#I'm crying in the club actually

[dvudushnydiaries]

Theoi-Terata & Hero Gothic

Some friends of mine set up a prompt to write about the "gothic" nature of the pantheons and beings we venerate and I took it real cereal.

Odysseus gothic is simply a mission at night. The tension, the cunning, the inexplicable closeness with a goddess that brings you victory, knowing the only time you'll smile during this war is when you are being given information. "You like to win, regardless of the cause". It's also spending your entire journey home being tormented by what you did so you could win, just to use that torment as a tool to re-learn your own ruthlessness so you may finally be home.

Achilles gothic is clutching at glory at the expense of a life beyond your own rage. It is all consuming, even in circumstances one may not have considered. It is being so overtaken by what you are owed that you wish death upon your friends. It's being so overtaken by the consequences of that wish that you act for the cause you began to spurn. "If I feel the cause is wrong, I can't move", and you have begun to move in spite of that principle, because the cause cost you more than you'd ever imagined. Aetna gothic is existing at the threshold of destruction and creation. You are a mother, but you have annihilated cities. You imprison a raging giant but you kindly host a god and his forge in the same space. You were something more before your land experienced colonies, they remember your old name to this day. But no one remembers much more than that. So you just keep holding what has been given to you. Hera-Ekhidna gothic is simply the nature of motherhood and partnership with someone who holds great power. It is loving your children deeply but also knowing you have a duty to the world that goes beyond just them. It's knowing that in many ways, they will be sacrificial lambs, but the world won't see them as that, and they won't recognize your efforts either. You know that you will be relegated by those unfamiliar with you by millenia to a position of being a cruel, unkind woman and you know that you can't stop it. You may be mothering monsters, but they have never been as cruel as the mortals

Diomedes gothic is knowing your mastery of the war cry won't stop you from being pushed to a quiet role. Your acts of honor and greatness under the guidance of Wisdom incarnate will be greatly overshadowed by the rage of other men. Your rage is ever present, but you are always a complement to another. You balance each other well in metis and bia, but you know his suffering will be legendary to the masses thousands of years on, while yours will be resigned to a quiet migration to Italy, where you and your war cry will finally be put to rest.

Gaea-Ladon gothic is being plagued by betrayal. You have done all you can to cultivate and protect a garden of creation, only to be lied to and trampled over. It is constantly trying to seek justice, being promised it, and having that injustice committed against you. Over and over and over. Yet, you still find it impossible to resign yourself to it.

Poseidon Phytalmios-Ismenian Drakon gothic is knowing death is defiable, that you can always exist after it, but it takes discipline in order to do so. You must be strict and focused. Waves go back to being the ocean, they are undying, but sometimes their force embeds them permanently into the memory of men. Mortals may try to kill you with their malice or their thoughtlessness, but you will watch your own teeth be buried in the ground and spring up with life, forever destined to be a part of you.

Typhon-Zeus gothic is the constant combat of the weather just before a hurricane hits. The morning is pleasant, breezy, and cool, almost as if the winds are offering an apology in advance. The afternoons are deep in their warmth, weighing upon the shoulders of anyone forced to venture out. The night is violent and strikes fear into even those most familiar with your rage. You delight in watching people jolt awake at the cracks of thunder, you find whimsy in choosing what color the lightning will be this time, and suddenly the idea that you emerged into existence prepared to fight, that your first act upon your creation was to attack the stars. For an evening, you have allowed for nature to try and re-take the roads that used to be creeks, and you can hear the naiads, the harpies, the world again, even if just for a night. By morning, your rage has quelled into a gentle breeze and spots of rain and the naiads and the harpies have quieted again.

Ares-Chimera gothic is burning. It is feeling nothing but fire and acid. Your teeth are sharp and your tongue demands the metallic taste of blood. You have moments where you are able to reign yourself in, because you love your mother, but you are ultimately a volcano awaiting a chance to erupt. You don't understand why They hate you so much, this is just your nature. they gave you your nature, it is what you are supposed to have. But this "gift" has resigned you to a life of being wounded by mortals and mocked for your delight in bloodshed. They do not understand that you care, that the delight in bloodshed is a shield. They do not care about the foot soldiers, but you do. You have them be pushed into frenzy in the hopes that they remember their suffering and the suffering they pushed onto others a little less. You are a strategian, but not in the way that They deem valuable. You weep and scream with the mothers who see their sons brought home on their shields because you love your own mother just as much. You just question if you would ever be wept for like that Scylla-Amphitrite gothic is being resigned to never really being known. The way bards sing about you will never be fully depicted on pottery, you will be resigned to what is easiest to create. Your incomprehensibility goes un-respected or even unknown because you are the wife of a king. You are confined to being the mother of a host of children who are similarly infantilized and eaten. They refuse to acknowledge how terrifying you are, they refuse to acknowledge your depth. You don't know if you've accepted it or not. There are moments when someone seems to understand truly that you love your seashells and your vast trenches that offers a glimmer of hope, but most get lost in the reflection of your waves and scales, say "Oh, pretty" and move forward, never acknowledging your rows of fangs.

Prometheus-Caucasian Eagle gothic is knowing exactly what the consequences are and doing it anyway. You are not fooled easily, you were not fooled this time, you knew what the trap was and chose to proceed because it was what was right to you. You don't have much principle, you are crafty, but even you know that all are deserving of warmth. Even if that means sacrifice for you. The chains that bind you are attempts to demand your regret, but they will never receive it. you laugh as the bronze talons rip out and consume your liver. it has happened so much it's not even painful anymore, the point has been belabored. When a man, a younger version of who imprisoned you in the first place, comes to release you, you and the Eagle don't know what to do with yourselves. The Eagle has only known your organs as its meals and you have only known having them torn out. There are no kings to advise, no wars to strategize for. The mortals you loved so much have turned fire into things you can hardly recognize.

[the-sweet-hibiscus]

It's official that peach wants me dead. Crying. Absolutely feral.

Light On - single mom/neighbor fic - reader POV - cw: grief Simon Riley/female reader

"Breathe, honey. Try to take a deep breath for me."

Simon is frantic, cradling your face in his hands, pulling away your own to try to look in your eyes, his own wide with horror, worry.

This isn't fair. This isn't right. This is confusing.

"I- I'm sorry." You sob, because it's the only thing you can say, the only thing he can think of, and he shakes his head like he disagrees with you.

"No, no. Sorry for what?" You can't make it make sense, to him, in your own head, and when you try to talk, nothing comes out but a broken cry. "Shhh. You're alright. Just breathe." He tries to soothe you, and it only makes you cry harder, sob welling in your chest. "Are you hurt?"

"No!" you protest. "No, you didn't... I'm not... I-"

"Okay, okay. Hey, look at me sweetheart. I'm right here, I've got you." He coos, still holding you, wiping your tears, keeping you close. "You're okay." You bury your face in his chest, letting him wrap you up, cuddle you close, all while your mind spins and spirals, heart aching like it's been broken all over again. This wasn't supposed to happen. You're not supposed to feel this way. You're supposed to be happy. Aren't you happy?

"I'm sorry." You whisper when you find your voice, and he hums a raspy rebuttal. "No, I... you don't deserve this, to be saddled with this, a-" A widow, and a baby. An emotional basket case. A burden.

"Stop." He looks down at you with sincerity, severe certainty in his eyes, and you gulp at the intensity, shuddering when his lips graze your skin gently. "I don't deserve you, sweetheart. I know that for sure, but not in the way you're thinking right now. I'm not being saddled with anything."

"You don't understand." You shake your head.

"Then tell me." He encourages. "Tell me. I'll listen." He caresses your cheek, touch gentle and caring, devoted, and you close your eyes.

"Okay."

Simon makes you a cup of tea. When he returns to press it into your hands, you're sitting up in bed, donning one of the t shirts you found on the floor.

"Is that my shirt?" He asks, cocking his head, and you nod bashfully, lip tucked between your teeth.

"Looks good on you." You reach for the mug with shaking hands, trying to take a deep breath and collect your thoughts. "Take your time." He murmurs. "I'm here. We've got all night." He's not going to want you anymore, once he realizes. Once you tell him how you feel, what you're thinking. You shake the thoughts free, trying to banish them. He said you could tell him. You trust him. You can do this. Just be honest.

"Emmaline's dad died the week we found out we were pregnant." You whisper, unable to look at him. "It was a housing fire, big building. Like this one." You take a sip, watching the way his fingers sit lax in the bed, close enough to touch you, but giving you space. "There was a power surge, or something. Half the city lost electricity and he got called in. It wasn't unusual, he was a Lieutenant, and they're responsible for a crew, a truck. I thought... I thought I'd just go to bed, wake up in the morning, and he'd be there next to me. Like always, on big calls."

"But he wasn't."

"He wasn't. Instead, his Engineer, and his Captain, were at my door with his helmet in their hands." You bite down on your tongue, fruitlessly stalling the tears and the breakdown that's fighting it's way up your throat. "I loved him so much." As soon as you say it, your voice breaks, vision going blurry, and Simon reaches for you, holding your free hand, stroking a thumb across your knuckles. "I haven't been... I haven't been with anyone, since then."

"Oh, sweetheart." You set the tea down on the table next to the bed, pulling air in through your nose as much as you can, trying to regulate your heart rate, your breathing.

"I thought I knew what love was." You whisper, peeking up at him, soft brown eyes watching you patiently. "But this... feels different. It feels like... more. And that... that makes me feel like I'm betraying him. Like I'm dishonoring the love we shared. I feel guilty, and awful, like I'm doing something wrong." You close your eyes, losing your control, your battle, lower lip trembling with a sob. It tumbles out of you, hoarse and raw, everything falling away as you cry. There's a knife, in your chest, in your heart, twisting and sawing and stabbing, and it hurts, it hurts so badly, the sharp ache only soothed when Simon pulls you into his arms, cradling you against his chest, hand smoothing up and down your spine.

"Sh-shhh." He's settled you into his lap completely now, legs and hips and entire body, wrapped up tight, safe and secure. A small amount of tension sags away from your frame, relieved that he's not running, white hot guilt and grief and still burning in the pit of your stomach. "You're not doing anything, anything, wrong, sweetheart." He thumbs at a tear on your cheek. "It's natural to feel grief like this, it's normal. But you're not betraying him, or your marriage. He'll always be a part of you, and Emmaline." He's rocking you, murmuring softly above your ear, and you relax more, letting him calm you, put you back together piece by piece, your tears starting to slow, your chest rising and falling at a more regular pace. "I want to tell you something." He says after a while, once it's been quiet for a few minutes. You nod, trying to encourage him. "My mum is gone." You push off from him, looking up into his eyes. They're sad, and you see grief in them, despair, but also a deep depth of love. "She taught me how to cook, when I was a young lad. Always told me it would come in handy, when I fell in love." He takes a deep breath, burying his face in your neck for a second before coming back up for air. "She never got to see that, me with someone else. In love. And for years, I thought I disappointed her, let her down, even in death."

"Simon." You whisper, heart breaking apart all over again for the pain that's embedded across his face, the torment that bleeds from his expression.

"But, ever since I met you- I've thought, maybe she's lookin' out for me. That she's somewhere, out there, still bein' my mum. Sending me angels." He blinks, lashes wet, the tear that drips down your face mirroring his own. "Sending you, and Emma. And maybe your husband, is doing the same." You close your eyes, remembering the first time you ever saw Simon, on the roof, handsome in the morning light, even though he seemed so exhausted. You remember the way he held Emmaline, the first time he gave her a bottle, your little baby so at home in his giant arms, safe and cuddled against his chest like she just fit there. When he came to your rescue in the park, scary enough to make every scatter but all you felt was safety. The first time he kissed you, on his patio in the snow. And tonight, when he promised to give you everything, when he held you, made love to you, promised to take care of you. Your heart races in your chest, fingers clutching onto him, holding as tight as you can.

"Am I your angel, Simon Riley?" You wondered aloud with wide eyes, leaning into him, nose to nose. He kisses you, face wet with tears, voice hoarse when he answers.

"You're mine, as I'm yours, sweetheart."

[starrylevi]

Levi doesn’t get how you find The Sims entertaining.

 “It’s a virtual dollhouse.” He tells you. “That’s what so great about it!” You retort. “Whatever floats your boat…” He mutters to himself. He says this but he makes sure you have all the sims 4 packs (there are A LOT of them). And when one is coming out, He’ll listen to you passionately explain the premise of the pack. “When it comes out, just let me know.” He’ll give you his credit card info so you can charge it as he doesn’t want you to spend any of your money.

“I made us in the Sims!” You excitedly sit in Levi’s lap with your laptop in hand.

“Hm?” Levi places his chin on the crook of your neck as his hands gently graze the sides of your thighs.

“The Sims!” You exclaim again. “Look, there’s you and there’s me…” Your finger points out each of your sims on the screen. “Oh, and we have a child together!” Levi’s eyes follow your finger as you point at the child sim. “Her name is Kuchel.”

You feel Levi tense up behind you for a moment. “Wait…what’s her name?”

“Kuchel.” You repeat, quieter this time. “Sorry, I can change her name if you don’t feel comfortable with it.” You add quickly.

Levi’s expression softens; he stays silent for a moment before speaking again. “...Can you make her?” He asks you quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Your mom?” You turn slightly so you can see his face.

He nods to confirm.

 “Of course, I'll do my best.” You tell him with a soft smile.

You ask Levi to describe her to you, his eyes filled with fondness as he recalls her features and her personality. You spend hours on the Kuchel sim, wanting her to look and be as accurate as possible.

After a few days, you show Levi the finished product in the game as you have the Kuchel sim interact with the Levi sim. You look at Levi for a brief moment while the Sims are speaking to each other. The expression on his face is hard to read. It’s a mix of pleasant surprise, awe, and sadness.

“Is it okay, is there anything I should change?” You ask him, worried you didn’t capture her likeness as you watch him study her.

He silently shakes his head. “No…she’s perfect.” 

You tell Levi he’s more than welcome to play whenever he wants. You’re surprised when he does take you up on that offer. He picks up on the mechanics quickly and soon he has the whole family (Your sim, Levi’s sim, your daughter, and Kuchel) traveling all over the world, going on adventures, and trying new things together. At one point you suggest the Levi sim and the Kuchel sim spend some time alone together and Levi does just that, taking them to coffee and tea shops, having them take walks in the park, and going to the library. As you and Levi continue to play together, you learn more about Kuchel as some of the actions in the game trigger different memories of his mother.

Levi doesn’t say it but he’s thankful for this silly little game you introduced him to because he can now have a cup of tea with his mother, even if it’s only pretend.

[annn-starrr]

their love story hurts me so bad. if someone asks me "damn, who hurts you?" it's them. they hurt me. they are so "loving you is a losing game" coded. the way no matter what path she took, she will always be on the path that is against him. and lovers who HAD to be on the opposite side in any kind of event could actually kill me on the spot. I'm not even attempting to joke around rn. the way their nature is opposed to each other but they were still drawn by each other. LIKE HE KNEW WHO SHE WAS AND STILL PATIENTLY WAITING FOR HER TO COME CLEAN WITH IT HERSELF. HE DIDN'T FORCE HER LIKE HE DID WITH OTHERS. AND THE WAY THEY'RE NOT EVEN ENEMIES, THEIR NATURE FORCED THEM TO BE ONE. SOMEONE TAKE THEM AWAY FROM ME, I CAN'T BREATH WHEN I'M READING THEIR SCENES. I JUST CAN'T

[volkarine]

i actually have no words for how much it means to me to hear rook explicitly describe their gender the way i would describe my own and to have them also be voiced by someone who is Like Me (erika ishii, who is genderfluid), and to have a non-binary romance option in the game who is ALSO voiced by someone who is Like Me (jin maley, who is non-binary)... it honestly feels like a dream

[kathaynesart]

Hope you are doing well in all the projects Kat! I just wanted to somehow convey how much I love Replica but Im so bad with words jdfif so ...

I... Sara, you have just destroyed me and made my day all in one fell swoop. Been sitting here at work trying not to freak out at my computer while also trying to find the right words to say.

Just look at him! I'm quietly dying. Help! He looks so amazing!!! I adore your style and everything you do and this means so much to me since you've been such a huge inspiration and driving force for me and this community!

Thank you! I'm still wrapping up some loose ends in my projects, but I'm happy to finally be getting back onto Replica this week. It's such a special project to me and all the love you and others have shown has meant the world!

[litstepdad]

The substance is actually the craziest and best horror movie I think I've ever seen. The practical effects were absolutely fucking bonkers and blew me out of the water. The body horror was so grotesque that there were moments I had to stand up because i was so out of my mind. The constant push and pull between Elisabeth and Sue, the theme of trying to escape yourself, and the mother-daughter mirrors were absolute fucking bonker additions. Even the ending made me so fucking depressed but it was absolutely beautiful with how it called back to Carrie where yeah, Elisasue is ruined from the experience with no hope of going back, but at least she thoroughly traumatized the people who made her into the monster she became.

[just-slightly-chayotic]

Thinking about Kim meeting Chay. Kim, who hasn't known affection, who hasn't been touched (aside from stylists and hairdressers and makeup artists) without violence or ulterior motives since the day his mother died, meeting a boy who touches him without any other reason than the fact that he wants to.

[our-reb00t-boi]

People saying Ninja Theory doesn't get Fight Club when they're literally the generation and target demographic like by the time it became a cult classic in the 2000s how old are the devs in Ninja Theory? like are you telling me their fruity looking punk british lead director isn't eating up these types of media like the guy literally said his most favorite film is They Live he is campy

[spacemancharisma]

.

[aleixis]

going to church from now on to pray that son transfers to a better club please 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[running-in-the-dark]

I've got a psychiatrist appointment tomorrow. mostly to discuss if the new sleep medication is working. it is.. not? I don't know. it sorta makes me stay asleep better but tbh that only really means it's even more impossible to wake up when I need to.

idk at this point I'm getting close to just saying you know what? thank you for trying to help, mr. nice old psychiatrist guy, but let's just give up! who needs sleep anyway (me, like 12-16 hours a day). I'm just not gonna do it anymore! that sounds more doable than ever figuring out how to sleep normally!!

[what-do-you-mean-theyre-evil]

On god, they better let me kill him

ON GOD, if anything happens to her they'd👏🏿have👏🏿better👏🏿let👏🏿me👏🏿kill👏🏿him!!

[niuxita21]

If these two aren't meant to be in love with each other, someone on the directing team fucked up REAL bad lmao

[memorydragon]

Spoilers ahead. Confusing spoilers if you haven't started the novel, but if you're half-way through please scroll past.

So when I say this scene is what drove me mental years ago back when I first started reading Po Yun and Tun Hai, that reading it again even after so many years still made me feral. This was the Ride or Die moment that never left while translations were dropped and disappearing. Please understand when I say that reading again after reading the whole novel makes me 10x more feral than before. That is not an exaggeration. I am 100% not okay and these are crying in the club hours. F̴̻̹̊͑̉̿e̵̘̠͈͗ͅr̶̞̠͍̮̓̊͠ā̶͈̹̅̓͠ḻ̵͓̏͑͘.

Because Wu Yu's long, long panic attack, because when he's finally able to come up for air when the waves recede just the slightest, he's pushed back down again and again, because his 'safe' person has been taken away.

Because this 'elite' who had an easy life, just admitted he'd been dragged from the fire when he was nine years old after his parents were murdered in front of him. This person who wants to take him out of this hell and pull him back, who should be safe, is covering Wu Yu with his whole body, cradling his head and covering his eyes as a ruthless mob decends on them. Because this shouldn't be happening again - but death follows behind him mercilessly cutting everyone down but leaving him. Because dying is easy living is more difficult. Bu Chonghua's blood is on his face and this person should be safe but keeping their promise requires sacrifice. Please don't promise any more.

(Bu Chonghua was supposed to run. He was supposed to leave Wu Yu to deal with the mob. But if he'd done that, people would have died, and it probably wouldn't be Wu Yu, and he'd promised to pull Wu Yu back from this abyss. He wouldn't let the rage of the mob swallow Wu Yu like a wave, dragging him back under. As they beat him, he cradle's Wu Yu's head and covers his eyes, because he won't give Wu Yu up, not to the ocean or to fire, and I'm so fucking Normal about this.)

Liao Gang sees Wu Yu at the hospital and knows something is wrong. Something is off, this is not the meek and submissive Wu Yu they've met for these past few months. He correctly pulls Wu Yu aside and instead of admonishing him to go get checked over, he says 'hey, why don't you get checked out by the hospital because someone needs to look after Captain Bu tonight. If you let them patch you up, you'll be put with the captain.' And Wu Yu finally - finally relents and allows the hospital staff to look him over.

When the lights are off and he can't sleep because there's no light he tries to trace over the current Bu Chonghua with the memory of the child he'd saved in the past, and he can't sleep but he can finally breathe. Now he can agree that Bu Chonghua and Zhang Boming are different, that Bu Chonghua isn't just an elite who sends his subordinates to death for greater glory, but someone who wants to pull him back. (And I'm putting it more politely. I honestly love that Wu Yu is still sort of cursing Bu Chonghua out when he says this, because of course he is, and Bu Chonghua is immediately gonna chew him out for smoking. I love Them.)

But when he wakes up, Bu Chonghua is gone. The hospital bed is empty and cold, and there's a committee of directors who have come to question him. He asks where his safe person Bu Chonghua is, but they put him off, saying they just want to ask a few questions. Bu Chonghua has been isolated because there's been a death - death always follows him - and they're pushing the blame on him and Bu Chonghua. Why did Zhang Boming jump to his death? What did you say to him? Why did you survive? What right do you have to survive? He'll take all the blame on himself. He was the one who killed the suspect, Bu Chonghua didn't hurt any of the mob. It was him, it was all him, and what right do you have to speak about loyalty and sacrifice, when the hospital report on their injuries is right in front of you. They assume Wu Yu will see this is just a formality, but he doesn't have the frame of reference they knew he should It wasn't him with that frame of reference, he never had one and he lashes out. They're caging him, blaming him again, and what right do you have to talk about loyalty to someone who is on the front lines?

What right do you have to come back? What right do you have to survive?

After they sedate him and bring him back, leaving him in confinement (there's a bed, his wounds have been dressed, and there's even a tv and above average food left out for him. It's a plush confinement, only for one night. They think they're going easy on him and he should be grateful, because no one told them he's panicking and has been in danger undercover his whole life for twelve years and he hasn't been able to handle eating meat since he was a child. The lights are off when he wakes up, and he's alone. The lights are off and no one is responding when he asks them to turn on the lights. No one is there when he's progressively slipping back under the waves of panic. And when he lifts the lid on the food, all he can smell is meat.

He bites his own finger, trying to wash it out with the smell of the disinfectant from his wounds and blood, but he can still smell the meat that he spilt in his own revulsion and the lights are still off. (Wu Yu, little fish, I'm not blaming you, but please, please learn to talk about your triggers and let people know so they can accommodate you, because they would actually like to accommodate you and you're not weak because you have ptsd, you're breaking our hearts. Also, as an aside, Song Ping is actually quite hilarious in this fight. He's not to blame either, but he's making things so much worse and I love that Bu Chonghua has to yell at both of them to calm down because they're both set off on his sake)

And when someone finally comes, finally turns on the lights, they're blaming him. Look how you're acting! You're acting like a spoiled child when we've sacrifed been so nice to you! We've brought you back here, to this place you've worked for several months, your new home!

Except he never came back.

He was never brought back.

He was sacrificed for to catch the criminal. He died because his life was less important than catching someone on the wrong side of the law.

He was never asked if he wanted this sacrifice. He never wanted to be a cop. Who is Wu Yu? He's never had a name. Let him go, let him go - let him go!

He was never brought back. He never came back - Zhang Boming made the correct choice, but he never came back. The sacrifice was chosen, the promise was paid. Why did he survive? What right did Wu Yu have to survive when we he never came back.

"Wu Yu!"

He never came back.

"It's me. Okay, calm down." Someone restraining him, and he struggles automatically, but slowly stops. "It's me, Wu Yu. It's me. Just calm down."

Bu Chonghua came back. Held him above the water untll he could catch his breath. And finally, finally...

The boy left his own blood on Bu Chonghua's cheek, disappearing for twenty years, leaving only one command - Survive.

"I arrived late."

"I was just a little worried. It wasn't very late." It wasn't his whole life twelve years. It was only one nightmare. You pulled me back.

The boy who rushed off to save a child he didn't know finally appeared before Bu Chonghua again. He came back.

He came back.

[abovetherainandroses]

DARK ALLEY ON PIANO HOLY FUCKING SHIT