, no one that I can truly trust and confide in. Sometimes I don’t know if I want to be in love or do I just like the feeling of love. Is it just for me to numb away all the loneliness and to drive away all this soreness in my body and soul?

As I sit straight on the ground, tired from all the lying down. I feel the cold on my legs as I slowly try to stand up. I took a breathy sigh as I looked up again, checking if the stars are still around. They were, of course, still shining brighter than ever. The view of the night sky was simply divine to spectate when alone, and most importantly with a can of alcohol. I spin around a few times, twirling my knee length dress as I try to dance. I sang so loud I feel like people would file a noise complaint against me. But who cares? I was having so much fun!

“You have definitely had too much to drink.” I hear a voice, then footsteps nearing. The ghost near me seemed like it disappeared, leaving me again in the terrifying loneliness.

“Wait!” I try to call out to the ghost. The cold wind blew as if it was never there, and I felt alone again.

“Love,” The voice called again, then I feel them put their jacket onto my shoulders. Oh this scent, I remember it oh so well. It only belonged to my one and only, and he was so beautiful I swear. “How are you feeling, my love?”

His blue eyes as if reflecting the beauty of the sea looked into mine. And I just stared right back at him, just like what the ghost did to me. I have never noticed how much detail there is in his eyes, the blue may have been alluring at first glance, but after a lot of searching into it, you could see its sorrow inside. He reminded me of the ghost just now, the amount of sorrow in their eyes seemed the same, and how they both make me feel like I was home.

“Hey,” I looked at him and finally smiled, “What’re you doing here?”

Instead of drowning in loneliness, I wish I could drown in his arms, his touch, and his love. His eyes captivating, like he could draw all the attention in a club just because he walked in. And his white hair, it was so unique I wish I could have that… But I guess I can’t.

“You’re so gorgeous,” I tell him, “I wish I could have that kind of beauty.”

He chuckled, and then played with strands of my hair, “You’re even more beautiful, I swear. You’re just saying all this because you’re drunk.”

“No I’m not, I’m serious.” I tell him, then he smiles even more, pulling me into a hug.

After a long pause of silence, where I just let him embrace me, trying to remove myself from this feeling of being alone. He was helping though, he didn’t even make a sound, and just hugged me tight. His smell filling my lungs. I swear even the ghost inside me could feel warm just from this scent of his. That’s how intoxicating it is.

“Satoru.” I whisper, he hums in reply, “Remind me why do you love me again?”

He laughed, then rolled his eyes playfully as if he was trying to be sarcastic, “Do I not make it obvious enough for your liking?” That smirk on his face when he said this made everything very vivid in my head. His scent, his gaze… All of it. He was definitely trying to make me flustered, though I’m not letting him win.

He starts speaking again, “Well to start with I really love your smile, your beauty and your features. Also the way your eyes brighten when you do something you enjoy, and the way you laugh even though you fail. I love how you are so humble towards everything and try not to burden anyone with your problems. Though I’m right here for you, love. And then it’s just you, you’re literally perfect. Even the way you sing so loudly in the shower. I should say I don’t deserve you because of how amazing you actually are.” He pauses, and I took in his words. Then he continues, “Butterflies can’t see how beautiful they are either, and I’m just one of the flowers for this beautiful butterfly.”

He smiles at me, that contagious smile put a smile on my face too. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud uncontrollably. It was so unexpected but really genuine.

“Stop laughing would you?” He said with a very visible blush on his face, “Let’s just get you home, yeah?”

I nodded and he held my hand so tight like he had no intention of letting go of me. We just trailed down slowly down the road, the wind continued blowing towards us. I skipped and skipped then almost tripped, though there was nothing to worry about because my big strong man is with me. For a second, I felt like a fairytale princess, but I felt bad about leaving all my sorrow behind with the ghost.

I grabbed his arm, leading him to stop for a second, “I just wanted to bid my ghost goodbye. Can you wait for a second?” He didn’t object, so I just walked back to where I first sat down, and the shadow was there again. Though this time its eyes were less dull, it had this little shine somewhere inside. “Bye bye.” I waved, and it waved back, as if it was happy that I have found my own pillar of joy. I walked back to Satoru, and he held my hand as we walked home.

Despite it was so late there was barely any light source, the joy within me while walking with Satoru seemed like the lighthouse for going home. The joy reflected in his and my eyes led the road back home. Just from this I knew that he’s the one for me, and that we could overcome any difficulties in life together. Because all I could do when I am around him, is smile.

I walked home only by myself, but I arrived home with another person, one that I love and treasure so much.

master list

[callmegaith]

I'm sorry for using your askbox as the "scream into the void" button but that's what people have been doing apparently (although it is interesting to read you answer people's asks).

Anyways I just read your last ask and realized how little I know about fandoms in general because what the hell is fandom hierarchy. My experience with fandom (any fandom, not just rl) is reading fanfiction, looking at fanart and occasionally doing some of my own fanart and maybe some small scale theorizing/speculating (although I actually have no clue what else is there to fandom). What does fandom hierarchy even mean is it like whoever has more social media followers or something? Do people in fandoms interact with each other often enough to know where each stands? I'm so confused

no need to apologize! please feel free to send anything u want at any time. We all need to scream into the void sometimes.

In some fandoms there are like "groups". The more popular people are on top. You can say its like the cool kids club at lunch break during school. ""Cool kids"" sit with the ""cool kids"" and only interact with other ""cool kids"" and yeah, generally they're the people with more followers and the ones who gain a lot of attention or are well known and well established in a fanbase. Then it moves down to "casual" fans who engage with the fanbase or have a ""position" in the fanbase thats... well, casual, they create stuff but are generally not as well known. And then people who dont interact with the fanbase but like the media and simply enjoy consuming the content the fanbase makes.

honestly I dont like this sorta thing, but it does exist in some fandoms. And I do really hope it doesnt exist in the RL fanbase. I been here for a long time and never felt like we have that pyramid structure but like I said, maybe I'm just blind to it and it really depends on who you ask.

I find it hard to understand too. I don't know a lot about fandom science. I sorta just create stuff and talk to anyone who wants to talk to me xD but this is my understanding of it

[cleophantom]

We enter into the Aspertia Gym and face down its Gym Trainers.

Teamwork allows us to circumvent the excessive use of Leer and take down both Gym Trainers with relative ease. Despite being new to one another, Minuano, Hivi, and Sally are starting to get into a good rhythm.

However, in all of our previous battles, we've had the edge in terms of sheer numbers. Against Cheren, however, we have no such luck.

We decide that Sally should face off against his Patrat first, and then try to position Minuano to finish off his Lillipup. The five Oran Berries Alder gave us will be instrumental in keeping our team healthy and giving us an advantage against our stronger foes.

Sally faces off against his Patrat and leads off by glaring at him. His Patrat, meanwhile, works itself up into a frenzy, tensing itself up and getting ready to pounce. Sally slams into him as he continues to prepare his next attack, aiming to kill Sally in a single blow. Fortunately, Sally strikes first, hitting him in the gut. Patrat coughs up as he falls to the ground.

Cheren then sends out his own Lillipup. Sally needs to Leer first to weaken him, and then we chip away until it's down. We know it has an Oran Berry, so this will be tricky, especially since it, too, could lose its mind and give in to bloodlust as Patrat did.

Lillipup hits a hard tackle, and I realize that Sally won't get any more chances. She tackles into the foe as he hits back. She falls off the platform, staining the ground with blood. She looks oddly content, and I think she's trusting Minuano and Hivi to finish the job.

Minuano chips away at it, but Lillipup hits hard. Suddenly, Lillipup leaps up and slams right into Minuano's head. I run to check on him, but it's too late. Taken before his time, the cool wind peters out, leaving Hivi to face down her foes alone.

I don't think either of us saw this coming. Hivi was meant to be expendable, a throwaway Pokémon. But she isn't expendable. Not to me. We've only known each other for a few minutes, but it feels like she's been there my whole life. As we stare the dog of death down, all we can do is give ourselves over to the battle.

Not every story has a happy ending. Sometimes, the brave heroes get slain before their journey can really begin.

As Hivi stares into space, bruised and battered, Oran berry juice running down her face and mixing with the blood of her fallen comrades, she's...happy. Happy that she mattered to someone. To Cheren, and to the world, she was just some Patrat, but to Minuano, Sally, myself, and to a lesser extent, Flash, she was Hivi, and she mattered.

The Dusknoir came for her, and it dragged her away from me, from Cheren, from her comrades' bodies. But, something in Hivi stirred. As the Dusknoir dragged her away to an empty void, she struck at it with phantom incisors. The Dusknoir tried to restrain her, but she doesn't give up. She is Hivi. She screams this fact to the Dusknoir, and as it drags her closer to the void, all of a sudden, something pierces the Dusknoir.

The red spike that jumped into Hivi's vision suddenly retreated. She looked to the source and saw it. Red rings regarding her from beyond. If it felt any emotion, the golden cage upon its face showed none.

"Interesting. You want...to continue. To struggle even against death. Even when you have been stripped of everything."

"I cannot return you to life. The hands of Arceus have long since closed that window. But, as one cursed to the darkness to another...I can offer you something. You will not live, but through your will, others may find that which you sought."

Hivi stared at the being before her, and feels her burning resolve. She offered out her paw.

The being bellows, shaking all of existence.

A light extended from opposite of the being. Peeeing through it, she saw autumn leaves blowing past.

"Go. Continue the struggle."

As Hivi looked back to the being, the golden cage parted to reveal a smiling maw. "I'll be watching."

[danceswithdarkspawn]

🌿, 🎈, 🤲, 💌

Hi, froze! thanks for the ask. ♥️

🌿 how does creating make you feel?

🤔Honestly, I think it makes me feel...a lot of things, really, depending on the day. I guess it's mostly relief that I can get the scatterbrain thoughts out of my head and onto (digital) paper.

🎈describe your style as a writer; is it fixed? does it change?

My writing tends to be character-driven and introspection-laden. I try to craft my prose in such a way to convey emotion in the...least purple way I can. I'd like to say there are some variations between the different things I've written, but ultimately most of my longer, more involved or serious pieces fall back on that character-driven, introspection motif. Pure fluff pieces, which are rare for me, are the only things that I'd consider to break that mold.

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

Catharsis. Release. Sometimes it's something fun and silly, other times it's a love letter that screams into the void, or a safe interaction with the less-than-nice thoughts that lurk in my head.

💌 share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Oh geeze, I have so many things I'm working on at the moment that I'm excited for. >_> lmao This is long so I'm gonna put a read-more here.

Gonna talk about my main WIP since I'm taking a mini-break with that working on something else. So the next chapter (not the one I'm currently writing/editing, the one after), delves into the circumstances that lead the main character to be in the position she's in now. The fic starts well after these events, so it hasn't been described up to this point. Anyone who is familiar with the source material knows it's the canonical start of the game, essentially. Your character's origin story. My take on this is slightly divergent from canon.

What I'm doing for this in particular though is a little different. Instead of being told ala infodumping or flashback style, I've taken an event that happens in game and...hijacked it.

Oh boy how to I structure this without sounding unhinged.

So what happens is this: my main character and her adventuring party volunteer to sweep a tower that has been overrun by demons and abominations. Eventually the party splits into two, and the main character and her group encounter a sloth demon that forces them to sleep and keeps their minds trapped in its portion of a spirit realm, while it feeds off their energy in the physical realm, sustaining the trap.

To keep the victims under the influence of this trap, the demon creates scenarios for its victims to keep them happy. A personalized experience. In the game, this is your character meeting up with the man who recruited you (who died months ago), happily telling you that the Blight is over and there will be no more war, peace on Thedas and yada yada. Basic. Boring.

So I sat down and thought, What would make my character happy? What would her nightmare experience be like? It was a good opportunity to peek into the divergent backstory. Her portion of the nightmare has her back home, before everything happened to her, and she meets with a woman who, through different points in the story, is suggested to have feelings for her. The main character slowly pieces together that what she's experiencing isn't real, figures out her almost-lover is a demon in disguise tasked with keeping her there, and breaks out of the trap. She goes on to free her other companions and kill the sloth demon.

I've been thinking about this for literal months at this point and I just want to write it already klsafjgl;dkfhj

[jgcm2003]

episode one

I’ve recently become a human being capable of reflection, but only just recently. For many chaotic years, I wasn’t. Every memory I had was tinted by biased opinions, beliefs, and more often than not, embarrassment. Looking back on my entire life, it’s pretty tricky for me to point at one memory specifically and say I value it any more than any other experience. There’s nothing I wish I had done, nothing I wish hadn’t happened to me, and nothing I would alter in any way. The triumphant highs followed by agonizing lows, the ignorant fearlessness towards my surroundings juxtaposed with the overwhelming fear of the people that resided in them; they’re all experiences I find invaluable, crucial to the way I am right now and the way I have been. 

My experiences dictate the places my feet take me, the words my mouth chooses to say, and they provide me with the filter through which I witness the world. They’ve all led me to this moment, right here, right now. The sole inhabitant of a desolate island— trying to illustrate something invisible, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible, looking in the rearview mirror, but only briefly— my eyes will eventually find their way back to the road ahead. 

These experiences are the core of our very existence, and today they’ve led me to this table where I’ll write for a little while. I’ve grown to be immensely grateful for the fact I’ve been given the ability to sit down and write. It’s calming, it’s problem-solving, and it’s evolved into anything I need it to be. For this reason, I believe writing has become the most reliable friend I have. Perhaps the paper is just forced to listen to everything I say, but I like to think it may appreciate me and my brain sometimes. After all, it’s something to occupy its blankness even if it’s just the ramblings of a 19 year old boy. 

Of course, I want to look back and see something I can be proud of, but that’s simply not the case. I simply wasn’t ready to reflect honestly then. I wasn’t ready to accept the pain and discomfort of positive change, let alone the disappointment that comes with the realization that I was living the wrong way and I needed to grow. Yet I was so depressed for so long due to that unwillingness. My brain, my attitude, and my behavior were all screaming at me, trying to get me to admit something was wrong, yet I was so out of tune with reality that I didn’t seem to hear them. When I briefly did hear them, I didn’t seem to be able to care for very long. 

I vividly remember those times when life felt like more of a burden than much of anything else. I lived a very pessimistic life, void of any hope. This was a learned outlook on life. Given what the universe dealt me, I developed the awful habit of focusing on the inevitable end of everything that surrounded me. Any beautiful moment would turn melancholic almost instantly when the thought of its impending departure crept into my mind. It was the temporariness of it all that got me, and man, it got me good. A nice day ended was always ended with nightfall, falling in love always ended in turmoil, and being alive could end whenever, however. All were extremely valuable and necessary, yet all were far too temporary for my liking. Especially death— that freaked me out. 

When I was younger, death seemed to chase me around every corner, down every road, and occasionally when I was too tired to keep running it looked me square in the eyes. Sometimes death even mocked me with its cold and unforgiving existence. I learned that death will be completely okay with suddenly cutting me off mid-sentence one day. It won’t let me finish a book, a song, or even a thought. It’ll cut me off and kill me on its own time, not my time. 

When I was 15, death caught up to my dad while he was completely alone, living in YMCA housing. I had been aware of death before, but that’s when I first realized how final it all really was. Life had never seemed so temporary. It felt like a cruel joke, the man I grew up with was instantly turned into nothing but a bunch of unwelcome memories. Someone so prominent in my life, so real was now so gone. 

Death cut him off at the lowest point in his life. My mom and other people tell me that at that point, there was no way he was getting out of that. I know they’re right but a piece of me, the piece of me that loves him still, thinks maybe he could’ve seen the light and recovered. We’ll never know for certain because he couldn’t run any longer, and death caught up. 

Regardless of the pain it caused me, I never understood more that my days were numbered. Everyone around me, everything around me, their days were numbered as well. Everything I felt would eventually be nothing but an abyss trapped inside of my corpse, burned to ash, or buried beneath the dirt on private land. Almost instantly upon the death of my dad, I was firmly gripped by the notion that nothing this existence had to offer me mattered all that much. It crept into my brain, my heart, and in turn my behavior. If my own father had lost his race with death in such a manner, then why should I expect anything more? Why would I set myself up for failure with any sort of optimism? The simple answer to me back then was that I wouldn’t.

For years I took that nihilistic approach to life. I became extremely complacent in my growth as a human being. I was utterly indifferent toward whatever lay ahead, I figured it was nothing anyways. I took a back seat to my impulses in search of something to drag me out of the deep emptiness I was feeling. I felt like I was right to think the way I did, and the mental anguish was just a nasty side-effect of the reality of life and impending death. It never dawned on me that the feelings had been coming from a place of rejection— that maybe I was right but the way I was responding was extremely wrong.

I was in a Costco parking lot when it finally broke through to me. This wasn’t the path I needed to follow. Maybe if I just allowed myself to admit I’d been wrong, I could take a step forward and get out of this rut I had been stuck in for so many years. Upon realizing this I felt this resounding feeling of dread, I knew at that moment more than ever I had missed out on really enjoying life for what it was. I didn’t really appreciate anything. Of course, bad things had happened but I had opted to choose a simpler route in response to those bad things rather than face them head-on and grow. I had so much, so many possessions, so many friends, and so many people who cared for me deeply. I was a Division 1 football player, I had a nice car, and I had so many Instagram followers and so much attention. I could’ve been more and everyone knew it. They’d remind me of this in our interactions, when my report cards would come back, and when I stopped to really look at myself for a moment. I had so much, yet I was completely and utterly empty. I was one of the worst possible versions of myself. I had been treating so many people the wrong way, I had been treating myself the wrong way. I hated myself so much for this in that Costco parking lot. 

It was one of the hardest hours or so of my life in that spot, yet one that I remember as one of the most important because in that hour I let myself be subject to the pain I deserved. In response to that pain, I decided to change my life for the better. While it completely sucked, that pain killed some of the parts of me I despised. Those parts of me I hated died but were reincarnated as the pieces of me I sit here reflecting on today. In response to that hour the past few months have been more fulfilling than any other period of time I’ve really ever had in my life before. 

Even so, I didn’t really know how I’d improve. I stood before a mountain of things I needed to work on, the summit so high I couldn’t even see it. I didn’t even know if I should believe in this summit. I stared at this mountain for an hour, occasionally falling victim to some of my own doubt. Jonah Hill’s therapist Phil Stuz refers to this doubt as Part X. It’s the factor in each of us that makes growth and change feel impossible in the face of adversity. It’s the aspect of ourselves that we recognize as a fixed limitation. It saw me staring at the top and tried to keep me on the ground by offering shitty advice such as You know you’re going to wind up back down here right beside me or How many times have you done this, tried to better yourself to no avail? Why even try? 

Yet for the first time in a very long time, I felt a resounding sense of hope that if I ignored him for at least a little while and started to climb, maybe I’d reach certain spots on this mountain where I could rest for a while rather than climb back down. So I began my ascension into the unknown for yet another try, but the first real-time in my life. I’d seen my father completely fall victim to his Part X. It took control of his body, his mind, and his actions. It led him down a road of delusion, unnecessary discomfort, and immense pain. He never tried to climb his mountain, all of his efforts went into searching for ways around it or through it. It did nothing for him but kill him. 

At first, it was the seemingly small patterns of behavior such as maintaining a clean room, writing in a planner every day, or attempting to tell the truth regardless of the outcome, even when it was hard to find. These were simple changes in my life all meant to at least make my life a bit more simple. The organization of life around me was the fuel I needed to generate the first framework of guidelines by which I wanted to exist. It helps me recognize Part-x for what he is, a figment of my imagination; one that will never go away in his quest for my company on the ground, but one that can be beaten by my persistent action in response to the world around me and my own inward reflection. I’ll fall victim to Part X at times because everyone does, but because of my climb at least, I’ll have somewhere more peaceful than the ground to rest. The view of the world is much better from these places than it’s ever been before. 

I’m going to document this climb here, through videos and these short memoirs, and see how far I can climb. It’ll change and grow as I do- forgive the first video's seemingly directionless premise, and my complete ramblings in this. I hope to improve with both filmography and writing, my favorite two ways of expressing myself. I want the reader or watcher to know that as much as this is for me, it’s for them because I thoroughly believe if I’m capable of realizing this, then so are you. With death making its way towards me and everyone, with Part X living within me and everyone, I now know this for certain; if I’m going to become the person I want to be, then I’ll need to start my climb now. 

I’m 19 years, 4 months, and 25 days old, about to leave high school, and I have been gifted with the ability to reflect. It would be a waste if I didn’t use it to grow as a human being as I make my way into adulthood. 

[reginrokkr]

Pain is a terrible thing. But pain, at least, has the benefit of familiarity - of being a curse to which he is accustomed, one which he knows how to bear... at least until he loses his footing and slips into abysmal depths of agony from which he never quite knows what pulls him through. The songs of a particular bard from Mondstadt. His own strength of will. Or, sometimes, the assistance of a friend equally cursed. Xiao lets out a rasped groan that would almost sound like a plea, air stuck in his lungs and in his throat as Dainsleif disturbs and disrupts the pool of karmic debt coursing through the lifelines of his body. How exactly his healing abilities work, the Vigilant Yaksha forgets (details don't matter in this moment) - but soon enough, lo and behold. One last gasp of pain; before, at last, relief takes over. The red veil before his eyes slowly dissipates, replaced with muted and blurred hues, body and mind left numb by the miracles (?) of the other immortal's gifts. "... I need to be careful not to get too used to this." The Adepti grunts, swallowing hard - the agony will return soon enough. This is only respite, but a respite that most certainly had just saved him from damnation. "Thank you." He murmurs, golden eyes rising to search sapphire blues. "... I'll be fine. You don't need to stay and watch this pitiful spectacle." (jumping off of your previous suggestion that Dain's healing abilities might help Xiao's karmic debt - I tried to remain vague but I hope it works :') )

Knowledge is object of desire to many, unbeknownst of the fact that it is humankind and godhood's downfall alike or a heavy burden to carry. For accepting certain truths of this world is sufficiently distressing and heartbreaking, but to come to the realization that one can't ever hope to change the fate of this star is even more harrowing. It takes a still and open mind to accept, a strong heart to not bend to the sorrows wisdom offers and a steadfast soul to move forward despite being cognizant of the notion that odds are against them.

Something similar occurs with understanding that this world's malady originates from the very heavens, even such a hell like factor that precipitates Teyvat to its doom can find its source in what mankind and celestial beings consider sacred and holy. The curse laid by the gods, Eleazar, Marana, the abyssal presence, chaos and void... everything has the same purpose: precipitate everything to its impeding death.

As it does karmic debt, irregardless of the fact that the last Yaksha may be aware of such knowledge or not. Though Dáinsleif cannot find it in himself to agree with General Alatus' willpower to lay his obedience to Rex Lapis, it isn't incompatible to feel reflected on his person in more ways than one. Both of them carry on their shoulders the weight of the world for different and similar purposes all the same, both of them work from the shadows to ensure that not a single soul more has to suffer.

Both of them are cursed by the same root of malice, one way or another.

The Twilight Sword of old would lie if he denied wanting to assist purifying aide to Xiao in bygone times, each one of the times frustrated by empathy and understanding that it would hit what little pride the illuminated beast has left. Not necessarily out of a rejection on his behalf which Dáinsleif is positive that he would've received until he had no other choice but allow himself to be helped, but perhaps because he, too, would feel what little pride —if any— he has left be attacked.

Dáinsleif's touch is gentle as his ebony-gloved hand lands on the Yaksha's shoulder, his squeeze even gentler to warn him of his presence and of his intentions, centuries of crossing paths in the Land of Geo leaves room for an unspoken knowledge of one another by mere observation alone when words fail to convey what their heart screams and their mind impedes them to disclose, after all. Albescent lashes flutter to a close in concentration to allow his body be blanketed by celestial flames, soon to be passed onto Xiao's body.

Were anyone inexperienced in the matter see what this fallen luminary's soul feels, they would be terrified of all the darkness and malady that permeates Alatus' body. To someone who is equally cursed and partially corrupted, whom suffers from the terror of the nights in his mind every time he tries to sleep, this is naught. Sapphire's vigor chases the ominous obscurity away with the intent to touch a soul hanging by a thread— a soul that always does in uttermost quiescence. Ultimately does the sapphire embrace reach the deepest part of his soul, protective in its might to give the lone Yaksha a much deserved respite he earned long ago.

Karmic debt will not cease its existence within his soul, Dáinsleif knows, but this will spare him time from agonizing suffering and a clear mind for as long as it lasts until the curse's darkness overpowers his will. These sapphire flames act as a shield, but also as reinvigoration to heal him for a limited amount of time.

May this help in recovering an ounce of peace.

❝Indeed.❞ Any kind of agreement to the statement that he should not get accustomed to this may sound cruel, alas it is the truth. It will not be long until Dáinsleif must leave Liyue and, wish as he would to assuage more General Alatus' grief, he cannot. Not in vain, however. For were Dáinsleif remain at any particular case to heal them instead of resuming his self-imposed duty, advancement would never occur.

Rest assured, it will not be long before the abyssal presence retreats little by little.

Unbeknownst to Xiao, the Bough Keeper stores Ether in his necklace before removing any physical contact that made possible this purifying ritual. And it is ultimately that Dáinsleif rouses on his feet and offers the celestial being a hand to help him stand. ❝I could do that, you are right.❞ To get closer to his destination bound to be in Enkanomiya, for that he will need to travel to the isolated Inazuma this time, first. Glacial sapphires look skywards to the starry sky, every time he deigns to do so he finds a respite he is undeserving for. ❝Or I could make sure that you repose properly for the night. No miraculous healing is effective without adequate rest.❞ He, too, needs to rest after all. For no direct confrontation against the Abyss Order is an easy walk, he must be prepared for their treacherous tricks no matter how much he may overpower them in strength and intelligence. Frozen astrals descend to lock into sharp ambers, platinum blond hair sways a tad with a soft cant of his head.

❝How does that sound?❞

@maquiscursed ✦

[magioffire]

✧ Do you agree with reblog karma or is it forced interaction?

salty mun questions ; accepting

as usual im gonna take an inbetween position because i cant help but see both sides having been on both sides. those both sides being "i believe in ask karma because its only fair and it helps the community feel more connected" and "no one is entitled to me sending them asks, and im not entitled to anyone else sending me asks".

my opinion of ask karma is: if you really strictly enforce ask karma and get on peoples case for it all the time, youre kinda being entitled to people's time and energy. maybe need to consider if you put in any effort sending people stuff too? its a two way street, of course! people are more likely to reciprocate if you take the initiative.

on the other hand, i also understand the frustration when you reblog memes and everyone on the dash goes ahead and reblogs it from the source (like you wont notice lololol) and then NO ONE SENDS ANYONE ANY ASKS. its def an awkward moment when that happens and it makes me a little sad like, damn are we really all that shy and socially awkward? i guess we are, since we are on tumblr and not on other social media.

also, theres the fact that not every ask prompt out there is going to work for every single interaction. ic ask prompts tend to be a little more tricky than ooc prompts. an ooc prompt you can send without much thought or commitment, but if you send an ic ask, you gotta figure out what is the most ic option, and what would work best for the dynamic at hand.

maybe the person reblogged an ask that centers mainly around romantic dynamics, only you dont have a dynamic like that with their muse, and dont want to be presumptive by sending something in. it would be kinda weird to expect ask karma in situations like that.

and there is an expectation to continue threads from asks -- maybe you dont want to send anymore ic asks for a little because youre already swamped with your own ic responses you have to do? been there. and also if youre like me, you spend a lot more time in drafts or the inbox than actually scrolling the dash, so its pretty easy to miss when people reblog certain memes.

so like...it kinda depends? we should all make an effort to interact with each other and give each other opportunities to write. roleplay is collaborative. if i wanted to scream into the void i would just do that on facebook or twitter.

but also i think its healthy to remember that sometimes ask prompts are pretty..... hit or miss. not because of the actual quality of the meme, but because they can be sometimes too vague to work for some muses, or too specific. how many asks you get often has a lot less to do with how engaged people actually are in your blog, or how much they like or dont like you, and more to do with what time you post the meme, how many people are online, and how many people are actually actively scrolling the dash, how much youve engaged with your mutuals previously, and how many people are looking to send asks!

honestly i think the best solution as always is really just .... communicating and treating people how you wish to be treated. if you want asks, send asks when you can! and if you ever want me to send you prompts from a specific meme, or you want me to reblog a certain meme so you can send in something, all you gotta do is ask! im totally cool with rp partners pointing out a meme they reblogged and asking me to send something/reblog it, i feel like thats a lot more straight forward than just sitting in each of our corners and hoping someone is brave enough to send something lololol

[viserya-firstofhername]

The unsung heroes of HOTD • prologue

So here is the thing.

I was planning to make this a singular post, but at this point I am at I don't even know how many names but surely above at least five dozen, so I shall instead jump into my nerd shoes, and shall make of it a series.

The premise is as follows: The writing room of HOTD this season to a large extent failed a rich and marvelous piece of modern media and especially so, the incredibly gifted teams who worked on its production. It saddens me deeply how we only focus on the bad, while we fail to reflect on the enormous amount of talent and hard work so many people put into it. It happened in 2019. It will be happening again.

So what are we to do about it? Whine, dine, overanalyze, scream, cry, laugh, eat cake, repeat the same three curses until D&D reincarnated show up in our mirror?

Yap Condal this, yap Hess that? Condemn Martin for the next damned ungodly reason? Some folk may chose to slander and throw vitriol at the writing team and while I might indeed in the future yap along mine own hopefully constructive criticism (because some is positively and absofuckinglutely in place), I respectfully disagree with this approach of consuming media; yap about the bad, overlook the intensely good.

I should also state that I am sometimes that person to critique the let-people-enjoy-things movement for their certain lack of media literacy, but tis a lack that is often visible in the hotd critical tag as well.

To that statement, I should add, I refuse to become an apologist for Hess or Condal (the latter - let us all for a moment remember and admit - was one of the last saving graces of the rubbish inferno that was GOT's last couple of seasons and if you disagree - here be your invitation to enter a discourse with me). I might in due time issue a detailed post in a mock Shakespearian lingo mixed with High Valyrian & rap rhymes, but the point of this post is:

I should much more delight in praising the talented people who 1000% broke their backs and their hard labor is very clearly visible, because such is the topic I prefer mine own time be invested in.

We all agree across the board (right?) the actors are phenomenal. More than, even. I would love to touch on that as well but it shall be later on. I am much more interested in discussing the production value, because I'm here for this medium with all senses. Thus, I plan to focus on the production teams in this small nerdy series, sharing thoughts hopes griefs and all, as a way to fill the void in my heart until we get episodes 2x09 and 2x10 (my humorous brief on that: here).

For chapter i, we shall be focusing on the casting department, led by one Kate Rhodes James, for she is pure professional peak, more so than Nina Gold, dare I say, and everything she and her team have done for HOTD is purely and utterly ethereal, otherworldly, three-eyed-ravenesque, phenomenal.

When shall this post be posted will be decided by mine own nerdy brain and whether or not it decides to pen a 6000 words essay on a topic I know next to nothing of (surely, I could delve into research and this might be a source of delay, I suppose you see the potential for issues there).

-

TLDR version: I just want to spell the names of the folks that showed up to work and did fucking brilliant, and marvel at a their masterful craftsmanship.

Disclaimer 1: I cannot stress the following enough: I do not lend my support to anyone who would cast shade and hate or outright criticize the opinions of others simply because they diverge from their own. If thou dost desire to experience the show by critiquing the writers, then by all means - you do you, i do me, and we shall be in courteous and merry accord to agree to disagree.

Disclaimer 2: I know just about nothing of producing cinema and tv. I have one (1) friend who works in the industry. Come at me with professional opinions - very very welcome.

If thou would like to follow this endeavor, thou can keep an eye on the #the unsung heroes of hotd tag, no need to follow my daily fulminations.

I've done and made my peace.

[elliethinkstoomuch]

The Darkest Place. The space between, the void somewhere in the middle of the end of one point and the beginning of another. I wish it were comfortable - that space - but it’s not. It’s like being on fire. The glimmers of hope and optimism that tear through the bleak veil of uncertainty and fear. I write with the blood spilled from the razors of my anxiety. I get lost easily in the heart of it, in my own heart. The intensity of the emotions which I alone must process feels immense. All I can do is hope that on the other side of the flames, the rabid storm, that I’ve made good choices. I don’t want to cause pain, and I have yet to forgive myself for a lot of the pain I have caused in the past. It stays, somewhere in the back of my mind, omnipresent, The Darkest Place.

I, like so many others, am broken. I am nowhere even close to perfect and to be such would only replace one hell with another. My parents were emotionally absent throughout the course of my childhood, so the processing of emotions and traumas therefore fell upon myself, and myself only. I could never approach them with it less I get undermined, minimized, gaslit and steamrolled.

“You must really enjoy being punished, it’s the only thing you respond to.”

”You teach people how to treat you, and you’ve taught us that screaming and yelling are the only ways to break through.”

”What is wrong with you? Are you going to punch me? I could drop you right now if I wanted to.”

”Sometimes I wish I hadn’t adopted you.”

I think about things they’ve said to me. It contradicts strongly with the positive regard I’ve always tried to hold them in. They care, in their own way, and I had to learn hundreds of times over hundreds of circumstances that there’s a chance they’ll never understand. That I’ll never really be able to reach them in a way they truly resonate with. Emotional abandonment was the “name of the game” when it came to my upbringing. Thus, I gave every last shred of emotional bandwidth to friends whom I very quickly fell into unhealthy codependency with. I became heavily invested in people, in understanding, in fronting some form of emotional availability even when I was drained far beyond my limits. It took its toll. Every friend I’ve had back then had undergone heinous acts, every one of them experienced severe physical trauma, and I had only experienced the emotional side of it, which I had no hope of explaining or receiving any solidarity of due purely to the fact that I had no vocabulary or real self-awareness to express it. I figured the way I’d be able to process my own trauma was to live vicariously through them while they sorted through theirs. Over the course of a decade and a half, I got really, really good at listening. It wasn’t until I started therapy five years ago that I really began to understand just how thoroughly fucked and unhealthy the things I was doing were, though mostly unhealthy for myself given that my entire goal was self sacrifice in the name of the preservation of others rather than the preservation of my own mind; of my own body. I had compartmentalized everything I had gone through into a nice little corner of my mind. The corner that tells me that any time I voice myself that I am a burden who isn’t worth the time, that I have overstepped my place in this world, that I am undeserving and unworthy of any energy someone would put into me; The Darkest Place.

Those years of therapy combined with a lifetime of self reliance, the emotions I’ve had to process alone, have done wonders to the ways in which I allow myself to show up for people and have given me an “advanced degree of self awareness and higher-than-normal emotional intelligence” in the words of my therapist(s). Still, despite being told by people whom I firmly believe I have a healthy connection with that I am not a bad person, that I am worth the validation, that I have unique strengths that I bring which thereby make me someone people actually want to keep around, I struggle immensely to believe them. Maybe I just don’t believe myself yet. Regardless, the time I spend with someone face to face is always infinitely more valuable and trustworthy an experience than the projections, self-deprecation and doubt which flood my mind in the interim. The gap between when one face-to-face time ends and the next one begins. The Darkest Place.

I frequent the Notification Center on my phone. I obsess over the wording of a message I sent. I begin deteriorating when I send what I deem too many notifications or interact too much during that solitary gap. I have to force myself to remember that the only aspect of anything happening I have control over is myself, that everyone is entitled to their own emotions and that I am prepared and ready to handle any conflict which may come up, though the fear that it will not be enough - that I will not be enough - is a very, very strong one. This is uncharted territory, I am in many ways pioneering a new land, one which I’ve been eager to explore for an extremely long time. I’m scared to admit that, because it means that I acknowledge I don’t know what I’m doing. It means I must fight my engrained urge to plan for the worst, to over analyze everything and to read the subtext which may not even exist, like I had to do with my parents. The fear that nothing is as it seems, that nothing can be taken at face value. I know that everything about this “new land” is built entirely on a foundation of smaller interactions, decisions and observations of how we resolve conflicts and build our lives, and that simultaneously gives me feelings of hope and dread. I can act with the best intentions, I can attempt to be as authentic as I can be in as many situations as possible, though again, the only aspect I can control is myself. The rest is entirely reliant upon trust, something I notoriously have a horribly difficult time building. I want to choose to trust in spite of the screams of that dark, traumatized corner of my mind. I would rather condemn myself to isolation and reclusivity than to unfairly accuse someone of fitting a false projection I’ve formed. I would rather face my biggest fears and have awkward, vulnerable and revealing conversations about difficult topics in the name of becoming a better person, a better partner, a better friend, than to continue to cling onto old habits and defense mechanisms which have so thoroughly fucked up my perception of people and the world as a whole.

I will choose to trust that I have control over myself,

I will choose to believe I have no reason to assume that I am in immediate danger of being abandoned again,

I will choose to acknowledge that I have the ability and desire to handle what may come,

I will choose to trust that the rest will fall into place, without the twisting influence of that dark corner of my brain that assumes I am alone in this - The Darkest Place.

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Fics Named After Locations Masterlist

a plaque on the wall in singapore (ao3) - apeirophobia calum/ashton, harry/louis T, 5k

Summary: "What do you do?"

"Other people's boyfriends, apparently."

(In which Ashton has no fucks left to give, and Louis finds he still has a few.)

Or, Louis isn't sure if he's hitting his lowest point, but at least he's hitting something.

Bali (ao3) - Ashstars1998 michael/calum M, 4k

Summary: "Late night dip?" Michael jumped a little from the disruption of the silence.

"Yeah, the sunburn was just killing me and I thought hey? Why not a swim to relieve the pain?" Michael splashed the water around him giving Calum that toothy grin of his.

Chevy Malibu (ao3) - Lostideas calum/ashton M, 4k

Summary: Ashton’s name pops up from the top of his screen, a whatsapp message reading ‘outside’. Calum gets up, walks to his windows and peeks through the curtains. He can see Ashton’s chevy a bit further down the street, headlights turned off.

Calum carries his docs in his left hand as he sneaks out of his room.

or; Ashton picks Calum up in his car late at night sometimes. They scream into the void and love each other.

chicago thighs (ao3) - allmywill michael/ashton M, 904

Summary: Ashton loves getting gifts from fans. He usually expects notes, candy, and stuffed animals; not lacy black panties with matching garters and thigh-high socks.

Destination: Perth (ao3) - onlythevoid luke/ashton T, 34k

Summary: The stranger swung into the seat next to him and sighed contentedly. Luke stole a glance from under his hat. It was a boy with light-brown messy hair, reminiscent of surfers Luke saw on the beach in Brisbane - he had a t-shirt on and black jeans, and fade-tint round-frame sunglasses propped on his straight nose.

The stranger caught Luke’s eyes.

“Hey?” The stranger asked. Shouldn’t have looked at him, Luke thought. Too late.

The stranger had set his sunglasses on his head and was peering below Luke’s cap. “Dude. You look terrible. Are you okay?”

Oh, so the stranger was one of those guys. Too friendly and ever-inquisitive. Yes, Luke looked like shit; he’d been crying for an hour at a time, every few hours, and all he’d had to eat in the past two days was some wet broccoli at the hospital and a bag of chips he’d bought that morning in Brisbane, and there were bruises all up and down his right arm from a car crash he wished he’d died in.

Luke didn’t say any of that. He prayed his voice would be steady and said, “Yes. Thanks.”

The messy-haired boy did not seem convinced. After a pause, he offered, “My name’s Ashton, by the way.”

Hotel California (ao3) - persephone_evans michael/luke G, 5k

Summary: Ashton wakes up in the most expensive hotel he's ever been in. Only problem, he can't remember how he got there or how he paid for it. But when he meets Calum and gets introduced to Michael and Luke, he doesn't care anymore.

a hotel california au that i wrote in a fit of depression

LA is not for the weak (ao3) - gardener luke/ashton M, 34k

Summary: Anybody who has ever lived in LA can second that the vibe is off. So much goes down in Los Angeles every single day that there is no way you can know everything about this city. Negative energies have the tendency to spread much quicker than positive ones, and it shows. Having lived in Los Angeles for as little as a couple of months, perhaps even less, can change you for the rest of your life. Some people recover from LA, almost as if it were a flu, but some people can never seem to snap out of it. For those of the last category, even if they are on the other side of the world, they are still in LA. Or, really, LA is still in them.

After everything that has happened in the past couple of years, Luke Hemmings is not doing okay. Los Angeles has really started to take its toll on him, and the constant pressure of being in the public eye doesn't make it any easier.

Ocean Avenue (ao3) - CliffordAffliction calum/ashton M, 20k

Summary: Cashton adventures based off of the song Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard

The Sun Is Burning Down Los Angeles (ao3) - galacticsugar luke/calum M, 40k

Summary: Calum probably signed a form saying he wouldn’t fall in love with the lead singer of the band. And he really doesn’t want to. What a cliché. It’s just…people get famous for a reason. This guy got famous for all the reasons.

Calum moves to LA to work for 5SOS.

With a New York State of Mind (I Wanna Take My Heart to the End of the World) (ao3) - Lxverxofmxne G, 1k

Summary: 4 strangers, same destination. One road trip, 14 hours max. — “This is going to sound really weird, but do you wanna road trip with me?”

The men stared at Luke weirdly. He shrugged before continuing.

Woke Up In Japan (ao3) - Shipalltheships (Destielshipper100) luke/ashton, calum/michael, shawn/everyone M, 2k

Summary: Shawn calls Ashton asking if he and the rest of the band would want to hang out. The four men put a mischievous plan into place.

Woke Up in Japan (ao3) - hollyster luke/ashton E, 4k

Summary: in which Ashton and Luke go on a picnic date and end up having sex in the shower

[flower-blooming-in-hell]

i need to scream into the void for a minute here bc like. idk who i can tell this who will understand

just rambling abt mental health (ptsd + depression mainly) and transitioning

but just. !!!!!!!!! i just took my first dose of T!!!!!!!! i officially have my androgel at home! and i just applied it to my skin!! and im waiting for it to dry a lil bit more before i put anything on it (like the sweater im gonna wear to bed tonight)

and im like. i could honestly cry rn not in a bad way but in a "this has been coming for such a long time and im so excited for the future right now" kinda way

i think a reason ive always disliked myself is bc i hate being a girl honestly

my voice is too high and feminine, and my face has never looked like my own (though that could also have to do with the did but still)

im currently planning on ending up looking more androgynous atm, but honestly im on a low dose so i can see which changes i want and how far i want to go

tbh im thinkin i might just end up going all the way tho? not sure

or. all the way isnt the right words but yknow what i mean basically lol

its ? very interesting figuring myself out like this

like im not fully confident on who i am but i know what i want, and i dont want to be a girl. i never really have, and i knew that at a young age. and to a point i do identify with "girl/woman" but thats only bc i was raised one, so i have similar experiences to a lot of ppl who could be called girls/women

plus my mom is def bioessentialist (which i need to look up counterarguments for that tbh) and i love her to death but she just doesnt really understand ... a lot of things

plus yknow. trauma . ive never gotten to fully be myself - i have always been what other people want me to be. its... an experience and a learning curve, finally figuring out who and what i am.

tbh this feels similar to when i got published (technically. it was a competition thing and a prize was getting published alongside others) with the like ... sheer positive emotion and wanting to cry and shaking with the excitement of what ive achieved and get to have

its really weird, being this happy. i didnt think id ever get to feel this way, or that id be excited for the future or have plans for it like i do right now. ive always had the feeling of "theres more things i have to do, so im not finished here." but its never really come out as starkly as it is now.

im really, REALLY happy.

yknow, sometimes i look back on my abuser and think that we were made for each other, and that ill never achieve anything greater than having dated them

and i think this is the first time its actually fully setting in and really occuring to me that i can have a life without them. i dont need them. i never did, and i didn't truly gain anything from being so close to them for so long.

and while i will always be resentful for having to grow up so fast and that i spent so much time on them, and there are still a lot of times that i'm upset with myself for being so unfailingly kind and giving and resilient, times where i wish i broke and wasn't here anymore, i'm truly glad that i didn't and i'm still here.

and i'm happy that i'm not with them anymore.

and i'm glad that i got to have this. and that nobody i currently know will speak negatively about this to me.

sometimes it feels a lot like i move on from them in jagged bits and pieces of glass, like im tugging them out of my skin years after impact

this feels a lot less like that, and more like...

ever since they came into my life, ive felt like . corrupted, evil, gross, whore, etc compared to their bright white purity. like i could never measure up

i think this is the first time in years where ive actually felt pure, in any kind of way

excited for the future, happy, not focused on anyone but myself, confident.

ive always wanted a truly clean slate. and now i have that

i have a better idea of things i want now too, and ive been taking better care of myself as well, and i have so much more energy

i still wish they could see and that theyd be proud of me, instead of whatever the hell manipulative gaslighty bs theyd think up

but im not thinking about them that much either

this is something that i want, and the focus is rightfully on me

...its a slightly weird feeling, but i dont feel selfish for it, for once

[diariesof-kg]

7_13_23

Not sure exactly what to say. I really miss my mom. The interesting thing I love and allows me to feel somewhat 'okay' is speaking about her as if she still is living. I know it can be uncomfortable for others, because what do you say to someone who is mourning. I appreciate those who allow me that space. I appreciate my one friend who reaches out every month checking to see if I'm okay. It's about to be seven months, every day it really feels unreal. She visits me a lot in my dreams, I guess. I think that emotionally makes it even worse. We went to Costco together and it was bittersweet until the end. I feel like people think because its been months that you are okay. I am grateful for my friends that don't feel no way about my absence. When I just need a moment, whether that's days or weeks. I sometimes feel bad that I can't give what I would normally give. That I can't support the way I use to. My heart really has a hole in it. I am already thinking ahead about Thanksgiving and Christmas. Trying to figure out how I will survive it. I asked my best friend if I could possibly come to her and her girlfriend's family house. My sister will be in town so I am unsure of the arrangements. I never knew what loneliness felt like until now. I understand when my sister does what she does to not be sucked in by the silence and the darkness.

My friend from New Orleans called early morning and honestly I didn't mind it. She always calls when I disappear for too long. I enjoy the early morning texts, the calls in general, it warms the soul to be honest, no matter who it comes from. I told my other best friend, I dislike my life its very routine. Waking up everyday same time, doing the same thing with no type of human interaction is detrimental. Humans are dysfunctional to me, but are needed. Humans lack a lot of emotions due to trauma, but I don't mind it. I think parts of me wants to get out and scream. Parts of me wants to meet new people and parts of me don't. I am always blamed for so much that isn't even my fault and that makes me want to void human life. I have missed calls that I need to actually callback, but it stresses me out to even be on the phone. I want to get back on social media, but I always have to explain myself and knowingly I don't owe anyone anything, it still feels like I do. I have canceled plans with people, because I become overwhelmed and I don't understand where it comes from. I still feel numb I guess? Maybe I've healed so much that I am broken now? That questions still remains the same. I reopened a website to try to join groups of individuals that are likeminded. They have this whole retreat for lesbians around Labor Day for less than $500. Black women who love women. At this point, I am like this is what I need a moment to get away, but then I don't trust anyone watching my brother, so I feel trapped. It's doable I suppose. I do have my fellow Capricorn who literally would help me out. I love us. Always down to assist. It's a thought. I mean what am I going to do on Labor Day weekend? I checked the calendar and I know my work is already closed and filled.

I definitely don't like latching on to people just because of loneliness and being sad, that's more harm than good in my eyes. I do appreciate my friend inviting me over for taco Tuesday a couple of weeks ago, just because, she lost her dad and she knows what it is like. Same with my other friend down the street losing her mother, always inviting me for some wine and food. To be honest I love that. Checking in and inviting you to their home, people don't realize how smalls gestures and thoughts carry in someone's life. Thankful they don't have their DND on all day, unlike a fake friend I had. Same with my best friend girlfriend inviting me over just for movie night. They understand being in this house is traumatizing. Bringing me into their space with all the positive energies is different. I just started crying ....I am grateful for them. I know my sister barely knows anyone out there except one and doesn't like staying at her place. it's still fresh wounds. I honestly hate living here. Lol, every time I come home I look at the front and just scream inside. I am grateful for my mom making sure her children were straight. I have a whole house. Lol, and a car basically for free. Lol, the sarcasm to keep from crying. Tomorrow is Friday thank God, hopefully I can get out and about. I really want to go visit mom, but I don't want to go alone. I have my brother but it still feels alone. I feel like I want to go and start digging, Lol, because this is some sort of dimensional that has been distorted and it's a dream that I am living, but the dreams are actually reality. Imagine having a conversation with someone who mind is small, about the abstracts of reality. Phew... scary.

I am a late night conversationalist. I speak of things that would question your subconscious. Make you question so many things. I enjoy in depth conversations, because it shows how far a human mind can go. Nothing has to make sense in those conversations and I love that. It's like being excited about random shit that has been floating in your mind and saying it without being judged. That's who I am. I do want to go back to social media but for some reason it stresses me out. I think it actually creates toxins in the mind. It's drama and chaos and I don't have that in my life so I am unable to relate. Maybe I will stick to Snapchat and Twitter? As soon as people wake up, they grab their phones. I actually text everyone Goodmorning... That's actually a great discussion to have among those that don't crave social media. Everyone who does that are like distorted humans that can't function. If I posted this on Snapchat I would start a riot. Some people post on social media and that's great, others get on there and become robotic and scroll and scroll. When I did get on there after acknowledging actually humans I know, I'd scroll for less a minute than get off, then everyone sends me posts and it felt overwhelming, because it was DMs after DMs and videos after videos and I felt overloaded. I'd real life stress about opening a DM and there were over 10 videos. It's too much, I'd reply to a DM then pray they don't respond, because I'd have to respond. It's mentally painful.

Speaking of social media caused me to panic and wanting to disappear again It's real life toxic. But bless the devious souls who are able to stand it. Maybe I should start to go on retreats? I love nature and have been in it a couple of times to admire its beauty without the toxins of cellular transmitting. I think a part of me is like, okay, if I go on this black queer women's retreat, the compliments of "you look younger" has got to stop. That also makes me not want to go, I appreciate it, but it be annoying in reality. They have a queer cruise too. I need to figure out what is happening to my outgoing personality. It's like I want to go outside and be with the humans, but I also want to be a hermit crab. There are some LGBTQ outings coming up, I just have to stop making excuses for why I can not. And why I should. And maybe meeting new people, I will impact their life, bringing something that they needed. I also need to help the homeless like I did previously.

To end this post; unfamiliar numbers call as well as private. I can only think of two people at this time. I don't even have the energy or curiosity to know what they want. Yall all of a sudden want to be with me huh, Lol. Why people set themselves up for failure will always be a mystery to me. If I did a podcast I'd provide some sort of insight to be a better person for yourself and your future partner. We all have flaws, because well humans are trial and errors of the world, but they don't define a person's identity. I remember giving this chick advice on bettering herself for some girl she liked, then in the process had the audacity to have a crush on me, like no ma'am stay focused. Spirituality has done a lot for me and that would be my focus. Manifesting and really having intentions gets you what you desire. See humans, desire things on the ideals of trauma and hurt and not on the ideals of healed and ready. Lol, I just be saying shit that feels like butter. But on the real, it's true. I come healed and ready and open to receiving. I don't hide things from the person I am dating. I've been hurt and cautious but also very open to receiving, see how I mentioned that twice. I hear people say, "i will never do that again..because of what happened last time." I understand that fully. Fear of receiving the same results and fear of feeling those don't feel good emotions, but that actually hinders you. But I guess that's what makes me a catch to some. Listen, I've been hurt and screwed over, but I am still going to show up with flowers randomly, write love notes, ask to see you, ask questions, etc., even though in the past I've been rejected or shit hit the fan when I did gestures. You know why, because the person I am dating is not the past and doesn't deserve someone else's pain. Might need to read that again. I won't express my emotions because of this and that. Honey, I've been rejected for expressing my emotions, but no one and nothing is going to stop me from still being who I am. I am on the wrong planet, right? Lol, wrong dimension, wrong universe, wrong vessel? So when I hear things, I think so ...I have to be punished for someone else's doing or even your own doing. And most people, get it, but by then Im uninterested. Hence the thirty day rule.

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[runerosen]

Ruins of Rune: Chapter 2

Ruins of Rune: Chapter Two, 12 Years Later

"And now, Rune Rosen will speak." As the congregation turned to me, I stood up and walked to the podium, the only sound being the click of my heels across the wood stage. Taking in a deep breath, I looked into the eyes of Hisashi and his child, Asuga, who gave me an encouraging smile. Slowly, I turned my eyes back to the crowd and began to speak.

"It is not always the case that significance translates into positive influence. It's hard to say more than that, other than those who are important in your life have become so because of tragedies you've experienced. Despite my mother's best efforts, I am negatively affected by her. Because of what happened, I stopped calling her mom and now call her mother instead. After all, she emotionally abandoned me sixteen years ago.

"My life has been impacted by emotional abuse. My parents started as soon as I returned from hospital after being hospitalized four years ago. Instead of helping me, they punished me relentlessly. The hatred increased after I was hospitalized, but it had always been there. From five to seven years old, my parents would lock me out of the house if I hadn't fallen asleep by the time they went to bed. I now know that my insomnia was the cause. My mother let me scream and bang on her door as I cried. Having been left in the dark with a flickering light that was about to go out gave me many panic attacks when I was a child. In some cases, my parents turned out that light and left tenebrously behind. There was a very short period of time I was held here, but it was traumatic.

"In 7th grade, I started attending virtual school since I wasn't ready to attend a public school. I was almost always sent home because I was suicidal. Having difficulty managing time and staying focused was a major issue for me, so I nearly failed seventh grade until I was forced to finish my overdue assignments. Due to this, my parents and I had “Come To Jesus” meetings. I ignored it, but it came every week. Why didn't they see that lectures, screaming, cursing, and threatening were not working? In a few days, they started threatening me with a belt until I understood how important it was to do my overdue assignments. A few weeks later, they pulled down my pants and beat me until I couldn't sit, and it was unspeakable. My heart broke when they said, "We did this because we love you." 

"As a result, if I told someone, my parents would discredit me in public by saying, “you have distorted perceptions of reality.” I understood that to mean, “you’re screwed up.” As a result of three years of hearing "you only see what you want to see," "sometimes we question your sanity," and "you read between the lines too much," the perception left its mark. In recent days, I have started to question my sanity. In my weekly therapy sessions, I discuss my life's past with a therapist, mainly regarding my parents' opinions. My life would have been on the line back then if it proved true.

"At one point, I attempted suicide and almost succeeded if it weren't for my best friend, Hisashi, busting into my room. After being locked in my bedroom, which was void of personality and color, I became so starved of comfort, food, and other necessities that I deemed it essential to my well-being that I die. I truly thought and still think that the pain I experienced as a teenager and in my childhood, is undoubtedly worse than the torture I shall come to know in the depths of hell. And yet, no one visited except Hisashi. Everyone I knew had suddenly made their loyalties known because of one drastic but necessary decision. It positively changed my life for the better, too.

"Although I still doubt my sanity, I recognize that I was emotionally abused by my hateful parents. After reading about abuse for someone's benefit, I experienced an epiphany regarding my abuse:

"Emotional abuse is a way to control another person by using emotions to criticize, embarrass, shame, blame, or otherwise manipulate another person. Some signs of emotional abuse are: name-calling, yelling, public embarrassment, and dismissiveness. Warning signs are but are not limited to, threats, digital spying, frustrated helplessness, and monitoring whereabouts. The National Domestic Violence Hotline states, “because of its subtleties, emotional abuse can be quite difficult to detect when it is being experienced...emotional abusive behaviors do not leave physical marks, [but] they do hurt, disempower, and traumatize. "Emotional abuse can erode self-esteem and will because subtle behaviors are incorporated into it."

"Thus, as my abuse changed me, I became numb in the presence of my parents. As far as I'm concerned, showing affection to people who leave me to constantly ask myself questions is not appropriate. As a result of the roles they played in my life, I became indifferent to my mother and father, and I will remain indifferent, as their presence destroyed my overall well-being.

"As I have stated above, my mother and father played a significant role in my life. My abusers traumatized me, leaving me scarred, and in turn preventing me from caring about them. As these types of abusive behaviors are subtle, I was unable to recognize that I was the victim. As a result, I am fixing my welfare for the improvement of my quality of life, even though I continue to struggle to move past these hurdles. Throughout my life, emotional abuse has played a significant role and continues to do so every day. Thank you for your time."

I watched the congregation with unrevealing eyes to see what they would do. For five seconds, all you could hear was the sobbing of mothers, fathers, guardians, and victims like myself. Then, Hisashi stood up and started clapping as hard as he could, tears streaking his cheeks as he did. Asuga immediately jumped up to follow her father's example, giving me a bright smile. Soon, another stood up and followed their example, and another, and before I knew it, everyone who had stood up to clap. 

The tears, those didn't shock me. But the clapping did, for no one had truly appreciated what I had to say and it was overwhelming. I covered my mouth with one hand as I started crying from happiness, for no words could express the love I felt then and there.

I slowly turned my eyes to the left and looked out at the sky from the window there, losing myself in thought. The crowd's chattering died away, and it was finally silent for me. I felt at peace with myself and the world for the second time in my life, but this time, I could thrive in it.

Mother, father, I don't know where you are now, but I hope you know that twelve years later after I felt driven to death, I am still going strong and standing as an advocate of emotional abuse. 

My past may be ruins, but I am Rune Rosen.

I will survive.

A/N: Yay! Second chapter, woot-woot! Stay tuned for more!

[sophierequests]

heyy!! maybe something angsty/fluffy with Tamar?? hope you have a great day

falling apart without you

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Request

Pairing: Tamar Kir-Bataar x f!Reader

A/N: Tamar, my wife <333 This is my first Tamar fic and I am so happy that somebody requested it! I love her sm. Thank you for the request and have a great day too! Also, I used that Khergud attack scene from King of Scars and changed it, so there will be timeline inconsistencies.

Summary: Tamar isn't afraid of anything. But what if the people she actually cares about get hurt?

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Blood, wounds, bullets, death

“Scared?” the sudden appearance of Tamar’s voice right behind you startled you a bit.

You didn’t turn around, eyes still fixed on the menacing darkness that seemed to be a hundred miles away, yet so close. From where you stood, you had a more or less pleasant view of the looming Fold draped over a vast desolate mass of land. Just the thought of having to cross it again made your stomach drop. Behind you stood the cathedral of Adena, its glorious golden domes striking a huge contrast to whatever was expecting you out on the void of the Unsea. Your party was standing close to the entrance of the church, slowly preparing to return to where you were supposed to stay the night. Even though you had nothing to be afraid of yet, you couldn’t stifle the uneasy feeling settling on your shoulders

And apparently, Tamar seemed to notice your beginning anxiety, as she had quietly split up from the rest of the group to talk to you. She was one of your closest friends since you had joined Sturmhond’s crew, and remained in her position after you decided to join Nikolai in his advance against the Darkling. When Nikolai announced that you would be joining his little travel party to Adena, Tamar was more than against that, but she was just as aware that there was nothing she could do to keep you away - safe. You thought it to be almost endearing how she cared for your well-being, however, she didn’t quite like your readiness to get into dangerous situations like these.

What you didn’t know was, that under her supposed platonic worry lingered a different emotion. You had stopped being just a friend to her a long time ago, but she pushed these thoughts away. Love in the middle of a war is a fool’s game, and Tamar wasn’t willing to risk it.

“A little.” you broke the silence, turning your head only slightly to look at her - now standing next to you, “You?”

There was no actual need to ask that question. You knew her answer already. Tamar was never scared. Not of anyone or anything. It was one of the things you admired and hated simultaneously. You would never come even close to her level of fearlessness, not even if you tried. However, the recklessness that came with it managed to drive you mad sometimes.

“Never.” she smiled faintly, looking strained after the already lengthy journey, “There’s no reason to be afraid, Y/N. Right now, we’re still safe. And when it comes down to it, you’ll still have me to protect you. And Tolya - of course.”

You had to chuckle at that statement. Of course, the twins would be the first ones to keep the party safe. Even though you weren’t sure if that’s necessarily what she meant by saying ‘you’.

“I never doubted your willingness to fight, Tamar.” you replied, “And the willingness of your brother - of course.”

You both looked at each other, an amused grin on your faces. It could be difficult finding humour in times like these, so you appreciated it even more when you did. If you could've stayed in this moment forever, you wouldn't mind it.

However, the low metallic whirring of hummingbird-like wings caused your heart to stand still. Before anyone could even utter a word, you knew immediately what was going to happen.

"Y/N, Tamar! Get down!" Nikolai screamed, followed by Tolya having to yank him back.

Tamar and you whipped your heads around, only to be met with a horrible discovery. The previously blue sky was now littered with sickly-looking winged soldiers, that were set on killing you. The jittery noise their wings made echoed in your head like a diabolical rhythm.

"Khergud." Tamar whispered, pulling out the axe that was hoisted on her belt.

She advanced toward Nikolai and her brother, trying her best to not get grabbed by the attacking soldiers. You followed swiftly after her, your mind racing, as you thought about what to do next. They had already smelled that you and the twins were Grisha, hence why they were mainly trying to focus on the three of you.

With a strong sense of determination, you called for your power, almost instantly feeling the familiar warmth pulse through your body. In a matter of split seconds, you managed to call a burst of fire from the candles at the cathedral's entrance, managing to set two of the creatures aflame. You weren't aware of their ability to speak, so you could only feel shock shoot through you, when you heard the inhuman screech they let out as they went down.

Sadly, this didn't do much. There were just too many to fight at once. When you sent another wave of flames towards them, you couldn't even see whether you were able to hit some of them before a bullet met your side, and you violently got yanked off of your feet and pulled up in the air. One of these bloody creatures had caught you. The grip of its sharp fingers squeezed your arms, drawing blood at the spots where the foul nails met your flesh. If you screamed you didn't know it, the sudden change in events knocking out every ounce of air that had filled your lungs before.

"Y/N!" Tamar called out, an unintelligible mass of voices droning behind her.

The rest of the fight was a blur. You heard gunshots, shouts, the clanking of metal against metal, and most terrifying of all, the horrible sounds the Khergud made when they went down - either to die or to attack. You saw a metallic net being thrown over Tamar and Tolya, pinning them down and ultimately restricting their hand movement. From the corner of your eye, you saw Nikolai trying his best to fight against them. The vicious clutch your attacker had on your arms made you slip in and out of consciousness, the blood dripping from your wounds staining your clothes. The last thing you knew, was its hold on you loosening, and both of your bodies sinking towards the dirty ground. Then you blacked out.

Everything around them was chaos. Some of the Khergud had crashed into the church, destroying some of the walls and windows. The twins had finally managed to get rid of the net that had bound them down so that they were able to aid Nikolai in taking down the last soldiers that were close to the ground before a handful of them managed to escape through the air. He took a glimpse at his team - his friends - and shuddered when he found Tamar's eyes, looking absolutely horrified. You weren't with them.

"Tamar, where is Y/N?" he asked sternly, feeling his heart racing at the thought of having to bury another one of his friends.

But she didn't answer. Instead, she dashed towards a pile of rubble and bodies that lay close to one of the broken-down cathedral domes. She recognized the distinct silver bracelet she had gifted you once without a hint of doubt. It was a pretty gruesome scene, that she was faced with. Your body laid next to the corpse of your assailant - if that's what you could call a lifeless Khergud - and you were littered with bruises and scratches. One of its metal wings was cutting into the flesh of your hip, forcefully tearing up your clothes. After taking in what she had just witnessed, she instantly bent down to you, her shaky hands carefully prying the wings from you. When she noticed the bullet wound she had to fight the urge to vomit, but she pushed down the feeling of nausea, determined to not let you slip away. She had seen worse, but not on people she cares about.

Nikolai and Tolya walked up behind her, cringing after seeing what she was hovering over. Without saying a word, she allowed herself to listen to your heartbeat. For the first time without your permission. Her call was met with deafening silence.

Her hands flew to your body, trying desperately to shake you awake, even though she was perfectly aware that it wouldn't work. Tolya took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment and mimicking the procedure his sister had done only seconds earlier. Nikolai knelt down next to Tamar, trying to calm her down - without much success. They both stopped when Tolya gasped, his eyes fluttering open as moved his hands upwards, bringing them down on your chest quickly.

"There's a heartbeat." he breathed out, repeating the procedure again.

"But- but she had none, when I-" Tamar stammered, her hands visibly shaking.

"It's faint. Very faint. But it's there." Tolya muttered, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, "We need to get her back as soon as possible. I'll carry her, and you try to keep her heart stable."

"I can't." she blurted out, her eyes not moving from your form, "I don't think that I'll be able to keep her heart beating. Let me carry her."

"Tamar, your hands are shaking, I don't think that would-" Nikolai suggested, a hand still resting on her shoulder.

"Alright. Let's go." Tolya interjected, letting his gaze fly over his sister one more time before she nodded and pulled you up in her arms.

You expected to wake up buried beneath the rubble - or even to not wake up at all. But when you pried open your eyes, your gaze was fixed on a wooden ceiling. Your body felt heavy, and every single minuscule movement made you regret it immediately after. The smell of burnt firewood, freshly brewed Suutei tsai and incense lay thickly in the air around you. You had no idea where exactly you are, as the memories of the attack started to steadily catch up to you.

Where were the others?

The question hit you like a brick. You didn’t remember whether they were able to make it out alive. Against all your logical thoughts telling you not to, you tried to set up straight. And you regretted it straight away. The wounds you had acquired yesterday reminded you of their presence as a sharp jolt of pain flashed through you. You hid the pain as best as you could, the sense of worry stronger than your discomfort.

However, you managed to calm down slightly, when you saw Tolya snooze in the chair close to your bed. His usually neat ponytail was dishevelled, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept in a proper bed in ages. You were safe. At least one of your friends was safe. You were alive and semi-well. Everything was alright.

Your needy breathing seemed to have pulled him from his slumber. He blinked multiple times as if he didn’t want to believe that it was you who sat there. You flashed him a tired smile, trying your best to not wince while your whole body ached.

“Saints, Y/N, we really thought you were a goner.” he uttered, standing up and moving towards your bed, “You’re not allowed to scare us like that ever again, or else I might have to bring back Tamar from the dead too.”

“You had to bring me back from the dead?” you asked, the colour draining from your face.

He paused, his face pulled into an uncomfortable grimace.

“Yes, when we brought you back here, your heart stopped. I thought Nikolai and Tamar would join you right then and there. We managed to bring you back though, so congratulations on your first near-death experience.” he chuckled awkwardly.

“Thank you…and sorry for that.” you added, knowing that it must’ve been quite straining to bring you back from the dead, “How are the others? Are they hurt?”

“They are mainly fine. Nikolai only has to deal with a few cuts and bruises, so he’ll be fine. Tamar also wasn’t hurt that badly, but if she was, I wouldn’t have the pleasure to know.” he grumbled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Why?” you inquired worriedly since the twins usually were closer than anyone else you knew.

“She was in shock after finding you. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen her that afraid. She only went to bed a few hours ago, after I basically had to drag her out of her. Otherwise, she would’ve stayed until exhaustion took her.”

You shook your head, not being able to hide the faint blush that sneaked on your face. Tolya threw you an amused glance, seemingly aware of the tension between the two of you.

“Do you want me to get her? I don’t think that she was able to sleep for that long. Maybe you should have a little talk.” he mused, grinning contently.

“Only if she’s actually awake.”

He nodded, leaving the room swiftly as he went to look for his sister.

You didn’t even have to wait long until a familiar set of footsteps came rushing towards your room. The door flew open again, this time revealing an utterly distressed Tamar. Her mood lightened when she saw you smiling back at her. You expected her to say something, but she only strode to your bed, leaning down to engulf you in a comforting hug. She was careful to not touch your bandaged wounds - even though you didn’t think that you would’ve cared. The comfort of her embrace soothed you greatly.

“Don’t ever do that again.” she mumbled into the crook of your neck.

“I wasn’t planning on repeating that anytime soon.” you giggled softly.

“You have no clue how afraid I was. I really thought that I would never see you again. Alive at least.”

“I thought you’d never be scared of anything?” you responded only half-jokingly.

She took a brief pause, shuffling a bit further away from you to look at you properly for the first time. Her eyes were a bit puffy, and she looked as tired as ever. Your hand absent-mindedly moved forward to cup her cheeks in an attempt to reassure her of your presence. You were here. You were alive. This gesture was something completely new, and both of you knew that the feeling that settled between you was far from platonic.

And as if it had been a natural reaction, you pulled her closer to you, your lips connecting in an instant. Your heart took a leap as you felt the very much-needed sensation of her lips against yours. It felt like this situation had always been bound to happen, no one wanting to be the first to pull away, in fear of having this moment end.

“There’s only one thing that I’m scared of. And that is losing you.”