cynical-kitten

[cynical-kitten]

It took 5 years of begging and pleading with three different doctors, but I FINALLY found a doctor who was willing to test me. I got an official diagnosis for ADHD and start treatment next week. I could cry, I’ve been struggling for years and no one would hear me out 😭

Maybe now I can actually sit down long enough to finish writing my fic 🫠

[cynical-kitten]

🌸✨💓THIS IS A TUMBLR HUG! 🫂 PASS IT ON AND HAVE A LOVELY DAY! ~♡ (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[cynical-kitten]

What a sad day for women. For the LGBTQ+. For any POC. For minorities.

What a sad day for America.

[cynical-kitten]

Oh! I did the thing!

I WROTE A CHAPTER AFTER ALMOST A MONTH OF NOTHING. Check it out if you wanna :) here's a snippet, and the link if you want to read more <3

As a human, New Year's Eve was a night I eagerly circled on calendars the day I bought them, marked with bright ink, some doodles, and a few exclamation points for good measure. The thrill of doing so was edged on by the buzz induced by the New Year's event that had occurred a day or two before, as well as the excitement of planning for the one ahead. As a product of New Orleans, I lived for parties, especially the extravaganzas in honor of a new year. Although nothing could shine as bright as our beloved Mardi Gras, New Year's Eve came very, very close.

Parties in the Crescent City were unique and worth the tourism it rightly deserved. The celebrations were considered to be street parties, and welcomed partygoers from around the world. Restaurants and jazz clubs held their doors wide open, musicians played on every corner of the French Quarter, and vendors were set up as far as the eye could see. Lights were strung from every nook and cranny, creating a blanket of stars beneath the celestial beauties dotting the night sky.

Despite the prohibition, which was alive and well for a decent portion of my adult life, alcohol found a way to flow freely under the noses of the law, fueling the debauchery that loitered within my beloved city. Champagne bubbles tickled my nose as I tossed back glass after glass, and whiskey warmed my insides as it settled in my stomach, igniting a fire against the chill of winter.

But oh, the dancing! The dancing was the highlight of it all and absolutely nothing could compare. Drunk off of the music and the liquid courage burning in my veins, I would twirl among the crowds, uncaring and free. I was alive, laughing and spinning as if all of New Orleans was my dancefloor. As a single woman, I'd flit from person to person, not a care in the world of whose arms had been encircled around me. Boundaries simply didn't exist on nights like these. Everyone was there to have a good time, and if you could cut a rug, you were fair game no matter who you belonged to.

Truth be told, I could have made a dance partner out of a murderer, which, in hindsight, I guess technically I did. After marrying Alastor, who turned out to be the Crescent City Phantom that haunted the streets of New Orleans, I truly expected my free-spirited fun to end. Much to my surprise, it didn't— he only added his dark, eager enthusiasm into the mix. The social butterfly found as much passion for the New Year's parties as I did, never denying me the opportunity to dance the night away as we counted down to midnight. And boy, could he dance! Alastor could dance better than anyone I've ever know, but he never let me stray far. He was very selfish and kept me to himself, his hands possessive as he held me close, which was fine by me. He indulged my every whim and fancy, never complaining unless I got too touchy or became stumbling drunk.

New Year's Eve in Hell, like most holidays, was a vastly different experience than the ones I had up above. It was a twisted version of the affair, lacking the glimmers of hope and eager resolutions that I was accustomed to. The night had one of the most somber atmosphere, filled with a sort of primal dread and anxiety that sat like a gargoyle on your shoulders. It dripped from the pores of every Sinner, the air heavy with fear and anticipation for what the next day would bring.

[cynical-kitten]

I haven’t written anything in almost three weeks, let alone read any updates of my favorite fics. I feel so bad, but my mental health has absolutely taken a nose dive and I’m so so tired 😭

The time change will likely make it worse, because it’ll be dark by the time I get home and I’m stuck inside all day when the sun is out. I miss the sun. ☀️

[cynical-kitten]

AH. MY FAVORITE HOLIDAY HAS ARRIVED.

[cynical-kitten]

[cynical-kitten]

WIP Wednesday

Oh, wow, okay. A Wednesday where I’m not bogged down with work! Have an unedited blurb I’ve been typing in my Notes app for a later chapter because it wouldn’t leave my head:

Healing

“Manny?”

The soft, masculine voice drifting through the crack of my bedroom door stirred my consciousness, dragging my mind away from the dark void it had been lingering in.

I don’t respond. What was the use? There was no point to my soul’s existence without… him. Letting myself rot and waste away into nothing seemed like a better option than trying to pretend he didn’t disappear.

The door creaked as it was pushed open and the sound of footsteps crossing the room reached my ears. Still, I do not move. Do not speak. Do not think. It was too painful.

The edge of my mattress dips as the intruder takes a seat next to me, the smell of his cologne invading my nostrils— Citrus, patchouli, and the unique scent of voltage. Clawed hands rake through my hair, or at least attempt to. The strands had become matted in my fortress of solitude, not having seen shampoo or the bristles of a brush in Lucifer only knows how long.

“Manny, it’s been three years. You can’t keep yourself locked up in here anymore.”

The staticky warmth emanating from his hands was addicting, and a part of me wanted to lean further into it, to escape the cold loneliness I had subjected myself to. But another part wanted to pull away, to continue to isolate and hope to be forgotten.

“I miss you.”

Who missed me? Surely I didn’t hold much significance for someone other than Alastor to be missed.

Curious, I turned my head from the suffocating fabric of my pillow, allowing the light to touch my face for the first time in ages. It stabbed my eyes as they adjusted to the sudden onslaught of it, a hiss of pain escaping through my gritted teeth. The figure next to me, noticing my struggles, reached across my form to pull the drapes across the window, an act I had neglected to do despite my desire to wither away in the dark.

I looked at him, my eyes squinting from the blue glow of his face. It was… different. But I knew who it was.

“Vox?” I murmured, my voice cracking from lack of usage, tongue dry against the roof of my mouth.

A wide grin spread across the screen, his eyes sparkling with glee. “Hiya, doll.”

[cynical-kitten]

I found the motivation to write and post a new chapter! Woo!

Depression is a bitch lol

[cynical-kitten]

I’ve lived in the southeastern U.S. my entire life and never thought I’d get the opportunity to experience the northern lights. Back in May, we had the opportunity to see them through our camera lenses with low exposures, but of course I missed it because I’m old (ahem, 27) and go to bed early. BUT I GOT TO SEE THEM TONIGHT. AND WITH MY NAKED EYES.

Anyway. Coolest experience ever. 10/10. Will be planning a trip to Alaska ASAP.

[cynical-kitten]

Literally me irl

[cynical-kitten]

Oop. This is what my writing process looks like

[cynical-kitten]

A rough sketch of a WIP scene from my Alastor x OC fic ❤️ box TV Vox is bby boi

[cynical-kitten]

Breaking away from fan fiction to read an actual book.

I know, I’m just as surprised as you are.

[cynical-kitten]

[cynical-kitten]

Alastor textposts pt 7

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3 | Pt 4 | Pt 5 | Pt 6

[cynical-kitten]