#ATTIC DOORS

[bird--egg]

More about the Dark Plains! Don't know why I'm so obsessed with this place

@foolperiod I've made this easier to read, hopefully! In case it isn't, I've written all the information below the readmore.

The Lantern Fairies Benevolent creatures that wander the dark plains in search of water--the small ponds tat dot the lands. When they reach their destinations, they purify the water by submerging themselves fully, ending their short lives in the same action. It can take up to twenty fairies to cleanse a small pond. They have been known to try and purify travelers drinks.

The Lantern A mysterious artifact used by the ghost that seems to haunt the Dark Plains. When all the fairies have extinguished themselves, the LANTERN opens and spawns new ones from its ethereal fire.

The Little Ghost Girl She carries the LANTERN. No one knows how she got to the Dark Plains, if she’s really a ghost, or how long she’s been there. A very elusive sight.

Jeweled Dragonflies Although these creatures look like bugs from afar, the are really made of animated gemstones. They don’t need food to live, only water, making them one of the only things to survive in the Dark Plains. They can often be seen congregating around lantern fairies when they purify a pond, since they cannot drink from it beforehand. Jeweled dragonflies do not seem to reproduce, their birth is a mystery.

The Dark Plains look just as its name would suggest. The sky is always black and starless, no matter the time, and the weather fluctuates from windy to a dead, stagnant air. It’s always cold, with no rain nor snow, just a empty cloudless sky. The grass in the Dark Plains is the most common living thing there, maybe because it seems to choke out all other life. No animal can eat the grass here, as it is poisonous to ingest. The only source of water is small shallow ponds, which have been choked with toxin from the roots of the grass. The Lantern faries must constantly purify the ponds in order for them to be drinkable. Passing through the Dark Plains is not suggested. It has little in terms of resources, no landmarks for navigation, and is seems nearly endless. Many of gone insane trying to cross it Despite all this, it is still strangely beautiful, in a tranquil, lonely way.

[125storejuice]

.

[lauraagrace]

Who needs a new shoujosei to read?

August has so many releases to choose from based on this release calendar I made! 🤩

I hope you see one of your favorite volumes on the list and maybe even discover a new series you want to check out!

Please note that all dates are subject to change and that almost all information (dates and covers) are directly taken from the publisher's website!

[vaguekiwi]

Attic Room or Cellar Door

Read on Ao3

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

A horrific fire destroys Peter's home, and he finds himself alone to sort through the remains. But then Tony — his ex-husband — shows up to help. Tony is left to assuage his irate ex, Peter is left to wonder at Tony's motives, and both of them must grapple with the circumstances of their breakup — admitting to truths they'd rather forget.

[mostlyanything19]

One fun fact about me is that I played the demo of The Beekeeper's Picnic by @beekeeperspicnic and it's brought me nearly to tears several times just out of pure like. sentimentality?? affection for these two men and this very specific little world they inhabit? my foolish heart that's been stuck on Sherlock Holmes for going on ten years now? idk man idk

[marzipanandminutiae]

i just reblogged that post about saying nice things abt prev but i wanna send an ask too, so: thank you for being one of the only people to be correct about the winchester mystery house and sarah herself!! so many people spread the stories of her being weird/crazy/whatever when she was just. a woman who suffered some tragedies and liked architecture.

i went on a tour of graceland recently and was intrigued by how they barely talked about elvis as a person, whereas winchester tours are basically a trap where you think you're getting to explore a weird fucked up house but actually you're going to hear about how wonderful sarah winchester was for an hour and if you say anything mean about her design skills one of the tour guides will push you out the door to nowhere.

i go through your winchester tag sometimes when i'm nostalgic and missing the house (i got laid off during quarantine) and it's just nice to see that even people who didn't devote years of their lives to the house can genuinely understand and appreciate it.

I'm so glad it's gotten better! Someone once anonymously told me the guides had to sign a contract saying they would only stick to the story made up by that ridiculous carnie family that bought her house in the 1920s, and even though it was an anon and therefore unverifiable...I believe it, sadly. For Profits often are more about...well, profit. As opposed to history. But it's good to know the guides care about getting the truth out there.

In Sarah Winchester I see a woman whose character assassination for being different(tm) has carried on after death. It's not that she was perfect- far be it from me to lay perfection at the feet of a white 19th-century gun fortune heiress -but she seems like a genuinely caring person in many ways, about her workers and her community. She was an unattached woman of means with an unconventional hobby (architecture), though, and that seems to have made wagging tongues nervous. During her lifetime that meant claiming she thought she'd live forever if construction never ceased (it did, several times), and after- well. The tale of the mad widow fleeing from invisible ghosts has come to prevail.

It feels unfair to me that she should forever be remembered by what her detractors said about her, instead of her own triumphs and setbacks, merits and flaws. And that her beautiful house, where she poured so much love and attention, should be so misrepresented. I'm glad people are trying to fix the narrative.

[bucketsofmonsters]

Where the Light Enters - Part 12

cw: unreliable narrator, hurt/comfort, slow burn, enemies to lovers, past childhood sexual assault, past sex trafficking, past nonconsensual body modification, vaginal fingering, oral sex

Cole/Female Inquisitor

word count: 4k

ao3 link

Masterlist

Cole could not get drunk. He could get a little tipsy and his walking most certainly suffered from the alcohol, but he couldn’t quite seem to get drunk in this new phase he’d entered.

He could get hung over though. 

She never got drunk. It was bad form for a career manipulator. She was mildly tipsy, and Cole had given getting drunk a good try. After the ball, Rosemary had told Bull she needed to take Cole to his room, using the way he stumbled over rocks and then glared at them after as proof that he might not be able to make it there safely on his own. 

As soon as they’d gotten back to the attic, she’d collapsed on the mattress in a fit of giggles, everything suddenly seeming incredibly funny to her. 

Cole lay on the bed beside her, positioned so he could stare right at her as he was wont to do. 

She pulled him closer, pressing kisses across his face between giggles as he just stared, big eyes straining to focus on her while she was so close to him.

And then a wave of exhaustion passed over her and she closed her eyes. 

“Am I drunk?” Cole whispered to her, still not great at volume control. 

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Do you feel drunk?”

“I feel dizzy. Your thoughts are all wavy in your head. I don’t feel like that.”

“Probably not drunk then,” she said, peeking her eyes open to touch her finger to the tip of his nose. “I’m going to sleep now. You can stare at me if you want.”

She wasn’t sure if he said anything after that, passing out almost as soon as the words had left her mouth. 

When she woke up, Cole was asleep beside her. He was curled in on himself, body facing her with his knees tucked into his chest, his head ducked down. 

His eyes fluttered behind his lids, like they still wanted to stare even as he dreamt. 

She was content just watching him, wondering if this was the first time he’d slept. She wasn’t aware of him sleeping before, but she wouldn’t put it past him to fall asleep and not inform her of it. 

He began to rise far too soon for her liking. She wasn’t done observing him, the tables turned for once. 

He awoke with a pained groan, the likes of which she’d never heard from him before. 

“I think there are bees in my head,” he announced, flinching at how loud he’d been. 

“Well, that’s concerning. Should probably get them out of there.”

His nose scrunched up. “You’re teasing.”

“I can’t help it, you make it too easy. Now come on, I’ll get you something to drink, it’ll help.”

“Help what? Why are there bees?” he whined. 

“You drank too much, it’s called a hangover.”

“I don’t like it,” he said with a pout. 

“Few do. It’s the price you have to pay for drinking, or else no one would ever stop doing it.” 

“You drank more than me,” he declared accusationally. 

She shrugged, knowing it wasn’t true and neglecting to correct him. “Guess I’m just better at it than you are.”

She ran downstairs to the pub and asked for a cool glass of water. The bartender shrugged and said she had no mages on call and so she took a warm glass instead and ran to go see Dorian. 

Dorian seemed less than thrilled to see her, sporting a mild hangover of his own. “How are you so spry?”

“I’m still young, I’m sure it’ll wear off when I’m your age,” she said with a laugh. 

She’d had a hard time with Dorian. He didn’t respond to flirtation, at least not from her, and he didn’t seem to care much for her sweet and vulnerable act. It had taken her too long to figure it out, to recognize that the way he bickered and joked with everyone was his own form of bonding. 

A few verbal sparring sessions later and he seemed quite fond of her. 

He rolled his eyes. “You’d better not be here to ask me for a favor.”

“It’s not for me. Cole’s got his first hangover, or perhaps some bees have snuck their way into his head. With Sera downstairs I suppose it could be either. Regardless, something cold would be much appreciated.”

He scoffed. “And why have you come to me for that?”

“Vivienne won’t do it if she thinks it’s for Cole and Solas won’t do it if it’s me asking.”

“Fair enough.” He waved his hand over her water, causing a layer of frost to form on the outside of the glass, also handing her a stone that was cool to the touch. 

“That will stay that way,” he said, nodding at the stone. “It’s rather handy for headaches. I don’t know about bees but it's worth a shot.”

She grinned at him and grabbed a pair of scissors she was eying before calling out, “Thank you so much, I owe you one. Good luck with the hangover!”

She was off before she could hear whatever jab he’d sent at her next, moving as fast as she could without spilling the water. 

When she returned, Cole was laying face up on the mattress, hat draped across his face. 

“Come on,” she said, pulling his hat off of him. “I’ve got stuff to help.”

He grabbed for his hat as she took it. “The light hurts,” he said, and she supposed that explained why he was doing it. 

“Come on, you have to drink something.” She handed him the glass of water and then pressed the stone to his forehead as he sipped at it. 

“Dorian,” Cole said, and it was an unusually brief thought.

“What?”

“The magic, it whispers to me. Electricity in the air, pieces of things that could have been. The water tastes like it, crackles on my tongue.”

“Yeah, it’s from him. He sends his well wishes.”

Cole’s head perked up and he looked up at her. “He’s like this too. I’m not the only one who hurts.”

“You are not. It’s kind of ridiculous, you’d think a magister would be able to hold his liquor.”

“He’s like you,” Cole said. “Afraid to drink because secrets might come out. Last night he wasn’t afraid, drinking to forget instead of refraining to remember where the lines are. You never stop being scared so you never drink. Always just enough that they won’t know.”

“Whatever you say,” she said with the same huff she used whenever he’d been right about something she’d rather he hadn’t been right about. 

He was uncharacteristically quiet for the next few hours, Dorian’s magically cold stone balanced perfectly on his forehead. 

She was content in the silence, just laying on their little tucked away mattress with nothing else to do or worry about.

Eventually, he began to stir, the painful grimace almost entirely gone from his face. 

She turned to him with a grin and asked, “Are you feeling better?”

He turned to her and asked, “Already?” with a bit of a huff, neglecting to answer her question.

“No time like the present,” she said as she pulled the stolen pair of scissors out from her pocket. 

He sat on one of the dusty crates that resided in the attic, full of who knows what. She should really go poking through them one of these days, see if there was anything useful in them. 

“I could always get someone else to do this, you know,” she said as she ran her fingers through his hair, experimentally pulling it back from his face. “I feel like Josephine or Varric could do better than I could.”

He shook his head. “I want you to do it.”

Whatever, if he wanted it he couldn’t complain if she messed it up. He wore a hat anyway, it didn’t matter that much. 

She supposed she had to start somewhere and so she took about an inch off of his hair, just enough so it wouldn’t hang into his eyes. She trimmed it practically, prioritizing letting him see over anything else. She kept the back mostly untouched, shaggy and long on the nape of his neck.

Speaking from a fashion sense, it was a travesty, but she doubted he cared that much in regards to fashion. Besides, it was a travesty before the haircut. It did what she needed it to do, it wasn’t like she couldn’t just cut it again in a week if it became a problem. 

“How much of me could you take before people wouldn’t see me anymore?” he asked, owl eyes looking up as if he was trying to see his own haircut.

“I promise you, I could cut off every last piece of hair and people would still recognize you.”

“People didn’t recognize you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not using blood magic on you so we shouldn't have that issue.”

There still was no mirror in the room so she directed him at the window where she looked at herself on occasion. “See,” she said, running her hands through it for him. “You can barely even tell. Plus, without it in your eyes, you can actually see yourself.”

He turned and pressed a kiss onto the bridge of her nose, hands cupping her cheeks gently. 

“What was that for?”

“You made sure I’d feel like me,” he said, hand shifting to feel the long hair at the nape of his neck. “You think it looks silly but it’s me and you didn’t want me to feel wrong.”

“I guess,” she said. “It’s really not a big deal. If you want to look stupid, that’s on you. I just didn’t want my soldier to be blinded by his own hair.”

He gave her a look, one that was more than familiar. One she’d seen many times before, usually from more disillusioned gentlemen. 

She burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you love me. Like really love me. That’s kind of embarrassing.”

Despite her outburst, he did not seem embarrassed by it, more confused than anything. “I thought you knew.”

She shrugged. “Sorry, I can’t poke around inside your head like you can with me.”

“You’re supposed to be able to read people,” he said accusationally. 

“You’re harder, you react to things weird. How did you not know what I didn't know? Can’t you see inside my head?”

“I can’t see everything, just things that hurt or things that help.”

He was being vague, intentionally talking around the truth. When they’d first met she’d taken everything he’d said as the same spirit nonsense, all just regurgitated thoughts and simple statements, none of his own input in them at all. 

Maybe that was true then, but now he would talk around things sometimes. Misdirect and tell her things that were almost answers. 

“You know full well that my thoughts on you often fall into both of those categories. There’s no way you didn’t know.”

“Sometimes I could see it. I almost told you on the roof, curiosity spinning through your head. That’s what it has to be. You can’t want, it would spit in the face of every time you didn’t. Wanting only hurts so you must be wondering. I loved you then too.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were scared. You would have run.” He was probably right. That’s what she usually did when things got too scary, although they tended to get scary in the other direction. 

Some part of her knew that wasn’t really the type of running he meant. She was safe and content here, she wouldn’t actually have booked it. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew she wouldn’t give that up because some spirit had developed something resembling a feeling.

It would have changed things though. She would have run from him. It would have made him another mark, revealing a weakness ready to be exploited. She would have jumped at the chance. 

“You have very little faith in me.”

“I’m right,” he said, brows furrowed, inevitably at least seeing pieces of her mental concession to his point. 

“I know. But that doesn’t negate the little faith thing,” she insisted. 

“You won’t run now,” he said, and it sounded like he believed it a little more than she did. 

“You’re sure of that?” she asked.

He nodded. “I can’t see it. Thoughts jumbling, tripping over themselves to blame and accuse in layers of lies. But I do have faith in you. You won’t run. Not anymore. Not with me.”

She wondered if he was lying. Maybe he could see into her better than he was letting on. Maybe he didn’t believe in her but simply knew. Maybe he was hedging his bets, telling her he had faith in her because it was the answer that he thought was most likely to convince her to stay.

Maybe she didn’t care. 

She leaned forwards and kissed him, hands raising to tangle themselves in freshly cut hair. 

He pushed into her eagerly, pressing up against her with every point of contact he could manage. In doing so, he seemed to incidentally grind his crotch against her, letting out a moan as he did and then going still. 

She giggled and went to tease him before something occurred to her. 

“You’ve never had sex before,” she said, like she was just now realizing it. She’d always known it, of course, but now it was really hitting her. 

“No,” he said. “I know how it works. I watch sometimes, people coming together. Flesh against flesh.”

Her hand flew over her mouth, stifling a shocked laugh. “You absolutely should not be doing that.”

His head cocked to the side. “Why not?”

“It’s meant to be private

“They never asked me to leave.”

She gave him a look that said they both knew no one was ever aware he was there. “You’re being disingenuous.”

“I was curious. I see lots of private things, I don’t know why this one is different.”

“Are you even interested in sex?” she asked, leaning back to really take him in. “I mean, besides in theory.”

“I want to make you feel good.”

“That’s not even close to an answer. You’re being very evasive today,” she said, scrunching her nose up in playful displeasure. 

He shrugged, eyes down. “I don’t know. I don’t think I like it the way they do but you don’t like it the way they do either. I want to be close to you sometimes, want to touch and hold, but I don’t know what it’s tied to. It’s harder to see when it’s in my own head.”

He paused for a minute before speaking again. “I want to try,” he said, determination tinging his words. “But only if you want to try.”

Did she want to try? She’d never enjoyed anything resembling sex but then again, it had been ruined for her before she’d ever really gotten the chance. She’d never had someone she cared about before like this either, not really. 

Sometimes when she looked at him, when they kissed, she wanted more. It wasn’t desire, or if it was she couldn’t recognise it as such, but she did want more of him. 

“Yes,” Cole said. “Like that. But I don’t know how to know if we’ll like it if we never try.”

“Anything in particular catch your interest?” she asked, her voice light, trying desperately to mask the uncertainty that was winding inside of her gut. 

“In Varric's books-”

“Nope,” she said, cutting him off. “Bad frame of reference.”

“Why?”

“They’re not real. The stuff in them isn’t real.”

“I know,” he said, sounding almost mildly insulted. “But I saw something I wanted to try in there. Is that not what you were asking?”

“I guess. Can we not talk about Varric when we’re discussing sex?”

He cocked his head to the side. “I saw it in your head too, sometimes when you think about me. Fleeting but there. You’re scared if you think it too much it will sour. I thought that might be private too.”

“It is,” she said with a laugh, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I don’t mind though.”

She threw her arms over his shoulders and began to walk backward, sending them both tumbling onto the mattress. 

His arms caught him instinctively so he didn't crush her, his face inches above hers as she lay flat on the mattress. 

“Can I touch you?” he asked, breathlessly. “My hands want to touch.”

“I’m sure they do,” she said, grabbing his hands and sliding them under her shirt. He held her bare waist gently, keeping them where she placed them. They were soft, softer than they had been due to his insistence upon using her lotion now. They were also cold, although less cold then they had been when they’d done their little ritual. It was kind of nice, raising goosebumps in their wake everywhere they touched. 

She liked the way they felt against her, pressing gently while clearly wanting more. She selfishly wished he could mark her up, that next time Bull saw her he would know what had happened here. She wanted marks on her body that she actually wanted there. 

He whined a little, clearly reading the thoughts from her. His eyes were verging on desperate, looking down at her with a naked longing in his eyes.

“Can I touch you?” he asked again, and his hands flirted with the band of her pants. 

She nodded, doing her best not to tense as his hand slipped down her pants. 

His hand meandered, ever gentle in his exploration. It ran down the inside of her thigh and then back up to her lower stomach, pressing down tentatively. She let him, relaxing as she basked under the attention. 

When his finger grazed over her clit she jolted a little, the sexual context almost forgotten under the calm that had passed over her, besides the low burn of arousal she was almost shocked to find simmering inside of her. 

He paused but continued on, reading her eagerness from her easily. 

His hands meandered, brushing over all parts of her without real intent. He’d occasionally pass over a sensitive part of her, pulling a sharp intake of breath from her, but he kept moving, never lingering. 

And then he moved more intentionally and one of his fingers slopped inside of her and they both gasped at the same time, Cole’s eyes widening. “You’re so warm,” he said breathlessly. 

It was only one finger, so much less than she usually took. She didn’t know why it was affecting her like this, why she wanted it to stay so desperately. There was something grounding about it, about his presence inside of her. 

His fingers warmed inside of her, leeching her heat off of her. 

He moved his finger experimentally, hooking it up in a way that she was certain he’d stolen from the mind of some serving girl thinking about how she got herself off. She was relieved that at least that was where he was gathering his information from instead of cocksure stablehands. 

“Is this what you wanted to try from Varric’s books?” she asked with a laugh, hips pushing up into his hand a little, not wanting more but simply rising to meet him.

He shook his head. “No. I wasn’t sure if you’d want it.”

“Try me,” she said, emboldened by how much she was enjoying this. 

He wordlessly drew his hand out of her pants, falling to his knees beside the mattress and looking up at her with those big eyes. 

She moved to sit up and he laid his head on her thigh, eyes questioning. 

She knew immediately what he wanted and hooked her hands in her pants, pulling them down to her knees. 

He stared openly at her as soon as she was exposed, taking in everything between her thighs. 

The way he observed her, expression completely naked of any pretense, didn’t make her feel exposed. It felt like he was exposing as much of himself as she was exposing of her, everything safe inside their little attic. 

He moved towards her tentatively, hands moving to rest on her thighs. 

She nodded, despite the fact that she knew he could see every little twinge of emotion inside of her. 

He moved in suddenly, the second she gave him permission. 

He ate her out like he kissed, unsure but enthusiastic, eager to please. He seemed more interested in the exploration than anything else right now, tongue running along every bit of her, occasionally running up her thighs just because he could. 

She knotted her hands in his hair, not to move him in any way, just so she could feel him, to give her something to touch. 

It was nothing. He wasn’t moving either of them towards a climax, was barely rocking his hips, with nothing to get any friction against. It shouldn’t have made her feel anything. 

It was everything to her though. It was like he knew she needed this, the quiet exploration needed to occur before anything else could happen. 

His tongue brushed against her clit at just the right angle and she saw sparks, just for a second, a hum of something like pleasure forming inside her. 

And then she wasn’t there anymore. Then she was younger. 

They never meant it. Not really, not when they touched her like this. They just wanted her to want them and this was the quickest way to it, in their minds. It was easier when they were bad at it, quick and sloppy. It hurt more when they knew, when she started to feel good and couldn’t fight it. 

Cole was off her in an instant, sitting beside her on the bed, clearly hesitant to touch her.

“Sorry,” she said, legs snapping shut as she tried to come back to herself. 

“I hurt you,” he said quietly. 

“You did not,” she said, voice firm, leaving no room for questioning. “You did nothing wrong.”

He nodded, taking her at her word, and then laid down in the bed. 

“I can sleep now,” he said, clearly referring to the night before. “Do you want to sleep here again?”

“I should really be getting back to Bull,” she said, pulling her pants up. 

“Stay? Please?” he asked, and he shifted nervously in the bed. 

She wondered why he wanted it so badly. Was it the guilt from the way she was now? Was he emotional after his first time doing anything sexual? Or maybe his first time knowingly going to sleep he just wanted someone around. She supposed the concept of sleeping was a little frightening if you were unaccustomed to it.

“You think too loud,” he declared, and she laughed, collapsing into bed beside him. 

“Whatever. Don’t get used to this though, I can’t stay often.”

He nodded. “That’s fine. Just this once.”

She shifted on the mattress, getting comfortable beside him as they figured out how to lay beside one another properly, their legs getting tangled in the process. Admittedly, that was mostly her fault. 

“Can I try doing something to you next time?” she asked as she settled in. “I think I might like it more that way around, if I’m not involved at first.”

He nodded and she heard his breath hitch, just a little. She wasn’t sure if it was from interest or guilt, but she heard it and filed it away. Maybe she’d add it to her little book.

[skunkes]

hmmm stuck in a little cycle of "i dont want to point out or pay to fix problems in my room/area of the house because ill be moving out any time now" cope and "ill never be able to move out if i dont get these things fixed bc they are actively harming me and my workflow"

[luxlightly]

Me when there is another big patch but the lever puzzle under Cazador's Palace is still broken:

Apparently the devs are "aware of the issue" and "working on" it. Unknown what this means but they've confirmed it's not just an unfinished remnant, it's supposed to work and do something, it's just busted.

I have no idea if there's anything of note that's actually going to be accessible if it gets fixed but it's driving me mad not to know.

[tanoroe]

strangers vs. the murder of abel (genesis version).

[pancakeke]

this is the closest I've ever been to for real using tiktok. I wanna know what else this girl has done so bad. why is your ceiling a bunch of of overlapping sheets of plywood. are you for real standing on the top rung of that step ladder and holding a "door" up with your head while you attach it to the ceiling. what is going on in your house.

[bird--egg]

(some art from a palette challenge i wanted to post seperately)

I had so much fun doing the 'i HATE you' palette. The two almost identical greens did cause me some fury, and i wished i had more than two blues to work with, but the challenge made it interesting!!

If this picture was about anything, I think it'd be about 'lantern fairies', little creatures who travel across the dark plains to purify water. In the relative stillness of the dark plains, they're a rare and beautiful sight, attracting Jeweled Dragonflies, who drink the purified water.

[crowcaws]

Love how Lucy's like "I'm Lucy CAR-lyle" and Anthony just went "mmhmm mmhmm cool anyway This Is My Associate, Lucy car-LYle"

[faerytale-wings]

Sorry I’ve been so MIA lately, but my husband and I bought a new (old) house!

I was thinking about posting some of our misadventures in fixing this hundred year old beauty up since that might be all the painting I have time for in the foreseeable future. (Also my art studio is in boxes until the new studio space is fixed up. Which uh, might be a while)

Hopefully the new neighbors are cool with the 12ft skeleton.

[the-kestrels-feather]

"Why doesn't Kes have any work friends?" The mystery continues

@upinurbiz thanks for making my workday less boring lmao

[director-yomi-hellsmile]

I actually seriously hate nights and I believe I posted about it before because this is how much I hate this cursed time. Everyday I dread whenever it gets dark because this is usually the time when my brain just decides to blast me with the most horrific images and thoughts, like I'm not shitting you I just try to fall asleep as quickly as possible and then it's like I'm being yelled at with how much my thoughts just get louder and continuously repeating the most paranoia inducing sentences I can imagine also there is no way to fix that. Might be because it's just so quiet and I'm just laying still doing nothing, because similiar things also happen when I'm home alone and bored with zero background noise. Like it doesn't matter if I know my mother is just in the next room I'm still terrified the entire time and have to keep the curtains open for maximum light and even the sound of my brother snoring is a comfort. Every day I wake up I feel so brave for surviving five nights at freddy at my house