#003. musing

[chaoticgingcr]

tag dump.

[geisterruf]

 ⸻  is  an  independent  &  selective  character of Cassedea Genéva Deleviere.

After being born in the Colombian slums, Cassedea moved at the age of 5 with her parents to Rhodes Island. It was both, an escape and a way of moving on. Her parents were extraordinary, having the ability to communicate with supernatural beings and being familiar with voodoo, cursed objects and exorcism. After a failed exorcism, the family felt the need to flee from the danger of the demon. Sadly, he followed them, killing both of her parents mysteriously. After being adopted and growing up, Cassedea found out that she had the same abilities like her parents. Therefore she tried to learn everything about them, getting help from her parents with whom she could communicate. At the age of 16 she brought the demon, who killed her parents, back to hell. Today she made a living out of exorcism and necromancy. When she’s not traveling through the country, she lives with her cousin and a basement full of dark secrets in New Orleans.

#geisterruf original and independent character based on the movies Conjuring, always open for plotting, multishipping and crossover friendly, german & english but german prefered, only interact if your 25+, she/her, bisexuell, low to semi active, m&pdni

Credits: @geisterwelt @strangergraphics

[combatmelodies]

quick! which song from the clair obscur soundtrack is your fave? ill go first. mine is Esquie's bath and Flying Waters - Goblu :) i think they're just so fun.

[honeyedking]

ARC II • THE FAMILY TREE

Every family has its terrible secrets... Read the sins of the The Arlay-Sinclair Family.

[dreamyxlore]

{ i'll follow you into the dark }

➳ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

{ summary: } emma's first meeting with the doctor goes about as well as you'd think and marc gets firsthand experience of what it feels like to be jake. { pairing: } | eventual | original character { emma harper } x marc spector, emma harper x steven grant, && emma harper x jake lockley { contents: } mental hospitals, psychiatric hold, emma meets the doctor, angst { I guess? I don't know what else to call it. }, hurt/comfort-esque vibes { warnings: } severe mental illness { psychosis, hallucinations, depression }, main character is actively in psychosis, I've done my best to write it in the least triggering way but there are a lot of heavy themes that will take place in this series, so forewarning. marc is a danger to himself here but it's only really alluded to in this part. mental hospitals. toxic as fuck doctor, typical misunderstanding and misinterpretation that comes with psychosis. due to the nature of emma's psychosis, things are very unhealthily skewed in a religious context. triggering themes related to the aforementioned. { author's note: } after I finished reading "tear down my reason" by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction it inspired me to work on an idea I've been playing with about emma and the boys meeting while both in a mental hospital at the same time. I wanted to write a series that would help other people with severe mental illness feel seen and heard as there really aren't works out there like this, especially not actually written by people with firsthand experience of things like psychosis. this series is being written with a lot of love and care so I truly hope that it can be cathartic for those who read who might also live with mental illness because you DO matter and your stories DO deserve to be told. { word count: } 1,016 { taglist: } @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sub-aro

She’s quiet on the way back to their wing, a soft scowl seemingly forever over her features.

Marc wants to say something, but doesn’t.

He isn’t sure what she’s hearing as they cross through the locked doors but he knows she’s more caught up in her mind than she is present in the goings on around them.

While the rest of them file into the day room to receive their meds, she’s escorted through another door.

Marc feels a spike of anxiety.

He knows she’s going to see the doctor for the first time and having been to this particular hospital more than once, he knows this doctor.

A harsh and cruel man who deals out diagnoses like poker chips and always loads everyone up on too much medication, that their usual psychiatrists then have to sort out after they’re discharged.

He finds himself pacing the hallway like a caged wild animal, tense and binding their time.

Meanwhile, Emma is taken outside to a sort of courtyard and seated at a table in front of a heartless looking man with a massive binder in front of him.

She shifts nervously on the bench across from him taking in her surroundings and reminiscing on how bright it is and how much it makes her think of the garden of Eden.

The man folds his hands on top of the open binder and gives a menacing smile. “Alright Emma, I like to make deals—do you like to make deals? If you take my medication for three days, I’ll let you go home…”

And just like that, the proverbial serpent seems to take her into a chokehold. Her throat tightens and she finds it hard to breath despite being outside in the fresh air.

She forces a swallow, unable to find her voice.

“Sign here if you agree…”

The man – who she’s now sure is the devil himself – turns a contract around and reaches out a pen with the same sickening smile.

Emma feels like she’s signing her soul away but he gives no other option other than to do so. It feels like a trap, another test that she can’t help but fail.

She doesn’t even remember how to sign her whole name in the confusion of her brain, but she scribbles a ‘signature.’

“Wonderful…” The doctor says, “you can go back inside now.”

Emma stiffly gets up from where she sits, walking back toward the door where they wait to let her back in.

When she’s led back into the wing she can see Marc at the end of the hallway near her room. As if by some latent telepathy, he looks up, locking eyes with her.

She feels trapped now more than ever, like she doesn’t know what to do. So her feet carry her toward him, his own moving to meet her in the middle.

As soon as he gets closer he can see her trembling, tears welling up in her eyes.

He doesn’t know what to do because he can’t hug her but he can tell she’s terrified.

“How’d it go?” He asks, winded and unsure.

Emma shakes her head quickly, falling into a sob that rakes through her body as the tears spill over.

‘That bloody doctor,’ Steven curses.

‘I’ll kill him myself…’ Jake adds.

Marc, on the other hand, feels like he’s never wanted to hug somebody so badly in his life—the one time he can’t.

He wishes he could take her somewhere quiet so she could calm down—but going into each other’s rooms are off limits and the day room is crowded this time of day.

“I’m so sorry…” is all he can say, giving her a soft look of empathy.

Emma, on the other hand, not knowing any better—rushes forward to wrap her arms tightly around Marc’s middle, clinging to him.

It startles him, a little surprised she’d be comfortable enough to do it in the first place.

Risking hell from the hospital staff he does what he instinctively wants to, what feels right—and hugs her back. He can’t help but keep an eye out for prying looks and of course, the staff.

Emma sobs softly against him, feeling safe for the first time in the last 24 hours, as she shakes in his arms.

He holds her as long as he can before it becomes too risky, and withdraws. He gives her a soft look fighting every urge to wipe away her tears.

“We—we’re not really…supposed to do things like that here—I don’t wanna get you in trouble.” He explains gently.

Emma nods quickly even if she misconstrues his meaning for being about what’s appropriate in this liminal space.

She wipes furiously at her eyes.

“Why don’t we sit here for a minute?” He suggests, sliding down the wall along the hallway and reaching his hand up for hers, risking reprimand again.

As if sensing a thought Marc hardly has, Jake speaks up in their headspace, ‘Let them yell at you for helping her—I’ll gladly give them a piece of my mind…’

Marc doesn’t need to see his face in a reflective surface to know the malice in his eyes, the threat that’s far from empty.

Emma takes his hand, moving to sit next to him on the floor. She instinctively rests her head against his shoulder, and he feels as though he suddenly knows exactly how Jake must feel when he protects him and Steven.

He releases a heavy sigh and conceals their clasped hands between them if only for the sake of being able to continue holding hers a little longer.

It occurs to him that the next 80 some odd hours would be crucial for her, and he’s not sure it’ll be long enough to make sure she’s okay.

“You thinking what I’m thinking, boys?” He mutters to the other two in his head. Emma doesn’t seem to mind the way he talks to them in the least, only squeezing his hand tighter.

‘Think we’re gonna need to make an appearance…’ Jake suggests darkly.

‘Most. Definitely.’ Steven agrees.

[thexsanctuaryx]

ʚ♡ɞ I'll Follow You Into the Dark ʚ♡ɞ

➳ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

{ summary: } emma's first meeting with the doctor goes about as well as you'd think and marc gets firsthand experience of what it feels like to be jake. { pairing: } | eventual | original character { emma harper } x marc spector, emma harper x steven grant, && emma harper x jake lockley { contents: } mental hospitals, psychiatric hold, emma meets the doctor, angst { I guess? I don't know what else to call it. }, hurt/comfort-esque vibes { warnings: } severe mental illness { psychosis, hallucinations, depression }, main character is actively in psychosis, I've done my best to write it in the least triggering way but there are a lot of heavy themes that will take place in this series, so forewarning. marc is a danger to himself here but it's only really alluded to in this part. mental hospitals. toxic as fuck doctor, typical misunderstanding and misinterpretation that comes with psychosis. due to the nature of emma's psychosis, things are very unhealthily skewed in a religious context. triggering themes related to the aforementioned. { author's note: } I recently finished reading "tear down my reason" by @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction and it inspired me to work on an idea I've been playing with about emma and the boys meeting while both in a mental hospital at the same time. I wanted to write a series that would help other people with severe mental illness feel seen and heard as there really aren't works out there like this, especially not actually written by people with firsthand experience of things like psychosis. this series is being written with a lot of love and care so I truly hope that it can be cathartic for those who read who might also live with mental illness because you DO matter and your stories DO deserve to be told. { word count: } 1,016 { taglist: } @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @sub-aro

She’s quiet on the way back to their wing, a soft scowl seemingly forever over her features.

Marc wants to say something, but doesn’t.

He isn’t sure what she’s hearing as they cross through the locked doors but he knows she’s more caught up in her mind than she is present in the goings on around them.

While the rest of them file into the day room to receive their meds, she’s escorted through another door.

Marc feels a spike of anxiety.

He knows she’s going to see the doctor for the first time and having been to this particular hospital more than once, he knows this doctor.

A harsh and cruel man who deals out diagnoses like poker chips and always loads everyone up on too much medication, that their usual psychiatrists then have to sort out after they’re discharged.

He finds himself pacing the hallway like a caged wild animal, tense and binding their time.

Meanwhile, Emma is taken outside to a sort of courtyard and seated at a table in front of a heartless looking man with a massive binder in front of him.

She shifts nervously on the bench across from him taking in her surroundings and reminiscing on how bright it is and how much it makes her think of the garden of Eden.

The man folds his hands on top of the open binder and gives a menacing smile. “Alright Emma, I like to make deals—do you like to make deals? If you take my medication for three days, I’ll let you go home…”

And just like that, the proverbial serpent seems to take her into a chokehold. Her throat tightens and she finds it hard to breath despite being outside in the fresh air.

She forces a swallow, unable to find her voice.

“Sign here if you agree…”

The man – who she’s now sure is the devil himself – turns a contract around and reaches out a pen with the same sickening smile.

Emma feels like she’s signing her soul away but he gives no other option other than to do so. It feels like a trap, another test that she can’t help but fail.

She doesn’t even remember how to sign her whole name in the confusion of her brain, but she scribbles a ‘signature.’

“Wonderful…” The doctor says, “you can go back inside now.”

Emma stiffly gets up from where she sits, walking back toward the door where they wait to let her back in.

When she’s led back into the wing she can see Marc at the end of the hallway near her room. As if by some latent telepathy, he looks up, locking eyes with her.

She feels trapped now more than ever, like she doesn’t know what to do. So her feet carry her toward him, his own moving to meet her in the middle.

As soon as he gets closer he can see her trembling, tears welling up in her eyes.

He doesn’t know what to do because he can’t hug her but he can tell she’s terrified.

“How’d it go?” He asks, winded and unsure.

Emma shakes her head quickly, falling into a sob that rakes through her body as the tears spill over.

‘That bloody doctor,’ Steven curses.

‘I’ll kill him myself…’ Jake adds.

Marc, on the other hand, feels like he’s never wanted to hug somebody so badly in his life—the one time he can’t.

He wishes he could take her somewhere quiet so she could calm down—but going into each other’s rooms are off limits and the day room is crowded this time of day.

“I’m so sorry…” is all he can say, giving her a soft look of empathy.

Emma, on the other hand, not knowing any better—rushes forward to wrap her arms tightly around Marc’s middle, clinging to him.

It startles him, a little surprised she’d be comfortable enough to do it in the first place.

Risking hell from the hospital staff he does what he instinctively wants to, what feels right—and hugs her back. He can’t help but keep an eye out for prying looks and of course, the staff.

Emma sobs softly against him, feeling safe for the first time in the last 24 hours, as she shakes in his arms.

He holds her as long as he can before it becomes too risky, and withdraws. He gives her a soft look fighting every urge to wipe away her tears.

“We—we’re not really…supposed to do things like that here—I don’t wanna get you in trouble.” He explains gently.

Emma nods quickly even if she misconstrues his meaning for being about what’s appropriate in this liminal space.

She wipes furiously at her eyes.

“Why don’t we sit here for a minute?” He suggests, sliding down the wall along the hallway and reaching his hand up for hers, risking reprimand again.

As if sensing a thought Marc hardly has, Jake speaks up in their headspace, ‘Let them yell at you for helping her—I’ll gladly give them a piece of my mind…’

Marc doesn’t need to see his face in a reflective surface to know the malice in his eyes, the threat that’s far from empty.

Emma takes his hand, moving to sit next to him on the floor. She instinctively rests her head against his shoulder, and he feels as though he suddenly knows exactly how Jake must feel when he protects him and Steven.

He releases a heavy sigh and conceals their clasped hands between them if only for the sake of being able to continue holding hers a little longer.

It occurs to him that the next 80 some odd hours would be crucial for her, and he’s not sure it’ll be long enough to make sure she’s okay.

“You thinking what I’m thinking, boys?” He mutters to the other two in his head. Emma doesn’t seem to mind the way he talks to them in the least, only squeezing his hand tighter.

‘Think we’re gonna need to make an appearance…’ Jake suggests darkly.

‘Most. Definitely.’ Steven agrees.

[decoysouled]

the breath between hope & fear // accepting. @wildresonances // ❝ can something this good really last? ❞ - kaveh

THE BELIEF ANYTHING WOULD LAST ( good or bad or neither ) was a notion Aether had long since abandoned — once, in the naiveity of his youth, ( before he had been walked to a door that existed only to close behind him & forced to cast away his home ), he had believed that good things ( kindness & trust & bonds ) could last for an eternity.

That idea had not lasted long once he was faced with the truth of the universe: not all things were kind.

It had been a long time since he first learned that such an idea was for mortals, for people who would not live long enough to see all that is good & kind & cherished be ripped from them. He knows, in the end, that this is a bias — for it isn't living for so long ( watching stars live & die & planets fade into nothing ) that leaves one watching goodness seep out of the universe.

It is believing that it exists & being willing to hold onto it as it crumbles in one's hands like something that has long-since decayed.

( the only difference a lifespan makes is how many times a person has to lose the good in their life & how desperately they cling to it as it vanishes. )

❝It doesn't.❞ His answers comes after a moment of thought, as if he's not sure of what to say or whether this is a truth worth confirming. In the end, it is honesty he decides on — the painful sort that comes with losing every norm his life has ever had, from travelling along side others ( their sister, the express crews that came before... all things came to an end & with that end came a loneliness that cuts to the bone )

Or the memories that he once created with people he can no longer remember.

( their voices, their faces, the things they loved — even those would someday vanish into the abyss of the mind, destined to fade like everything else )

❝Everything good comes to an end ��� but so do the bad things.❞ Eventually, a person grew used to that constant cycle of loss & numb to its pain, choosing instead to cling to the kinder things in life. That, in itself, was something that took a sort of strength Aether himself did not possess. That, in itself, is a fate he hopes Kaveh would never have to meet.

❝Things can stay the same for so long that you never think they'll change, that they become a part of your existence you can't detach from.❞ & those things could only be cherished once they were gone.

❝But even those times will come to an end. The path we choose by stepping onto the express is to trailblaze, to create our own paths & look toward the future.❞

( because one cannot traverse the stars if they are constantly staring into the empty space where the past once was. )

❝It's the journey that matters most. Even when it comes to an end, no matter the destination, it shapes you — & that? It'll stay with you with you forever, but nothing else will.❞

The emotions associated with an event were the only thing that would haunt a person, carving out a piece of their heart so long as they lived & continued to go on with their life.

❝Even if none of this lasts... Right now? It's yours. Don't focus on how it'll end, or when. All you can do is let yourself be happy until that time comes.❞

( even if one day, the only piece of that happiness left is the sorrow that comes with knowing it is no longer yours. )

[bailesona]

" mam says that you're in charge while she's gone. " a pause, while young advik considers the vast array of options with which to occupy the day. with bright inquisitive eyes that gaze upon his current guardian, a radiant toothy smile fills his face, and he reaches to grasp their hand. " she also gave me money for pizza! and stanley gave me more money for ice-cream! and richard gave me some for tidying my toy chest! so what do you wanna do? "

OPEN STARTER. / FEAT. ADVIK PATEL AND A BABYSITTING OPPORTUNITY!

[unwritten-identity-discs]

@corruptedcodelines

The Rectifier was Clarke's worst nightmare. A process worse than repurposing that was nearly irreversible, and and with the equipment to process entire settlements in nanocycles into mindless drones pressed into Clu's army.

So, Clarke and the Rejects did what they did best. They slipped away from the rest of their regiment, and did as much damage as they could to the machinery and free as many programs as they could. According to Ada, there was another cluster of Rejects working to free the trapped programs, but it was slow going while they tried not to get caught. Clarke was the one who had a jet baton--not Occupation standard issue, but a relic from her past, meant to carry cargo long distances at high speeds--so she was the one who had to sneak the small group of captives off the Rectifier and get them to safety.

They were over the Sea of Simulation when the explosion occurred, and the shockwave knocked her offline and batted her jet and it's occupants into the Sea. She awoke millicycles later on a rocky shore, on what seemed to be a small island in the middle of the sea. At first, she didn't spot any other programs around; what happened to the Programs she'd been transporting, she had no idea.

Upon further inspection, she spotted the silhouette of a program unconscious a short distance away, half hidden by a cluster of rocks. One of hers or not, she had medical training, and should assist.

She halted several paces from the program, recognizing his helmet. However, she didn't have time to decide whether or not to help, as Rinzler's circuits glowed back to life, dim enough that it was impossible to tell their color.

[hcrexcellency]

@francehqstarters ( open to anyone ) Location: The Race Track Time: Afternoon

"Me? Actually racing today? I think not," the red haired princess laughed. Joanna had a carefully crafted image of herself as the graceful, poised, yet tactful Scottish Princess. If anyone knew she was a skilled rider and prized fighter, it was because they'd seen it. She'd fervently deny it, otherwise. "But my prized horse from Scotland is in the running. Best of luck to anyone who bets against him."

[cosmicallybound]

@hellsjewel invoked the goddess, [ standing over a body ] " oops. "

     amber   hues   lazily   watched   as   blood   continued   to   pool   beneath   the   body.   supple   flesh   formed   a   thin   line   as   a   displeased   huff   rumbled   within   the   witch's   celestial   ribcage   as   she   dispassionately   nudged   the   body   with   her   foot.   a   soft,   dissatisfied   tsk   left   her   lips   as   the   corpse   didn't   react.   another   failure,   which   meant   they   were   still   so   far   from   the   answer. 

     ❝   ‘tis   unfortunate,   but   we   knew   ’twould   not   be   easy   to   sift   through   the   trash   to   find   our   prize.   though,   i   suppose   poking   one's   nose   into   the   gods'   business   is   a   sure-fire   way   of   receiving   divine   retribution.   ❞   braided   dark   hair   swayed   as   hyeon   canted   her   head   to   the   side,   silently   considering   the   husk   before   removing   the   unseemly   sight   with   a   flick   of   her   slender   fingers.   ❝   i   suppose   we   must   start   anew,   such   a   shame.   ❞

b l o o d || accepting

[honeyedking]

ARC II • THE HAUNTING

Feat. @serpcntiine

The instant camera was a familiar weight in his hand. After all, he grew up with a sister destined for the spotlight, and had chosen a partner who's most natural, beguiling state seemed to be in front of a flashing lens. And while the higher arts of photography were beyond him, Nicolai was borne with taste beyond measure, an eye for composition.

Thus, presented with the scene before him, it was instinctive. The slant of light against bronzed skin, framed by the slightly parted doorway - a stolen glimpse. A painfully familiar face set into concentrated furrows, an unfocused image set to the sound of a plucked guitar, strings reverberating against long, nimble fingers. The sound of the shutter, the buzz of the printing photograph, broke him from his reverie. It made him turn and flee, unable to face the heat of implication that stained his cheeks, his gait swift but light-footed. No trace of his presence, his burning attention - save the captured photo clutched in his stiff fingers.

[sialiia]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• . ° .┊┊ @astormymind ⋅ liked!

ㅤㅤ❝𝓛ook... I don't want any trouble--❞ A quick pause to correct herself. ❝--Who am I kidding? Trouble tends to find me all the time... unfortunately. Not that I go looking for it.❞ She shrugged her shoulders casually, trying to find out how to keep the conversation lighter despite her heart racing from coming into contact with something she could sense was not human, at least not completely. Visually, it seemed like it. But being sensitive to energies and other worldly things, she picked up on things easily. ❝--Anyways! I um... is it rude to ask what you want?❞

[mingos]

[gctawaygirl]

closed starter : for anna ( @wantcn ) - sent me a meme muse : harold thorne (48, heterosexual, casino owner / crime boss) plot : prompt is the wine cellar of a large mansion. you know it's gonna be spicyyyy <3

harold wine cellar was one of his crowning achievements. he had many displays of his wealth but his collection of expensive and rare wines - as well as gins, whiskeys and other spirits - was something he built from the ground up for pleasure rather than money and power. despite all this, he was somewhat private about it. he brought a rare vintage up at gatherings, too possessive to let anyone else fetch it. only he had the key and not even his wife was allowed down here. however, on this particular night, when catherine was out of town and he invited anna into his home rather than spending the night in their penthouse, he brought her down. it was likely one of the only places, bar the guest bedroom, that wasn't tainted by his wife. he smiled, holding out his hand to her at the top of the stairs, "shall we?" he asked, "you get your pick of the collection for our refreshments tonight."

[acefms]

closed : @chancemonroe | block party.

luna wasn’t typically someone who got nervous, but tonight that seemed to be a different story. there was something about chance that seemed to evoke it within her. so much so she’d felt the need to down two shots of tequila before she’d even left the house, which looking back probably wasn’t the smartest decision. luna didn’t tend to act too sensibly under the influence of alcohol. spotting him in the distance, a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth and she hurried her steps through the crowd to reach him. with his back to her, she reached her hands up to cover his eyes, leaning in with a laugh. “ guess who ? ”