#(As mom won't be back until much later so she can't kill this thing for me until at least 12pm/two more hours at least)

[kittykatkatelol]

theres a huge ass spider in my house rn and I don't know where it went so I'm panicking and crying because huge spider in house wtf do I do

[tpwk-formula1]

It Was Obvious - LN4

Lando Norris x Fewtrell Twin reader

Summary: Lando and Y/N Fewtrell have been seeing each other since just before the season started, what happens when they all go on vacation for summer break and are forced to continue and try to hide their relationship.

TW - NOT EDITED, lowkey mad cheesy, some fluff, talks of slight anxiety, secret relationship

WC 1200+

Y/N POV

"Lando, he's going to kill us if he catches you in here," I whisper to my boyfriend of 6 months, who is currently in my room pulling me in for another kiss.

"I'm willing to fight," Lando whispers again before kissing me again. It was a rushed make out session knowing we didn't have much time making me feel like I was back in year 10 hiding my boyfriend from my parents. But instead of my parents not knowing it's my twin brother who just so happens to be Lando's best friend.

"I love you," I whisper when he pulls away. I see the light blush crawl up his neck before settling on his cheek showing that regardless of how long we have been together we still get the giddy feelings.

"I love you too," he whispers back before slipping out of my room presumably going to his or Max's.

It's not even ten minutes later before another knock rings out through my room making me think Lando is coming back in already..

"Come in," I call out not moving from my bad. When the door opens to reveal Pietra I relax slightly knowing I don't have to worry about my twin coming in and finding out the truth had it been Lando.

"I wanna talk to you," P tells me softly making me sit up and start to feel some anxiety sink in, not knowing what she wants to talk about.

"Im not picking sides in the divorce," I joke softly making her laugh and shake her head.

"I'm not breaking up with your brother," P tells me softly making me laugh cause I knew damn well she wasn't trying to talk to me about that.

"So you and Lando?" She asks with a smirk on her face. I instantly feel all the air in the room leave making it increasingly more difficult to breathe.

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down! I'm not here to get anyone in trouble. I just wanna know more information," P tells me softly when she notices the panic starting to take over my body.

"Please don't tell anyone," I whisper out not knowing how to to trust anyone right now.

"I won't tell anyone. I think it's something you and Lando will need to do on your own time," she tells me with a smile making me relax a little bit more.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She asks me with a smile. I nod my head with a smile knowing I haven't been able to talk about my relationship with anyone but my mom.

"We started dating in February shortly after Max dragged you and I to that stupid golf thing. We had been talking before that but after Lando got wasted and couldn't take care of himself I went back home with him and pretty much babysat him until he went to sleep. The next morning he woke up and he set up a really cute brunch where he asked me out," I tell her with a smile making her smile with me.

"How did you figure it out?" I ask making her laugh out loud.

"Girl I love you to death but you guys are terrible at sneaking around. We've been here for for two days and everytime I can't find you, Lando just so happens to be missing as well, so I decided to spy on yall. Well kind of, I just so happened to be coming out of the bathroom when he was leaving your room and I truly wouldn't have thought anything of it but I was already suspecting you guys," she tells me making me nod.

"I think Lando and I are gonna make Max to lunch and tell him. I'm tired of lying to him and hiding my relationship," I tell her making her nod and smile.

"I think it's about time 'cause that was almost 7 months ago," she laughs out. I laughed with her happy to know she was happy for me and supported my relationship.

We're nearing the end of our trip and I have decided it was time. Keegan was already making jokes about us being together and thankfully Max was brushing them off as a joke but I'm sure he's going to start realizing the truth.

"Hey Max, I was wondering if you wanted to go to lunch later?" I ask softly not wanting to give too much information and try to pass it off as twin bonding.

"Ya, we could go to that one restaurant you've been begging to since we arrived," Max says with a laugh.

"I saw it on TikTok and it looked amazing," I reply back showing my excitement.

I make sure to text Lando the plan and while I plan to tell Max just us I want Lando nearby incase he wants to talk to both of us.

We're halfway through our meal when I finally drop my fork and clear my throat.

"I have to tell you something," I tell him making him drop his fork and roll his eyes jokingly.

"I knew you didn't just want to hang out with me," he jokes making both of us laugh.

"Ya, um but you have to promise to hear me out before getting upset," I tell him suttering in stress a little making him focus on me completely.

"So, please don't be upset but, landoandiareseeingeachother," I breath out in one breath talking too fast for anyone to understand.

"Try again and breathe this time," Max says trying to stay calm at the situation.

"Lando and I are dating," I tell him refusing to look at him. When I meet his eyes I he is giving me the most disbelief look possible.

"Are you kidding me?" Max asks in pure disbelief making me grow increasingly more nervous.

"I promise he's a good one," I quickly come to defend my partner.

"You thought I didn't know?" Max rephrases his statement making it clear he already knows.

"You knew!" I announce being quite a bit louder than I had hoped.

"I've known since Miami. I mean that confirmed it but I definitely caught on before that," Max tells me slightly stunned that I didn't realize.

"I wanted you to tell me when you were ready. Besides its been funny watching you and Lando try to sneak around all this time," Max tells me laughing slightly.

"So you don't care?" I ask him trying to get clarification. He just shook his head no.

"What about P?" I asked just getting curious to the situation now.

"What about her?" Max asks, clearly confused now.

"She came into my room earlier in the trip and asked me about it," I tell him, giving him some more detail about the conversation.

"Oh, no I didn't tell anyone I knew. Meaning she also caught on to your guy's terrible sneaking," Max laughs before adding, "Hell, even Keegan caught on."

I just laughed at that before sending Lando a quick text to let him know he could come in if he wanted. When he met us at the table Max explained to both of us how he caught on and when he realized we both had feelings for each other, which had been long before we started talking.

"Hey but if you break her heart I will pay Verstappen to take you out," Max tells Lando as we are walking back to the beach house we rented for the week.

That just made Lando laugh before telling him he wouldn't dare hurt me.

It was nice being able to spend the last few days of break not having to hide my relationship.

[loveandleases]

LOOVVVEEDDDD the demo and can't wait for the update! I hope you don't mind that I got two questions, but I gotta ask: what kinda hobby options do you have written down for the MC? Also, how would all the ROs, plus Chris, Jade, and Aunt Em, react if MC's cooking is five-star restaurant levels good? (I imagine Chris is kicking themselves over losing a god-tier-chef MC who cooks as a hobby)

💗 Glad you enjoyed and I don't mind at all! 1. We have writing/reading, art (drawing, painting), gaming/watching anime, cooking, photography, music (could be singing/playing instrument), exercising.

I'm going into it with the thought that depending on the hobby the MC will have the chance to spend time with RO's even in a platonic sense as well as be used to further their business. (For example: an MC who likes to exercise has the chance to run into two RO's. MC who is into art can create a logo for their business) (2 is under the cut due to length)

2. 💩 Chris - Butthurt. Which is what we want! Clarke family curse is that they can't cook right? So Chris before MC relied on fast food or their parents chef. The only real homecooked food they had was from MC or Em when they visited. It's like throwing salt on a wound. Because now they're back to fast food, easy snacks. Because Jade can't cook a damned thing. Chris is pretty sure doggo enjoys watching as Chris mumbles about wanting a hot meal from time to time.

💀 Jade - In her eyes she doesn't have time to waste on things like cooking. Why would she bother when she can just have Chris take her out to some fancy dinner? The only reason MC bothers is because they have nothing else to do obviously. (She's jelly very jealous)

😇 Em - If MC is great at cooking then Em was the one who likely taught them the basics. So for Em, it's like winning a prize. All those little dinners they have Em can have MC help. It's refreshing to be able to have someone else in the kitchen with her, it's something she hasn't had the luxury of in many years. (She's really relieved that MC and Cam won't starve. Cam could screw up warming soup, so for Em it's a blessing.)

❤️ Cam - Oh it's like he won the lottery, and it's Christmas and his birthday all at the same time. Cam is an eater, he loves food. An MC who can keep him fed is like the cherry on top for him. MC would have to tell Cam not to bother them late at night, when he's up all alone on his laptop. He just wants one snack, honest!!! He will use puppy dog eyes, don't let them deter you!

💙 G - To them it's a nice ability to have. In fact, G will be curious as to why they only get cake's on their birthday. Shouldn't they be allowed more? Do they look like someone who doesn't enjoy the delicious taste of dessert? They would want to watch MC cook from time to time, see if they can pick up some of the things they do and surprise them later with a nice home cooked meal.

💚 Kara - Finally, someone who can cook and not kill her! She's thankful all too much, this will be the one time you see her tearing up when she realizes she doesn't have to eat another cold sandwich for work. She would want to help, Kara wants to bake. She wants to be able to make cute cakes and cookies. But, she should never ever be allowed in the kitchen. She's worse than Cam.

💛 M - Won't even notice at first, even when they see MC in their kitchen. They have no idea why MC is in there, M kinda lives off easy food, until their moms send them something. Even then they kind of forget to eat. So imagine their surprise when MC has a five star meal ready for them when they finally look up from their computer. Absolutely flabbergasted. Can MC try and make recipes they've seen in anime? Is it weird for them to ask? Sorry MC, but your cooking expertise is going to be wrote about.

💜 Isaac - They aren't the worst in the kitchen, they can make some delicious stuff but Isaac sticks to what they know. They haven't had someone actually cook for them since their mother died. It would be a bitter topic at first, Isaac not wanting to seem thrilled by the notion. Then they would make the offhanded jokes that MC knows the way to their heart is through their stomach. But they would begin to truly appreciate it, and eventually want MC to try making their mothers signature dish. (The one Isaac makes when they feel lonely.)

🖤 Ardent - As a wiz in the kitchen, don't think that's going to impress him so easily. In fact, don't think that MC can make better baklava than him. It would become a competition, Ardent far too cocky for his own good thinking that there is no way MC can be better in the kitchen than him. When he finds out that he actually enjoys MC's food, he will play it off like he's allowing MC to cook for him. Like he's allowing them to do him a favor. (he will be making moans of how delicious mc's cooking is) play it off like he's sore from working out.

[luvghostie]

Could you do the main 4 after a fight with their s/o, and how they would make it up to them? (South Park)

╰┈➤ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐒/𝐎.ೃ࿐

GN Reader

TW: Semi-angst, language, and aged-up characters

When you guys fight it's usually Cartman's fault. He'll bring any sensitive topic to the surface to get back at you. Whether that be something embarrassing or traumatizing he doesn't care. If it makes you angry, that's what matters at the moment.

Whenever the fight gets out of hand the others will step in. Kyle yelling at Cartman for being a dick, Stan telling you that it'll be okay, and Kenny giving you hugs or rubbing your back. This happened at once a week maybe, twice.

After being confronted and proven wrong Cartman runs home. When he reaches his house he cries for hours on end. He cares about you, however, he also knows some things were uncalled for. He shouldn't have brought up such hurtful things. Likewise, Kyle shouldn't have jumped in.

You sometimes hang out with the rest of the group to cool down. They all give their advice and try to help. Some of the advice is awful but you still appreciate the effort. The first thing Kyle always says is, “kill the fat ass.” Of course, you won't, but what the fuck Kyle.

Cartman will sneak out of his house later to see you. When you hear him throwing little rocks at your window you let him in. He apologizes over and over again. Truth be told, he feels horrible for what he did. If you forgive him Cartman will never bring up those subjects again. He loves you a lot and fights happen in relationships.

Kyle and you don't fight a lot. On the downside, the fights always happen because of his mom. She and you aren't on good terms. She's very open about how she thinks you aren't good enough for her son. That being said, you bump heads more than anyone.

You wish Kyle would stand up for you. Instead, he just sits back emotionless. He thinks you are good enough for him he just doesn't want to argue with his mom. He's always been a momma's boy and doesn't dare go against her word. You love him but you wish he would at least talk to her.

In the middle of a fight, you give up. It's always the same things coming from him. “What am I supposed to say?” and “she's my mom y/n I can't be fucking rude!” as soon as you try to leave he stops you. An argument with Kyle has never lasted more than twenty minutes. Either he apologizes or you do.

“Wait, y/n, I'm sorry,” Kyle said hugging you. “I'll try to talk to her.” most times you wouldn't believe what he said. Yet, he actually did speak to his mom. (with encouragement from Cartman and Stan) the next time you saw Shelia she didn't say a single word to you. Whatever Kyle did you were grateful. No words were better than being told you weren't enough.

It takes a lot for you and Kenny to fight. Like, A LOT. Whatever pushes that last button causes you to yell at him. Perhaps, it was the fact he was okay with how badly people treated him. Maybe, it was because of how much you disliked his shitty parents. Something finally made you upset to the point it turned into a fight.

Kenny doesn't get heated until you question his love. He cares deeply for you, so hearing such things are bound to hurt. He's worked many hours to give you gifts. He's even stolen items just to see that beautiful smile on your face. “What the hell do you mean I don't love you?!” he asked still muffled.

The boys watched in silence as you argued back and forth. It was almost weird to see it happening. Cartman, Stan, and Kyle just stared at each other questioning whether or not to stop the quarrel. I mean, it's not every day that something like this occurs.

You were fixing to walk away but just as you took a step Kenny died from a flying football. It felt unreal, but it was horrible to see him dead. You witnessed this all the time but that didn't mean it was easier. It was so unexpected Cartman even let out an audible gasp.

A couple of days later Kenny showed up back up to School. You were so happy to see him that you ran to hug the boy. “Oh, Kenny, I'm so sorry for fighting with you,” you said, burying your head in his shoulder. “I missed you so much.” Kenny hugged you back feeling the same way. Now, whenever you fight (which only happens at least three times a year) you always try to end it on good terms just in case.

Just like Kenny, it's very rare you two fight. Wendy is always the reason it does transpire. You've never liked her and she never liked you either. Stan and she used to have a thing for one another. You assume she still does based on how she acts. Sticking her nose in your relationship, flirting with your boyfriend, and even saying nasty things about you.

Stans made it very clear he doesn't like Wendy to you. You try to believe him but you still worry that maybe he's lying. Your worrying caused the fight to begin. He gets upset knowing you question his loyalty and feelings for you. A year and a half together he anticipated some trust.

Many hurtful things were said to both parties. Unlike Cartman, nothing traumatizing was brought up. Kyle will move Stan away to cool off and Kenny has you sit down. It takes a bit for you to calm down and realize your anxiety got the best of you. You go to find Stan right away and try to make amends. It feels icky knowing you should've listened to what he said.

Stan forgives you and apologizes as well. While you guys were separated he talked to Wendy. He made it obvious the feelings he once had for her were gone. It warmed your heart knowing he did that just to reassure you. As the days passed you began to trust him more and more. No one butted between you and him. If you ever get anxious again don't worry, he'll be there with open arms.

[dairy-farmer]

Jaytim half sibling au, where tim is catherine and willis todd's biological child. They put him up for adoption because they felt they couldn't support more than one child. Jason was only two or three at the time, and only has vague memories of his mommy's tummy being big.

Maybe tim always knew he was adopted, but didn't care much, other than the odd daydream when he was lonely. He loved his parents, so he mostly fantasized about long lost brothers or sisters.

Idk how this would progress into jaytim, but I feel like this is a deep well for exploring Jason's mommy kink lol (imagine if tim has her smile)

👀👀👀👀 okay so i had a jaytim thread fic about tim and jason being biological fraternal twin brothers here!!!

but here tim knowing he's adopted and always being curious about the family he would've had if his bio parents kept him. it had been a closed adoption. willis had insisted, told catherine it would make things easier because they couldn't afford another child. not when jason was already such a big expense, plus at least with the adoption they'd recieve some money and that would keep their heads above water for the meanwhile. catherine, of course, knows willis is right. she knows they can't afford another baby. but...this is the first baby she's ever carried and now she has to give them up. it takes a toll on her. jason recalls years later never really knowing what pushed his mom into her drug habit. as far back as he could remember he knew she'd been self medicating with drugs and alcohol. he thought his dad had been the reason. he'd hardly been a very pleasant person to be around. an asshole even. but...never a wifebeater. jason had always just sort of assumed his dad was the cause because he knows his old man had been a dealer at some point. jason only knew that because willis had harshly cautioned him against going down that path. it was one of the few times willis had tried to parent him by pulling jason by his ear away from a group of older boys that hung around a stoop across the street and harshly scolding him.

catherine never quite gets over losing her child. the only thing she has is the birth certificate and some papers from the agency that had set everything up. its what sits at the bottom of some forgotten box long after she has died and so has willis. it gather and collects dust in the closet of the apartment in the building jason grew up in. and it won't be until decades that jason scouts out the condemned building, feeling some sense of nostalgia as he determines the amount of work that needs to go into fixing the whole building up so that it can house new families. jason goes into that old one bedroom apartment, runs his fingers through the thick layer of dust. odds and end furniture that was never thrown out because that old landlord had never been able to find a new tenant after jason's dad was locked up and his mom died and no one was left to pay rent.

jason stumbling across that box, going through it, finding an odd set of papers and just...staring. remembering being two, nearly three and recalling how he'd press his ear to his mom's tummy and giggling along with her at the feeling of something pressing against his hand. its just bits and flashes like how its around the time his mom started on a downward spiral that ended up killing her.

jason finally figuring out this was the reason why. that somewhere out there was a little sibling he'd never known.

maybe he can't go to barbara with this because she'll likely spill to dick or run to bruce to tell on him. jason's options are limited and so he turns to the only other detective that might be discrete about it.

tim helping jason with his search because the adoption agency has long since shut down and were active during the time of paper record keeping.

the two of them growing slowly closer, getting to know each other better. jason thinking tim's not as bad as he thought he was that sometimes...tim might even...remind him of his mom.

he dismisses it because it was that visit to his apartment that makes him all sentimental...makes him think of his mom more often and the good times they had together like her warm laugh and the soft skin of her hand. and sometimes...when jason is dead tired and tim's is the closest place to crash...sometimes....tim does those little things that make the kid part of jason's brain just melt because his mommy is there.

jason and tim starting to sleep together and the the absolute ice bucket chill that hits them both when tim manages to track down the couple that adopted jason's sibling and it's jack and janet drake 👀👀👀

[hollyhomburg]

It is June finally, summer polishing it's restless claws, and you are dying.

You didn't love me at first, and i was alright with that. i remember back when there were bunkbeds in the middle room, and you'd sit on top where my sister slept, how i'd climb up the ladder just to look at you. you where always so good, so quieht and invisible when you'd hunt in the autumn leaves, delicate paws that have now started to curl with arthritis and age.

i remember the first time you bit me and i didn't tell mom, because i thought she'd get mad at you and think you weren’t worth petting, and I didn’t want her not to touch you.

she didn't get mad. But she did notice my bloody hand clutched to my chest. “It’s not that bad,” It was never too bad, for me to keep trying with you. you've lived in my house for 21 years now.

i wish you'd let me clip your claws, but somehow that feels like something you wouldn't want on principle. You were always so quick to use them whenever someone reached down to pet you that you didn't like. hissing and biting were your language the way you told my family and me /no/ before i had the experience to know how important that was. How essential it was to say the word /no/.

I learned. Oh, how I /learned/ from you.

My family likes to joke that i'm still the only one out of them that knows how to set healthy boundaries, i can't have learned it from my parents. The way i see it, it has to be from you. You taught me how to fight tooth and claw for what i know i need. You taught me that there is always room to be loved better, always a reason to teach the people who love you how to love you in ways that won't hurt.

and although it hurts now, i think it's just because the love i have for you has no were to go, now that i know that you're dying.

i still remember the first night you really /asked/ me to pet you. the first time you asked for more than the occasional chin rub (those are still your favorite) i was 16, and spending alot of time in my room because the stalking had gotten particularly bad. you were always in my room too- because it was always soft and quiet- the same room i write from now. where underneath you are dying beneath the porch (i won't be cruel and try to move you if thats where you've chosen to rest, i know how to respect what you want now, you taught me so well!).

The same room you died in, because you couldn’t stand it, how I kept trying to bring you back to my room.

The first time i pet you because you wanted it, i had a bottle of benedryl and two bottles of advil on my bedside table and i knew that taking them would make my organs fail. God, i was sitting on the edge of that single bed and sobbing. Ready to go. Ready to end it,

And then you started circling my heals and /meowing/ at me. the cat who never wanted to be touched hopped up on my bed, wormed its way between my knees and started nudging at my hands and purring. begging for touches that i barely knew how to give.

i was sobbing too hard to see, but i could feel you purring against my fingertips. Maybe you knew, animals have a 6th sense about things. but i don't think i knew how much i needed to not feel alone right then. i think you stopped me from taking them, i don't know if it would have killed me.

You stopped purring 3 days ago.

I’m convinced You saved my life regardless, it’s a pity that there’s nothing I can do to save yours now.

i didn't feel alone after that, and i suspect i won't feel alone until your body is cold and you're gone. i suspect it will be hours now, i'll check on you again before i go to sleep and once more before that, after i'm done writing this.

later in life, you got softer. kinder, less likely to swat and attack, i think maybe you realized that you actually liked me a little or at the very least you knew i was hurting and needed love too. We made up for lost time you and I.

i started to pet you a little longer, even though you were hairy and thick furred and tended to get orange hair on everything. in the winter i'd sit by the fire and pet you until i had enough fur to felt a hat with, and in the summer, you'd tollerate sweaty nudges of my fingers. i always pet you more in wintertime, you always hated the cold. I got up and closed the window, just before you died.

i always gave you one more pet after i thought i was too tired to give you anymore if you didn't walk away from me first, one more. just one more. I used to say, just one more so that when she dies I’ll know I gave her all the love I could and then some.

That was a lie, I have so much love for you left and when you die there will be no where for it to go. I should have given you double, or triple the love I did.

i really hoped, this last winter, that you'd make it to see the summer, just because then you'd be more comfortable, and maybe you could go back to watching the chiptmunks in the garden. Your days of chasing them long over. maybe i should feel happy, you got to see the spring. it's june now, 7 days shy of summer, and i know it's your time to go.

i just want to say thank you, thank you for being my friend, thank you for being my cat. if i'm allowed one more lifetime, i'd like to spend it with you <3 you where the best cat ever.

i promise i'll listen and learn to love you just as well next time <3

[mothofmyth]

Steve Harrington takes up journaling.

Look, he's a very traumatised teenager in the 80s. He's got barely any friends, essentially no family worth a damn, and he's definitely not getting a therapist any time soon.

He remembered asking Nancy once, while they were still dating, why girls keep diaries. Why they write shit in them if they don't want anybody to read it.

She told him she likes it because it's like having a friend who can't give you advice you don't want, who won't give you their opinion or judgement on things they don't know enough about.

A diary can't betray your trust the way a human can, so long as you hide it well enough, and if you write something in it that you're not allowed to talk about, you can always tear out the page and throw it in a fire. It's how she compartmentalises. It's a release.

Steve honestly thought it was dumb at first. Leaving all of your secrets conveniently together in one place. If you invited friends over or threw a party and someone found it you'd be socially ruined before you even knew it was gone.

Still, after everything goes down... Steve has no friends his own age, he's sort of responsible for a bunch of traumatised kids, he's for all intents and purposes alone. He feels like he's going to pop if he doesn't tell someone something.

~

He's throwing another tantrum, as his mom would call it. Tearing up and throwing anything he can find, uncaring of the mess he'll have to clean up later. He just can't cope, and it's not like anybody's stopping him.

He turns his attention to a bookshelf, starts tearing pages out of paperbacks and launching them across the room. He picks up an old notebook, probably a spare he got for school and never got round to using.

It makes him pause, remembering an old, old conversation with somebody he used to love.

He figures, what harm could it do to try? It's not like destroying the house for the third time this week is helping much, nor did climbing into his dad's liquor cabinet and falling to the bottom of a bottle of barrel-aged whiskey.

He grabs a cracked biro off the floor, ignoring the way the plastic crunches a little in his too-firm grip.

He opens the book to the first page and begins to write.

He doesn't really know what he's doing, so he just starts putting his stream of consciousness onto the page. At first it's barely coherent scribblings, but once he starts, he finds there's things he wants to say, things he's been desperate to tell someone just to get them out of his head. He couldn't tell the kids, couldn't tell Nancy or his parents, definitely couldn't tell Tommy and Carol, so he tells the book, instead.

He pours out his darkest thoughts, writes things he would never say out loud, about how sometimes he wishes the demogorgon had taken him out, wishes Billy had killed him, how maybe the kids would be better off that way.

He writes about how exhausted he is, how much he hates his friends and the government and everybody who dragged him to this point and then left him hanging. Left him to drown.

Like Barb drowned. When he killed her. When stupid Nancy invited her stupid friend to his stupid party because stupid Tommy and stupid Carol wanted to play in his stupid pool at his stupid house because his stupid parents were on a stupid business trip.

He presses too hard and the paper tears under his pen. He realises he's crying when he tries to put the paper back together and the ink smudges on his fingers.

He writes and writes until he feels empty inside, then he puts it in a shoebox and stuffs it back under his bed, along with all of those feelings and fears and traumas. With his absent parents and miserable little life and everything that he can never show to the rest of the world.

He starts cleaning up in a haze, forgetting all about his diary for the time being. He's got responsibilities, after all. Who else is gonna step up, if not him?

~

End for now, but this could go a number of ways feel free to add on. Maybe someone finds the journal. Maybe they get upset by what they see. Maybe they're insulted, or scared, or worried and horrified about Steve's inner monologue.

Maybe some kind of magic happens and the book is actually connected to someone else in some way, and they're seeing everything he's writing and start writing back soulmates-style.

Maybe the book is someone, and they materialise from it having been created by Steve's thoughts or just summoned to 'fix' him.

Idk, as I said there's a lot of directions this could take.

[littlegermanboy]

Who on earth is jeff. I’m curuous

OH I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED. jefferson (jeff) arthur callivan is my character for a dnd campaign i'm in run by my dear friend edgar. he's a half elf rogue (which i did not know was a stereotype until like. a few weeks ago. i made him over a year ago) who is a journalist from a small tight-knit poor family of incredibly awesome people, including his hot awesome cool battlemaster fighter mother charmona callivan, his deeply bald and unserious alchemist artificer step-dad leobald callivan, and his incredibly strange wild magic sorcerer (half) sister bones callivan (bones isn't her real name) (she is also another player character) as well as his gay slut wood elf circle of shepards druid dad mellavi who has like. hundreds of children and loves them all dearly and is present in every single one of their lives. he's my favorite npc in the campaign i love him so much.

his plot relevant back story is that his family was struggling with bills and such and he was approached by this guy karsis valker to do work for him involving doing research on certain people, which jeff thought was extremely sketch but the money was too good to refuse so he took the job but he later found out that his work was being used to murder people wanted by this organization called the children of amity which is currently run by religious zealots largely worshiping the god of nature and creation (though it wasn't always like this, it used to be a peaceful organization). so jeff is obviously shocked and disgusted and quits his job and then after that things happen that i can't post about here bc it's backstory secret spoilers for my friends who are playing with me but it traumatizes jeff so badly he takes his sister and runs away to a different continent to try and find the last person he was assigned to research (isaac turner, another player character) to warn him that the children are after him. i could get into more about the children and what they do but that's not 100% relevant here but the plot of the campaign is that the characters are working with a rebel organization trying to take down the children of amity

anyway jeff carries a lot of guilt for being apart of so many peoples' murders as well as for what happened after they quit their job to an extent that's definitely past being helpful and is only self destructive. they haven't told anyone they're close to what happened which was very much the worst option they could have chosen because it's something they Need to know but because of how traumatizing it was for jeff they're horrified that people will blame them for what happened and that they won't be forgiven, and they also haven't told them because they think that it'll protect them in some way.

currently in-game his sister bones is very upset at him for not telling him what's going on, his parents (mom & step-dad) are tracking the two of them down because after he and bones left home they found out what happened to jeff and are extremely worried about their children, and jeff recently found out that his dad mellavi was a member of the children of amity when they were basically a peaceful bible study for their god who he also worships but he wasn't able to leave once they were taken over by zealots bc they kill people who leave because of how small and secretive it is and he wanted to protect his family so he joined the rebel organization as a spy to still help resist against them, but he recently left both organizations which is very concerning to jeff because one massive thing about him is that he loves his parents more than anything and his dad is his biggest role model.

but anyway yeah tldr jeff is my sweetie pie who loves his family and loves his friends and will do anything for them and is very deeply unhappy right now. but i love him. i could probably say more about him but i'll leave it at this for now. if you ever have any more questions about jeff please feel free to ask he's my specialest he/they ever.

(art on the left is his combat mini drawn by edgar @graciouswings, art on the right is mine)

[random-introverted-blog]

Introvert, Introvert, Introvert. Where are you?

Well, let's see. Do you have a day or two to kill?

First and foremost: none of the stories are dead. I'm back to actively writing HS-HQ. Flickers, I plan on fully involving my bestie on in all parts of the process. She is wonderful and working on her own story To Defy The God's and all you Shadowheart girlies should absolutely check it out. So damn good 😳😩.

I'm also building a new Shadowheart x OC story, which includes a Durge x Astarion. It's called Estranged and I can't wait to share more. This one has been my baby for the last 3-4 months and I'm stupid proud of how fleshed out the details and lore are for the OC, including their backstory and how it interacts with the main game.

That said; the last few months haven't been easy.

At the end of April, I was mentally preparing for June. June is the busiest month at my job. No days off, 11-13 hour days, super stressful workload, the whole nine yards and then some. I had about 2k words for Chapter 11 of HS-HQ but I wasn't really enjoying it, and I got stuck. And that combined with the impending stress, the blog took a backseat.

I can not stress to you how much I hate June at my work. Anything would be preferable to working that many hours. Overtime pay in my state is a legal requirement, so it's not like that's even a big deal. They have to pay me for it. But even with the pay, I miss so many family events, opportunities, life in general in June.

Trigger warning: self harm/Dark humor

And the lead up to June this year I was saying I would rather play in traffic, stab my hand with my box cutter, break my foot, jump off the roof, anything except work another June (this was my third June).

My (other) bestie even offered to run over my foot with her car and I considered it, honest to God.

Where am I going with this?

Ahem.

End of Trigger Warning

Ladies, gentleman, and gentlefolk.

'Twas the night before Monday, June 10th, about 11pm. I had just gotten a new A/C for my room. My old one had given up the ghost many moons ago and was just window dressing at this point. The new one I had was a portable, not a window one. But I needed one short notice for the heat wave we were suffering and, as I mentioned, June is a busy month. What sleep I could get, I didn't want to spend just trying to sleep in my hot, wooden panel bedroom.

How this situation came to be, I won't explain, but I wound up carrying my old A/C unit out of my bedroom and down the stairs to get it outside and in the front yard. The goal was to get it out of the house and deal with it later.

I'm a 5 foot, 3 inches lady and I'm not a twig. The A/C, although more bulky than heavy, was still manageable for me to lift. I couldn't see my feet, and that was the only significant problem.

And it was the only one that mattered 😌.

I'm on the last 4 of 15-ish steps and my foot decides it too, would like to give up the ghost.

Did I think I was closer to the bottom than I was? Probably. Did I think "fuck, I'm dead, this is how I die, this thing is going to crush me"? Also probably.

My mom was behind me. And apparently my head hit the dry wall too, but I don't remember that. My body slid down the rest of the stairs. I land at the bottom and my foot is sore. A/C landed on my stomach, but honestly, only a cut or two was visible on my legs. My foot was swollen something ugly and bruised, but eh, whatever.

Until I tried to stand up.

That's right, ladies, gentleman and gentlefolk.

Following an ER visit at 1 am and a doctor's appointment, my foot/ankle was undeniably shot. I couldn't put weight on it if my life depended on it.

I still can't fully walk right/normal on my foot, but I think that's because I've spent about 2-3 weeks wearing a boot and my foot isn't at full strength.

With that said, I am back; I am alive, and I will be sharing what I've been working on relatively soon. Such as the new story, Estranged...

And a little something called

Ahem.

His Star - His Queen Chapter 11 teaser?

This chapter is going to be shorter, just to get back in the saddle and reestablish myself. The first major blow to my writing schedule was writer's block. I knew what I wanted, but not how to get there, and it killed me. So Chapter 11 has been gutted more than once.

Normally, every two chapters we switch POVs, but for some reason, I got stuck on Astarion's. And in all honesty, I think you guys/gals/pals are more interested in seeing what's happened to yourselves [Tav] than the shenanigans Astarion and Jester have gotten themselves into. So we'll check in on how you guys are handling the maestros composition of his masterpiece...

P.s: I'll try and respond to my inbox, comments and DM's later tomorrow night, I've seen and heard all of you, including on AO3.

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Ghost Story - Chapter 44

Pairing: Rooster x Female OC

Word Count: 1583

Warnings: Mention of near-death

Summary: No one will miss a ghost. It'd been a running joke for as long as anyone could remember, something Ghost herself started, and she always said it with a smile on her face or with mirth in her voice. The untouchable stealth pilot in every sense of the word, no one could've predicted the depth of her turmoil over recent events, nor the extremes she would go to in order to protect the man she loved, not even those closest to her. Now, all that was left of the young aviator for Maverick, Hangman, and Rooster were the memories of the past, which would slowly fade with time. She'd come into their lives and made an unforgettable impression, and then, like a ghost, she was gone... Then again, ghosts can't die a second time.

Notes: None

Chapter Songs: Midnight Rain My Wish

****

Ghost

Ghost remained primarily bedridden for the rest of the trip back to port, only getting up for meals, and even then, she hardly ate. The pain kept her hunger at bay. If she ate too much, nausea rolled in, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurl while she had broken ribs. Those were painful enough. Ghost didn't need to add to it.

When they docked, Maverick and Hangman carried hers and Rooster's backpacks, considering they could barely lift themselves out of bed without injuries, let alone a heavy bag. The Daggers, Penny, and Amelia greeted the aviators jubilantly, which Ghost had expected. However, to her surprise, there were two more guests alongside them.

"Hollywood! Wolfman!" Ghost exclaimed, hurrying over to them as fast as her aching body would allow her to. Wolfman reached Ghost first, and she hugged him tightly, thrilled to see the man she considered an uncle. "What are y'all doing here?"

"I couldn't be here for you when your mom died, so I wanted to be here when you came back," Wolf replied, looking her up and down with concern. "What the hell happened to you?!"

"Turns out crashing into an enemy plane and ejecting twice wreaks havoc on your body," she joked lightly, wincing when her ribs let her know laughing, even the smallest of chuckles, was unacceptable.

Hollywood gently hugged Ghost. "Penny told us when you were returning and that you'd gotten into some trouble. Looks like you took a beating."

"It's a miracle she's alive," Maverick said, joining the group. He placed a gentle hand on Ghost's shoulder. "She even had me scared."

Hollywood whistled high to low. "Now that's saying something."

"Guess you really can't kill a ghost twice," Ghost remarked, trying to wriggle a finger down inside her wrist's cast, "but this itch might prove me wrong if I can't reach it."

"Don't use your finger," Wolfman chastised, swatting her hand away. "You need a wire or something."

"It's somewhere in my bag, but I don't know where. I can't wait to get home and go to sleep."

"We're having a celebratory dinner tonight, but you should have plenty of time to get some rest before then," Penny said, coming over to hug Ghost. The Daggers were soon to follow. Twenty minutes after a brief catch-up, the group dispersed but promised to be there for dinner later. Hangman, Ghost, Rooster, Penny, Maverick, and Amelia ambled to the parking lot. On the way, Penny said, "Hey, Ghost, Rooster- Maverick and I were talking, and we decided we weren't comfortable with you being by yourselves after such severe injuries, so we want the two of you to stay with us for a little bit, just enough to put our minds at ease that you won't have any complications and until you get your bearings living with the injuries."

"Oh, I don't want to intrude," Ghost protested. "I'll be fine, honestly. I've been through worse-"

"No, you haven't," Hangman interrupted, shooting her a disapproving glare. She shot him one back that silently but clearly said: Not helping.

"You're not intruding with us inviting you, and we want you to stay with us."

"Please?" Maverick asked, offering a small smile. "Put an old man's mind at ease?"

Ghost sighed, reluctant to crowd the Benjamin household but unable to say no to Maverick. Besides, she still needed to talk to him. Her mom had lied about when she knew him. There was still the possibility that he was her father instead of Nathan Winchester. "Fine, but I need to swing by my apartment to get some stuff to spend the night."

"I can take you," Hangman offered immediately. "I need to get my truck first, but I can-"

"Here," Maverick said, handing over the keys to his Jeep. "Take mine. Rooster and I can take his Bronco with the girls back to the house."

"Thanks, Mav. We'll be back soon." Hangman casually saluted the captain and then offered his arm to Ghost. She graciously took it, thankful for the support he provided, the same support he had always given her. He opened the car door for Ghost, and she slid in. After carefully buckling herself in, Ghost leaned her head against the window and closed her eyes, grateful to be home, alive, and mostly in one piece.

She recognized her body was exhausted and in need of some rest, but she severely underestimated how much because she had no memory of Hangman starting the Jeep, let alone the trip to her apartment, so Ghost found herself more than a little disoriented when she opened her eyes, and they were sitting outside her apartment.

"You with me?" Hangman queried, resting his hand gingerly on her leg. Ghost nodded, smiling sleepily at him. She meant to reassure him but judging by his hesitance to remove his hand, she failed to fully achieve her goal. He helped her out of the Jeep, and the pair strolled up to her apartment. Ghost kept her head down, the only thing that prevented the sun from making her headache worse. Hats and sunglasses hurt her head, too, so those were out of the question as well, much to her chagrin.

When they entered, Hangman grabbed the suitcase for Ghost while she set to work, getting enough belongings to last a week. Hangman helped her pack, bringing her things that required bending down or heavy lifting. 

Hangman stayed unusually quiet, and Ghost never would've mentioned it had she not seen his trembling hand as he placed her hairbrush in the suitcase. Reaching over, Ghost gently grasped his shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," he mumbled, refusing to look at her.

Ghost opened her mouth to prod but then remembered the last time she did such a thing, it'd resulted in them having a fight, and she had no energy for a repeat of that situation. So, Ghost reluctantly let it drop. She tried to refocus, but her pounding headache- a side effect of the concussion- decided Ghost would focus only on that. She massaged her forehead. Pain medicine was out of the question since she'd taken some only a couple of hours ago. It helped but didn't fully rid her of her pains.

"Ghost? You okay?" Hangman asked worriedly.

"Yeah, yeah, just a headache. You?"

"I-" he cleared his throat- "I'm not okay..."

Ghost faced him, staring him down with concern. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"You," he croaked out. "You almost died because I wasn't fast enough taking out that last enemy. Hell, you did die on me temporarily when you coded during surgery."

"Jake-" 

"I know death comes with being an aviator, especially when you're near or in hostile territory, but of all the people in my life I thought I'd lose because they were shot down or- or had a malfunction with their plane, it was never you. You weren't even on the list, so when I saw Rooster holding your motionless body in the waves..."

Tears welled in his green eyes as he dropped his gaze from hers. He quietly continued, "They train you for a lot of shit in the military, but they don't train you for this, to lose your best friend that you grew up with, the person you go to for anything and everything, the person who will always have a piece of your heart no matter how far apart we grow physically or emotionally... I'm not the guy you're supposed to be with, I know that, but-" Jake met her eyes once more- "that will never change how much I love you. The idea of not having you in my life, my best friend, it- it's paralyzing. And what's worse is that you almost died before I could make amends and apologize for how I treated you that evening at Maverick's hangar. I'd bottled that in for so many years, and I hated myself for letting you go, so I took it out on you, and I'm sorry, Annalise. For everything, I am sorry."

Without a word, Ghost pulled Hangman into a tight hug, ignoring the screams of protest in her banged-up body. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, his giant frame shaking as a few, quiet sobs escaped from him. Keeping him enveloped in the hug, Ghost whispered, "You are not to blame for what happened up there or afterward, do you understand me? It's my fault for chasing after that enemy when I wasn't physically in shape to do so. I should've disengaged from the fight once you and Maverick got there. Do not blame yourself any further for that, okay? And I'm so sorry for scaring you the way I did. I would never intentionally hurt you. I could never do that to someone I love." 

Hangman pulled away, wiping the tears off his cheeks and then brushing off the ones rolling down Ghost's. She hadn't even been aware she'd been crying too. Sniffling, he said, "We good?"

"Absolutely," Ghost replied, a weight lifting off her shoulders since she and Hangman had worked things out. Now, if only she could figure out how to salvage whatever was broken between her and Rooster. He'd been strangely quiet, hardly talking to her unless necessary, and while Ghost told herself it was the pain and the medicine causing him to act out of the ordinary, deep down, she knew better. Deep down, she knew that it had something to do with her...

****

Tags: @supernaturaldawning @shanimallina87 @polikszena @lgg5989 @callsign-milano @bradshawsandbridgetons @harper1666 @shadeops21 @double-j @copaceticwriter @rotating-obsessions @sharkprestige @thedarkinmansfield @lapilark @mickeyluvs @starshipfantasy @bennypears00 @avabobava @the-navistar-carol @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @carmellasworld @0hb0llocks @nicangelinee @summ3rlotus @3picklesinajar @magentamistress @the-other-hawkeye @elisha-chloe @emilymarie105 @persephone11110 @luckyladycreator2 @boogdleyboo @k0k3 @bibissparkles @lilmonstrjedi @stinkyrat09 @cocoag19 @suburbzchick @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @goodstuff28 @georgiasimpson95 @horselovers2016 @tanithpriad125 @davidshawnsown @sowolfstudentme @agagafafa @callmemana @sec17 @brxklyn15 @h0ppy0the0sheep @tomanybandstolove @abigailannz @mini-bee-bee @super-btstrash-posts

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23Chp 24 Chp 25 Chp 26 Chp 27 Chp 28 Chp 29 Chp 30 Chp 31 Chp 32 Chp 33 Chp 34 Chp 35 Chp 36 Chp 37 Chp 38 Chp 39 Chp 40 Chp 41 Chp 42 Chp 43 Chp 44

[104thsquadfam]

-On Tuesday the 25th around 3:45pm my grandfather passed away in the hospital, my mom was the only one there with him at the time of his death.

Later today I will be leaving with my sister to go stay at our mothers house for a small memorial and we'll be staying until Saturday night so I won't be able to get to any drafts or asks, though I admit it's been a bit of a challenge to get my brain to focus on much which is why I haven't gotten to to much or why my responses may seem a bit short.

Rping and playing games has helped distract my brain from the fact that my grandfather/father figure is gone. I never really had a dad in my life since he was abusive and would beat my mother while she was pregnant with me and then tried to kill me when he thought I was some random guys kid. I hate that man, he ruined my mothers life and my sisters, I don't really care what he did to me because I don't remember any of it since I was a newborn.

But now I can't stop thinking about my grandfather, I've been denying that he's really gone this whole time and it's so easy to hide my emotions behind a keyboard and I didn't want to worry anyone but now I have to face that he's gone when I go to my moms house and see the empty room and I just don't know if I'm ready to accept that, it scares me knowing he's gone when he's always been there for me and it upsets me that I couldn't be there for him during his final moments.

I just wish I could have been there to tell him I love him, and that I appreciate everything he's done and sacrificed to help my mom raise me and my sister. How he helped me come to terms with who I am and how he accepted me and loved me no matter what, how he'd argue with family who tried judging or mocking me, and how he'd always be there when I needed someone to talk to. Despite his religious beliefs he accepted me 100% and I will miss him. He's the only one who would call me by my preferred name and I love him for that, for learning things just for me so I felt comfortable.

Anyways sorry for the ramble I just needed to get some things out before I had to go later. I meant to just say why I was going to be away for a bit but it turned into a ramble, I'll be back Sunday.

I'll be fine I just need time.

[babyjakes]

tw: traumatic childhood, fucked up family (npd!dad, golden child!brother, scapegoat!me), pet loss, suicidal thoughts, dissociation, just overall this is really heavy but i need to put it somewhere

past 30-ish hours or so for me have been:

drive home to have dinner with family (last minute, dad "forgot" to invite me. nothing's wrong except dad's harassing a food service worker over the phone and mom still likes pro-cop shows and brother is still a little selfish (you know, typical Man Who Lacks Empathy shit). and he's leaving tomorrow and i won't see him for months, and i'll miss him even though he's being momentarily difficult.

play my old piano. momentarily wish i still lived at home, until i remember why i can't ever again.

feel guilty for talking about my life for a few seconds, when the rest of the dinner conversation has been about my brother (per usual.) redirect the focus back to him out of crippling guilt.

sit with him after dinner. don't know whether to laugh or cry when he sends me a trauma instagram reel (themes of "there's something wrong with me", "no one knows how i really feel", hating life, hating growing older.) realize for the first time maybe he thinks and feels these things too, despite him being my opposite in the family system (he's the favorite child, i'm the scapegoat.) empathy grows for him. realization grows (as it has been for months) that in some ways he's my best friend, and the only other person who knows what it was like to be raised in that house. send him a girl/childhood slideshow on tiktok in return. watch as he tries to cover his recognition, his relating to it, his hurt that is more like mine than i ever knew. half-jokingly but mostly genuinely beg him to get therapy.

miss my dog. wonder if it's normal for me to still grieve her like this, a year and a half later.

advocate for my needs in a tiny, insignificant way. immediately feel sick with guilt about it, which lasts for the rest of the night. resist the urge to take it back and let the fawn response do its thing.

leave early. resist the urge to tell each of them that i love them a few extra times, because i love them still. i love them so much it hurts. feel silly walking out the door with "i love you's" still caught in my mouth. tell myself i'm too sentimental and make everything weird.

cry the whole drive home to sun bleached flies and letter to an old poet. think about swerving off the freeway, jokingly at first until it's not anymore. scare myself with how hard i'm crying, how blurry my eyes are from my tears, the things i'm thinking about doing to myself. consider pulling over onto the shoulder. decide not to, telling myself i'd look stupid and pathetic.

suck it up. get it together. remind myself what and who i live for. tell myself out loud that it gets better, even though my words come out more like a plead to god.

drive past the fire station as i near home. momentarily think about turning into the parking lot and telling the firefighters outside taking their break that i'm thinking about killing myself. realize how stupid i'd look. skip the turn and make it home instead.

walk through the door and cat is waiting for me like she always is. sit on the floor in my shoes and dissociate. come back to the feeling of my cat purring against me, even though i can't hear anything.

remove my makeup, wash my face. feel as my body adjusts to being in a safe space in real time. crawl into bed.

sleep through the night, and most of the next day.

(btw please don't worry about me, safety wise i'm okay now; i have crisis management in place and therapy on wednesday lol)

[almostfancywombat]

Amias Story 2

(still no title)

Turning around, Amias was met by a horrendous sight. With her red tracksuit, Lucinda all but blended with the horrendous drapes, dressed like a middle-aged aunt who claimed only wine as her personality. Spurring the Tia Agenda, she was relatively wealthy, dull, and would probably spend her later years yelling at managers and carrying a tiny chihuahua in an expensive purse. Behind her stood Lucian, staring down at his phone. He brought up a hand to wave, then ruffled his crinkle-cut hair. Amias flinched, expecting a scolding. Lucian wasn’t prone to it, but he did do something to invoke the worst of even the calmest of people. 

Much to his relief, Lucian merely frowned, holding a hand out to silence the excuses. "Practice got canceled, but come next time. We need to practice with you as the coxswain." 

With that solved, there was no need to pry. He moved on to greet Lucinda, who was on the verge of tears. "Are you blaming me because she called you names?" 

"No," Lucian cut in. "We came to look for you. I'm texting your mom that you’re with us." He shrugged then contributed nothing else. 

Amias was unbothered by the information, but unappreciative of being ignored. "Tell me, which Molly is Wig Molly? Hernandez or Cleveland? I can never remember." 

"Your Molly," Lucinda said unsurely. 

"No, not her," Pan dismissed with a wave. She moved to finish her rant, journal set in her lap with her feet propped up on the table. "She's in choir, and Smith-Molly left on a cruise." 

"Then it has to be the one from homeroom." 

Amias shrugged, making a noise of indifference. "Either way, I’ll only talk to Smith." 

Lucinda looked as if she'd like to drown him in her tears. "Why can't you be normal?" She sighed. “You dated and broke up. Stop making things so weird." 

Now it was Amias's turn to act frustrated. "Again, wrong Molly. But do tell, why should I have to interact with her or anyone for that matter? I don't love theatre, so I don't see why you’re so insistent on getting me involved with things." 

"No matter what you're passionate about, she loaned, you ruined. Being civil is basic human decency." Lucinda instantly fired through gritted teeth. She clutched the doorknob, knuckles turning white. "Would it kill you to at least act sorry?" 

"I think my true passion is cruise ship entertainment." Amias stared off dreamily. He could stand to become an entertainer. Or so he thought until he remembered snotty-nosed children and how they would give him the urge to go overboard. That, along with the possibility of an unfortunate death with no leads—he would be murdered—set his mind back in the present. 

Lucinda glared as she stomped over to a booth, dropping her bag into his lap. He flinched from the weight and wondered if her back would ever improve. "Only get the cards because I won't hesitate to call your mom if you mess with my stuff again." 

"Alright, I promise I— Wait, why do any of you have her number?" 

She glared, displaying the contact on speed dial. Hands raised in defeat, Amias smirked and moved to sit atop a table. Lucian followed his sister and offered Pan no greeting. Being a relatively recent addition to the group, they were still awkward. The trio swiftly turned to text in their group chat, the one without Amias. 

"Where's Wren?" Amias asked once they settled, struggling to sound non-accusatory. 

“We were going to bring her,” said Lucian with hints of annoyance. 

Amias felt like a distraught panda handler. Because Wren did little, he had to defend her when the stupidity of others forced her into unfortunate situations. “But?” 

"She ended up staying back with Parker to clean. Some kid threw up in a tuba." 

Amias shook his head, kissing his teeth simultaneously. "I don’t like him being around her." He indeed did not, although it was only due to how terrible of a grudge he held. Tugging Lucinda's bag off the table and into his lap, Amias opened the small flap on the front and fished around. He debated toying with the lighter but slipped it into his pocket before grabbing the stack of cards. He dug around, this time moving to the larger pouch. 

"The design here is nice." 

Lucian, still glued to his phone, said, "I thought she said not to touch her stuff." 

Amias rolled his eyes. "I'm sure I said I'm keeping this. Or does your mother need to know why you have a lighter in the first place?" Because they were apparently racking up brownie points with each other's. 

"Stop." Pan's forehead creased in a frown. Directed at Lucinda, her gaze became pitying. "No offense, but we all know you do it just to look cool around that one senior." 

Amias coughed. Removing the neon pink rubber band, he sent it flying their way. He shuffled the deck, cards passing with incredible speed. Much to his displeasure, they were worn, covered in ink and bent at the edges. He recalled spending a chemistry class decorating them with Lucinda. He wondered why she'd kept this particular set. Did she value his doodles? The thought nearly touched his emotionally inept heart. 

Already disinterested, Amias sat idle. How Lucinda, with her rough sense of vulnerability, had the patience to deal with him was astounding. With only slight doubt, he could say that while his personality was, his looks weren't half-bad. If anything, he was interesting to stare at with his sharp nose and upwards-slanting eyes. The thing Amias didn’t like was how his eyes—paired with his resting smile—gave the impression of kindness, but he supposed people appreciated nice things. 

A loud crash caught his attention, causing him to jolt yet again. The cards in his hands went flying in an arc. He turned to face the commotion as an apology sounded. The amused smile adorning his face only turned to a grimace when he saw the sight set before the entirety of the room. It was Wren, who’d appeared in typical fashion, mumbling apologies. Parker all but deadlifted Wren to her feet before moving to pick lint from her braids, causing them to become frizzy. Amias audibly gasped, scandalized. Wren never allowed anyone besides him to touch her hair! Seeing the ginger handle it so carelessly put him in a rage. 

"Careful," Parker hissed, rubbing his elbow with a string of mom-sanctioned curses. “We don’t need you injuring your hands.” 

"Sorry, sorry," Wren mumbled, barely audible as she scrambled into a seat beside Amias. He released a drawn-out sigh, relieved everyone was too busy to have caught the mishap. 

He was about to greet her when she pulled something out of her cardigan pocket. "Is that a pack of Twinkies?" Amias's tone was firm against his wishes, and he hoped she would pick up that he wasn't mad, only concerned. She pulled away as he reached, tutting at the act of treason. "Give," he demanded. Gluten intolerance was no joke. Though, his inability to stomach dairy was a mere inconvenience. 

"You’re greedy." 

Amias held out his palm once more. "This is defamation. And you; don't be difficult. I'll call your mother." It was an empty threat, as he respected Mrs. Tesarkee to the point of fear. But, despite that, he received a desirous reaction. 

"Since you earned it, I’ll let it pass, but only if you tell me the name of your supplier. I'd like to have a word with them." 

"It's Ms. O,” Wren huffed. “You can't just—” Her already loud voice raised in volume when someone suddenly grabbed her. Parker roughly tore the package from her grasp. Wren squirmed, screeching as she scratched at the pale hands wrapped tightly around her wrist. Then, without looking, Amias leaned over and pried Parker off. 

The ginger smirked as he tore the package open with his teeth, tearing one in half. A sudden wave of anger overcame Amias's calm, but he made no move. If he intervened, it wouldn't end well. Because in the weeks he'd been resisting the urge to fight Parker, he had barely managed to remain indifferent. Internally, he told himself that if he had managed to last this far, then there wouldn't be any weakening wills over junk food. No, this event would add fuel to the fire later. 

He shoved the remainder of the Twinkies into his mouth, grossly mumbling through a mouthful of it. "Oops, none for you." 

Wren sighed, opting to run her fingers over the sequins on her bag. "Parker already ate his, that jerk." She made an odd noise before wiping it away, beginning anew. Then, murmuring to herself, she pulled it closer, her other hand tapping on her thigh. 

Amias immediately knew something was wrong. Lecture forgotten, his focus redirected. "Wren." Names were grounding. "Are you alright, Wren?" He itched to embrace her but knew otherwise. Wren stiffly nodded, flattening down the image as she began to trace out another. Amias prompted the ginger to apologize, eyebrows raised. 

"Not cool," Lucian said, voicing his disappointment in a tame manner. Hesitantly, Amias relaxed. Maybe together, the twins could force an apology out of him. They were probably more than willing to resort to mental torture since no one liked Parker anyway. "You're lucky your aunt's the director, or else I'd tell." 

Parker scowled. "We're just messing around." 

Lucinda's eyes widened in astonishment. "Sure, you were. And Lucian, nothing is stopping you except your cowardice." 

"Then you do it!" 

"If I say anything, Ms. Moore will think I'm the one bullying and make me drop the play. Idiot move when I'm the only one who’s willing to come on Sundays.” 

“You should do it, though." Pan said. It seemed as if they'd forgot she was present. "We have other attractive girls to play tumbleweed number three." 

"I'm a step above your supporting cast role." 

"I run publicity. And, not to be mean, but you overact a lot." 

Displeased with the sudden turn, Amias stepped in to act as a referee. If they wanted to argue, they’d have to do it on their own time. "Enough of this. Girl Bosses shouldn’t be pitted against one another, so I'll be the one informing." Such an eagerness would come at more risk; he had been removed from productions before for the same reason. Nepotism was something terrible in his quest to torment Parker. 

Before anyone could offer a counterpoint, Wren sternly said "No," to which he shot a questioning look. "That'll be the third time he's been reported, and with all his absences, he'll get suspended, and then I won't have anyone I like in band." 

The explanation was a fine reminder of why he should go on with it, but he paused to size her determination. Amias was confident in his gaze, but hers was steadfast. He'd forgotten that she didn't feel embarrassed with prolonged eye contact, which was his only weak point. Deciding to let her think she'd won for now—the counselors would surely hear of it—he shook his head, laughing as the intense look in her eyes faded. 

"Tell me, Wren, what made you late?" Amias asked, changing the subject. 

Wren moved to his side, feet hanging off the edge as she swung them. He adored how close she sat despite the open space. "We helped Ms. O clean up since the janitor left early. She gave me a Twinkie on the way out, and Parker already ate his. Oh, and Molly was there to ask about you and Lucinda. They have beef now, apparently." 

"Wig-Molly?" He asked but already knew and dreaded it. 

"Ex-Molly. We argued and she tried to slap me, but Parker helped." 

He cut her off, Inner Amias creating a note stating to give Molly a piece of his mind. "But doesn't Ms. O know about Wren's diet?” As expected, Wren grew rigid in her seat. 

"She just felt bad for making me clean puke." 

He humorlessly laughed. Sitting back, he continued to flip through the cards. Wren fixated on her backpack's zippers and sequins.  

"Speaking of feeling bad," began Pan, a false sort of carelessness in her tone. It seemed she was trying to take a casual approach. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?" 

Wren's bottom lip quivered as their attention went to her. "Grannie died," she plainly said, smoothing a strand of flyaway hair. "I told Amias because I’d miss Solange’s birthday." 

Pan went quiet, contemplating her friendships. Meanwhile, Parker sensed the growing tension and went to bother Lucinda, who was playing a mobile game. The online fight that commenced was somewhat intriguing, but Amias couldn't bring himself to look, embarrassed for Parker, whose face was as red as his hair. At his loss, Lucian erupted into a burst of laughter. 

Parker scratched his reddened cheek. “What’s so funny?” 

"You're a menace." Amias shrugged, stubborn in offering further explanation. Almost as bad as Bear, Inner Amias compared. 

Parker stood, and Amias raised an eyebrow. That was all he did before shaking his head as if to clear it before plopping down with an audible sigh. Amias frowned. Fighting Parker would only bring a headache, but he was bored, and it would offer short-lived entertainment. However, Amias had slight doubts considering how his smarts and slightness were the only reason he had a position on the rowing team, not muscle mass. 

"Amias," came Wren's voice, cutting through the silence. She peered at him from behind her bag, face slightly illuminated by her phone. The glow was a yellow tint, courtesy her blue-light filter. "Solange texted me. I think it's time to leave." 

Amias playfully rolled his eyes but thought to check the time. He pulled out his phone and saw a slew of missed calls and unread messages from his mother. The latter were in French, their official Diplomatic Language. Coupled with the time, his heart stuttered. Perhaps he had been out for too long. 

He announced, "Wren's right. I'll leave now." He slung his bag over his shoulder and shuffled towards the door. With a hand on the knob, he leaned on it. "I'm probably going to get grounded, so can one of you take her home? I don't want to take any longer than I already have." Apologetic, he looked at her scribble away in her planner. He read the large, sparkly print and laughed. Amias is grounded forever? He hoped not. 

"Let's all just go," Lucian said. "Maybe we can get brownie points with your mom." 

"What is up with you and my mother?" Amias whined, but considered the idea. His mother would probably go easier if Wren was there; she liked the girl more than him anyway. "Sure," he said, a bit too hopeful. 

Amias waited for them to shuffle over before throwing open the door. Instead of facing the sun’s reflection on the buildings, there was only a shadowy version of the city. Overheard, the dead streetlights reached up to an inky black sky. Only the moon—blood-red—peeked out from over the horizon. It bathed the world in red, a filter over their eyes. 

Double-checking, Amias squinted at his phone that still read 6:00, the numbers starkly white before it suddenly shut off. Panicked, he tried turning it back on. No luck; he looked at the others, and when they looked just as perplexed, he slammed the door shut. His heartbeat wildly in his chest. He took a deep breath. 

Alright, Amias. You're going to calm down and do that again. It's probably your mother's genetic disease. 

Don't be stupid, make Parker go first, another Amias in his head said. 

He didn't like that one since it'd make him seem less brave. Decisive, he didn't weigh his options before throwing the door open once more, the same red staining his eyes. 

"Oh my God," Lucinda gasped. Her voice was loud and clear despite her whispering. "I knew it! Mercury's a renegade." She said it with so much sincerity that Amias had to resist the urge to punch her. He hated astrology almost as much as not knowing what was going on. 

"Pendeja," her brother spat, lightly knocking her over the head. "It's reprobate. No wonder you failed the English final." 

Amias would've liked to hit them both had their stupidity been the only issue at hand. A strong sense of foreboding consumed Amias as they stepped out. He reached in his pocket for Lucinda's lighter, fumbling with it before a tiny spark ignited from the tip. They squinted, following Amias. With Wren gripping his sleeve, he brandished the lighter as if it were a longsword, sweeping it around with shaky arms. 

No one else thought to speak, save for Pan, a habitual nervous rambler. "Reminds me of what happened in Australia all those years ago." Then, tentatively stepping, she swept her arm around. For as far as they could see, the world was tinted red. "Could it be a sandstorm? I don't think our geography is right for that, but we practical live in an apocalypse, so it's possible." 

"I think we're finally in the end days," Parker said, squinting at the sky. "My meemaw always said, 'Parker, when them end days come, you need to pray for your sins, and the ones of your friends,' because—" 

"Quiet. Your mamie is the least of our—" A clatter from somewhere made the words catch in Amias' throat. Spinning around, he held the light higher, as redundant as it was. The action brought his attention to a larger, dark mass of swirling clouds over the lampposts. It crept forward, almost like incoming fog. 

"Woah," Lucian said, bug-eyed. Shakily, he brought up his phone to snap a picture. His didn't seem to work either, and he chucked it at the abyss. No sound came from the other end, only a hiss discernable over the thumping of their hearts. 

Impulsively, Amias chucked Lucinda's lighter right at it. When the clouds slithered out to grab it, he squealed and stumbled back. 

"I think we should run," Amias grinned. Then, without waiting for a response, he grabbed Wren’s hand and went scampering. Already a few yards away, he could hear Lucinda calling out, then a multitude of footsteps and labored breath joined. He hadn't realized how silent it was, but at the moment, it became deafening. What was going on? Amias did not want to find out. Pushing forward, he blocked the outside world, focusing on Inner Amias, who screamed profanities and curses inspirationally. 

Lucinda took the lead with Parker close behind. Lucian's running held some humor, but Amias knew it wasn't time for jokes. Additionally, he had to focus on his breathing. The dark cloud followed after, everything behind slowly bathed in black so dark that he was sure it was impenetrable by light. A loud crackling resounded from far above, causing the lot of them to wince. The twins nearly doubled over but Pan hooked an arm around them, dragging them along despite how badly she shook. 

"Come on," she muttered. "Run now, cry later." 

That was oddly reassuring. Amias, believing in his safety, made the mistake of looking up, immediately wishing he hadn't. His eyes watered; what seemed to be a downwards bound firework—gold and fiery streaking across the sky—bounded their way. Screeching, Amias ducked and shielded his head, picking up the pace by what felt like tenfold. He couldn't bring himself to utter a word, gasping for breath with the temperature suddenly skyrocketing. Loud hisses came from behind, a volley of sparks falling. Pan yelped when one fell across her path, quickly maneuvering around it. In her haste, she lost her footing. Parker took her in his arms, running in a teetering manner from there on. 

A moment after, Amias noticed he'd somehow migrated towards the front with Lucinda. Her breath came shallow, face flush and drenched in sweat. Briefly staring, he recalled another less athletic member of their group, one who wouldn't be able to keep pace. 

No, he thought, face draining of all color. Inner Amias had a field day demeaning him. Curse his sense of self-preservation! No, no, no! Please don't let it get Wren; I'd do anything for it not to be! Take Parker instead! Skidding to a stop, he swiveled, Pan yelling in protest as Parker carried her off into infinity ahead, inadvertently slamming into Amias’ shoulder. 

Amias winced, rubbing at his arm as he took shaky steps towards Wren. Behind her, the two mysterious forces were the middle of a battle. Clashing against one another, Amias saw sparks fly, raining down on Wren. So close to the edge of the shadow's reach was she, running as fast as possible. His heart did something awful when he noticed how she was only slowing, how the thing was only growing nearer. 

"Wren! Drop your stuff!" He shouted, a hand held out as if it would reach and drag her to safety. "Please, Wren! You're slowing yourself down!" 

Looking on in horror, he saw the cloud lower to surround her, stretching out across the sky to create an impermeable layer of black. Above, the fire-work-like material slammed against it, causing the ground to rumble. Briefly, flashes of light illuminated the area. The short sprout of visibility allowed Amias to watch in utter confusion as the clouds dropped down, obscuring Wren from view. Her screams cut off, and when the thing picked back up, she was gone. 

Amias—ever the impulsive and foolish mess he was—threw his bag to the ground. Yelling obscenities all the while, he dug, searching through the contents for anything that could be of use. His heart fell to his stomach when nothing remotely so came about. 

Making a last-ditch effort, he scrambled upright, feeling his legs and courage falter. Numbly, he tossed his bag at the void. There was no sound of it hitting against the pavement. When the shadow approached him, he allowed it to engulf him. 

The ground disappeared from beneath him. His limbs flailing about in a desperate gamble to ground himself. Where it touched, his skin stung and blistered. Tears prickle the corner of his eyes, then nothing. Sensation faded as consciousness eluded him, the distant screams of his friends joining his for but a moment before everything faded to black. 

[sadmanyeyes]

Chapter 116:

The army will strike the Devil King's palace at dawn. They will be going to the altar on the last floor. Everybody has a toast and...the next day. Ganesa says that at sunrise, the humanization ritual will begin. He forces the slaves to carry the offerings to the altar before it happens. One drops an offering and he kills him and another for asking for rest.

The triclops watch on, thinking it's the sickest shit ever as Ganesa targets another who begs for death, saying the land has become hell without Parvati's guidance. But then Pai speaks up, stopping him. She says Shiva taught her that all life is important and orders him to stop being cruel. Ganesa argues back that the people he is killing are lice and their lives are meaningless but Pai counters that while she doesn't know what their lives are worth, she knows she doesn't want to die so she doesn't want to do to other what she doesn't want done to her. She asks if Ganesa wants to die, he says no, and she tells him he needs to stop it then. Ganesa laughs and asks if she wants to learn a lesson in place of the slaves before Shiva shows up, saying even those without powers or magic are valuable property. Ganesa is halted and Shiva leads a happy Pai away for them both to be humanified. Ganesa promises that as soon as Shiva is human, he's going to kill him.

Pai tells Shiva that she can't believe there are bad people like that. He tells her not to trust those who come from the Seiichi, given that they treat those without powers like they're less than nothing. But he says that he and Pai are scarier than they are. Their powers are great but it will continue to grow until it devours their personalities, leading to indifference and the absence of feelings. A life without feelings, with no conscience, no interests...no real stimuli, only able to feel something by abusing others. It's the fate of all triclops, with only the young being able to feel normally. Pai and her mom are young, relatively, so they still have access to their emotions. But damn, the triclops suck...Shiva thinks it might be better if the entire race just dies off.

Shiva walks in where he's greeted by the others. The winged lady who kidnapped Parvati tells him that the amulet he created to cause split personalities has been used on Parvati already, making her thirst after him and act like a normal girl without all that political nonsense getting in her head. The Devil King tells him to calm down because Shiva was the one who said Parvati needed to be subjected to the ritual today but, to everyone's shock, Shiva just smiles. He says that Parvati is young so she won't have any trouble with the amulet now but later in the future, she will develop multiple personalities that may cause trouble for her. Not wanting her mind to be destroyed, he wanted to turn her into a human to save her but Pai interrupts to ask him why he's turning himself human. Is it because he hates triclops? He answers that he's becoming human because he's growing old...and he kisses her.

He wants to become human before he loses his feelings, especially after meeting Yakumo who made him realize how much he misses feeling things.

Anyway, they got the statue and it's time to start. Pai doesn't want Shiva to be human, not wanting him to leave her. Then Yakumo shows up, reaching for her. Then the chapter ends with the ritual starting.

[psychesetra]

So I saw you were looking for a Hazbin headcanon, well fo I have a doozy for you that I'm posting on anon as a form of witness protection from the angst I'm boutta deliver on thee:

not sure how you feel about character death, even temporary death, but I usually write my particular Lucifer as *cursed* with immortality as his punishment. His soul and Eden's forbidden tree were joined and sacrificed to make Hell, so he literally can't leave it or truly die - even when Hell is entirely devoid of all sinners and Hellborn until the heatdeath of the universe,, he will still be Alive and unable to do a thing about it, Hell will truly be Forever-

This is made all the worse in that if you take the reason why him and Lilith were able to have Charlie at all was just as a way to rub salt in the wound by giving them a miracle baby with the underlying knowledge she's going to *die* one day, doubly so if you subscribe to the headcanon of Lucifer being the one to carry her...

And him finding out about the fact that he can't die because of his oldest once friend *Adam* being the one to accidentally kill him with an angelic weapon, because Lucifer refused to fight back, still believing peace can be made, trying to protect the denizens of Hell... Only to find that none stood with him when the exorcists came, not even to offer support from the sidelines if they couldn't fight, just him there, dying alone and thinking this gonna be his last...only to come back, for heaven to find out angelic weapons won't get rid of him, and Adam now discovering that there's literally no real consequences to going a little too far in fighting

which leads into regicide actually being an option, and Lucifer tending to reappear after a few days ala mirroring Christ's resurrection, regardless of the method used to kill him, *including angelic weapons* or being destroyed past the point most can't pull themselves together, all injuries and scarring after death disappear completely but only after dying and being, uh, revived....

Then, when the push comes to shove, only fighting back because *Charlie's* life is on the line, beating Adam *nearly* to the point of death but still intending to spare him.... Only for him to be killed by a sinner with a knife, too weak to fight off because of *him making Adam that way*, and now Adam is never coming back... It hitting Lucifer later and him considering himself a *friend killer* despite what had been done to him in the past....

He misses his old friend and the only other person who MIGHT understand or give comfort fucking ABANDONED HIM after alienating him and his daughter before peacing out during a worsening mental health crisis that she may or may not have encouraged to worsen so she could retain complete control over Hell in his stead considering how all of Hell adored her and she united them while Lucifer fell into an extremely borderline neurotic fixation on making ducks for Charlie because of one (1) happy memory, perhaps the LAST ONE he had with her before Charlie was just?? Taken from him partway?? Charlie NEVER CALLING HIM BY HER OWN CHOICE but always call her mom who never answers?

Charlie likely only taking about a dream that he USED TO SHARE but now CANT because of how many people likely died from it, including him?? How what Charlie is doing is painting a MASSIVE target on her back that Heaven would faster kill to maintain the status quo (as they had shown before... because after LITERALLY FLOODING THE EARTH TO KILL 99.999% OF HUMANITY they got a liiittle uncomfy over the population?? Guilty conscience much to make them fearmonger over a revolt imo), aaaand he's a bad dad for that?

Like, idk about you, but not blindly supporting or enabling your kid into doing something patently dangerous because of literal paranoid terrorists that kill without hesitation or compunction, that needed a fucking TREATY to NOT KILL SOULS GOD LITERALLY MADE TO BE BORN IN HELL WITH NO AGENCY ON BEING BORN, just drives me wild, home girl didn't think about how these redeemed souls are gonna be treated, always held apart and tested and suspected of "being on the verge" of "doing something bad" because "if they did it once they'll do it again, unlike us TRULY PURE SOULS" and "how can we ever trust to be safe now that they WALK AMONG US",,, like,, I don't know, Hell could have been made a paradise too, that also could have been home and conditions structurally made better to where it was just straight up to be made more beneficial to follow the social contract like the rest of Hell, honestly would have been more sustainable

Anyway, here you go, have my brain worms *vanishes into the void*

nababanbsvIIIAJHAHAFHAAAAAAAAAAAAA

i have this hc too anon oh my god YESS RAHHHHHHH 🔥🔥🔥🔥 but i like to believe that charlie is immortal and so is lili bc,,, idk i dont want my poor luci to suffer TOO much

thanks for the ask i love you thank you so much

[thedysphoriadiaries]

Entry 17C - Going with dignity - 3 March 2023, 9:17pm

Life is too much. Everything's wrong with me. My thinking, and my reactions to others around me, and everything else. Nothing I do will change anything. No, I still don't want help. I want to rest.

So far, I have thought of at least four ways to die (I'm not telling you. You already know of one.). I have plans for things, like how my family is going to have to deal with the rest of my accounts, and what I'm going to do with the rest of my feminine things, like clothing, and whatnot.

I'm of the opinion that keeping alive someone who has given up on life can be considered an act of cruelty, especially if they've given up on life for a period of time.

Either way...

If all goes to plan, you won't be hearing from me at a maximum of about two years later. If by some sick twist of fate I survive, I can only pray for forgiveness.

...

sublingual time.

...

Now that I'm back from my sublingual, I'll be typing this until I fall asleep, which should happen anytime in the next hour.

...

Mom talked about something along the lines of ‘安心走’. It meant going in peace. She said that about our estranged uncle - he passed from a heart attack. She... cried about how she wanted to be his elder sister in another life. I... wonder if my brother will do the same to me.

I don't want that for my brother, but... I've... gone too far into the pit of hopelessness to see myself as anything but a negative influence in everybody else's lives.

I don't know if I'll be around to write in this blog in a couple of years. I don't know what's going to happen.

I wonder what my parents and brother would say when they'd see me lying dead on the gurney, or in a coma, from a failed attempt. I don't want them to blame themselves. They were not to blame. They did all that they could as parents, grandparents, siblings, and friends.

But love is not enough. It's not enough to save a person from themselves, sometimes.

and... I don't want to suffer anymore. I don't want to have to keep killing parts of me off just so others can see me and be comfortable knowing that I'm keeping up a façade of happiness.

I... want to go on my own terms. I can only hope that I have just that tiny little bit of strength left in me to do what I have to.

...

And... if my family somehow happens to read this... could... you... burn Gyoza with me, so he'd be able to keep me company wherever I go? I... also don't want him to be a reminder of my absence. But who am I to make requests from beyond the grave?

...why am i crying?

I can't even cry. Lord save me.

...

I'll try to sleep; the drowsiness is coming in. I'll try to be fine.

... I'm fine. And no hugs. Just... listen to an already-dead thing talk about its life.