#currently going through something like this for myself and while i doubt there's anything 'wrong' i still did it

[uncanny-tranny]

To any disabled person undergoing tests to find What's Wrong: I hope your results come back the way you hope and that you receive the help you need. I hope you are not denied care, I hope you are taken seriously even after this, and I hope that you will be taken care of compassionately

[imfinereallyy]

hummingbirds

Steve’s crying on the porch of his parents' house, with a duffel bag and baseball bat, when Eddie pulls into the driveway.

“Jesus, Steve, what happened?” Eddie crouches down to get eye level with Steve. Despite being dark out, the sun set long ago, and the outdoor lights weren’t on. Steve turns to look at his parents' car in the driveway and thinks back to when the lock had distinctly turned shut on the front door. They were around to switch the lights on; they just didn’t care anymore to do so.

Steve is grateful for the moonlight, as he can see the pretty lines on Eddie’s face. Even if they currently curve into a frown.

“Hey Eds.” Steve’s voice cracks.

“Stevie…what happened?” Eddie asks again, this time it’s gently. It cradles Steve and holds him softly. He wishes Eddie’s hands would do the same.

“Did you know hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward?” Steve sniffles.

Eddie’s face scrunches in confusion, “What? Birds? You lost me.”

Steve pushes past Eddie’s confused face. “They are the only birds to fly backward. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dustin to teach me that out of the munchkins. It was actually El. She’s apparently going through a bird phase. And I don’t think the others are very interested. So I try to pay attention when she talks about it. And she taught me about hummingbirds.”

Eddie settles on his knees, “That’s great, man and those little shits should listen to her more, but I’m not sure what that has to do with what’s wrong. You called me to come pick you up and hung up before I could even answer.”

Steve bites his lip, “Sorry, my dad clicked the phone off.” Eddie’s face shows surprise, but Steve keeps talking before he can interrupt. “And well, I guess hummingbirds have nothing to do with anything. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, no. It’s not stupid. Tell me about the birds, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand finally reaches out to Steve. He brushes the fallen hair out of his face, and something in Steve just sets him off.

“You see, they can fly backward. And well, no, I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, my cousin Tucker is here to visit. And let me tell you, he is the worst. Like Eddie, you would hate him. Conservative, capitalist enthusiast, real bootlicker kind of guy.”

“Sounds like the worst. Especially if he made you use the big words.” Eddie’s hand falls away, and Steve mourns the loss. Normally, when people make jokes about his intelligence, it stings. It makes him feel small. But when Eddie does it, it isn’t mean or a poke at how stupid Steve is. With Eddie, it’s almost like he’s reminding Steve that he is smart. That maybe Steve is the one making himself small.

He is.

“Anyway, he’s visiting, right? So my parents come home. And I haven’t seen them in months, since before spring break. It’s nearly October, and I haven’t seen them, and I can’t tell if I’m excited or dreading their arrival. It’s always a fight when they are around, how I’m not good enough, how I should be more. Their visits always end up being cut short, and me feeling like shit. But this stupid, stupid part of me was hoping it would be different this time. They haven’t seen me since the “earthquakes.” Surely they’ll be happy to see I’m okay, right?”

Eddie stays silent, his face revealing nothing.

“Of course, it’s not. They only came home because my cousin Tucker was in town. All the way from Indy cause it’s so far. And my mom ‘made’ dinner, as in she ordered it and pretended she made it. It wasn’t even that good, but we all pretended it was the best thing ever made. Cause that’s what they do, pretend. And the dinner is fine, boring. Most of it is just me staying silent while my dad and Tucker talk about the business. Tucker runs the Indy office while my dad is in New York. Ya see, Tucker has been gunning to take over for my dad when he retires, which is another word for dies—“ Steve let’s put a bitter laugh; he wonders if his parents are listening. He doubts it.

“—and they are going on for the whole meal, and I’m almost through the home stretch when my dad brings up me, coming to work for him.”

Eddie reacts finally, “You’re going to New York?” His voice is strained, like he is trying very hard not to yell, not at Steve, but at anyone who will listen. Steve is quick to correct.

“No, no, I’m not. This was news to me to Eds. I have no interest in my dad's business, and as far as I was concerned, he didn’t want me a part of it either. Guess that has changed. Has? Had? I don’t know…” Steve trails off.

“Harrington.”

“Don’t call me that. It makes me think you’re mad at me. Besides, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” Steve bites.

“Sorry, Steve. I’m not mad. I promise. Just, what do you mean?” Eddie’s head tilts to the side, his curls cascading down his shoulder. It reminds Steve of a river, dark water rippling in the moonlight.

“I was so shocked, Eds. When he said that. That I was quiet, I should have corrected him, maybe. Maybe I could have fixed it. But Tucker was so quick to act. He was pissed. He knows my working for my dad means me being set up to take over. And Tucker, he’s worked too hard to make sure he does get the business. But instead of yelling, he just gets this concerned look on his face. And he…”

“He what?”

Steve wrenches his eyes shut as he recalls the rest. As he recalls the way Tucker’s face faked worry as he struck. Like he has been waiting for the right moment to ruin Steve. He manages to open his eyes eventually, only to see Eddie’s face once again. The honest look on his face is enough to push Steve on.

“In the summer, Robin was feeling sad. This was before you guys knew about each other, and I was the only one who knew about her. And she was sad cause nothing had happened with Vicky and she felt so alone. And I hated seeing her like that. And so, so I took her to Indy. And, and—“ Steve starts to hyperventilate.

Eddie takes him by the shoulders. “Breathe for me, Steve. Come on, baby, match my breaths. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Steve matches Eddie’s breath. Ignores how the word baby calms him down instantly. “Tucker told my dad that he saw me in Indy. That he saw me come out of a gay club, Eddie. And he went on about how they should focus more on getting me help, than putting me in a power position, again Eds, which I don’t even want! And how I would be a bad look for the company. How would it look if a company whose whole image is family values, only successor, turned out to be gay.”

Eddie flinches a bit, but doesn’t let go of him. Steve feels instant regret. “That isn’t what I meant, Eddie.”

Eddie shushes him, “I know, sweetheart. You’re just upset. I know. Did you tell him that you weren’t there for you? Or maybe that Rick was mistaken; it was a regular club?”

Steve rubs a hand down his face, “And what? Tell him that my two best friends in the entire world are gay? So that I can be shipped off to New York and never see them again? Yeah right. I’d rather face the bats again than be removed from you two. And I’m not going to out you guys like that.”

Something warm crosses Eddie’s face, “So, you lied then?”

“Before I could say anything my dad reacted.”

Eddie freezes, a darkness swims in his eyes. “He put his hands on you?”

“No, no!” Steve panics, and he purposely leaves out the ‘not this time.’ Eddie isn’t necessarily a violent person. But he does have a protective streak. As admirable as it is, Steve doesn’t want him to get hurt.

Eddie relaxes but only slightly.

“He was actually pretty calm, which is even more terrifying. I expected him to yell, throw things. But instead he just turns and says, ‘Is this true, Steven?’. And what gets me is they didn’t even question why my cousin was anywhere near that club in the first place. Why did he see me there? Instead, he just asks me if it’s true. And it’s the first time in a long time, if ever, that my dad asks me this. He always just assumes I’ve fucked up. And this time, he really asked me about the truth. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t lie. I don’t know why, but it felt wrong to. So I didn’t. I just told him, ‘Yes. It’s true.’”

“Stevie…”

Steve throws out a bitter laugh, “And you know what? He still doesn’t freak out. He just tells me I have five minutes to get my shit and get out. That I needed to call a ride because the car was under the name Steve Harrington, and I was no longer a Harrington. And he was so calm. And my mom just sat there, and I just listened. I didn’t fight. I am so tired of fighting.”

“Steve, why not just tell them the truth? Tell them you were there for a friend?” Eddie’s tone isn’t scolding, only curious.

“See, that’s because I started thinking about hummingbirds, Eddie. I started thinking about how they fly forwards and backward and how they are the only ones that can do that. Isn’t that fascinating? These small birds are so strong and interesting, and can do something no one else can do. But no other birds understand; the rest of them just fly forwards Eds. And I—I feel like that sometimes. That I’m not flying in one direction, ya know?”

Steve feels like he isn’t making much sense, but then Eddie nods and looks at Steve. Like really looks at Steve, and sees him. And Steve feels raw, stripped of his skin, exposed, and it should hurt, but it feels so fucking good. And Eddie stares deep into Steve’s eyes and says, “Yea, I know.”

“I didn’t want to lie. Because even though Tucker was wrong, he was also right. I wasn’t there for me, but I think I needed to be there. To get it. And I think that I’m flying backward, Eds. And I’m worried it’s wrong of me, that it shouldn’t be allowed. And that there is no purpose to me flying backward if I can just go forwards. If I can just fly with the rest of them. But I don’t think, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken flight before. Not before I understood I could also go backward.”

It’s in this moment, where Steve is covered in tears and snot that Eddie finally takes his hands and cradles Steve’s face. Steve’s never felt safer.

“Listen to me, sweetheart; there is nothing wrong with you. Okay? Nothing wrong with you. Just because you can fly forwards doesn’t mean you have to, doesn’t mean you should. Sometimes you’re going to have to fly backward; you’re not going to have a choice. It’s just the direction you’re fast, huge, hummingbird heart takes you. And it might take you a bit to learn that. To understand that, but I will make sure that you do. Because you, Steve Harrington, are fucking fearless and fucking beautiful, and I am so goddamn proud of you.”

Steve finally reaches his breaking point and collapses in Eddie’s arms. Full body, ugly sobs wreck Steve. He is sure that he is soaking Eddie’s favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt to the bone, but he can’t find it himself to care. His fingers dig into Eddie’s back as he clutches tighter as his breathing picks up.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Remember that. I got you. I got you.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear.

Steve picks his head up when he finally calms down, and looks at Eddie. “You.”

“What’s that?” Eddie says softly, rubbing circles through Steve’s polo.

“I called you. Because, I think—no, I know, that I’ve been flying backward, to you. For a while now. And I knew that, even if you weren’t too, you’d still show up. And I just—just need you to know that. I am so grateful you showed up.”

Steve knows he should feel nervous telling Eddie all this, but he isn’t. He strangely feels like his dad at this moment, calm and unmoving. Steve doesn’t understand many things in this world, but he understands that even if Eddie doesn’t love him like that, Eddie still loves Steve in plenty of other ways.

It’s still nice, though, when Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve’s forehead. Steve closes his eyes and releases a breath.

Eddie slides his head down slightly so their foreheads are pushed together affectionately. “Stevie, I’ll always fly backward to you.”

Although it’s awful how they got here, Steve can’t help but feel happy at this moment. He also can’t help the silly giggle that comes out of him, “I think we have just lost all meaning to this metaphor at this point.”

Eddie snorts, “Oh, have we? And here I thought we were having a nice moment, a poetic one at that, telling each other ‘I love you.’”

Steve blinks at him, “You love me?”

Eddie frown lines finally turn upwards, “Yea baby, I love you.”

“I—“

Eddie cuts Steve off. “Tell me in the morning. When your tears have dried, and I’ve woken up with you in my arms. I want to hear it in the daylight. Okay? Let’s go home.” Eddie stands, offering a hand to Steve.

“Home?”

“Yea home, got to fly back to our nest.”

Steve can’t help the snort he releases, “Dork.”

Eddie just smiles, “Thought I told you to save the ‘I love you’ til the morning.”

Steve smiles back as he takes Eddie’s hand, “I didn’t…”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s fingers, “Yea, ya did.”

****

I’m back, not dead, and in my feelings. Thinking about expanding on this one. I hope you guys like it. 🧡🧡

[grandlinedreams]

Ok I loved the whole reader is Kid’s/Killer’s sister. And I can just imagine her and Kid not getting along, and when the heart pirates and kid pirates run into each other, reader and Kid are like two cats fighting. Then Killer picks reader up under her arms like a kitten, and hands her to Law, all like, “this is yours”.

Could you make this happen please? 😭😭

I told myself I wouldn’t send anymore requests till they went down a bit more, but this scenario wouldn’t leave my head, and I wanted to see it come to life with your words. Asdfghjkl I’m sorry 😅

LMAO YES i loved writing it 🥺 but also don't apologize bb, I got you!!

[Heads up!: semi/non-canon compliant (idk either around Sabaody or in the 2 year ts), established relationship, sibling antics (Reader and Kid), cursing, silliness]

You love your brother, you swear that you do. You've stuck with him through thick and thin and at the end of the day, woe to anyone who tries to hurt him while you're around.

That being said, however, that doesn't necessarily mean that you like your brother or his general attitude towards anyone that isn't part of his crew.

Part of you gets it, truly ㅡ there's been plenty of skepticism and mockery when it comes to Kid and his goal in life. Finding the One Piece is a pretty lofty ambition, but you have no doubts your brother has the determination it takes. He's hostile because of it though, less keen on asking questions and more on the offensive ㅡ and his attitude towards Law's crew is no different.

Perhaps it's made worse, actually, for the fact that you're currently in a relationship with Law. Something your brother knows, and hates. Which is why you've found yourself, predictably, in another argument with him.

Anger boils in your veins as you raise your voice to match Kid's. "Stop treating me like I'm an idiot! I'm a grown adult!"

"Then act like it, damn it!" Your brother snaps back. "I don't have time to babysit you anyways!"

"Nobody asked you to, youㅡ" You yelp as hands hook under yours, your feet leaving the ground as you're lifted up. You know who it is, the only one besides Kid who'd dare to lift you like this in the first place. "Killer, put me down. Now."

The masked pirate ignores your demand, unbothered by the way you squirm in his hold before he sets you down in front of the Law and a handful of his crew, who've been watching this shitshow go down silently.

"This one is all yours," Killer tells Law, hand on your head and ignoring the way you swat at his touch, eyes narrowed and teeth gritted in annoyance. "For now."

"You can't just hand me off like I'm a package," you grumble, "are you that desperate to get rid of me? I didn't even do anything wrong!"

"Not getting rid of you," Killer cuts in, "just giving you some time away from Kid. I think you both need it."

Ever the voice of reason against his captain, Killer has a point ㅡ you could do with a couple weeks (or more) away from your brother and his crew, and who better to hand you off to?

You're sure Kid could think of better (or worse) people to leave you with, but all he does is scowl, silented by the firm steer of Killer back the way they'd come.

You watch your brother and his crew retreat, the scene not unfamiliar even as you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "How mad do you think they'd be if I stayed with you permanently?"

You don't raise your voice and it's not quite an intentional needle to Kid, but he still comes to a halt and glares at you over his shoulder. "I heard that," he snaps, "don't even think about it!"

You adopt a face of innocence that lasts just long enough for your brother to turn back around, then glance at Law, who tilts his head. "The offer does stand," he says, even though there's a teasing gleam to his eyes that you grin at.

"I don't think I'll be truly leaving my crew anytime soon," you say as Law's own crew heads back towards the Polar Tang, and you wait until they've gone to snag your fingers in the front of Law's shirt, tugging playfully. "But I could be convinced to stay a little longer."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I told my partner to stop bringing up the fact that they're undiagnosed

Submitted: 19/04/2024

(💑♾️)

I've (18FtM) been with my partner Brit (17F) for 3 years now, we met in high school and have since graduated. In that time, I've worked with multiple professional to seek therapy and diagnosis for my multiple conditions, two of them being ADHD (combination) and Autism. Brit along with my childhood best friend were actually the first people to suggest I could be Autistic and should look into evaluation for both, not just ADHD, which I had been suspecting for a while. Obviously I was excited about my diagnosis because I am finally recognised and am able to get accommodations, talk about it outside my immediate circle of friends and accept myself without doubt that I have this.

Immediately after my diagnosis, I started to talk to Brit about how amazing it feels. And how excited I am to be able to have an explanation for a lot of my issues both growing up and currently, accommodations and other things too. Brit suspects they are likely autistic too and used to think they had ADHD before being evaluated, and it returned with a negative result. I still think they feel annoyed about, since they constantly bring up the fact that they don't think the evaluation was accurate because they lied during it to make their symptoms seem less obvious out of fear of the diagnosis at the time. They've tried to ask their mom to be evaluated for Autism, but their mum refuses to, as she has multiple reasons to not believe that they do and refuses to think anything could be wrong with her child. Brit doesn't have enough money on their own to get an evaluation (Mine cost a couple of thousands, and that was on the cheaper end). I have been talking to Brit about my diagnosis for a few days and how happy I am and every time I talk about it, they constantly bring up how lucky I am and that I don't need to brag and saying “I wonder how that feels”. At first, I tried to understand what they are going through because I get what it's like to suspect you have something but not have the resources or the doctors that can properly evaluate you, but after the 5 or 6th time it feels very degrading, invalidating and demeaning. I don't understand why they can't just be happy for me as their partner and not let it reflect on them. I've been thinking about just telling them to shut up the next time they bring it up as it's really getting on my nerves, I feel that I have the right to be happy about the diagnosis and not have to worry about upsetting my partner for whatever personal battles they have going on with them. Furthermore, I do listen to them and comfort them when they're upset about their own experience, but it feels like they're making my own experience into their own. I've been thinking of texting them that being undiagnosed doesn't mean they can invalidate my experience and that it isn't all about them, that they can just be happy for me and that it feels like shit to be happy about something that someone else is so negative about even though it has nothing to do with me. So, WIBTA if I told my partner to be quiet about not being diagnosed

[histhoughtslately]

I’m Gonna Level with You: I received some new today that tore me down inside. I’m currently writing to you from the restroom where I broke down. This news humbled me and the conversations I had today really made me remember who I am. It also reminded of what I am achieving not just for myself but for others as well.

Kindness doesn’t cost anything. It’s so free. Everyone in this world is going through something. Hardship is everywhere and in every category of life. I was asked, “How do you continue to keep going despite it all?” It’s the love and value I have for myself. It’s the greatness I see in others and what I wish for them to see in themselves. It’s the simplest answer I can give. While I write with tears, there’s no doubt in my mind that the future is bright. I feel it near and the potency of it all is undeniable.

I feel this for anyone who reads this. It doesn’t matter to me who you are, what you look like, what you’ve been through, other people’s opinions of you and so on…

Don’t get me wrong, all that you have been through has shaped you to this very day. However, that strength of light that cannot be dimmed, is the true you. You’ve made it this far; keep going. Don’t let your hardships define who you are. And most certainly don’t let them limit what you can do. Don’t ask me how I know but I know you are going to come out on top like never before. You’ll realize this all wasn’t for nothing.

We all need love and support. Even the ones who shine their light for others need love and support. We should always check on each other but first checking in with ourselves. Community is everything and it’s so needed more now than ever.

You’ll get through this! 💫

[it-happened-one-fic]

Hours in the Moonlight: Somnolent Gloaming - 9. Strange Characters

Summary: As if Malleus weren’t odd enough, there was Lilia. Someone whom you honestly couldn’t decide if he was on your side or not. In fact, the only things you were confident about, was that he was ancient and that he cared about Malleus, Sebek, and Silver deeply.

Series Type: Gender-neutral reader/ Vampire AU/ series/ romantic/ angst/ angst with comfort/ fluff/ sfw/ platonic interactions too!

Trigger Warning: Vampire

Word Count: 1268

Hours in the Moonlight Master-List

I stretched, yawning slightly as I walked through the hallways of the Diasomnia clan. I’d decided to take a slight break from reading since, as things currently stood, I was getting nowhere.

So far, from what I’d seen, there were no real records about any influx in crazed vampires or vampire attacks that matched the current numbers, which implied that I was currently investigating an unprecedented event.

A rather unpleasant thought considering I had really been hoping I’d get the easy route of this whole mess via old records detailing some sort of historical occurrence along with its causes.

I heard a slight sound and looked over to see Lilia slipping up alongside me with a smile on his face. 

I hadn’t heard the man’s approach, but somehow that didn’t surprise me. There was something odd about Lilia after all. 

Though, to be fair, I’d had very few interactions with him.

 “Are you tired, little one?” His voice was filled with slight humor and distinct warmth that a small part of me wanted to question.

I opted against it, though. Instead, I just shrugged with a slight smile at the short man who was, according to Vil and Rook, beyond ancient despite his youthful appearance, “Maybe a little? I’ve just been thinking a lot about stuff.” 

His eyes narrowed as he smiled, not the easygoing one he’d been wearing before but a more knowing one instead as he tilted his head, “About your place in our world of the night or about the situation at hand?” 

I frowned slightly at his words, not quite liking how close to home they hit. 

I had indeed been pondering how to go about evaluating the Diasomnia clan. Something about the people here made it feel strangely imposing and yet welcoming all at once.

Not in the same manner Scarabia had been, though. Rather, it was more like they were open to my presence here so long as I didn’t do anything wrong. It was just that I didn’t know what the wrong moves were.

As things currently stood, Sebek seemed wary and Silver accepting, while both Malleus and Lilia seemed oddly amused by my presence.

What bothered me more was how he’d mentioned the matter of my place in the world of vampires, though. Because that was something that was often on my mind. 

I was close to Vil, and I doubted anything would ever change that, but I was also becoming more and more a part of this world.

As things were now, I spent more time with vampires than I did with living people. And my relationship with vampires was, as a whole, an odd one.

Even despite the friends I’d already made, I couldn’t trust the majority of vampires. To me, most vampires remained individuals who were a little too excited about the prospects of my blood, while to them I was an executioner.

And then there was the fact that I remained solidly trapped under Crowley’s thumb.

The entire matter was a situation that couldn’t remain as it was. 

For one thing, I was a mortal who would slowly age and die while all of my current friends would live on with eternal youth at the price of a heartbeat and sunlight.

But that didn’t mean I necessarily wanted to become a vampire myself. Eternity was a long time, and dying…. It wasn’t something that I thought about frequently, and though it didn’t really strike me as the most terrifying thing, it also wasn’t something that I exactly longed for.

I glanced over at Lilia, who let out a hum, nodding knowingly as if he could somehow read my thoughts, “To be a mortal in the world of the night is difficult. I often worry for my son due to having the same concerns you hold.”

I frowned slightly in confusion before it clicked together like two perfectly matched puzzle pieces. His son. Silver.

Vil had told me that Lilia had taken Silver in, but I hadn’t realized that it was a father-son relationship, even though Silver had already mentioned his father before.

I tilted my head, curiosity swelling within me, and Lilia immediately chuckled, “It looks like you have a question. Go ahead; I won’t bite.”

He smiled, fangs flashing as he spoke, and I decided right then and there that I did not care for his phrasing one bit. But I swallowed, bracing myself before I spoke, “Just tell me if I’m overstepping my bounds, but…. Why did you take in Silver?”

Lilia laughed, a free sound that had him pressing a hand to his stomach and folding forwards before he recovered and looked at me with brightly sparkling eyes, “I see why Malleus has taken such a liking to you. You really are a bold one.”

His wide eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward with a smile as his voice lowered to something more warning, “Curiosity can be dangerous, though. You ought to be careful, little one.”

Distantly, I felt myself nod as I leaned back with wide eyes, swallowing thickly as Lilia bobbed his head in a perky response. That far-too-clever expression of his disappearing as he spoke, “I adopted Silver because he was alone. His parents were killed a long time ago by a vampire, but he was left. I assume the killer didn’t find him.”

His words were sobering, and I was totally silent as he continued, an odd, almost wistful sort of smile on his face, “He was just an innocent little baby, but I could already tell he would be the sort that would attract vampires to him. Much like how you are. It was a sudden decision that had no real logic behind it, but I took him in as my own.”

Lilia’s gaze slid back over to me, the grin on his face turning mischievous, “You know, Malleus didn’t accept him at first and always complained about raising such a feeble child. As if he hadn't been a pain to raise himself.”

I blinked in quiet surprise at his words. So Lilia had known and cared for Malleus before they’d been turned. Did that mean they’d been turned together?

Lilia let out a nostalgic sigh, and I found myself smiling slightly as he continued, sounding remarkably like a doting parent, “Both of them are good boys, though, and Malleus has changed much since then. I hope you can keep getting along with Malleus, Silver, and Sebek.”

He tilted his head, something flickering in the depths of his eyes that had me frowning as he leaned over, speaking softly and in a surprisingly low voice, “I suspect it’ll be good for all of you before all is said and done.”

With only those cryptic words, he reached out and tapped me lightly on the nose, a chuckle slipping out of him as I blinked in surprise before he darted away. Disappearing so quickly that it was almost like he’d turned into a bat and flown away.

And maybe he did. I didn’t actually know if vampires could turn into bats or not, though Hollywood certainly indicated they could.

But that wasn’t really concerning right now. What was worrying, though, was the raw amount of information Lilia had just told me for no apparent reason. 

He’d told me to be careful of curiosity, so why had he encouraged it?

I shook my head slightly in confusion even as I stared after where he’d disappeared. It looked like the Diasomnia clan really was an odd place. Both imposing and welcoming while also being filled with all sorts of strange characters.

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[bi-bard]

Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Joel Miller - Joel Miller Imagine [HBO's The Last of Us]

Title: Taylor Swift Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller X Reader

Word Count: 2,441 words

Warning(s): fear of commitment, argument, mention of fight

Author's Note: I'm think there's a pattern of me using "cowboy like me" for stories involving Pedro Pascal characters.

Also, just a quick reminder that I write for a gender-neutral reader, so no matter the plot line, anyone can enjoy this.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

----------------------

Daylight

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you I've been sleeping so long in a twenty-year dark night And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

It had all been a bit of a blur.

One moment, I was walking with Joel. We were talking about the jobs we had been assigned. Relaxed and calm and as close to normal as we could get in the current world.

The next moment, my memories get lost in a huge jumble of yelling and fighting and fear. It was all such a mess. A terrifying mess.

My next clear moment was dragging Joel down the road with me. I didn't stop moving until we had gotten inside and the door was locked.

"I'm so sorry," I mumbled as Joel sat at my dining table.

It had been my fault. At least, partially.

It was all a long and very messy story.

Joel knew the whole thing. I think that's why he was so fast to entertain the whole fight.

Not that I ever wanted him involved. In all honesty, my life would have been so much easier without ever thinking about any of my life before the outbreak... as backwards as that sounds.

"Not your fault," he muttered, looking down at his knuckles.

"Except it is," I moved to sit in the chair next to him. "This wouldn't have happened if you never met me or if I just kept my fucking mouth shut. Now, you're hurt and fuck knows what we're gonna have to deal with now. Shit, I should've been smarter about this-"

"Stop it," he cut me off. "You did nothing wrong. Your ex having his head stuck up his ass is nowhere near your fault."

I let out a sigh as my eyes closed. I shook my head before pushing myself up. I grabbed my little first-aid kit and made my way back to the table.

I grabbed his hand.

"Why'd you do that," I asked. "Nothing good can come from shit like that."

"I doubt he would've let me walk away without getting a few blows in."

I did my best to clean the small cuts along his hand.

He didn't speak up again until I was wrapping the bandage around his hand.

"Y'know...," he started and trailed off. I looked back at him. "Never mind. It's nothing."

"Tell me," I pushed.

Maybe some part of me knew what he was going to say. Maybe I was desperate to hear it out loud. I would like to think that this is why I pushed him to say it out loud.

He let out a small sigh as he seemingly weighed the consequences of his actions.

"There's something else," I continued as I placed his bandaged hand on the table. "You just told me. Why did you do it?"

"Because I love you," he admitted.

I had to bite my lip to keep my smile from getting obnoxiously big.

We had been together for a while now. We had gotten through many days in the hell that was the modern world today. But in all that time, those words hadn't found a place in our lives.

I felt like a teenager again for a few moments.

"Did you get stuck like that-"

I reached forward and smacked his arm in response. He grinned at me.

"I love you too," I said after a pause.

He looked down at the table to hide his smile.

I reached over and placed my hand on his.

For just a moment, it felt like real peace was more than just a far-off dream.

The Way I Loved You

Breaking down and coming undone It's a roller coaster kind of rush And I never knew I could feel that much And that's the way I loved you

It was all such a mess of a situation.

I had never planned on interacting with Joel again after we had separated. I knew that it would've been unrealistic to try to never see him again, but I could always turn the other way and leave.

Now, I was being forced into a situation where the only person I could interact with was Joel.

It was like the universe was attempting to play some stupid practical joke on me and I was failing to see the punchline.

I followed Joel and Ellie back to Joel's place. The only thing we could do at the time was wait for the time to pass.

I dropped my bag on the floor next to the couch before plopping on the seat that pretty much used to be designated as mine. I tried to keep an eye on Ellie without making it seem like I was staring. She went to sit by the window while Joel sat right next to me.

"Kid," I spoke up. She looked at me. "You should get some rest now. You aren't gonna get much of it later."

"Where," she asked.

I pointed behind me. "Mattress in the back."

"She's not sleeping on my bed," Joel interjected.

"I don't wanna sleep on his bed," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "He probably stinks."

I rolled my eyes before grabbing the spare blanket and throwing it to her. "To prevent the spread of germs... and protect against the smell. Now go."

She walked into the back without another word.

I sighed and relaxed into the couch.

"You should take your own advice," Joel muttered after a minute or two. I shook my head. "I'm serious, (Y/n)."

"I am just fine," I looked at him. "Never needed much sleep to function anyway."

He ran his hand over his face. "Always so damn stubborn."

"Can we not start this," I asked. "We've got enough to worry about without biting each other's heads off."

He sighed and looked away.

"You used to appreciate my stubbornness, anyway," I added.

I heard him chuckle. I felt a small grin pulling at the corner of my lips.

"You think we can do this?"

"Don't know," he shrugged. "I doubt we have much of a choice. Just gotta be ready to go."

I nodded. "You're scared, aren't you?"

"Scared? No. Annoyed."

"It's okay if you are," I said. "That's not a bad thing. It's just human."

He looked over at me. "Don't assume that you know how my mind works."

"For fuck's sake," I mumbled. It was my turn to run my hand over my face. "I just asked if we could avoid doing this. I was trying to comfort you. Be helpful. You have no reason to snap at me like that."

"No reason?"

"Yeah, no reason."

"What about you leaving?"

My jaw clenched. "You told me to go."

"You made no attempt to stay."

"I made an attempt every fucking day," I snapped before quickly lowering my voice, glancing back to make sure Ellie wasn't shifting around. "I fucking loved you, Joel. I fought to hold onto you with everything I had. You got scared and threw me out. After everything you promised me, after everything we did."

He didn't reply as I deflated into the couch cushion.

"Don't try to claim that I didn't try to hold on. I still feel like I'm clinging onto any part of you that I can find."

I looked out the window to the sun. I wanted to focus on anything else.

I missed him. God knows that I had missed Joel. Every day. Waking up without him was awful. Having to turn around and walk away because it was all I could do to keep myself from crumbling was hell. I just wanted what we had back.

"(Y/n)," he muttered.

I closed my eyes for a moment, not turning my head.

I felt the couch shift as he moved.

His hand touched my leg. "Please, look at me."

I turned my head back to him.

There was a pause.

One where we were sitting in silence, watching each other's reactions.

Joel seemed to hesitate for a moment before he leaned forward.

I froze for a moment as he kissed me. It was such a soft moment, yet it completely overwhelmed me. I had missed him so much that it hurt. That wasn't new. I had known about that pain for a long time now.

But what I didn't know was the way that the pain could be numbed. It was like a warmth spread through my chest, pushing away any pain, even if it was just for a little while.

I slowly kissed him back, feeling muscle memory take over as my hands reached out to touch his sides. Too long. It had been far too long since I experienced something as monumental as this moment.

I leaned back slowly, only moving far enough away to speak, "I love you."

He paused for a moment. I watched his eyes scan every part of my face. I couldn't tell if he was trying to see if I was lying or if he was trying to confirm that I wasn't some illusion his mind had created.

"I love you too," he muttered after a bit. I smiled at him.

His forehead rested against mine. We just sat there for a little while.

Through all of the chaos and the bullshit, I knew that I would always want him.

I just needed to keep a hold of him.

cowboy like me

And the skeletons in both our closets Plotted hard to fuck this up And the old men that I've swindled Really did believe I was the one And the ladies lunching have their stories about When you passed through town But that was all before I locked it down

Neither one of us planned to have that conversation that night.

It was late. Really late.

It was one of the first times that I had stayed with him for the night.

It was nice. Being around him usually was. But no matter how nice it was, I could not get myself to fall asleep.

It wasn't a new thing for me to not feel comfortable falling asleep. I didn't expect lying next to Joel to change that.

I let out a sigh as I rolled over.

My head ended up on Joel's chest as I let one of my arms fall over his torso. I didn't even realize that I had brushed a scar until he flinched. I pulled my hand away, moving my head so I could look at him.

"You okay," I asked.

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Did I hit a fresh wound or something?"

"No," he shook his head. "You just have cold hands."

"Never bothered you before."

He chuckled.

I sat up and looked at him. "Are you sure that you're okay?"

He sighed. "(Y/n)..."

"I'm just worried about you."

He didn't respond.

He made no effort to stop me as I reached forward and moved the blanket off of him. I furrowed my eyebrows at him as I tried to figure out what I had bothered.

It took me a second, but I eventually moved my hand to lightly touch a scar on his side. He tensed.

"Sorry," I muttered. I pulled my hand away. "What... What's it from?"

I felt like I was watching the scales tip in his mind. Pros and cons changing the balance.

"I'll... I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours," I offered.

He reached out and touched my leg. I placed my hand on his.

"Deal?"

He nodded. "Deal."

I grinned and shifted to get comfortable.

That's when I first found out about Sarah. He told me everything about the day of the outbreak. The panic and the crash and the soldier. I held his hand through all of it. I felt a need to commit every sentence he spoke to memory. I needed to know this all because that was the only way I would be able to properly help him.

"Your turn," he muttered after a moment of silence.

I blinked at him a few times before slowly nodding. "Right."

I took a deep breath. I felt him tapping his fingers against my hand.

"You... are not gonna like this sentence," I started. His eyebrows furrowed. "Technically... I am... married."

"What-"

"Let me get through the story first," I stopped him. "It was a while ago now. I... I was convinced that we were in love. The day that the outbreak happened, we had been inside all day. Our neighbor had broken in... he was infected. I just remember the angry look on his face. It made me sick.

"My husband and I took off. We drove for a while. I can barely remember where we were even trying to get to. I just remember ditching the car in the traffic and taking off on foot.

"We... We got cornered by one of the infected. There was this hole in the ceiling of this building. He climbed up first and I couldn't get up there and instead of helping me up... he thanked me for saving him and took off."

There was a pause between us.

"He sounds like an ass," Joel commented. I chuckled. "How did you get out?"

"I found this old bat. A solid one. I had never fought anything, really. I yelled when I hit the thing over the head. Screamed. I kept thinking about how that person had a family and friends and how many of them could be dead. After that, I hid away until I could safely get to a QZ."

Joel nodded. "Did you ever find out what happened to your husband?"

I shook my head. "And I don't want to. I hate to wish death on someone, but... he kinda did that to me... to my face, so... I hope he got his ass kicked."

"So, you're only married..."

"Because the government's been a little too busy to figure out divorce court right now," I shrugged. "And I have no desire to track the bastard down again."

"Good," he mumbled.

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"If you stuck with that guy, then we would've never happened," he explained.

"I see."

Joel pushed himself to sit up.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you any of this before," I said.

"Can't say that I'm too upset," he replied.

He slowly leaned over and pressed his lips to mine. I slowly kissed him back, grinning against his lips.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something that I could let myself hold onto in this shitty world.

---------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[0t0mie]

hi tomie, recently I’ve been using tumble less & less as I want to start manifesting my desires! currently I’m manifesting multiple things at once so I’ll be using blanket affirmations. I just wanted to make sure I was doing everything ok, this is how’ll I’ll do it change my state, affirm & persist & let thoughts fly away but also I also remember the bad moments so when I do I always go back to my state! I’m not sure if I’m doing something wrong ? I’m sorta scared I won’t get my desire because I truly believe I don’t deserve it.

i think it's important to remember that you're never stuck in a state. you move through them and occupy multiple throughout the day. when you notice you're not in your desired state, there's no reason to freak out. simply bring yourself back. it can take time at first to get used to such a drastically different state because changing your whole life affects you more than something like getting a free coffee. i'm not saying it's any harder to manifest!!! but, it can take a while longer to get used to (key word *can*), and that's okay! that's exactly why we persist. we continue to bring ourselves back until it feels so natural, we have no doubt that what we desired is ours.

for the last part anon, it's very common to feel this way. when i was in a similar position, i had to sit down with myself and really realize that the only person stopping me from getting what i wanted was me. no one else, just me. i was scared and fearful that i would never get my desires because i had known about manifestation for so long and "nothing had worked yet". i wasn't trusting the law, i had no faith, i had no consistency, i would rely on the 3d and motivation. and all of it stemmed from that fear. it's important to recognize that you create the fear, just like you create the desire, the lack, and the fulfillment. if i could create the fear, then i could also create the happiness. so i started having discipline. and now anytime i desire ANYTHING, i instantly give it to myself. it took time, but no journey is alike or linear. i began to see every moment as growth and was gentle with myself.

you deserve to feel good!!!!! you deserve to fulfill every single desire, no matter how "big" or "small". you just need to trust yourself and have faith in the law. DARE to assume.

here are some things i really recommend you to read anon<3

feeling unworthy is a self inflicting punishment

he who will not live in love must be subdued by fear

[ash-elizabeth-art]

Writer's Block (or Whatever the Heck This Is)

Okay, I just need to vent about writing for a bit, because oh my god has it been plaguing me recently, and I just don't know what to do anymore. For some context, it's a dream of mine to write a novel that I'm really proud of and have it published. Sounds like a pretty straightforward, simple goal, but of course I have to go and make it extremely complicated for no reason. I've been writing stories in my spare time since I was a teenager, and I've gone through so many ideas, written and abandoned so many things, had my fair share of writer's block, but I don't think I've ever struggled quite like this before.

This current struggle started all the way back in 2015, when I got an idea for a story and started working on it. Eventually, I realized that I was more interested in two of the side characters, so I ended up spending the next few years writing a story about those two instead, and I did it! I wrote a novel-length story about those two characters, and I did like it, but by the end, I just didn't have the desire to pursue it any further. What I did do, which you'll never guess, is I took two side characters from that story, and wrote a whole spin-off story about them! And again, I wrote a whole 50K+ words about these two, mostly just for fun, and I liked it, but again, just didn't want to pursue it further. And don't get me wrong, I'm still proud of those two stories, and there's a lot about them that I truly love, but I still have this desire to write something and share it with people, to be excited to share it with people. I know that I don't have to share everything I write, but for me, part of what I enjoy about writing is the idea that I could make people feel things, you know? I want to feel the joy and the sadness myself while writing, then share in those feelings with others as they're reading.

The problem now, I suppose, is that I can't seem to commit to a story idea long enough to even write an outline, let alone 50K words. When I wrote those first two stories, I really loved those characters and that universe they were in, and I was excited, and passionate, and committed to those stories. Now? I change my mind about my current idea every five minutes. I can't commit to anything. Does this character have blond hair? No. Wait, yes. These two meet at a bar- no, they meet at a coffee shop! No, I'll stick to the bar. But what if they met through mutual friends? Or in a library? Or, or, or. You get the picture. I'm second guessing everything. I'm doubting my own feelings. It's like I have pre-impostor syndrome, if that even makes sense. I'll be like “Oh, I like that idea!” and there's this evil little gremlin in my head that's like, “No you don't. You don't actually like that.” and I'm like, oh, I guess I don't? And it makes me feel like maybe I should just abandon this idea altogether and try to think of something that I'm not questioning every two seconds. Because surely if I was confident in my idea, this wouldn't be happening, right? Or would this same thing just happen with every story I try to write now? Am I just never gonna feel excited and passionate about something ever again?

Like, you know that feeling you get when you first start writing something, and you're like, this is the best idea I've ever had. I love this. This is great. And you write, and write, and write, and eventually, you go back over what you've written and you're like oh, this is garbage! I can't believe I liked this! I was so blinded by the sheer joy of expressing my ideas that I didn't see the mistakes I was making, let me go back and fix those, and then keep writing this story :) That whole experience, I feel like I'm incapable of having that anymore. But I want to! I want to be so stupidly in love with my own ideas that I write absolute trash but have a blast doing it. And I'm worried that I'll never feel that way again. I'll just be so overly-critical of myself, so doubtful of my own feelings, so worried about how my writing is perceived, that I won't be able to enjoy it anymore.

For instance, with my current idea, I have these two characters who fit the “grumpy and sunshine” trope. And I don't know if I did this subconsciously or what, but the grumpy one has dark hair and is kind of pretentious and likes being alone, and the other one has lighter hair and is sillier and more extroverted. And so at every turn I'm like, no, this is basically just Simon and Baz! Or Sherlock and John! Or Bitty and Jack! Or Hinata and Kageyama! I'm just copying them! I gotta change their appearance and personalities immediately or everyone's gonna know that I'm a character-stealing criminal who deserves to be in Writer Jail forever. This is how my brain works, and it's not fun. And I miss having fun with writing! I know it's not always fun, and it is in fact hard work a lot of the time, but it should also not be this miserable!

And all of these feelings, all of these doubts, they follow me around and stick to every new idea I try to come up with. And the worst part, I think, is feeling like I'm alone in all this. Like I'm the only one who feels this way and has ever felt this way. That everyone else who has written a book has done so easily, and they were in love with their idea the whole time, and the fact that I feel this way means maybe I shouldn't be writing at all. And I know that's not true, but social media sure does do a good job of convincing me it is. I see people announcing book deals, or publishing special editions of their books, or starting work on book #5 after just finishing book #4, and I will be the first to admit that I'm jealous. I don't know how they do it. I look around a Barnes and Noble at all these published books and think, all these people did it, why can't I? And not even just publishing a book, because I know that's a whole other can of worms, I mean just the act of writing something, still loving it after you've written it, then sharing it with people. That in and of itself feels impossible to me.

I don't know..it's just a lot. And I know that some of these things are probably issues that run deeper that I should probably talk to my therapist about, but for now I just wanted to get it all out somewhere because it's been bouncing around in my head for way too long. And if you've ever felt this way or felt anything similar, please please let me know! I think it would really help if I knew that it wasn't just me, because I've basically convinced myself that it is. And if you've never felt this way and have no idea what I'm talking about, thank you for sticking with me and reading this far x)

I hope that you're all enjoying your summer, and that you're not experiencing writer's block!

[sunyandmony]

I am not fine...

May contain triggering themes, read at viewer's discretion.... All of that blah blah, enjoy- It's wonky and definitely not worth the wait.. And is also probably nowhere near the yandere category, so-- Uhhh.... I failed myself and the people that waited for this-...

(Despite the subtle hints)

"𝙰𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ժׁׅ݊ꫀׁׅܻ݊ɑׁׅժׁׅ݊" |finished BBU drabble|

When was the last time you had actually felt alive? Free? Not tired?....

It has been a long while, and you were just so tired, everything was going wrong in your life. You lost your job just a few days ago, having lost your belongings and now about to lose your apartment because of the rent you couldn't pay to the landowner.

It all started the moment you moved out from your parent's house, freshly having finished college, you had a bright future ahead of yourself if you wouldn't have trusted your coworker as much as you did. It wasn't something you could have predicted, but something you should've avoided instead.

It was currently late at night, you were preparing for bed, but didn't plan to sleep. You never had a good sleep schedule.

Childhood was just as horrible with the constant bullies at your school, it all went down so fast you don't remember when you lost your innocence at all, it was just a flash and then it all happened.

You shake off the rest of your thoughts, laying face first on your bed and grunting in pure frustration, wishing everything wasn't so unfair, so SO stupid and so difficult. Nothing was easy, when you were warned life won't go easy on you, you didn't think it would go this far to get you to the point of losing everyone and everything that you had gotten so far in your short, pathetic life.

A brief thought comes across your mind, and you shake it off once more. You won't regret anything, everything wasn't your fault, it wasn't... It wasn't.

Heavy eyelids threaten to close, and once you yawn they do, the darkness embracing you as you fall into a much needed slumber.

. . .

A tight knot in your stomach made you groan, and the bed felt oddly ticklish against your skin.You felt around yourself before leaning up, blinking several times to adjust to the sudden light and then a burst of darkness shoved your way. This wasn't your bed. An odd sensation filled your body. Nausea. You felt the world spin around you, trying to come to your senses as you took in your surroundings.

Where are you? What kind of weird fantasy, fever dream is this?? You rub at your eyes, stretching and wobbly legs managing to stand on the soft ground, and you did not have shoes on, so it felt odd and moist against your bare feet. You were in a creepy forest, surrounded by huge pine trees that lined all around you, barely able to see anything past them.

Birds chirp from somewhere around you, and you turn your back to look the other way. More trees greet your view, and you squint to see through them to no avail. You give up, deciding to shift your head and look up at the sky. You could just barely catch a glimpse of the night sky, glittering and shiny stars all over, a crescent moon covered up by darkened clouds. From here you could just barely make out a bird flying by, going out of view a moment later.

There were lots of fireflies around here, all around you and the outer sky, it was a beautiful light show while it lasted. Given you snapped back to the problem at hand. You were so lost, had no idea where you were, or how you even got here. Was it even a coincidence that it matched your image from last night? Probably not. Deja vu was such an odd thing to feel at the given moment. You don't remember having a dream as real as this one. And it might not even be a dream. (You wanna doubt that.)

You sigh to yourself, pinching the bridge of your nose. Well, this sure doesn't feel like a dream, you can feel your hand, so it probably is a very realistic dream? You hope it is, unless you wanna be stuck here, you better start walking and finding a way out. Though, did you really want to go back to your weird, awful and traumatic life? Not really.

With a reluctant exhale, and a mental push, you slowly made your way forwards, stepping into the thicker, much darker forest that surrounded you. An eerie silence settled over everything all at once, and you knew it wasn't a good sign.

You quickened your pace, knowing it's not safe and trying to find a more open, safer area to rest at, your feet aching at how hard they slammed against the grass and sticks on your way. You wish you hadn't taken off your shoes at the last minute in bed, they would've been so useful right now.

Another reluctant step onwards and you feel as if fainting right here and now. It feels horrible, the aching pain in your feet had grown so much worse, and you were more than sure you had millions of small scratches and bruises all along your ankles and feet. Well, it could've been worse, at least. You could've been bleeding, heck, maybe even being watched.

That wasn't such a good thing to say, you knew from seeing so many movies that the moment someone says something of the like, or even the exact thing, would happen to them. You started to lean more against the trees, trying to not be seen, but it was a useless attempt at stealth.

Crouching down didn't help much either, it only made you slower, and the more you realized it, the more late it was. Everything has its eyes on you, there's no place safe here. Nowhere.

. . .

A minute later you slowly get up, hands clawing at the wood of the tree to stand. Once you took the first step it's all fine, the second you took the second step, a branch cracked under your feet and more than likely left a scar on its own. Great..

All the more, eyes turn to you, and footsteps get closer and closer to you until an animal that you've never seen before, bares its teeth at you and pounces forwards. If it wasn't for your brain, you wouldn't have moved, instead, you immediately started running, almost tripping several times before picking up your pace and running through the thick pine trees, avoiding tripping on rocks or twigs as the animal, only gets closer the more you lose your energy. It was tiring. A faint noise in the distance catches your attention, and you turn to look at what seems to be a river, and without a single thought running towards it.

With a lot of luck, you find your way over more twigs and immediately jump on the slippery rocks, getting to the other side without much problems. You turn your head around, seeing as the animal, now stuck on the other side, slowly backs away from the edge and disappears back into the darkness behind the bushes. God let you live another moment it seems..

For what seemed like hours of leaning against a tree, you finally gain enough strength to get up and slowly make your way further into the forest. Seeing as it is, it won't help if you stand in one place too much. Predators can, and will hunt you down at any cost it seems, not like you didn't expect it, given you're the uninvited guest here.

Not even a moment later you once more get out of the forest and almost trip down the now more than visible hill, which leads down down until you can see a big mansion sitting in the middle of… An intermontane plateaus, that is if your Biology classes were paid enough attention to. You might be wrong, but you'd assume that's what this is, because it's not a ravine…

A knot in your stomach says to just stop being so childish, but meanwhile your inner child is firing up. And which do you choose to listen to? Of course, your inner child.

You slowly lay down and then budge yourself until you start rolling down the hill, having the time of your life and giggling all the way until you reach the bottom and now laying on soft, greenery that tickles your skin with the gentle breeze. The night sky is so much prettier here than in the closed and tight pine forest that you hated for being so awfully dark.

Wait….Night sky? You have been up too long, haven't you? Though it is impossible to tell what time it is…You'd just assume it's late at night… And probably, as usual, past your bedtime hours..

A long moment of staring at the glitter stars in the sky, and with a lot of curses flowing through your body, you sit up, rubbing your eyes to woosh the sleep away. It doesn't help, you yawn and stretch not a moment later. Great, tired, lost and probably homeless too.

You get off the ground, looking at your clothes and picking off some of the dirt or dust(?) that stuck to you, letting that thought flow away. A moment later you realize that the big mansion is indeed still in front of you, you just had to turn your head upwards to realize it. Not like it would grow legs and run away, idiot..

Was this breaking in? You ask yourself, seeing as it is, the doors opened up themselves, you didn't even touch them, they just did- A long moment of contemplating before you overcome your fear and step inside, the moment you do the doors slam close behind you, making your arms flail around yourself, thinking it was someone or something behind you, while it was nothing more than the wind, probably. You hope it was the wind.

Calm down, nothing has even happened yet, chill. You took deep breaths. Was it this cold when you got here? It sure wasn't, everything was so much colder. And you felt eyes on you from every single corner you turned. You started exploring a place that is not yours. You just wish whoever owns this place isn't home or could let you stay for the night.

As odd as it is, all you found were some pictures on a few walls when you walked the hallway to your right. It wasn't much, barely helped, and you didn't feel like touching them or going as far as to steal them. You didn't wanna get some kind of curse on your possible future bloodline. You were better than that, not even the gold was much more than useless, given there's probably no way to spend it anyways.

A sudden shift in the air made you immediately turn to gaze behind yourself, nothing. You're getting paranoid at this point. Well, not paranoid, more panicked of getting caught wandering around someone's house without them letting you in or even giving you permission to look at their(?) stuff whatsoever.

With a sigh, you turn back around to the fireplace, only for your whole body to stiffen and drain like you saw a literal ghost. What you were seeing wasn't that far from one though…

A more than tall as you could tell, creature, bird, whatever, was towering over you, eyes scanning you up and down as you shrinked into yourself. It(?) wore a light pink attire adorned with two swirls in the middle, topped with a shiny object, probably as decor, and a bow tie around its neck. Or at least what you assumed, given it constantly stretched on. It was hard to tell.

Many feathers adored its persona, cartoon-ish wings and what you could guess are its paws(?), again, you weren't a genius, and the Biology lessons weren't useful right now, you forgot them all the moment you graduated. It was black as the night sky itself, glinting in the bare light. Yellow-ish to gradient red, wide eyes stared back at you with a wide smile. Was it thinking of kicking you out? It would be fair though, you did just break into its house after all.

The moment you blinked it disappeared, the second you turned to the side, it was there. "Hoo! Hooho! Well, who are you, little friend?" It speaks right into your ear, once more shifting to be in front of you, into a much bigger form, a finger under its chin as if thinking of something, eyes narrowing the slightest bit.

You blur out your name with a lot of hesitation, looking at your hands and then back up at it. The moment you give it your name, it immediately leaves its thoughts to the side, now to your right, in a smaller size, putting its arm on your shoulder with a grin speaking for itself. ", that's my name, what's yours?" You ask back, perhaps it is rude or very rare, but it immediately perks up even more.

A tilt of its head, "Hooo! Little friend, you should know who I am! But, if you don't, you might as well know me as the party host! Or, if it suits your tongue more, well, Barnaby the owl!" It says, backing up from you and bowing down theatrically, eyes closed only for a moment before shooting wide open again. From this point, it looked somewhat friendly, only if you didn't count the constant staring.

A slow nod comes from you, only with the realization that you barely even meant it. Well, it is probably rude to be barely listening, but at least you know his(?) name now! Which is better than nothing. Why is your mind such a mess at such bad times? It is not worth arguing with yourself right now.

A strange sound fills the space, and you look down at yourself to realize it's your stomach. Right, you've been starving for the past, what, half a day, you'd assume. This gets the attention of Barnaby, who chuckles. "Oooh! Are you perhaps hungry, little friend?" A full on head spin and you barely have any personal space. You nod immediately after, hugging yourself. Well, at least you could trust that he won't poison you, which eases your nerves a little. He also doesn't seem to know the concept of 'personal space' from what you can see. Great…

It was very unexpected how well you got along with this owl, and from what he told you, he wasn't any normal creature you'd see day to day. You already had a feeling he might not be a living being, only being confirmed made it much weirder. Not that it bothered you, it was just, uneasy to know you were right about such a thing. Though he doesn't seem to be in any kind of pain, so maybe you're just overreacting over it.

The more you felt you knew him, the further you strayed from the true reality you came from. The fact this wasn't hell or anything of the like was a confirmation you were indeed not dead, and that it was not a dream. The food here was nice though, even the little 'barnaboos' as you heard him call them, we're such adorable little things to converse with, and somehow able to understand a little of what they're saying. Mostly through simple hand gestures.

It was a long ride, mostly staying up late, but you got through with it and survived. You could feel yourself slipping the more you tried to keep your eyes open, it was probably very late if you were this tired. A long yawn leaves you, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand almost immediately, excusing yourself which gets a light chuckle from him.

Another blink and he's once more at the back of your chair. You really weren't gonna ask how he keeps doing that, just go along and it'll be better. "Are you feeling tired, lil' friend?" He chirps, helping you up from your seat, offering his wing, which is somewhat much softer to grab onto as you balance yourself. A moment later you let go and stretch out a moment, groaning and then letting out a sigh, arms dropping to your side the next second.

You nod, body slumped over as you follow close behind him. You didn't bother to listen much to whatever he was talking about all the way till he finally led you to the guest room. Well, it seems you weren't sleeping on a couch, which is such a relief.

While he didn't seem like such a threat, you couldn't help the twist in your stomach telling you otherwise and that you had to get away from him immediately or something would happen. That wasn't the case, not yet at least. Which just proves further that maybe your instincts are getting rusty the more your adrenaline wears down on you. Another thing to worry about later on.

Was it just your brain or were you really unable to sleep?... Why is it even odd? You always slept late, but something is just off, aside from the fact that this wasn't your room. It was a bit too fancy, but at the same time not, given you coughed several times from the dust that was in the air. The bed itself, while it was immense and comfortable, your gut keeps telling you to not fall asleep yet, not yet.. Eyelids snap shut, but before you know it, they snap back open, and you look around, trying to find what could've been blamed, of course there's nothing.

A tap on the window immediately makes you sit up, looking around only to see the branch of a tree, which just kept on tapping, the harsh wind blow being the only thing you could hear aside from the tapping. This is too silent, the room envelopes in a much darker blanket once the moon is being hidden away by the clouds, a few small water drops announcing the now oncoming rain. Curtains flutter around from the currents, windows barely open, just enough so fresh air slips inside the room.

Maybe you're homesick. That would explain everything much simply. You turn on your side, hands clutching onto the pillow under your head tightly as your eyes slowly slip close, and the world fades to much more darkness than it was already drenched in. You need a better sleep schedule…

. . .

It's been only a few hours, you don't know how much you slept but do not plan on trying to find out, seeing as the rain picked up, pouring loudly outside, you'd only take a guess that it's been longer than three hours because it's the first time you actually had a proper sleep without being woken up by the alarm clock on your old nightstand, now nowhere in sight.

You rub at your eyes slightly too harshly, hissing the moment you lean your hands away. About time you find your way around here, you don't feel like you slept much, even if you probably did. You sit straight, arms held together and stretched upwards, leaning down till they touch the blanket once more with a slight pop from your bones. Well, that's a much better way to start the day… You can only guess it's day given the outside is just slightly lighter, despite the still ongoing thunderstorm.

A groan leaves your throat as you slowly slip out of bed, strolling over only to find that there is indeed a bathroom connected to this room. Much nicer than going out, you assume. With one last look, you slip inside, taking your sweet time with everything.

About a few slips and pouts later you finally got out of what you could only assume is the bathtub, given how it does not look like one you'd see in a normal everyday life but one nonetheless. A quick brush of your hair and some face washing later it's all done, all you leave behind being the dirty clothes from before and now looking around for something to change into.

As expected, you couldn't find much and so the single thing you found was more of a suit than house wear options. But what other choice did you have? A little later of tidying up the cloth you finally managed to slip it on, tying the bow tie to your neck and opening the closet doors once more to look at yourself unexpectedly liking the outfit and shining looks you gave off almost immediately.

A gradient light blue to purple adored your body, clinging onto you quite heavily. Long sleeves adored with gloves hanging onto your arms, just barely shining in the dim light with the same gradient little details hanging everywhere else. A parted dress hung onto your hips, held by another layer of the dress underneath, looking like leaves or even feathers, white fluff tickling onto the long socks that reached just slightly over your knees. Dismissed heels toppled over in the corner as you pick something easier to wear. Boots that reach over your ankles and go just about a few more inches before ending with fluff all around, a comfortable warmth on the inside of them. Exactly as you liked, well, probably liked. It's been a long time since you wore something fancy unless it was for a party or meet up.

Where were you going anywhere with this outfit? Was something special happening that you probably didn't know about? Most likely that's the case. With a long sigh, you close the closet doors, looking away and at your hands for a long time. Thinking it all over again didn't seem to help. How much time did you spend looking at yourself anyways?...

You ponder to yourself before going out of your room, slamming the door close behind you and not looking back as you walk without a clue where you're going in a way that could only be described as tired.You're tired of anything and everything at the same time, yet you don't dare show it, sliding a neutral expression on your face to make sure it wouldn't be that obvious.

It was however more than obvious that you didn't feel like talking to anyone or anything else around here, except for the little barnaboos that are mostly everywhere, seemingly preoccupied with their own things to pay much attention to you as you passed by each room. A while later of walking down the seemingly endless hallway, you finally arrive back at the front where you have been not long ago. It's eerily silent as each of your steps echoes right into your ear drums awfully louder than you expected.

Each time you take another step, you feel much closer to something you can't quite make out in your thoughts, shaking your head as you bump into something, or someone and scramble back, catching your balance just in time as to not fall and make it even more embarrassing that you were once more with your head into the clouds.

A chortle came from above you, and immediately your hands came up to your face, hiding away your expression that was on the brink of exploding into tears. That is, if the person who made that sound wasn't more than obvious. "Hoohoo! Friend! You're awake- Took you sooo looongg! But that does not matter, you're awake now, and we can finally get going!" Barnaby offers you his fluffy appendage as the world shifts all at once, and in a literal instant you're moved.

You feel like literally throwing up, the knot in your stomach too tight for comfort. A stumble forwards and you're immediately embraced by more soft and skilled wings. A chuckle leaves your friend as you struggle to stand on your own while he just abuses the obvious size difference between the two of you. Once you're turned, wings under your armpits, you just give up and pout in defeat. He let's go once you're settled down, leading you down yet another similar hallway like the many others.

Huge doors welcome you, opening before you have even stepped close enough to touch its split handles. Barnaby slouches over, one wing onto his chest as the other is (probably) pointing towards the immense ballroom in front of you. A snort leaves your throat as you bow back to him and enter the room, and of course he doesn't have to follow much, appearing right above you and giving you another good scare.

Without stalling backwards, you just freeze in your spot trying to look unfazed while you would've screamed. You're doing this just to not give him the satisfaction of another screaming charade that you learnt from experience only makes you more terrified the next time he'd do it again. A minute later you finally snap out of your thoughts, waving them to the side to take in your surroundings.

An immense ballroom the size of a whole stadium greets your eyes. While everything was dark, the decorations alone got you feeling nostalgic about this place. Little pumpkin stickers hung onto strings, different expressions on each individual one, and between each of the pumpkins were spiders of different sizes and shapes, mostly out of paper or cartons. To say the side little stars on the dark ceiling weren't a nice addition was just as false as saying the sun is better than the moon, given both are good.

The stars glowed in the dark, which was even better, the white soft yet bright lights able to be seen from even a long distance away.

Actual real spiders hang around the chandeliers on the ceiling, wood creaking with each movement they make. And even a room that's made of wood can be a ballroom, which is incredible to say the least about. Given most ballrooms you've seen were very shiny and much cleaner, this one was clean, too, but not shiny, and it did not bother you at all. As once again, fancy was not what you wanted, and perhaps this would help you more as to remember why you won't miss the ballrooms back on Earth.

. . .

Why was everyone talking about your friend so lowly at times? Was he really bad or was it just them hating him? You couldn't tell, not one bit and it annoyed you from the inside out. Why? You didn't know, but given he is your first friend after your dreams and hopes crashed out the window…you were probably not even gonna need to guess anymore. It was obvious.

Your past explains everything much more simply than you would if you tried. Your trauma adding up onto anything you do and weighting your choices down. It's awful to be aware of it, but you can't do much about it. Your past speaks for itself once more as your feet move without your command as your blocks out every other noises or voices. A particular spider caught your attention, and you approached its shared webs slowly so as to not alarm it.

It hisses slowly at you before silence takes over once more. The spider is about the size of your whole palm, if not bigger than that. It has almost invisible marks on its back, a swirl and a center point where it stops with obviously eight legs that slowly raise and fall. Something to show it is indeed aware you're there even if it can't see you despite having so many eyes that glow a soft white as well.

You slowly approach until you're just two steps away from it, shaking hand raising hesitantly. You weren't afraid of it, you were afraid of what it could do to you. It slowly turned before climbing into your hand, fitting just perfectly on there. Fangs glint in the low light as it becomes nothing more than a fluff ball now sitting on your palm. You would literally melt if you could.

A silhouette hovers over you. "Oooh~ Getting along with all the guests! Aren't you just the most mannered one!!" A voice you already knew speaks from behind you. You don't have to turn to see, he is already in front of you the second you look up. A quick bob of your head and then you let the spider down back on its webs, strolling away as you're once more led to the middle of the room. There was no one here though.

The particular paws you know as Barnaby's cover your eyes and you're not able to see a thing. Great. "Hey! Shoo! Hands down-" You retort to his actions, your much smaller hands coming to grasp onto his own, doing little to nothing as he doesn't budge one bit from everything you try. The world shifts all too quickly as your drowsy self almost collapses once the darkness drains away a second later.

You catch your breath just as quickly, hands onto your knees as you slouch over. When did the air leave you?? Another sharp intake of breath and you feel still horrible, your sweaty hands not helping by trembling so much. In fact, your whole body is trembling as you look up only to immediately stumble backwards and your back to land on some particularly soft feathers.

The room wasn't empty any more, and it was full of deadly things from which some stared at you as if they could sense they're no longer invisible to your human vision. Another deep breath. Several more ghosts and specters turn around to face you. Where did the vampires come from? This place is definitely cursed, or worse yet you probably are cursed now. Perfect. Your heart races in your chest as you catch your breath and balance yourself. Everyone and everything is staring at you much to your dismay.

A cheery voice fills the space all around you, and as much as you want to cover your ears, you can't bring yourself to do it. "Hoohoo! Gentlemans, ladies and people of all kinds! I, Barnaby, announce as the party host, to welcome our little star guest!" Voices whisper all around you before clapping fills the room as you wish to shrink into yourself as much as you could. That's not possible.

Your brain, instead of running or doing anything, decides it's best to just stay..Until it's over…You were not that weak nor scared.. And without seeing the danger ahead of yourself too..

I got Cola and Pepsi while writing this :>

I'm very sane and fine, totally.. 🧍‍♀️

Did anyone get the reference though?...

@hauntedkonton , @the-host-with-the-most-12 , @ieatsoap1 and whoever else enjoys BBU or just Barnaby- idk🧍‍♀️

[victorianpining]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @clueless-mp4 (thank you!!!) to answer some questions about my fic writing, this might get a little repetetive as I only currently have one published work, but it gives me a chance to talk a little bit about Vampire Fic which I am always excited to do.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 2, soon to be 3!

2. What's your total A03 word count?

Currently 98k, soon to be 200k (approximately).

3. What fandoms do you write for? BBC Sherlock and its adjacents (Holmes canon and of course BBC Dracula)

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

From a Drop of Water sweep by default!!!

Truly though I am still so touched by the response to that story, it has been beyond anything I ever expected and I am so grateful to have written something that resonated with so many people.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! I get so much joy out of going through my comments, and I try to take the time to respond to anyone who was kind enough to tell me that they enjoyed my writing.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm a big fan of angst with a happy ending. That said, if you've seen Dracula, you know to expect there to be something bittersweet about the ending of The Stories in Our Veins

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

From a Drop of Water was and is pure wish fulfillment on all accounts.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet *knock on wood* which has been a delightful change of pace.

9. Do you write smut?

The vampire fic has exactly one (1) sex scene.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I am currently! But does it really count as a crossover when two stories were meant to be connected? (Yeah I think so).

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, From a Drop of Water has been translated into Mandarin and Russian which is so so cool to me.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not exactly, though when working on the early stages of From a Drop of Water, I solicited a lot of feedback from my beta readers, and I would say the feedback @novaviis offered in particular played a huge role in why that story turned out as well as it did! I definitely appreciated all the help while I was still so new to building a story.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Holmes and Watson forever and always, amen.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Thankfully none at this stage, though as you can imagine in a writing process as long as the one for The Stories in Our Veins has been there have been several points where I have despaired of it ever actually getting done.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think my strongest suit is planning out the subtextual language of a story and weaving in references that create interplay between my work and the source text. I've also gained a lot of structural practice with this current story and I think I'm getting pretty good at it! My most niche talent is the written montage, love connecting all the little clues together at the end!!!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Prose itself, particularly descriptions, though I'd say I'm getting better at both with practice. I also have certain words that I mix up with other words that I cannot for the life of me ever keep straight (homophones are the bane of my existence) so I have to be really careful to search those out, and even then my beta readers still find ones I miss!!!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don't think I would do it unless I spoke the language myself, I'd be too worried about getting something wrong.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Actually, I did write one Alice centered one shot for the Twilight fandom back when I was like... 13. I don't think I ever deleted it so it probably still exists out on the internet somewhere, though I have no idea what I might have named that account so have no way of finding it.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Not to oversell it, but I really adore The Stories in Our Veins, and I'm very proud of how it's turning out. I think it's better than From a Drop of Water in just about every way, though I recognize that a crossover with a TV show that only 12 people care about is going to have a lot less of a broad appeal than a TJLC slanted re-imagining of series 4. If you do end up reading it anyway, know that you have my undying gratitude!

I'm tagging @novaviis, @minotaurmutual and @teledild0nix!

[project-if]

Lyric 1

[…nnect… su…es…l] [..eav…g …… …sel…] [… … …] [..hread …… kn…] [—lcome, 'Reader']

｢—•——•—-——–mhmg｣

H..uh? Whe..re….am I..?

Those were my first thoughts upon waking up on a soft, yet damp, patch of….flowers..?

I…don’t recognize this place.. and this is definitely not my bed.

It doesn’t look like I was abducted either, since my limbs are still intact and unbound.

…Well, no use wasting time, I should start by surveying the area, then—

–—-!

..Just as I was getting up, I feel a sharp pain on the left side of my stomach flaring up.

—Right.. While the wound itself wasn’t anything too severe, those damned bastards….

..no I cut off that train of thought before it could overtake me.

Having a trip down memory lane in a completely unknown situation is a horrid idea.

｢Uhp—!｣ I force my feet on the ground and check my current conditions:

•Earring…Check •Jacket…Intact •ID Tag…Missing •Knife…Sharp •Toxins…Ran out

Thankfully, I still have my knife in working condition if worst comes to worst. And this wound is probably the only thing that could hamper me right now.

Next, I scour at my immediate surrounding. Despite making some noise, it doesn’t appear as if anything dangerous was around me, so I should be relatively safe for now.

As I exhale out of relief, I spot something near the flower bed.

What appears to be small stone monument…

a…shrine? Or is it.. Well, whatever it is, it’s connected to the flowerbed, so I can thank it for that at least. As I put my hands in a praying motion— ——､/^-

—! I could hear sound, faint as it might be, coming from…over there! As I yell within the confines of my own mind, I begin a mad dash towards, what could be other Hyums…

…While trying to distract myself, I try to recount yesterday’s events, but—

[Ex..s. 'Tu.m..l' d..ect..] [Trig..rin. Ta..nt '□'] [Tra...g 'Tu.moil' for 1.00 'Margin'] —Ah …For now, I’ll focus on the present.

By the time I came near the sound, I was able to spot a light at, what I am now certain to be, the end of the tunnel.

My mind was cooling down, yet my throat was tightening up. And with each step I took, both fear and anticipation filled my body, until…

..I felt light enter my eyes and touch my skin, And so, my suspicions where all but confirmed..

A beautiful yet tranquil scenery that my dirt poor mind could never truly comprehend, yet alone do justice to. It’s littered in plants that I could never begin to describe the characteristics of. Not only that, it’s been ages since I’ve last seen any kind of animals let alone breathing ones, not to mention the quantity!

yes…Yes! It’s as if this world was ripped straight from the Fairy tales that I read to sis before bedtime. As if releasing all the tension I was holding on to since I woke up, I—

｢—-fuck｣

…Let slip my feelings on this dread inducing mess.

◆◆◆◆◆

Despite the O’so 'wonderful sight' before me, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

…Scratch that, It felt as if I’m the one who’s in the wrong here…wherever here is.

It doesn’t look anything like home or anywhere near it for that matter. And I doubt it’s outside of..of…

｢—fhuua｣ …Of course the name is escaping me now.

Either way, compared to that sea of 'gray' This is probably closer to a 'green'

Well…I can’t even be sure with the 'Colour Taboo' and all.

—-Aahh For now, let’s stop meandering about and move somewhere where I can rest..

As I trudge my way through this unknown forest, I pass by what appear to be berries. They were small, barely the size of my thumb.

I would’ve eaten them if they didn’t glow when I approached them…

Next, I passed by a weird tree, it was a white reminiscent of clouds and just like them I felt I could go through it…but I didn’t have the leisure to mess around.

Just as the pangs of hunger were seeping into me—

—frssh The rustling of grass alerted me to a presence. Just as quickly, I muffled as much sound as I could, minimized my movements and 'killed' my intent.

And there it was, my meal for the night!

It looks like a..rabbit, if I remember right. Looks like it’s alone too, probably got separated from it’s group.

But that just makes my job easier. Plus it doesn’t look like it’s poisonous either, but just in case, I’ll slowly cook it’s succulent meat until I can be certain that it can’t contain any poison, then I’ll chew the meat till the juice starts to flow, and—

—-groooowwwl

…..

….

…

[The 'Rabbit' tried to flee!] ｢Oh no, you don’t!!｣ [█ began giving chase!]

As much as I want to admonish myself, I don’t have time to waste, so I’ll do it later. For now, let’s observe it’s movements, then create an strategy.

While I did think that. It’s movement were pretty primitive, just some dashes and zigzags mixed in. The only problem would be it’s speed.

But, I’ve already had a plan in mind.

While picking up some stones off of the ground, I 'ready' my knife in my free hand.. ｢-here goes…｣ ..and throw the pebbles at the rabbit.

As a matter of course, it reacted to it by leaping into the air.

Just as I wanted..! ——–fwoooooeeeep

Next, I let my knife leave my hand, straight into my prey, it rea—

-—As if to spite the world and it’s reason.

The air dented around its hind legs

While anyone else would be confused, I-

｢—-already expected that!｣

Yanking the thread attached to my knife, I forced both it and the 'Shade' to collide.

While it’s not enough for it to die, it’s ample time for a killing blow..

sliiik— ..before I knew it, my first hunt was finished and—

｢—Aah, I miss sis…｣ Let my dignity slip without noticing.

【Awake and prepared】

[paddockbunny]

I just have to have a rant right now.

It was a family members birthday today so we went to a family lunch. I was sat there minding my own business (letting the louder family members take over) when one of them mentioned something about Copenhagen and I pepped up and said I was actually thinking about going on a solo trip there and wanted to ask what they thought of it etc. When out of the blue my aunt pipes up and goes “SOLO TRIP? WHY? DO YOU NOT HAVE ANY FRIENDS?” So loudly everyone turned to look at me.

I held it together but I’ve literally been crying since I left at 3 and not because I was completely humiliated but because I’ve been thinking about it constantly for the past few months and the stark harshness of her words have truly upset me beyond describable words.

It’s true. I don’t have a lot of friends. I have 3 or 4 friends in general but none I would term “close friends” and I’ve not had a “best friend” since I was 7. It’s not because I’m not sociable, I love interacting with people (I couldn’t do any of the jobs I’ve had/currently have if I didn’t like speaking to people), I can talk to anyone from any background and creed, but I struggle actually making and keeping friends because I was bullied from the age of 11 to 21 - and even beyond that if you include workplace bullying - so feel like I’m a hindrance, unwelcome, a spare part and always in the way. The thing is, even without the PTSD from being bullied for so many years I do prefer my own company. I’m happy at home and enjoy my own space possibly more than a lot of my peers (so much so the thought of Uni halls gave me anxiety attacks before I went to Uni that I found a flat by myself and worked two jobs to afford it because finance wasn’t enough in a ridiculously expensive city.) I’m incredibly independent and don’t need “chummed” anywhere to do anything. I go to the movies alone, take myself for lunch, shop, travel all completely autonomously. So when my aunt said that this afternoon it wasn’t the fact she exclaimed “SOLO TRIP” so loudly that everyone stopped talking that upset me - and truthfully it wasn’t even the humiliation of her screech of; “do you not have any friends” that garnered a smattering of subtle laughter that did either - it was the fact that she made something that I had taken as one of my biggest strengths away from me in 5 short seconds.

I was instantly reminded of all the times I cried myself to sleep as a teenager wondering why no one liked me, why I had to try twice as hard to fit in as everyone else and why I had to be the one that was the target for childish immature disdain for no other reason than existing. It triggered thoughts (from only last month) that I wasn’t “right” to be friends with and even closer ones from this week as to why I wasn’t invited along to something this weekend. It also triggered that feeling of “what’s wrong with me?” that I know a lot of people who have gone through childhood bullying carry with them and trying to pinpoint exactly what it is that I needed to “fix” about myself for people to want to be around me.

As much as my aunts words and reaction stung what probably hurt more was that my mother said nothing. She stayed silent. She didn’t even give me a reassuring “it’s ok, she’s a fucking idiot, I’ll talk to her later” glance. She sat there and pretended not to chuckle even though she knows what I’ve gone through in the past. She just wrote it off and brushed it under the carpet with ease and nonchalance. No doubt thinking her usual bullshit line; “you’re old enough to defend yourself, you don’t need me to do it - but watch how you retort and how you come across because everything you’ll come out with will piss me off and make me angry as no matter now gently you do it you always sound so defensive” as she usually does.

So seconds later while I sat uncomfortable and on edge - everyone now glaring at me like I was the first great white shark in captivity waiting with baited breath for my answer - I just shrugged and stated; “I do, but none of my friends have any money ergo no people to go on holidays with.” Now, while this is semi true (thank-you very much cost of living crisis, fuck you!) it isn’t the case for a few of my friends….they just don’t want to spend that much time with me and honestly, I get that because I would probably not want to spend that much time with them either (because, funnily enough, I like my own company.) And that’s before we even consider the fact that not everyone likes the same things. My idea of a holiday and my friends ideas of holidays differ wildly and that is perfectly ok. One friend likes Ibiza, nightclubs with very little clothing and sleeping all day partying all night. And that suits her. One actually likes travelling but solely stays in hostels, flies by the seat of her pants, always ends up with some medical injury or illness and doesn’t plan a single thing. Again that suits her. And one goes to the exact same location, exact same hotel, exact same two weeks of the year and would never think of leaving the resort to see anything other than the beach or the pool. And that, absolutely suits her. I like culture. I love a museum and attraction (think The Met in NY and The Colosseum in Rome). I love eating local food and seeing how things are made like wine, olive oil, chocolate that come from that country or region. I like taking a guided tour, I like talking to local people, I like asking for recommendations and experiencing the culture and history of wherever I am. That’s just me and I realise that might not suit everyone and not be the idea some people have as a holiday so I don’t ask people to go with me. What I guess my aunt finds so sad is that the person I usually go with that was the person who installed all of that travel intrigue in my was in fact my own mother - the one who stayed silent when this all came up, the one I’ve got a trip coming up with this coming week, the one who laughed as I was made feel small and didn’t defend me.

Overall, I do want friends that would travel with me - actually, I just want friends in general to be honest - but I can’t seem to make and retain friends who even really like me very much, let alone enough to take a trip with me. And I’ve always told myself I’m happier like that but now being so triggered, maybe not. I’ve always thought I’m independent because I find it easier, I don’t need anyone else, The only person I have is myself, I have to rely on me and me alone and I always thought the lack of dependency was something I should be grateful for.

But today has made me realise that being alone and flying solo, is now something to hurt someone with and independence can be used as a weapon.

[twilightguardian]

Why do you keep posting stuff about Lilith? She blocked you meaning she doesn't want you interacting with her nor her content, yet you still go to her posts with an alt account or something and post about that

Maybe just not? If you have an issue with the stuff she says about Celtic you can call those out alone without writing threads trying to debunk her criticism

Even if you think what she's doing is wrong you're still in the wrong too for stalking her

I just had a tab on her blog open from before she blocked me. Even if you've blocked someone those tabs still work, and it takes nothing to view someone's blog while logged off. Even then, other people post what she says and I can view them even without directly going to that tab I have open. Having a tab open on her also isn't anything special, because I have hundreds of them.

Lilith didn't block me for any legitimate reasons other than she doesn't like hearing criticism or the idea that she could be wrong. She blocked me because she didn't like the fact that I explained that her dialogue in Glints Saga was clunky. I knew she had a writing group she went to at the time, having reasonable fears about her writing, and she said no one in the writing group saw any faults with her work. So I suggested she get a better writing group and pointed out something I happened to see while scrolling through her work.

She replied to me once, and when I replied back, she blocked me, then started talking about me in the way she currently does now. Her blocking me has nothing to do with not wanting to be "stalked" or to face backlash. She wants to play victim and then keep being an asshole herself.

Like I said multiple times in my responses to her work: I have no doubt that she doesn't give a genuine shit about what I have to say unless it fits her narrative that I'm a bad person. She cherry-picks hyperbolic language and calls me a stalker and a bully myself and whatever.

But I was polite and cordial to her when she blocked me, so that literally does not matter. She does this on purpose. Just like she complains about Fixing RWBY by lying about it.

The reason why her criticisms of Fixing RWBY aren't valid and are more akin to bullying is because she actively accuses Raymond and his team of heinous shit. That's something that I won't tolerate because there is no reason to suggest someone is racist, sexist or homophobic or claim them to be an alt-righter for their fanfic.

There is no reason for her to twist her language and lie about Fixing RWBY, to focus so much on the male characters herself, ignoring what the project does with the main cast while only talking about the male characters. She does what she claims Raymond does: Ignores the female cast and focuses all her attention on the male cast. And when there's evidence to the contrary, she ignores it or finds an excuse to make her criticism still valid: Like the disgusting way she talks about Neo.

I address Lilith's points directly because she is actively being malicious to my friends. I don't care if I am not the most polite to her, if I say something slightly insensitive her way. It does not matter. She'll find a way to make herself a victim. Because that's what manipulative bullies do.

There is plenty out there to criticize about Fixing RWBY. Some people have come to me with those valid criticisms. Just because I ultimately don't agree with them doesn't mean they aren't valid. I've even pointed out the one time I thought she had a point. Of course that gets ignored. Because she doesn't care, and the valid point was probably accidental in her attempt to say the nastiest shit she could think of about the project.

I want to point out this specifically in that you're saying "if you want to talk about the things she says, don't talk about the things she says".

Maybe you meant to word that differently, but it's a pretty stupid statement. By definition, if I want to call her out, then I have to debunk her. I've already called her out along with the rest of the shitty ass fandom in my initial long post, where I give evidence to why I think Lilith is dishonest and a bully, and how she is just a nasty piece of work and how that colours her perception of Fixing RWBY and Raymond.

By the way, she obviously goes onto my blog too, despite having blocked me, so this is a game to her.

[ickmick]

ashes in my way

ao3 link twitter link

character/pairing:

jon/The Archivist centric oneshot; implied martin and jonmartin, but neither are directly mentioned.

major tags/warnings:

(see more/in depth detail on ao3 endnotes)

angst , hurt no comfort , implied suicide / death , dehumanization , fear , manipulation

summary:

jon is loath to be acknowledged as he is currently. and yet, he can't stop his descent as he thinks it over. how unfortunate, that he is only a vessel. OR author's first take on an introspective angst scenario, where jon becomes The Archivist. sort of like an 'instead of a coma...' but not really at all, either. take it as you will, i just went at it until i liked it.

yeah... remember this nice drawing? well my first tma fic is the complete opposite of light hearted, rip. heed the tags, i beg of you.

jon feels… he feels like shit. the words won't come easy, even as he tries to sort it out in his head. to determine why he feels this way- what he even feels.

he tells himself to be less dramatic; to stop being selfish. if anything, he's the lucky one in this situation. he's loved, and cared for earnestly despite how utterly unworthy and pointless he is.

i don't know what i'm supposed to say, he'd confessed quietly, brows furrowed, what do you want me to say? it had practically been a plea, a begging cry hidden behind his solemn expression and tone. they hadn't answered.

it's so unbelievably cold, alone as always in his silent flat.

sometimes he pictures them here, by his side. he'd rather enjoy that, he knows it for a fact, as he's wanted so long to have an understanding companion. jon has always been starved for touch, abandoned.

his chest continues to ache, a dull throb that pulses in his ears and drowns out all coherent thought. crying is for people, a honeyed voice reminds him, people who haven't ruined everything. and he is neither of those things.

not even the duvet pulled up to his nose warms him.

part of him whispers in disbelief that hours ago he'd felt proud. he'd been happy today. all through the morning and even afternoon, he’d been productive, and filled with a feather light contentment that he hadn't held for a long time.

but there are no picture perfect days, not for The Archivist. no, it's a creature of grimaces, of secrets held close to it's chest for only itself to Know, of broken promises. it's the maker of all mistakes, past and present.

any and all delights belong to those who don't lurk in the shadows. it feels unfair, to see others practically float through life and make it to their goals. he Knows there's more to it, yet yearns for that kind of freedom blindly.

it's only right, he decides, i deserve to rot alone; i made this mess myself. each of these horrors are my own, and nobody can save me from them. jon doubts that anyone would want to to begin with.

he could See the answers, most times. whether those held weight or could be used in his favor varied. more often than not, recently, he'd fumbled them.

the ceiling is bland, as most are. cracked white texturing, with a faint water stain near one corner. his eyes scan it in the dark regardless, begging for something else to think of.

anything, he assures the ghosts in his withered heart, anything to forget even for a moment. it's his own fault, he knows that. but even so, he searches for just what he did wrong.

maybe it's the dragged out silences, the delayed responses. or maybe it's his incessant rambles, how he goes on and on about whatever holds his fancy at the moment. they used to think it was charming, endearing even as they indulged him.

for a while, he didn't notice how they'd started going quiet. how the nodding smiles and interested questions turned into droning hums and annoyed eyes. jon wishes he'd never noticed.

that would be too simple, too easy, though, even if they likely would've let it go on for months before confronting him. they still had that tendency. it's the coward's way out.

but that's what he was. a coward, forever skirting consequences or responsibility for fear of change. ignoring how that change occurs regardless.

he feels so stupid. playing the fool- and playing it well- jon has managed to convince them that he is worth their time, worth their love. feigning unawareness isn't the same as genuinely missing the point, they'd likely tell him if they found out.

it always felt aggressive, knowing them well enough after the years to understand that the casual comments were actually scathing irritation. he'd pull back, alarmed and confused despite knowing very well what he's done wrong. when did it become a crime, The Archivist grumbles, knowing it's role well after all this time, to lose interest in a project i didn't start?

you should know by now, it continues, undeservingly affronted, you should know i can't predict the future. i don't control when i move on, however much i try! softening, and offering a loving smile, it soothes, i promise i would if i could.

but it never was about the typical situation, he doesn't have to See to know that. it was the disinterest that came after, how he'd pick up the next thing and gleefully talk about it whilst stood in the silenced rubble of the last. spitting in the face of all their hard work, intentionally or not.

he wants to think it's all been entirely unintentional. that's how it goes, jon would shrug, offering a genuinely mournful look, sometimes it's impossible to keep motivation. you understand, don't you?

it's selfish of him, taking and taking while barely giving anything but scraps. it's possibly the closest thing he has to being human anymore. humans are typically selfish beings, aren't they?

his limbs feel heavy, as if he's sinking into the bed.

it's around dinner time, and his stomach gurgles, pulling him from his thoughts. he'd meant to get up and cook a while ago. likely something easy and quick, since he feels so dreadful.

the idea of warm food is a comfort, even if it is just toasted sandwiches. maybe he should get up now, so he can think more clearly. but the voice croons, eating is for people, for people who don't ruin all they touch. and he is neither of those things.

so he doesn't move, and lets the panic-spurring feeling envelope him.

The Archivist can faintly feel his eyes burn as it stares up unblinking at the ceiling faint slivers of light spilling through the blinds. it's Eyes replay the same dread filled scene, stomach dropping and twisting each time he registers the frustration in their words. it feels more visceral, like a fresh laceration stinging, each time.

the silence has become a deafening static, overtaking even the sounds of his heart and stomach. it's a gracious reminder that he is alone. completely and utterly abandoned, like the disease ridden mutt that he is.

it's only right, he thinks again, repeating the phrase like a twisted mantra. i deserve to rot alone, after all. it's just disappointing that they finally realized, and it rings true in his small, empty bedroom.

bed rotting, he recalls, is to spend countless hours in bed during the day voluntarily, typically to avoid stress. jon thinks it's a rather fitting description of his current activity. the sheets are soft, and if he were to roll over and finally let the dark take him, he just may find a brief happiness.

its unfortunate, then, that it's not nearly close enough to midnight. there's time yet to be productive, he swears, urging heavy eyelids to stay open. sure, i’ve worked all morning, but there's still time to prove my worth.

and how fleeting emotions can be. sometimes, it's a blessing; to shrug off inconveniences and turn to brighter things. other times, it's a despairing loss of those same bright things- of happiness.

he knows that if he were to get up, even just roll over, take his phone, he could distract himself online as usual. find a good documentary, or listen to an intriguing podcast while he works on some papers. christ, he thinks, hopeless, i'd settle for even a shitty youtube video to make myself laugh.

jon also knows it won't help him. temporary solutions are temporary for a reason, they don't fix anything long term. so then why could he never discover a permanent fix to his broken parts?

there are so many unsaid things eternally locked inside his chest; behind his ribs.

when was the last time his mouth felt so sticky, he briefly wonders. perhaps it always was this difficult to speak, this impossible to even open his jaws. his tongue sits heavy, unwilling to move even if he had the energy.

his voice is grating anyways, jon assumes, nevertheless longing for conversation. besides, reminds the voice so sweetly, they only want to talk to people, it digs it's claws into him, affectionate, people that don't ignore their anger for their own delusions. and he is neither of those things.

it's not as if there is a soul to speak with anyhow, not tonight.

sometimes, the worst solitude is the one that is self-enforced. a deep, aching dread settles in his chest the longer that his phone is silent. by now they should have called, or at least texted- but isn't it his turn to reach out?

it's nearly funny, in a borderline hysterical way that has The Archivist grinning up at the ceiling. all of it's many eyes are open, seeking through it's catalog of horrors. oh how this could've been worked on if only he'd just offered a real effort, a proper conversation.

it doesn't find room to care, though. there are so many other things it desires, things it values more than frail human connection. any Knowledge that could be garnered from this solution means nothing in its Archives, which feed off fear and pain anyhow.

the bleak ruminating of its vessel is far better than connections.

he desperately wishes he weren't so stubborn, that he'd make the first step for once. but jon, comes that wretched voice, louder than any other thought now, they want people around. people who don't cave to impulsive, foolish, temporary solutions like a coward.

and i, jon acknowledges as it's eyes- the real ones- shut with finality, am neither of those things.

it's only right then, after all, that jon doesn't wake again.

[gen-writes]

Writing and Self Doubt

unfortunately this post is gonna be a little bit of a downer, but i’ve been really struggling with my self image lately (honestly in all areas — physical, mental, creative) and i want to address this in case any of you guys are experiencing something similar.

i feel like writing is romanticized a lot of the time, and for the most part, it’s really not accurate. the hot mug of tea, classical music playing in the background, sitting at your desk in flickering candlelight with a notepad at your side. in reality, that vibe is only matched once in a blue moon for me. 99% of it is me hunched over my computer screen, dehydrated but too into my work to get up and get a drink of water, mumbling to myself like a madman, aaaand…only writing about two sentences an hour.

all jokes aside though, i’ve been stressing about my career path lately. i’ve still got time to figure it out, but i know for an absolute fact that i want to be a published author and it scares me that i can’t guarantee that it’ll happen. what if all of this time and energy and thought that’s going into my book ends up as a finished manuscript gathering dust on a shelf? or worse, what if i give up on it entirely? what if i start querying and never get an agent, or get an agent but never sell my book? what if i’m not good enough?

that’s my biggest writing fear: what if i’m not good enough, and what if i’ll never be good enough?

story time: i was looking through my manuscript today, excited to continue a scene i’ve been working on, but the second i looked at it, i felt like crying. i didn’t like anything i read over. it sounded childish and unprofessional, and immediately a thought popped into my head: “you actually thought this was good?” this story that i’ve spent years putting my heart and soul into just isn’t everything i’d dreamed it would be. sure, some days it is. but other days, it sounds like my writing from five years ago and i doubt that i’ve made any progress.

but here’s the point of all this: i know i want to be a writer. i know i want to be published. no, i can’t guarantee that i’ll make it in traditional publishing, but that’s always been and always will be my dream, so i can’t give up on it just because i feel down. basically, stick to the age-old “if you don’t try, you’ll never know.”

if you’re currently doubting your writing, let me tell you something: it isn’t perfect. neither is mine. honestly, i don’t believe in perfect writing, and i also don’t believe in labeling your work as “not good enough.” not good enough for who? yourself? a publishing agency? a reader? art is and always will be subjective, and sure, there are definitive rights and wrong and goods and bads to the craft, but there’s a mix of all of that in every piece of writing.

i can’t tell you if your writing is publishable, or even if it ever will be. the one thing i can say for certain, though, is that you’ll never get better without practice. that means letting go of the writing romanticization, sitting down with your laptop, and getting to work. it means being your harshest critic while also realizing that your writing doesn’t define your worth and is always improving.

this was more a message to myself than anything. i find it easier to take my own advice when i put it into words, so this was a mouthful lol but thanks for sticking around. keep writing and working hard besties <3