#here have a sleep-deprived travel poem

[two-bees-poetry]

the grief of growing

[bella-rose29]

Chapter 7 - The Demon

I'm back from my holiday and still mildly sleep deprived from the flight but here's the next chapter! This is the second to last chapter (not including an epilogue), and I hope you all enjoy this one! As always, if you want to be added to/ removed from the tag list please let me know, and requests are always welcome :)

We start off with Tamar's point of view for this one, then switch to the reader, which again has been marked by the --- (because I still don't know how best to show a change in perspective).

Warnings: gets a lil steamy at one point (but I can't write it for the life of me)

Word count: 3.1k

Series master list

Tag list: @kentucky-criedfricken, @hauntedenthusiasttragedy, @kateswone, @historianthesecond, @polli05927, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @simbaaas-stuff (sorry if I've missed anyone, let me know if I have!)

So far, everything was going swimmingly. 

Tamar couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy at just how easily this tour was going, but with only one night left she was hoping they would have an uneventful journey home the next day. 

Saints, she missed Nadia. Getting back home and showing her partner just how much she had been missed was high on Tamar’s list of things to do. 

Right now, however, she was frustrated with the server behind the counter at the inn. 

Apparently the King and Queen of Ravka would have to sleep in separate rooms tonight, due to the somewhat… conservative views of the owners, but looking over at the monarchs now, Tamar wasn’t sure how she’d ever be able to peel them apart. 

She also wasn’t sure what had changed, but the past week had seen a dramatic difference in the couples’ behaviour; both being far more touchy, never leaving each others' side, making out in the carriage rides (which was a pain in the ass to Tailor) and at night. 

On second thoughts, maybe it would be good for them to spend a night apart. 

Sighing and removing her hands from where they rested on the tops of her axes, Tamar accepted the keys from the inn owner, promising to separate the lovers with a grimace. She wasn’t looking forward to that at all. 

“Room keys,” she said to the travelling party, jangling the items in the air. Her twin immediately shot up, snatching a key and tearing up the stairs. He’d needed the toilet for 'the last three days’ apparently (his words, not Tamar’s), but had refused to just go pee in a bush (it was too undignified, apparently, as if Tamar hadn't seen him do some of the most undignified things in the world). Zoya took the next key, looking exhausted from all the travelling and like she very much needed her own bed. Tamar handed out keys to the remaining members of the group, then turned to Nikolai and Y/N. 

“Alright lovebirds. You’re gonna have to split up tonight.” At their pouts, Tamar couldn’t help but roll her eyes, a smile forming on her face as she recognised the look she had worn when told Nadia wasn’t coming with them. 

“Are you going to be okay, darling?”

“I’ll be fine, Kolya, it’s you I’m worried about.”

Saints, they were insufferable now. Tolya would be soaking this up if he were here, going on about how they were straight out of one of his beloved poems. 

After ten minutes and many more sentiments and kisses, Tamar managed to wrangle them into their respective rooms, with promises that yes, they would be allowed to sit next to each other at breakfast (that was Y/N asking) and no, she wasn’t asking them to get divorced and never see each other again (that was Nikolai, far more dramatic than his wife). 

She let out a breath as she leaned against her own door to the room she’d be sharing with Tolya, before entering and telling him to take first watch, and slipping into a light sleep. 

Two hours later she was woken by her brother, taking the next round of standing guard. Going to stand in the corridor and resting her back against the wall, she settled in as best she could for the next two hours. Something sharp jammed into her back and she whirled round, hand on her axe, only to realise it was a rogue nail sticking out the wall. 

I can’t wait to be back in the Palace, she thought. She was skittish, the lack of incidents making her paranoid and pushing her further towards the edge of insanity, so she took a deep breath to calm herself. 

For the next hour or so, Tamar maintained her stoic watch in the dimly lit corridor, standing so still anyone passing might have thought her a statue (one particularly drunk customer did as he passed on his way to his room, commenting on the strange decor of the inn). She was just thinking idly about things that needed doing the next morning when the handle to Nikolai’s room twisted. 

Immediately on high alert, her hands formed the motions she needed, but frowned when she only felt one steady heartbeat that she recognised as the King’s. The door opened, and Tamar held her breath as a figure shuffled out cautiously. 

Saints, can they really not leave each other alone?

Her thoughts were cut off when she realised that her king was on all fours, two dark shapes protruding out of his back. 

The demon was here. 

But why now? she thought, confusion lacing her expression again. And why isn’t it attacking?

The demon had never just… walked around like this before, and Tamar was torn between fetching Zoya and Tolya or just watching and waiting to see what would happen. Peering through the open door, Tamar was startled to find the bed stripped, the pillows and sheets on the floor. Nothing looked damaged (thankfully, she didn’t feel like compensating the owners for any damage), and her confusion only grew. 

It was moving again, having stopped briefly to stare up at her with voids of black shining out in place of the usual blue. It had put its nose in the air as it sniffed around for something and, seemingly finding what it had been looking for (smelling for?), Tamar tensed, hoping that it wasn’t hungry for Heartrender. She was surprised again when it turned to Y/N’s room instead and opened the door (and since when could it open doors?), going inside while still on all fours, wings trailing behind. The demon’s claws clacked on the wooden floorboards, and Tamar followed a few paces behind, still monitoring the situation. 

It shuffled closer to Y/N’s bed, pausing every few steps to check she was still sleeping and it hadn't woken her up, then reached up to pull back the cover from her face when it stopped next to the bed. 

“What are you doing?” Tamar muttered to herself, hands fluttering nervously at her sides, torn between her axes and her powers. The demon pulled the whole cover off, then with surprising gentleness lifted Y/N out of the bed. It paused again, reaching a few clawed fingers out to grab a hold of her duvet, then set off slowly in the direction of the door where Tamar was stood. She hurried out of the way, not wanting anything to trigger an attack on her or the Queen, and it paid her no attention as it trudged slowly back to Nikolai’s room. 

Tamar knocked lightly on Zoya and Tolya’s doors, hoping it would be enough to wake them up but not alert the demon. A few moments later a bleary-eyed General appeared, blue robe wrapped around her body and her hair mussed from sleep, clearly unimpressed. Tolya didn’t appear for another five minutes, finding the two women stood outside the King’s bedroom door, gaping at the scene in front of them. 

“Why did you have to wake me up?” Tolya grumbled quietly. “I was having an excellent dream wher-“ He didn’t get to finish since Tamar had slapped a hand over his mouth, the demon staring at them, teeth bared at the disturbance. He removed her hand, eyes wide. 

“What the…”

The demon was still growling slightly at them, a low rumble in its throat, when a murmur came from the pile of sheets in the middle of the floor. It snapped its head round to Y/N, noticing that she was waking up. She rubbed her eyes, and Tamar held her breath. 

"Wha-"

“Don’t move too much, alright?” She said to her Queen in a whisper. Y/N was sat in the weird pillow-and sheet-nest that the demon had made (and was now making little alterations to, pulling folds out to be just right), staring at the demon that had taken over her husband’s body. 

“What… Tamar? Zoya? What’s going on? Is he… is this normal?” She stiffened when the demon came back to her side and pushed her gently back into the pillows, then moved to lie down next to her, one arm circling her waist as it pulled her back against its chest. 

“This is… to be honest, we don’t know what’s going on. This has never happened before. Tolya and I will monitor from here for the rest of the night,” -at his disgruntled sound she elbowed him in the ribs- “and you won’t leave our sight.”

She nodded, eyes still wide in fear and surprise. Zoya offered a few words of comfort to her friend before going back to bed, and Tamar and her brother settled in for the rest of the night. 

---

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, bringing Y/N out of her slumber. At the feel of a warm body underneath her, she panicked, remembering the demon from the night before, but when her eyes opened to land on her very much demon-less husband, she let out a soft sigh of relief. Looking around at the room, she noticed that the twins had disappeared, having left a note next to the couple saying 'Gone to get people up and moving, back in 30'. 

Nikolai woke then, rubbing his eye with blackened fingers before groaning in slight pain at their position.

"Why, in the name of all the Saints, does my back hurt so much?" He croaked out, and Y/N couldn't help but giggle.

"Maybe because we're on the floor?" Nikolai's eyes went wide, his head whipping around to take a proper look at where they were, and then he seemed to register the fact that she was with him.

"Wait... did we have passionate and mind-blowing sex that was so good it gave me amnesia? Because that would be a tragedy and we might have to-"

"NO!" she shouted, using a nearby pillow to whack him in the face as her cheeks went red and her mind filled in the rest of his sentence. "Why does your mind always go there? No, you um... the demon got lonely and wanted a hug?" She didn't mean for it to end in a question, but she still wasn't entirely sure herself what had happened the night before. Her husband stared at her, blinking a few times. When he spoke his voice was smaller than she'd ever heard it before.

"Did I hurt you?" His hand had been reaching up to cup her face, but now Nikolai hesitated in anticipation. She gently took it and guided it to her cheek, leaning in to the warmth of his palm.

"No, Kolya, you didn't hurt me. I think it genuinely just got lonely or something. Made this weird nest thing on the floor, which on a side note, I'd love to get into to research the behaviours of- wait, why are you staring at me like that?" Her nose wrinkled as she took in his expression, then smoothed out when he leaned up to kiss her.

"You definitely can't be too traumatised from being accosted by my other half if you want to research its behaviours, darling. I'm just glad you're okay."

"I thought I was your other half? What, does our marriage mean nothing to you anymore?" she joked, pleased when he cracked a smile. She could get drunk on his smiles, the ones that were specifically for her; they were like the sun to her.

"Sorry, darling," he replied, and Saints, she'd said that she didn't like being called the pet name, but it was really doing things to her. She hadn't missed how Nikolai had continually called her 'darling' since that carriage ride, and she also hadn't missed how he'd responded when the bump in the road threw her on to him.

Just like how she now didn't miss his smile turning wolfish moments before he gripped her waist lightly and flipped her on her back. She squealed, which turned into a muffled moan when he pressed his lips and body against hers. Y/N was completely certain that everybody knew they were making out in the carriage rides and basically any other opportunity they got, but she couldn't bring herself to care when he felt like heaven.

Her arms circled around him, pulling him closer, and when he came up for air he asked "Is this alright, Y/N?" and she could have died right there at how gentle he was being.

"This is definitely alright, Nikolai." She brought him back in, and this time some of their restraint had slipped away, tongues deepening the kiss. One of his arms was propping him up and playing with a strand of her hair; the other was caressing her side, toying with the hem of her night shirt, his fingers grazing her bare skin underneath. Her own hands were exploring the expanse of his back (which she totally hadn't already memorised) and moving through his hair, and she'd lifted a leg to wrap around his waist. She moaned again when he moved the hand that was stroking her side to grip her thigh tightly instead, and when she arched her body up in response, hips pressing into his, they groaned into each other's skin at the contact, at feeling everything so closely. Nikolai had moved onto her neck, leaving kisses down it, occasionally nipping at the skin and testing her reactions, staying in one place for longer when he got one he liked. Her mind was a mess, what with his hands stroking her neck and thigh (the latter getting progressively higher as time went on), but did manage to think about how maybe they would be having mind-blowing sex. No sooner than she'd had that thought, however, was Nikolai pulling away, hair mussed from where her hands had been running through and pulling it, lips swollen and pupils blown. She was sure she looked the same, although he wasn't frowning at the lack of contact.

"Why... what..." she swallowed, trying to get her breath back and her thoughts in some sort of order.

"I don't think- I can't..." he paused, doing the same as her and taking deep breaths, and for a moment she panicked, thinking he didn't want this, didn't want her, but then when he spoke she didn't know why she'd worried in the first place.

"I refuse to let the first time I make love to you be on the floor of someone else's bedroom, Y/N, no matter how badly I want you right now."

Saints, this man.

She swallowed again, nodding slightly, then whined - what was she, a puppy? - when he started to get up and move away from her. At the sound Nikolai hesitated, then planted a final kiss on her lips as a promise that 'this will continue' before leaving to get changed. She watched him go, and when Genya inevitably asked when the party got back, Y/N would say that she was most definitely not staring at his ass as he left the room.

~~~

Breakfast passed quickly, and there was a flurry of activity as everybody packed things up for the final stretch of the journey, energy renewed at the knowledge that they'd be sleeping in their own beds tonight. Y/N had taken a little extra time to cool her face that morning, hoping the cold water would help reduce the swelling in her lips before coming downstairs. Tamar had come over in the food hall at one point, checking in on her and asking questions about the night before in a quiet voice.

"Seriously, Tamar, I'm fine. No marks or bruises. Like I said to Nik I'm pretty sure the demon was just feeling lonely, especially since Nik and I have spent the last week or so sharing a bed. Probably just wanted to make sure I was okay."

"That's... not what normally happens," she replied with a frown. "But if you're not hurt, then I guess it's alright."

Within the next ten minutes the touring party had packed up and were on the move, and now Y/N was sat opposite Nikolai in the carriage, knees knocking with his. He was looking out the window, clearly lost in thought as he absentmindedly stroked his fingers over the back of her hand, his wedding ring cool against her warm skin.

"I'm glad it's you," she said. He dragged himself out of his reverie, blinking a few times as he took in what she had said.

"What do you mean, darling?"

"I mean I'm glad that it was you I had to marry."

"I'm glad too, Y/N," he replied with a smile. "Unfortunately I can't take any credit for the decision-making process, although I definitely would have picked you," the last part was said with a wink and a grin as he looked her up and down, making Y/N's cheeks heat up, but she couldn't help but frown at what had come before.

"But I thought that you were the one that picked me to marry you?" she asked, confusion lacing her voice. "When I asked Zoya why I was the one that had to marry you, she just said that I'd 'been chosen'."

"I thought she'd told you? I let the Triumvirate pick, I trust their judgement and I was rather busy trying to convince everyone that the last thing we needed was a civil war and to let me be king."

Y/N was quiet for a minute, thinking.

"I think... I think she didn't tell me that you didn't have any part in it so that she could reduce my stress about the whole thing. It's fair, really; if I thought that you didn't want anything to do with me I probably would have run away or something."

"Good job she didn't, then. I quite like having you around. And as far as whether or not I would have picked you, I think I would. The people clearly love you, and you're going to be an excellent Queen to Ravka because of how much you clearly love them. Sure, court will be difficult, trying to get the nobles properly on side, but I know that you can do it, because you love Ravka and her people and you'll do what you need to to protect them."

"I... thank you, Nikolai. That... that means a lot to me," she swallowed down the lump in her throat at his sincerity.

"I think I've come up with a way to launch the garden project you were talking about, too. We can start making plans tomorrow, if you like?"

"That would be perfect, Kolya."

He smiled back at her, hand still holding hers.

Hope had bloomed in her chest, and she let it grow. There wasn't much that could make this day much better than being here with him, and nothing could bring her mood down now.

Until the window shattered as an arrow shot through it, narrowly missing Nikolai's head.

Chapter 8

[slickshoesareyoucrazy]

A Shitty Poem

No one slept.

Not even a few minutes.

No you can't check in early.

In fact there's not even a place to sit down. Go on out into a city you don't know with jet lag after being up for 30 straight hours.

That corner smells like urine.

I've been in this same city back home.

Just because you can charge that much for a shitty breakfast for desperate, sleep-deprived people doesn't mean you should.

At the next stop, he was mad at me for not operating the washer-dryer combo model correctly without any instructions. He was mostly angry because I didn't pack for everyone this trip so he was going to run out of underwear and he'd have to carry damp laundry on the plane to the next next stop.

Oh good. Another airplane. Smaller than the last two.

I'm usually walking at the back. Sometimes the boy looks back for me, but the man never does. Sometimes I feel like I'm not even here. I'm invisible. Maybe they wish I was.

When we got to the place we were staying the longest, I cried. Neither of them noticed. I guess to be fair I wasn't loud and immediately in their faces. But I'm fucking tired of needing to be loud and in people's faces for them to notice that I'm not invisible.

If you can't cry when you need to, you're not free.

If you cry and no one notices or cares, it hurts pretty badly.

On day 2 it rained and they were so far ahead of me that when I fell down, not only did they not catch me, they didn't notice, they didn't help me up. I learned without doubt then that despite outward appearances to other people and a lot of self delusion, I'm still alone.

There's broken glass literally everywhere in this city. Not a stray piece here and there; big piles of it all over. Multiple broken bottles on the stairs of one of the most famous churches in the world.

I've been to a lot of big cities in 5 (arguably 8) countries now, and this is the only place I've seen violence and loud anger directed at strangers. They might be known for art and fashion and food but I guess no one ever said they were kind. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised. I am though. That one guy just threw a couple of stangers' bikes out into the street and no one stopped him or even said anything about it.

I'm having pain in the center of my chest. It's not cardiac. I know this. So he says it's nothing to worry about. I think he's worried but we're still 3 days from home and most of the frustration he shows seems like it's at me for complaining about anything at all.

We got to the train station 4 hours before the departure. There's no security to go through. When we finally got to board the train, my seat didn't exist. Hilarious.

Not even a hint at a subtle metaphor for me not mattering, maybe not even existing.

If I'm not real then you're not real. Strawberry fields. Nothing is real.

I can't wait to be home. At least my dog thinks I'm real. I think. Maybe he forgot me because we've been gone so long. Maybe I wouldn't even blame him.

I'm so excited for you!!!! all of them said before I left. I never felt the excitement. I still don't feel it. Traveling isn't for me clearly.

The three of us are sitting here on our individual phones ignoring each other on this wretched train that sold us a non-existent seat and then had the audacity to check our tickets again after we were 30 minutes into the journey.

Fuck them. Fuck all of this. I just want to be home where at least my fucking phone works all the time even if I'm still alone and invisible.

[bug-decal-kissing]

Hey friends!

A new work, Grating by ineedlemonade, was published today, with 1/1 Chapters released! It has a rating of Mature and Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, with additional tags "Short & Sweet, Violent Thoughts, Caretaking, Denial of Feelings, Feelings, Introspection, Dialogue Light, Old Age, Light Angst, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Not Beta Read, Dehumanization, Unresolved Tension, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, Hair Brushing, Past Neglect"

You can read it here:

OLD MAN PRISMO CONTENT LET'S GO !!! I love the contrast of Scarab treating Old Man Prismo so tenderly and then turning around and immediately yelling at Prismo, like my sweet beetle boy what are you dOINg/j/lh.

A new work, Nostalgia by demoncreek, was published today, with 1/1 Chapters released! It has a rating of General Audiences and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Gift Giving, Emotions, Confusion, how do i even tag this lmao, basically scarab doesn't know how feelings workand prismo does, Feelings, Feels, someone help me tag this hkjdfshvbkjsdf, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, i guess? kinda???, Nostalgia, Author Is Sleep Deprived, i wrote this in like a couple different sessions so it's very patchy"

You can read it here:

Scarab having no idea how emotions work is so true and canon. I love it. I love his little diary, and the fact that he writes with his claws is genius :]. This one is so good, I love it so much !!!

A new work, Prohibited Wish Highschool AU, by Mitch_D_Punk, was published today, with 1/11 Chapters released! It has a rating of Teen And Up Audiences and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Robotics"

You can read it here:

I am EXCITED for this one !!! Let them make their little robots and develop a strong and beautiful friendship >:]<. Prismo being nervous about no one showing up for the club and Scarab just being like '??? i said i would be there idiot' is so funny to me. Anxiety and autism for real for real/j.

Seraphyllic, by DrakianDH, was updated today, with 9/15 Chapters released! It has a rating of Teen And Up Audiences and Graphic Depictions Of Violence, and Major Character Death, with additional tags "scarab the god auditor - Freeform, prismo the wishmaster - Freeform, Priscrab, ProhibitedWish, Scrabby, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, no beta we get turned to legos like the lich, Adventure & Romance, Story within a Story, Eventual Happy Ending, Maybe - Freeform, Author Is Sleep Deprived, The Author Regrets Nothing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, You gotta work for the comfort, begining poem important, each chapter a word, prepare"

You can read it here:

PRISMO IS JUST GENUINELY CONCERNED FOR SCARAB AND SCARAB DOESN'T UNDERSTAND; THIS IS GOING TO CAUSE ME EMOTIONAL AGONY FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE/j. He is so confused and expecting to get in trouble but king. This is Prismo you're talking to he does NOT care and I LOVE IT <3.

Whim of Wind took me South, by Thehyperfixationking, was updated today, with 4/? Chapters released! It is Not Rated and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Attempted Murder, very unsuccessful attempted murder, Eventual Romance, Alternate Universe, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, Hurt/Comfort, Multiverse Travel, no beta we die like old man prismo, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, no rating yet cause the whole story isn't written may change, Enemies to Lovers, Farmworld (Adventure Time), Finn Mertens - Freeform, Jay Mertens - Freeform, Jake (Adventure Time) - Freeform, but like Farmworld Jake, Unique Weapons choice"

You can read it here:

Please let Solstice rest even though he was just asleep, the man is so eepy :[/lh. Scarab is so boyfailure in this work I love it. Keep the bar on the floor king <3/j. I also like see the parallels to the show, with Farmworld popping up and (possibly) the winter kingdom next :].

NSFW works are below the cut :].

A new work, Golden Touch by Anonymous, was published today, with 1/1 Chapters released! It has a rating of Explicit and No Archive Warnings Apply, with additional tags "Alternate Universe - Pirate, Breathplay, gold - Freeform, Worship, Under-negotiated Kink, corsets, Feelings, the mortifying ordeal of being seen"

You can read it here:

MORE PIRATE AU :]!! My emotions about this AU are very conflicted; on one hand PIRATES on the other hand I WANT TO VIOLENCE PIRATE PRISMO A LITTLE BIT/lh. Although seeing him be like 'the gold is good but so are yo u' and then Scarab rebooting a little bit at that was funny >:]/pos.

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

CW: Existential crisis, mentions of children doing VERY age-inappropriate things, venting, becoming radicalized by the state of the world, and so on and so forth

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

(unfortunately this isn’t a work of fiction; nor is it a poem. It’s just… ick ick and more ick. The world is ick. Or maybe I’m just sleep-deprived. I’m fine by the way. Just very pissed off.)

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY EXISTENTIAL ISSUES RELATING TO CHILDREN

Watched some videos about Gen Alpha… Apparently the defiance and aggression I’ve seen in children in the classroom environment is widespread and not limited to the special education program?! I just chalked it up to being symptoms of disability… which definitely accounts for a lot of the behavior… but from all the information I’ve taken in so far; much of it is a symptom of impending societal collapse.

Here’s what I mean by that:

It is expected for a kid with ADHD and a mood disorder to be emotionally dysfunctional, and occasionally have outbursts in which they throw objects and hit people. It is also expected that this child will be defiant at times by refusing to complete tasks necessary for education.

It is not typical, however, for said child to 1.) make blatantly-sexual moaning sounds as a joke, 2.) know that this act is called “moaning” (without quite understanding the severity of what they’re doing), and 3.) repeatedly call an adult a “pussy-ass bitch�� and tell them “suck my dick” for asking them to Stop Doing That.

I definitely agree with teaching kids to question and defy authority when it conflicts with their morals; but some of these kids do not listen to anyone at all in the most basic and harmless of circumstances… to the point where, on one occasion, I’ve had to — after exhausting about ten other nicer methods — threaten to press the “push to call button” with a very stern ten-second countdown to get two kids to leave the sensory room to go to lunch and outdoor recess. Mind you, these were kids who earned a break in there for fun; they were not in there to lessen sensory pain. I love them, but good grief! I hate having to do that. What is going on with them at home; you know? I genuinely fear that some of them are going to end up in prison later in life. I purposefully didn’t go into everything I’ve seen and experienced for reasons of common human decency; but I can tell you, much of it is deeply, profoundly disturbing and horrifying.

Furthermore, many children get to go home, and play computer games for hours on end. I know they do because they’re infuriated when it’s time to put the chromebooks away. So far I’ve noticed the most continually hostile, defiant, and off-task students are the ones who constantly speak of engaging with digital media, or owning devices which play digital media. It has to be withdrawal. We all get it too. But the difference between myself and a little kid is that I wasn’t raised on mobile devices; I was raised on sketchbooks, clay, story time, and good old-fashioned adult-level cult propaganda (which, to be fair, did its own special type of damage). As far as digital media goes: I had access to two old tube TVs and a Dell laptop. These never left the house. When I turned eight, we got iPads which only led the house for use as Bibles and Watchtowers; or to travel on vacation with us. In that instance, they always remained in the hotel room.

Generation Alpha, on the other hand, were born with iPads and smartphones already in existence; these leave the house all the time SPECIFICALLY for the purpose of entertaining the kids — and in some cases, infants — while their parents remain engaged in other activities. It’s natural for adults to need to hold their children at arm’s length sometimes (“Go outside and play!”); but the methods being used nowadays are damaging to the young mind in ways science hasn’t even figured out yet. CoCoMelon, for instance has been shown to hinder proper mental growth in children due to the frequency of cuts in the film; no camera angle lasts longer than five seconds(?) I believe that’s what I read… fact check for yourselves. CoCoMelon is not the only offender, however; everything is more fast-paced than it was ten years ago, even adult media like action movies and sci-fi shows. Ive noticed a continual, monotonous use of things which used to be considered special events in film: quick cuts, shaky cam, lens flares, CGI, pyrotechnics, and so forth. All the exciting things in the world, likewise, have become a sort of interesting background noise, often used to help focus on other, concurrently-running types of background noise.

Anyway, I’ve heard the teachers say that the two classes I’ve helped out with are completely different than anything they’ve experienced. That didn’t mean much to me; because these are the only two classes of children I’ve ever really interacted with professionally; and this year’s are ten times easier than last year’s, despite the same remarks being made about them. I have no frame of reference for a “normal” SPED classroom other than my own years of schooling; and I was homeschooled when I was the age of these kids… so that also means nothing. Only now have I found out why I thought, for almost a full year, I’m such a failure at my job:

I’m not a failure; I’ve actually been doing a great job for what little experience I have. There is a global, systemic failure in all fields which affects everyone; because the world is caving in on itself.

I’m scared for these kids, man. What use is there in preparing them to be adults if there isn’t going to be a world for them to grow up in? Winter isn’t winter anymore, summer is hell on earth, and spring and summer are merely extensions of not-winter and hell on earth. Pregnant mothers are drinking microplastics to share with their fetuses. Children in other areas of the world are toiling away in factories to produce plastic for the consumption of first-world countries so that their children can focus in class with one-dollar fidget spinners purchased from motherfucking Temu, while their impoverished and overworked parents’ data gets sold to companies behind their backs, for God — if it exists — only knows what reason.

The worst part is, it may become impossible for a great deal of the up-and-coming population to focus or care long enough to brainstorm solutions to the problems which imminently affect them because unimportant things are more interesting.

We’ve gotta do something. Reading programs… maybe I’ll go up to the library and ask to start a kids’ club or something… I don’t know. The problem with that is it’ll probably only reach the ones whose parents already recognize their kids need to do things with their hands and brains other than hold a gaming console and won’t reach the ones most affected by the horrible world climate; because why take them to the library when they have one in the palm of their hand? But it’s a start, I guess. Hmngh. slee🅱️y

[cherryblossomsno1fan]

bsd characters except it's conversations/things me and my friends have said

Dazai: everybody attack Atsushi he's suppressing his emotions again

Junichiro: I mean?? same?? but yeah let's focus on Atsushi

---

Atsushi: Akutagawa is threatening me send help

Dazai: I mean what else is new-

Kunikida, from a distance: yeah not surprising

---

Yosano: shakespeare was bi, yes, but the bi was short for bitch.

---

Akutagawa, running in a hallway: aye you can't get rid of shit.

Atsushi, following him: it's me, I'm shit.

---

Ranpo: I just choked on ramen and felt it in my nose.

---

Dazai to Elise: why do you laugh like a child- oh wait.

---

Kenji: does british count as a language?

---

Kunikida: no one likes mushrooms until like college but they're really good.

Atsushi: I like mushrooms

Kunikida: so we do have someone with taste in this agency

---

Dazai: AYO. OK BUT THAT WASN'T GAY.

Chuuya: yeah, it's not gay if you didn't see it

---

Gin: bruh the trump stans are taking it too far

---

Q: CRYPTIDS ARE ABOVE GENDER!!! MOTHMAN IS NONBINARY!!

---

Kyouka to Atsushi: I'm going to be honest with you right now I have no idea what the fuck it is that we're supposed to be doing but like hell I'm going to admit that

---

Fyodor: I wanna be Russia's big daddy

---

Q: I'll just pour apple juice in a shot glass and pretend it's tequila

---

Mori: children die everywhere!

---

Kouyou: there was this girl with a really hot voice but then she started talking about christianity so i just left.

---

Atsushi: she also said that I looked gay

Akutagawa: I mean

Akutagawa: she's right

---

Kyouka: I'm just gonna chill with my lego baby yoda and pretend i never saw that

---

Dazai: I have a ball of aluminium foil I might just choke myself on it

---

Chuuya about to use corruption: you've shawtied your last shawty bitch

---

Ranpo: *to the tune of money by abba* honey honey honey, where the fuck are you

---

Dazai: no. I am a vacuum.

Chuuya, in the distance: that's why you suck

Dazai: yeah well at least I don't swallow, whore

---

Hawthorne: God is shining through my window.

---

When the ADA watched the dragon prince

Kunikida: why are there so many same-sex couples on this show?

Ranpo: because gay people exist, Kunikida.

Yosano: yeah, don't be a bitch Kunikida.

---

Kouyou, drunk off her ass: fuck anxiety, be gay for women

---

Atsushi, with the voice of an excited child: iT'S A SQUIRREL AGAIN

---

Atsushi: I can see my hair and I look like a lesbian

---

Dazai: I knew you weren't straight since you were 2

Akutagawa: how?

Dazai: you were always a fucking fruit.

---

Elise: my cat is more gender neutral

Q: I kin that cat

---

Nikolai: PACK THE CHICKENS AND UNFASTEN THE SEATS WE RIDE FREE OF THE EXTRA WEIGHT THAT IS OUR HUMANITY AND WE CROSS THE SEVEN OCEAND AND THE 2 SEAS AT DAWN. DONR LET ANYTHING HOLD YOU BACK. THIS IS YOUR MOMENT TO RIOT. MY FRIENDS.MY COLUMNISTS. MY COMRADES. MY RUSSIANS.WE.LEAVE.NOW. OUR TIME IS HERE

---

Atsushi: HOW DID I NOT KNOW I LIKED HIM

Atsushi: LIKE HOW DID EVERYONE KNOW BEFORE ME

Dazai: bc you're a dumb gay bitch

Atsushi: fair point

---

Dazai: fuck short people and not in the good way

---

Kenji: you drenched in pool water dorito

---

Naomi: smirks in simp

---

Kunikida, talking to the agency: let's face it, we're all just stupid gays

---

Ranpo: why do you car turns into lighting mcqueen

Yosano, not even looking up: kachow mamas

---

Steinbeck: hi hello I just found Cthulu x reader smut

Francis: who tf is cahtukl

---

Chuuya texting Dazai: I HAT =W YOU

Dazai: you hat =w me ok bet

---

Dazai: gay (dogatoty)

Atsushi: DOGATOTY??

Ranpo: dogatoty

Yosano: dogatoty

Dazai: NO

---

Dazai: hc that bald kurapika is a time traveler

---

Fukuzawa: what happened in this damn nightmare of a chat

---

Chuuya: Fyodor is definitely homophobic

Dazai: we should all be gay for a day then

Chuuya's closeted ass: yeah,,, haha

---

Dazai: "trickshot!" i say as i throw the (closed) lunch container. it in fact was not a trick shot because instead of going in the trashcan it hit my friends arm and exploded everywhere.

---

Ranpo: who's my sweet little pigchapm

Ranpo: pig-

Yosano: PIG

Ranpo: MY MISSPELLING DID THAT TO MY SWEET LITTLE PIGCHAMP

Ranpo: MY SLEEP DEPRIVED ASS KEEPS RYLING PIGCHAMO

Ranpo: PIG CHAMO

Ranpo: PIGCHAMP

Yosano: YOU ARE PIG CHANP.

Yosano: CHAMP*

Ranpo: CHAMI

Yosano: pig-chan

Ranpo: NO

Ranpo: yknow what fuck it

Ranpo: "oh pig chan thou eyes shine bright like the mid summer moon and thy thighs are as fat as they come, now make love to me under the moonlight , this holy night before the sun arises and you have to depart for the future" whispered Shakespeare in pig-chans ear

Yosano: I 'OEHHELAHEPP

---

Dazai texting the gc at ass in the morning: LOOK YOU KNOW WHAT I KNOW FOR A FACT SHAKESPEARE WOULD USE THE WORD STAN AND THE WORD PUFFERS

Dazai: POGEERS*

Dazai: PEGGERS

Chuuya: PUFFERS

Dazai: POGGERS

Dazai: DAMN IT

Chuuya: shakespeare is my pogchamp

Dazai: PLS

Dazai: "snakspeare is me pogchamo umye lads

Chuuya: what if i pegged shakespeare

Dazai: jail

Dazai: horny jail

Chuuya: #brocken

Dazai: "ah yes shakesapee rhat beard is so hot" moans

Chuuya: write me a poem bitch

Dazai: "talk victorian english to me " moans harder

Ango who supervises the group chat and is the only adult awake: I hate it here.

[kny111]

by Janine Francois

What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore…” asks Langston Hughes in the haunting lines of his poem, “Harlem.” Written nearly 70 years ago, Hughes’ words remain just as relevant as ever.

“Harlem” is typically read as referring to Black aspirations—the crushing of dreams, and particularly, the promise of racial equality by American society at large. However, his words here may apply to literal Black dreams as well. A growing amount of research has found that Black Americans experience significantly less slow-wave sleep—the kind required for actual, rejuvenating rest—than white Americans. The lack of slow-wave sleep can cause serious mental and physical health issues, including premature death. This disparity, or “sleep gap,” has been the subject of numerous studies, some of which have found that Black Americans are five times more likely than white Americans to get less than six hours of sleep per night, are more likely than white Americans to feel sleepy during the day, and on average get an hour less sleep per night than white Americans.

There’s no scientific consensus on what, specifically, causes the sleep gap. As reported by The Atlantic in 2015, however, leading theories point to both experiences of discrimination and structural inequality—aspects of one’s environment that make one feel unsafe and insecure—as root causes. As Benjamin Reiss pointed out in the LA Times in 2017, Black Americans have lacked access to sufficient sleeping environments since slavery: “Aboard the ships of the transatlantic slave trade, African captives were made to sleep en masse in the hold, often while chained together. Once in the New World, enslaved people were usually still made to sleep in tight quarters, sometimes on the bare floor, and they struggled to snatch any sleep at all while chained together in the coffle. Slaveholders systematically disallowed privacy as they attempted round-the-clock surveillance, and enslaved women were especially susceptible at night to sexual assault from white men.”

Just as sleep deprivation was used as a means to control slaves, the modern-day sleep gap continues to weigh down many Black people, like me, today. I can feel it in me: It breaks my spirit, as I exist in between half-conscious states; never fully awake or asleep, never able to distinguish between the two. This may be the true power of racism—its force encompasses everything, seeping into our dreams at night and deflating our capacity to envision a better future. How can the radical Black imagination rebel against a system that so thoroughly seeks to destroy us? What would a future look like where we are liberated, reparations are paid, and we can finally rest?

Last year_,_ I attended an exhibition called Black Power Naps that begins to answer those questions_._ After debuting at Matadero Madrid Contemporary Art Center in Spain, where I saw it, the exhibition has since travelled to Performance Space New York, where it is on view through January, 2019. The ongoing project by Black Latinx artists Fannie Sosa (referred to as Sosa) and niv Acosta presents a series of interactive installations that invite Black visitors to lie, nap, relax, and play, providing “deliberate energetic repair,” as the artists put it, on the dime of white cultural institutions.

I and many other Black people are constantly aware of our Blackness in hyper-white environments, including art institutions. Elijah Anderson, a prominent ethnographer and Yale lecturer, describes us as “black interlopers” in his 2015 essay, “The White Space”: “When present in the white space, blacks reflexively note the proportion of whites to blacks...and... may adjust their comfort level accordingly; when judging a setting as too white, they can feel uneasy and consider it to be informally ‘off limits.’” As W. E. B. Du Bois suggests, we experience double consciousness, where we simultaneously become aware of both our Blackness, and the responses to it, in white spaces. The surveillance our bodies experience in art institutions—from being followed around in their gift shops to being watched by the gaze of their gallery attendants, and all amidst an undiverse collection of artworks and workforce—informs our feelings of exclusion. But perhaps Black Power Naps does something different: It is designed with Black people in mind, inverting a white art institution into a “Black space,” where the Black body is the center around which all the show’s installations conceptually orbit.

To enter Black Power Naps, you must take off your shoes. Removing one’s shoes is an act associated with sacred places—a symbolic gesture of leaving the world’s toxicity behind. Once inside the room, you see six “healing stations” before you, each “invented,” as the artists put it, to evoke different bodily sensations through physical contact. Each is adorned with silks, satins, and chiffons in delicate pastel hues to create a cozy cocoon of a room. The stations include the “Black Bean Bed,” a pool filled with uncooked black beans, designed to soothe someone experiencing a panic attack. If you lie in the pool, the beans swallow your body while cooling the skin, enveloping you in comfort. The “Air Swing,” meanwhile, is a swing surrounded by three silent fans intended to increase the amount of oxygen you breathe in and, effectively, improve sleep. And the “Atlantic Reconciliation Station” is a water bed intended to help descendants of enslaved people forcibly brought through the middle passage—or pushed off ships along the way—reconcile with the ocean by reminding them that, as the artists explain, the ocean is an “adoring entity that has always had our back.” Continue reading..

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite2021 Prompt #13 - Oneirophrenia

The Scions did not return to the Crystarium alone. Well, the bally whole world also had to get back from the outing to Scree and Amity, and the residents of the Crystarium were no different, but there was another rumor.

Something else stalked those returning to the Crystarium. Whispers of something on the edges, a shape at the corner of the eye, an errant rustle in the stillness. The two day's travel was condensed into a day of forced marching. With the Light returned and so many of the Crystarium outside its protective walls, the chance that irreparable damage could be done to its personnel was too much of a risk.

But whatever it was followed them, somehow, across the sea despite each ferry being checked and triple checked for both stragglers and unwanted hitchhikers.

Was it paranoia because the grand scheme went awry? Was it simply exhaustion from sleepless days imbuing and doing hard labor?

It wasn't a sin eater. Even Lightwardens, as intelligent as they may have been, could not resist the lure of so much living aether to sup. They would have been attacked while organizing for the lift back down or while on the shore waiting for the ferry.

Ghost was the word passed around. An old concept from before the Flood when there was enough darkness to half see apparitions in. It enjoyed a new heyday with the return of the Night, but a ghost in the brightness, that strange contradiction, was in a way perhaps even more unnerving. Everyone needed to rest. In the confines of the Crystarium, so guarded for a full century without a breach in the walls, rest would come easier.

At least, for those not burdened with the truth. For those that didn't have a bellglass in their heads, the sands dropping one by one. If they tarried too long, never mind a breach in the walls, the Lightwarden, or worse, would be born within those walls. The Flood would complete its ruin, and the Calamity that the Exarch and so many others had worked centuries to prevent would happen anyway.

So rather than rest, they poured themselves into research.

Without the coming and going of the night, the constant brightness made days feel like bells. How long had it been since she had gotten any shuteye? She looked at Thancred, resting his head on his chin, hands crossed but still holding onto a mothbitten scroll. The man was hardly an academic, but the skills had come back to him after some practice. Alphinaud by her side, splayed across the table, a priceless ancient tome for a pillow. Urianger had left to peruse the archive in the Ocular, how long ago? Was it a bell? Three bells? A day? Her tea had long gone cold and the biscuits were all eaten. She looked at the pile of books in their reshelve pile. They had raided half the Cabinet of Curiosity and Moren would undoubtedly throw a fit whenever he would next check up on him. The next day? What day was it. Y'shtola was aware of the feeling of needing to remember a bellglass. They were working against time... for what?

She shook her head to clear her thoughts as the gate to the forbidden section that she and the Scions had inhabited for at least a day. Perhaps three.

"Alisaie, is that you? Have you brought us poor trapped souls more tea?"

Silence.

Alisaie didn't have the patience to sit and scour tomes. She and Ryne were running over all of Nordvandt to look for solutions. Y'shtola tried to focus. Perhaps they could be back from the Inn at Journey's Head by now.

But Alisaie was not very good at being silent, especially when addressed. Nor did she usually carry something heavy enough to drag behind her. The scrape and clang of metal on metal steps made Y'shtola glance at the two men at the same table with her aethersight, not turning her head from the stairs. No they didn't seem to rouse despite the sound. Was she dreaming? Was this a dream?

The thoughts of the ghost returned to her. Didn't they say it looked like a knight? Didn't it whisper something? "Run.." "Where..." and "Stolen..." were the repeated sentiments, reportedly.

Y'shtola prepared for the worst. She raised the tome she had been reading from defensively and wished she had brought her staff down here.

As the figure came into view, her mind's eye was overwhelmed with brilliant light.

Y'shtola turned and threw an arm up in an attempt to shield from the light instinctively before remembering that her sight didn't work that way. She willed herself to shut off her aethersight and was shocked to see even then some Light leaking into her head.

It was certainly in the shape of a knight, she recognized the armor to be of Ishgardian make, not in a remote way similar to the armored knights of the First. It dragged behind a large block of steel that could maybe pass for a greatsword. This was the ghost all right. And Y'shtola put a few things together quickly, even as sleep deprived as she was.

"Why, you must be Fray."

"Shtola..."

Despite her present circumstances, she clicked her tongue in irritation, "You know better than to call me that," Even if this was a dream, she had standards. She lowered the book and placed it back on the table. Shtola, stolen, ah.

"Where..."

It occurred to her that there was something wrong. Fray was dressed in black armor, Xiao had told her. Not the gleaming white, dripping with astral aether here in front of her.

"Shtola... run..."

Y'shtola pinched herself. Definitely not dreaming here.

"Absolutely not. Besides where shall we run? Shall we run to the ends of Nordvandt and have you destroy the First from there? Shall we run back to the Source and wreak all sorts of ruin there? Jumpstart the next Calamity there and now? I think not."

"Where..."

For that, she had no response. The Warrior of Light was a bomb now. No different from the firekin that traversed Vylbrand, mayhap with but a little more self control. Y'shtola questioned for a moment how much control the bombs had to contain their explosions. Or was it all down to one errant slip?

"...Where is Xiao? Well, let's go bring you back to her, shall we?"

* * *

Her hand went numb. As if with the cold, but Fray's gauntlet wasn't cold. Jolts of fuzzy pain went up her arm like she had fallen asleep in an awkward pose and had compressed it under her body. She tried not to think about what her hand must look like.

As luck would have it, it was past clock midnight, meaning the rest of the Crystarium was largely asleep. Few people would see her escorting the ghost trailing and dripping with light aether to the Pendants. And even then, the Sorceress from Rak'tika aiding a ghost? Better her than them. She kept her aethersight on and gripped her mostly unfeeling hand harder to avoid looking back at what was a small sun in her mind's eye. The amount of aether cast strange shadows in the Musica Universalis.

The Manager of the Pendants of course was awake, but if he was surprised by the ghost that Y'shtola led by the hand, the Elf did not show it.

"You'll be headed to Mistress Longbao's room, I presume?"

Y'shtola nodded, now aware that her arm was completely numb to the elbow and somehow the numbness radiated to the small of her back. The manager went ahead to unlock the door and ushered the two, and the sword, in. Discretion was perhaps his greatest strength.

Xiao was in bed, seemingly slumbering, her expression troubled. Y'shtola, Ryne, and Alisaie had stripped her from her armor to her smallclothes and wiped the raw light aether from her body before doing another sealing of the Light and covering her with a blanket. The rags were burnt afterwards but Y'shtola remembered how stiff and brittle the cloth became. She wondered what was happening within the Warrior of Light.

"Shtola... Where..." The voice came from both Fray and Xiao simultaneously.

Letting go of Fray's gauntlet, Y'shtola kneeled by the bed and grasped Xiao's hand, entwining her fingers delicately and kissing the coarse, battleworn knuckles. Xiao did not squeeze back, but the troubled expression lessened. Her hand was still warm, warmer than Y'shtola's as usual, And if anything, the numbing that holding on to Fray's (or the thing that resembled Fray, Y'shtola there was none of the snide eloquence that Xiao had previously described) hand caused lessened.

Y'shtola still couldn't look at her directly with her aethersight, however. She was still far too bright, brimming with Light.

"Urianger found poetry in the Oculuar. Did you know they wrote poems and songs about us? The Warrior of Light and her Sweet? Apparently I die in your arms and you follow not long after. Very tragic. Very touching."

She placed her head on Xiao's chest, listening to her breathing, still deep, not shallow or pained. She didn't let go of Xiao's hand.

"Unfortunately I do not aim to be immortalized in sappy poetry anytime soon, so no dying in my arms, you hear?" Y'shtola said to Xiao's slumbering form.

She must have stayed there for quite a while, fingers locked with the other Miqo'te, for when she awoke again the specter of Fray had disappeared, whether it wandered off or returned to whence it came, she could not tell. Despite the awkward position in which she slept, she was refreshed, at least in the mind. Her back and knees were killing her.

Xiao also looked much more at peace, her brow was light and her mouth seemed curled in a slight smile. Y'shtola extracted her hand, all feeling returned, and left quietly. She needed more tea and biscuits and another tome to devour.

The bellglass in her head was righted and the sands began to slip once more.

[aellynera]

Frayed Wires (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

FRAYED WIRES (Nathan Bateman x Reader)

(so i decided i may turn the drunk texts thing into a series? i decided at least to do one with Nathan because...well...it’s Nathan. the poem he quotes is Ozymandias by Percy Bysshe Shelley, who was incidentally married to Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein (or: The Modern Prometheus) which is also kind of appropriate for Nathan and anyway i sat down today and this happened.)

Word Count: 2122(ish)

Summary: All you want to do is sleep. All Nathan wants to do is talk.

Warnings: Language, naturally.

(Nathan’s texts are in bold. Your texts are in bold and italic.)

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

You reached blindly for your phone as it rattled on the bedside table. You had no idea what time it was but you did know it was the middle of the night, your phone should not be going off, and you had gotten entirely too little sleep. Like, maybe two hours worth. You were so tired and groggy that you made the mistake of checking your messages before you actually even thought about what you were doing.

Do you ever think about the meaning of life?

I mean like really think about it.

Why we’re here, why the sky is green and the grass is blue?

No wait that’s not right.

You sighed and buried your face in the pillow. It was 3:27 in the morning and Nathan was texting you. Which was just odd anyway, since he knew where your room was and it was much more his style to just walk in and start a random conversation with you in person. 

He was probably drunk.

And now he could see that you had read the messages, so you were going to have to reply, or he really would show up at your door. Technically it was his door, it was his house, you just worked for him and stayed there, but the point was you were not in the mood to deal with him at all right now, and most decidedly not in the flesh.

You rolled your eyes before sending him a reply. You really should just ignore it, but...you were annoyed. Nathan was annoying. And it was now 3:30 in the morning and you were going to push a few buttons. Figuratively AND literally! your sleep-deprived brain cheered.

And things like why is water wet and air is invisible?

YES exactly see that’s why I want you.

I’m sorry?

Your brain. I want to pick you up. Your brain I mean. Pick your brain.

You just want me for my brain, huh?

You have a very nice brain.

Yep, Nathan was definitely drunk.

Not that him being drunk was anything out of the ordinary. But a few hours ago, when you were both in the lab testing some of his most recent ideas about the AI code, he had seemed...normal? Well, normal for Nathan anyway. He wasn’t irritated, he wasn’t condescending, he was actually (you honestly could not believe you were even thinking this) pleasant to be around.

You had been working for Nathan as his personal assistant for a few months. It was a promotion for sure over being a code slinger in a cubicle, but sometimes you honestly wondered what made you say yes to this bizarre existence. It was a beautiful house, beautiful scenery, interesting and highly intellectual conversations...when Nathan was sober.

There was also something you could never quite put your finger on. Something that was shifting as the weeks went on and you spent more time working alongside Nathan in the lab. As you spent evenings eating sushi and steaks and whatever else you were in the mood for that night (most nights, he actually let you choose the menu, you realized.) As you took afternoon walks around the estate, just taking in the scenery. As you debated various philosophies and ideas and theories and tried your damndest to prove Nathan wasn’t always right about everything. He almost seemed like he appreciated it all, but he would never say anything.

And you weren’t about to open that can of worms. Especially when he wasn’t sober.

How drunk are you right now?

On a scale of shitfaced to really fucking blitzed I would say I’m feeling no pain.

Jesus Christ. Well that was obvious. It was obvious just from the fact that he was texting you. Nathan was so uptight about security and data leaks and wiretapping and signals being hijacked (he’d admitted to doing it himself, so he did have a point) but had decided, after much insistence from you, that rigging the cell phones to only work inside the compound was an acceptable idea. It was so vast, you’d said, and what if something happened and one of you was all the way across the house or down in the lab, how were you supposed to let the other person know? It made sense at the time.

Now you were vaguely regretting it.

You could count on one hand the number of times you’d actually considered your boss to be pleasant to be around, and you still had your thumb left over just in case you needed to add to that tally.

At least personality wise. He was definitely pleasant to look at. Very pleasant.

You coughed and cleared your throat. That was not a line of thought to travel right now. The proper course of action was to get him to stop texting you.

A few minutes passed in glorious silence. Maybe a new, shiny thought had occurred to him and he was madly writing it down on a Post-It note. Maybe he just got bored and went to get a new drink. Maybe he’d finally just passed out and---

What are you thinking about?

Dammit. How to make you shut up, your brain snapped back. How to get you to let me sleep. How good your arms and shoulders look in that tank top after you’ve been hitting that punching back and you’re flushed and sweaty and…. Oh no. No no no. Stop it right now, brain.

Nathan hated to beat around the bush. Straightforward was the best policy with him, right?

How to get you to shut up and let me sleep.

Wonderful, glorious silence for exactly forty-six seconds.

Bro...that’s...so not cool.

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. Why were you participating in this? Why was he? You narrowed your eyes and looked toward a corner of your room. You hoped he could see you glaring into the camera that you knew was there and that he was watching while he was texting you. If not, you were sure he would watch it in the actual morning and you hoped the look was withering enough to make him think twice. Probably not. Because this was Nathan Bateman.

Your incredibly narcissistic, incredibly intelligent, incredibly attractive...stop it brain.

But he was pushing your buttons right back. Neither of you could ever really back away from an exchange like this..

I’m not your “bro”, Nathan. Please knock this shit off.

Dude, it’s a figure of speech.

I’m not your dude, either. Please just stop talking.

What’s wrong with dude. Dude is a gender neutral term, anyone can be a dude. Guys are dudes, chicks are dudes, dudes are dudes

Yeah, well, you’re kind of being an asshole, dude.

Dude. Chill.

Turning my phone off now.

No, wait, don’t. I’m sorry. I’ll stop.

Now that was...unexpected. Nathan Bateman just apologized to you? For being a drunk asshole in the middle of the night? Your eyes narrowed again. Suspicious.

You’ll stop texting me so I can go back to sleep?

No not that. I’ll stop calling you dude.

Oh for the love of...you closed your eyes and briefly considered the merits of hurling your phone at the surveillance camera.

Nathan, seriously, can we please just leave this until the morning?

A whole minute of wonderful, glorious, blessed silence this time. You couldn’t believe he might be considering this.

You were right.

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!

Nothing beside remains Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away

If a brain cramp was an actual thing, yours would most certainly be doing it now. You could barely even process it. He was drunk as hell and he was quoting poetry to you? You supposed you probably shouldn’t be entirely surprised, he’d quoted Oppenheimer once in a worse stupor (which you could only quantify because he had actually passed out that time.)

Are you fucking serious right now.

What.

Are you fucking quoting Ozymandias to me right now?

I am.

You couldn’t get the color of the sky right earlier, and now you’re just flawlessly quoting philosophical Romantic poetry at me?

I am.

You are not a normal person, Nathan Bateman.

What is normal anyway, besides really fucking boring? Who wants to be normal?

I would like to be somewhat normal, at least between the hours of midnight and 8am.

See, I knew there was a reason I liked you.

That was the second time he said that, you noted. You found it hard to believe. Nathan liked his work, his routine, his own brain. He liked talking about his work and how smart he was. Other than telling you that you were doing a great job, he barely handed out a single compliment, and if he somehow accidentally did, it was so backhanded you weren’t sure you could actually define it as one.

You mean you like my brain.

Well, yeah, your brain is fucking amazing. It has to be if you work with me.

I work for you, Nathan, not with you. But thanks?

No, no, see, that’s where you’re wrong. You work with me. We’re like partners. None of that employer employee bullshit.

Oooookay now I am one thousand percent sure you are completely piss drunk.

I am but that doesn’t make it any less true.

You could almost hear him saying those words in your head. You could see the way his eyebrows went up, the intensity in his eyes, the way he held his finger up to make the point.

The thought made your brain go slightly fuzzy, and not from exhaustion. Because now you were wide awake. Damn him.

Okay, Nathan, I’ll bite. What do I have to do to get you to stop doing this right now?

There was a pause before he answered, and you swore you’d heard a phone alert that wasn’t your own. It sounded like it was coming from...oh no, he wasn’t…

Getting tired of typing. Can I come talk to you for a while?

Are you outside my door right now?!

You heard the phone chime very clearly this time. He was, definitely.

I am.

You sighed, deeply. So deeply.

Is that really a good idea?

I think it’s a great idea.

Nathan, being serious here.

You could have sworn you heard him sigh from the other side of the door. He could have just come inside. It was his house, his keycard worked on all the doors.

But the door didn’t open.

So am I. Please can I come in? My mind just won’t shut off and I really am fucking drunk but talking to you is helping but tired of typing shit out, I’d rather say it to you.

I wanna see you. And tell you how sexy your brain is.

And that I like you for more than your brain.

And you knew in that instant there really was only one way to get him to shut up. And it was to just let him talk. It made sense, in an oddly Nathan kind of way. What’s the worst that could happen, really? He’d come in, you’d talk, he’d eventually pass out, maybe you could get a couple more hours of sleep, and then in the morning you’d either talk about it on a very deep cerebral level or you’d just pretend it had never happened at all. 

A press to the door release button on the side of the table and the latch let go. The door opened, revealing Nathan standing on the other side. Still wearing what he’d been wearing in the lab earlier that night, black lounge pants and that tight white henley he seemed to love so much. The corner of his mouth turned up in the most miniscule of smiles, but it was there.

You were about to toss your phone back onto the bedside table, when the text alert went off again. You shot an exasperated look in his direction, but gamely checked the message.

Did you mean what you said before? About biting?

You glanced up at Nathan and saw that the sliver of a smile had taken over most of his face and his eyebrows had raised to emphasize his question.

You didn’t say anything. You didn’t text him back. You just nodded your head to the empty spot next to you in your bed.

You had a feeling you weren’t going to get any sleep tonight after all.

~end~

taglist: @anetteaneta​ @rosemarysbaby13​ @darksideofclarke​ @girlwiththemostcake​ 

(taglist is open, let me know if you’d like to be tagged for future fics)

[wedreamedlove]

(Price of) Freedom [Bai Qi Character Study]

JP finished their run of Bai Qi's Mystery Wings event and after reading everything I haven't been the same— LOL much like how I was after his Spring Festival Date, so now I'm subjecting you all to a rambly think piece.

Disclaimer: I use CN and JP quotes, so they'll differ from the ENG version. Spoilers up to Chapter 19 + unreleased ENG cards.

FREEDOM, WHAT IS IT?

I don't think it's a secret now that Bai Qi had a harsh childhood. But, for the sake of my think piece and to refresh everyone's memories, I'll go through it again.

[Rumors and Secrets: Little Guardian] His dad rarely came home, especially after it was confirmed that Bai Qi didn't have any Evol powers. Heck, Bai Qi even heard his parents arguing through a door and saw instances of his mom crying because of his dad.

[Seize SSR: Sad Thoughts Call] Bai Qi reveals that his dad was extremely strict on him and his mom would cry silently in the back for him. The one time his dad smiled Bai Qi felt chills down his spine for the rest of the day.

[Campus Date] Bai Qi thinks about how his dad, and others, would probably be happy to see him die and so, out of sheer spite, he rejects that and decides to live for himself (and MC because she woke his Evol) and not for the recognition of others or the world.

[Main Story 12-18] Bai Qi's mom died in a fire, which is why he's traumatized, and this was another point for his dad to hammer in his uselessness. But Bai Qi re-affirms here that his existence itself is not a point of shame.

[Main Story 15-24] In order to protect MC, Bai Qi makes a deal with the devil (aka. his dad) and his dad says that undergoing the NW Plan has always been Bai Qi's fate, along with his younger brother. In [Rumors and Secrets: Little Guardian] Bai Qi's mother tries to justify to Bai Qi that his dad bears the burden of protecting the country, but you don't sacrifice your family like that and make weapons out of them... lol.

Okay, knowing Bai Qi's past now, I'm going to bring up my header question. Freedom, what is it and how does it relate to Bai Qi? In this case, I think a lot of what Bai Qi is trying to escape is the confinement of his father. "His joining of the special forces symbolizes the difference of his justice compared to his father" [CN Profile].

It's not a coincidence that Bai Qi gets these symbols:

WIND: Classic symbol of something that is utterly free and cannot be controlled. Bai Qi literally controls the wind.

SKY: He's always flying around in the sky. He's not using his power on the ground. He also has a lot of scenes where he's looking up at the sky and contemplating freedom.

WOLF: Putting aside the propaganda about them being monsters that hunt livestock, they're seen as symbols of freedom, instinct, and the wild world. Bai Qi is often described as a wolf [CN Profile + Main Story 19-6].

To further support this, there were two distinct Mystery Wings event entries that referred to the sky too, one with yearning and the other with melancholy:

AMBER

The amber was illuminated by the sun and the sight of its transparent waves concealed a gentleness in their coolness.

She suddenly thought this amber was exactly like those eyes.

It was something that happened in late autumn.

She was walking in the hallway in front of the upper grades’ classes when her eyes unconsciously stopped on a certain classroom.

Shabby curtains blew in the breeze and, amongst them, there was a young man standing by the window and staring at the sky.

His features weren’t sharp, but a glimpse of an indifference and air which prevented people from getting close to him could be seen.

Light and shadow shone in both eyes. Those pure and clear eyes reflected the sunlight and it was as if they were luring travelers to that deep sea at the last stop of oblivion.

Those eyes glimmered far more than this amber.

BAI QI'S PIERCING

The face of the young man in the mirror was indifferent and there was a bruise beside his mouth. His hair, damp from the rain, stuck to his forehead. A dark shadow fell over those amber-like eyes.

He didn't find it painful the first time he put on earrings.

Instead, he felt exhilarated like whenever he raised his fists.

Bai Qi wiped at the blood around the edge of his piercing with his hand. The blood mixed with the crimson color on the back of his hand until a distinction couldn’t be made.

Rain, which fell increasingly harder, pounded at the window as if it were giving praise to a meaningless hero.

He quietly leaned against a wall and looked up at the dark sky.

Just how long would this rain continue for?

I posit that that Bai Qi and freedom are intrinsically linked. It's something he needs and is the bedrock of his character, much like his unwavering sense of justice. Does he get it? Yes! Like I mentioned above, he joined the special forces to separate from his dad.

But also, and what's most important, is that he finds freedom in making MC his home, his flag, and his convictions. If you don't have a place to call home then you're not roaming the world in freedom, you're just lost in the world.

I also like how this can be linked back to his wolf symbolism, because wolves are pack animals. Yes, the lone wolf imagery is romantic but lone wolves travel to find a place to belong because they tend to die when they're alone. "The strength of the pack is the wolf, and the strength of the wolf is the pack."

In addition to being symbols of freedom, they're also charismatic symbols and social symbols. I feel like this also gets reflected by how inspiring Bai Qi is just from having an unwavering sense of justice. Han Ye and Gu Zheng's presence, and their respect for Bai Qi, reflect his charisma.

Admittedly, it's ironic that I love Bai Qi so much when one of my favorite poems, "For women who are 'difficult' to love" by Warsan Shire, has a line that goes "You can't make homes out of human beings". I'd understand if people who strongly agree with this sentiment don't find Bai Qi an interesting character, and that's a-okay!

But, and I can't stress this enough, we shouldn't deprive or devalue others of their life's choices if it's not actively harming others.

FREEDOM IS HER

For Bai Qi, MC represents his freedom because, without her, he wouldn't have a home to come back to and he'd be lost out in the world. Important things need to be reiterated.

[Endless Abyss SSR Beside You Call] Bai Qi returned from a mission but, instead of sleeping, the first thing he wants to do is go and pick up MC to send her to work.

[Brilliant Date] Bai Qi returns from a mission and, again, goes to see her immediately without returning home first because he made a promise.

[Loneliness SR Wind and Care Call] Bai Qi literally says "Because I have a place for my heart, I can fly anywhere."

Meanwhile, in one of the Mystery Wings event entries:

BAI QI'S BRACELET

Before Bai Qi went on a mission, he entrusted his own bracelet to her. She gripped his bracelet and prayed for his safety with a smile.

He looked at her and repeated the same words once, and then once more.

“Don’t worry. I’ll come back right away.”

Finishing his mission, he noticed he received calls and messages on his phone.

The city at dawn was still somewhat lonely.

He went to reply to the messages but, unlike before, he couldn’t find the words to say.

A night wind blew. Urged by that wind, he came to the window of her room as if possessed by something.

Illuminated by the faint moonlight, he could clearly see something shining in the corner of her eyes. Her brows were furrowed like she was having a nightmare.

His bracelet was firmly gripped in her hand.

Bai Qi recalled that fragile call history and messages and went to stand beside her. Then he gently wiped away the tears at her eyes with his hand.

“I’m sorry… I’m back.”

Look, I can't make it clearer that he goes to her because she's metaphorically his home. I'm also not going to repeat it here but if you look at my post about Bai Qi being in love, you'll see how much he focuses on MC in general because his being is attuned to her.

In a sense, Bai Qi is an extension of MC and it also supports how their sense of justice mirrors each other. Upholding good is engraved in their characters.

P-please, don't get me wrong, this doesn't mean he has no personality and has just built everything around her. He has hobbies on his own like basketball, tinkering with gadgets, growing succulents, treating injured animals, riding his motorbike, and astronomy.

Okay, the rest of this section is just going to be me gushing about the Mystery Wings event and the [Brilliant Date] that accompanies it because there was so much going on. First, let's tackle the date:

Ribbing about Bai Qi's naming sense and the play on words was lost in ENG. In CN the dove is called "Little White" which can be read "Little Bai", as in a small Bai Qi, because his name in CN has the character for white. This makes "Pearly" a literal symbol for Bai Qi, and they set the dove completely free at the end.

There's an exchange in this date where ENG goes "Does it mean I get your place?" and "I get your place. Now I give one back to you" but an interesting and cute thing here is that, in CN, the word he's using isn't as simple as just "giving". Bai Qi is specifically using a military word here that means "to occupy, intrude, or seize". He's such a nerd and it reflects his background LOL.

More on the above, because this uncommon verb is so interesting. It carries an aggressive connotation because it's implying military intrusion. The other person gives up all rights to their territory when you're occupying it. But Bai Qi gives the same rights to her for his room.

Freedom discussion and metaphors everywhere in this date, but when MC was talking about how all she needs is the wind and the sun (her monologue reveals that Bai Qi provides the wind and his presence beside her is her light) to feel freedom, Bai Qi never removes his eyes from her. He doesn't express his agreement or disagreement about what he thinks freedom is... he shows it with his actions of focusing his complete attention on her. She's his freedom!

Leaving the date now, I want to point out [Light Bath SSR: Tenderness Call] and how Bai Qi thinks he only shows his gentleness towards select people, for example his mother and MC. This is another mark of how he doesn't let anyone get close to him except for MC because he is her extension.

On that note, there is a reason I keep saying Bai Qi is MC's extension, but not that MC is his extension as well and that it's a two-way link. The reason I say this is, because, Bai Qi continues to need that freedom (MC) and yearns for that freedom (MC).

Below are four entries from the Mystery Wings event that showcase this longing for MC that Bai Qi experienced through high school, when his want for freedom was at its highest:

THE SECOND BUTTON

Life in high school came with romantic but illogical rumors. For example, things like if you confessed on the 7th step of the stairway in the corner of the 3rd floor then it’ll succeed, or if you carved your name and another person’s name on the 6th tree in the courtyard at the back then your misunderstandings will be resolved, of if a guy gave the girl he liked the second button of his uniform on graduation day then the two of them will end up happy together.

Generally, the guys acted as if they didn’t believe in these rumors, but they secretly held expectations inside their hearts.

But Bai Qi marked these all off as being stupid.

One day at lunch, a conversation between girls entered his ears.

“The rumors about the second button are romantic, aren’t they? Whoever gets one is sure to be happy~!”

There was a familiar voice mixed in amongst them. He glanced over abruptly and her face, full of yearning, leapt into his eyes.

“… Graduation, huh.”

He raised his head in thought. He suddenly couldn’t wait for graduation.

However, he didn’t give her the second button he tore off.

That button, together with a brisk air, was stored carefully inside a case.

PINK BANDAID

Bai Qi sat in the corner of the classroom. His lacked the spirit it had shown when he had been in the library.

He mussed his hair like he was at a complete loss and recalled how he had met her at the entrance of the library just now. Her startled and anxious expression floated into his mind.

“… Did I scare her again?”

After a while, Minor came bursting in.

"Bai Qi, Bai Qi!!!”

He waved the pink bandaid he was holding as if he was excited.

“This… Put this on!”

Bai Qi didn’t respond at all.

“She gave it!!”

Bai Qi startled when he heard those words and stared at the bandaid Minor was holding in a daze. The wound at his mouth stung. His fingers also prickled a little.

He carefully took that bandaid, treating it as if it was his world’s most precious treasure…

Later on, this pink bandaid was always taped on his heart and, every time he stepped into the swamp-like darkness of the night, it gave off a faint warmth.

GINGKO CHARM

After he learned about her identity, he went out personally to buy protection for her.

He desperately thought of a way to protect her.

Suddenly, when he saw a ginkgo leaf fall in front of him, a certain memory came back to his mind. The memory of that time when the wind blew and he was guided by the melody she played…

It was possible that, from that time on, they were bound tightly by a thread neither of them could see.

He decided to make her a ginkgo bracelet and made an effort to produce it day after day.

The small gold gingko leave brought trouble to him. The first three he made were all scratched and were a loss. On the fourth, he was finally able to make a perfect bracelet.

The sun had long hidden itself and the moon had appeared. Looking at the bracelet which shone faintly underneath the moonlight, he gave a satisfied smile.

He was sure she would like it.

PAST SCHOOL NEWSPAPER

There weren’t a lot of people who would seriously read something like the school newspaper. Notes were written on the underside of the paper’s surface, which wrote exaggeratedly about the awards of clubs and events within the school, and its fate was to be tossed into the garbage after being scribbled on all over.

Bai Qi also didn’t have much interest in the school newspaper.

On the rooftop, Minor bit into his bread and muttered as he stared at the school newspaper he happened to receive earlier.

“Honors student, huh… Bai Qi, you know, I also have good morals, I’m fit, my personality’s good, and my grades aren’t that bad. Maybe I can be the second honors student…”

Bai Qi didn’t respond and glanced over at the picture on the paper.

There, she was bashfully receiving an award on a stage with a happy smile.

“Honors student”… He digested those words in his heart and then stood up and headed towards the door.

“Bai Qi! Bai Qi! Are you going to a fight!? Please take me with you!”

“Class.”

“… Huh?”

I placed this newspaper one last because it also appeared last in the JP event and KOed me, but also reminded me of his [Love of My Life SSR] and how the CN version does not use plain "love" in the card's quote, and I go into more detail about this in my Bai Qi in Love post.

But, basically, the CN version uses a word that means "attachment or longing". It's a subtle difference because, yes, she is the love of his life but also his longing, desire, and aspiration. She keeps him in this world and is something he feels like he needs to strive towards.

I'm just going to bring up his 2019 birthday card, which ENG will be releasing this year, because there's this line that goes:

[CN Tide of Light SSR Chasing Dreams Date] "That year, I did want to give you that letter personally. But I gave myself a way out and left it up to luck. I knew that, at the time, I was still lacking a lot and so I decided that I had to meet you again with my best self."

THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

So, putting aside how one price is Bai Qi feeling like he needs to better himself, the other is that Papergames refuses to give us an easy happiness with this game and, as I mentioned in my Chinese archetype post, Bai Qi is a shoo-in for the Tragic Hero character.

The price exacted for trying to have this freedom is precisely that of his freedom. Unlike the other characters, he has a simple throughline because he literally doesn't care for anything but MC and his justice. Put in other words, he doesn't have anything to lose except MC and his sense of self.

And this is exactly what we see happen in the story:

[Chapter 12] was about losing MC and realizing that, despite all his intentions, perhaps HE is the one who will harm her and cannot protect her.

[Chapter 15] was about losing his sense of self, with another dose of fear of losing MC. Everything he thought he stood up for was a lie.

I might have mentioned elsewhere that it's tragic how he's constantly thrown into situations that try to break his principles. But, now that I'm thinking on this more, I think... he's actually giving up his principles of justice for the MC. Even more tragic is that he's also metaphorically letting his wings get clipped and losing his freedom to preserve MC's safety.

UGH, it's why his character is so tragic and why the end of [Main Story 15-24] was like an enormous blade being dropped on me when there was that descriptive line about how MC had never realized that the sight of someone being unable to stand upright could be so sorrowful.

Maybe I should have said that the price of preserving Bai Qi's home (MC) is his freedom and sense of justice being eroded.

Anyway, oops, I started this off to celebrate how amazingly gorgeous this event and date was and how much it developed Bai Qi's character. But then I just had to tie it back into all the angst LOL.

[saintjudejournal]

Pretty proud of this, not going to lie 😅

I think this is the probably the most I’ve ever worked on a poem and written on here.

******

I wrote the first draft of this quickly and very angrily sometime in 2016 on one of those hot summer days when things where just not going well. To top things off, I left my bananas on top of my fridge and flies got into my apartment, laid eggs in them and it was all super gross. Fun fact, still haven’t had a banana since then... (so yeah, it wasn’t the best day not sure if you can tell from the poem 😅). Anyways, fast forward to a while later when my mood subsided as it often does, eventually... for some reason I never could complete this poem. Still not sure why, even now I keep wondering if i should have added a bit more...

I usually tend to avoid reading what I write especially if it’s just after a stream of consciousness rant and so I let the words simmer for a while.

When I finally did get to review what I have written, I don’t know why but it didn’t sound like “me.” The words were crude, a departure from my typical stylistic choices and not very pleasant to read. In fact I didn’t really like what I have written at all so I decided it was another one of my “rough drafts” and left it to dissipate at the bottom of my notes folder where fragments of my thoughts go to die.

Throughout, the years I would stumble upon it while making a grocery list or attempting for the 100th time to clean up my notes and would give it a quick glance but again, reading the words always left a bad taste in my mouth and I would put it away not feeling very good.

Strangely enough, the phrase “it’s got to be for something, the rot” have been in my mind for some time now. I’m not entirely sure when those words came to me to be honest, but I always think of them especially on days when things are bad. I think I subconsciously conjured up those words as a reminder that all the hardships and bad times serve a purpose even if it’s too painful to know what that is just yet.

(God, this is probably the most I’ve ever written for a caption in my life)

To make a long story short, for whatever reason, something inside me probably same place the voices come from...(kidding but not really), decided it was time to finally publish this. The urge to write again and publish this, took over my mind so utterly and irrevocably, it was almost a compulsion.

I suddenly had this image in my head of how I wanted it to look and I just knew it had to come out looking the way it did. I’m not sure why I thought of all the religious iconographies...

Maybe because I was a pastor’s kid and a part of my subconscious still associates the concept of “heaven”/“nirvana” as escapism from all “the rot.”

Perharps, my current obsession with Bukowski’s unflinching approach to writing is inspiring me to just write and create whatever words or imagery that comes to mind no matter how crazy/unsavoury it might seem without worrying about other’s interpretation. I can definitely credit my recent obsession with the dirty old man for giving me the courage to attempt the whole “writing thing” again.

Maybe it’s a bit of both or oh who knows...

Nevertheless, I’m grateful to whatever demon or angel that possessed me. It’s been a crazy couple of years and I still have no idea what I’m doing but I think I’m going to keep trying the whole writing/creating thing again. I haven’t slept before 5am in a while so sleep deprivation is probably the driving force behind all this but I can finally say for the first time that I’m...dare I say happy? ...Hmm let’s say content... no happy. I’m happy with what I wrote/created and even though my brain is literally wincing every time I say the “H” word, I’m going to try and keep reminding myself how good it feels to actually create an image I’ve been carrying in my mind. As for the editing, considering I literally had no photoshop skills up until 3 days ago and no computer I think I did ok. Apparently, something inside me wanted my words to be framed like a photograph with the hashtag “soft girl” on Instagram (or someone who just time travelled to 2009 and discovered Microsoft paint 😅) so I’ve literally been up all night on my phone trying to put together fragments of the images I’ve carried in my mind...

I’m still not sure what all of it means but I think what I was trying to say at the time is that things in my life are ugly/rotten. I’m not where I want to be and I would like to change it. I don’t know how that’s coming along but I would sure like to keep trying... And just going back and doing further edits I think the reason I added all those edits, the ornate borders and why not has to do with something along the lines of things in my life aren’t pretty, I’m not where I want to be but I’m the only who who can change it. I can crop, edit, pixelate (sorry I just learnt photoshop), the things that are within my control to change... (That and I also just like really pretty things. Haha. Always have been a sucker for some good ol’ good/evil, pretty/ugly juxtaposition.)

I guess what I’m trying to say is, I can create/clean up/ beautify for lack of a better word those things that I don’t like... the ugly parts and it’s up to me to make my life more beautiful/how I like...

This calls to mind the lyrics to one of my favourite songs... Yeasayer’s 2080; “we can pickle the pain into blue ribbon winners at county contests”

(Wow, things certainly took an existential turn...)

If you’ve read this far, what are you doing with your life? Haha no but if anyone reads this far, well damn! You’ve definitely earned yourself a virtual cookie 🍪 ... (I’m sure you’re thrilled, try to control your excitement) but yeah you definitely get a lot of props and I imagine your patience level is unmatchable!

Really though, thank you :) I really do appreciate it and sorry for my super long rant 😅 I think the sleep deprivation might be kicking in now so I should end here.

If you made it this far thanks so much again and I really, really, really do appreciate it. In trying to keep with the whole “going to actually try and give this writing thing a proper shot kick I’m on this week”.

Thats all for now folks, thanks so much again! ✌️🙈😅🤷‍♀️

[dracocheesecake]

My Spyro OC: Liac

(I apologize for lack of artwork here, but I cannot draw, so I must implore of you to use your imaginations and open up your mind's eye to my description. )

Long before Spyro's egg even arrived to the Dragon Realms, Liac was born into the Dreamweaver's Guild. He was named after the lilac flower, known for its blue-purple coloring and soothing, calming effects. However, the young dragon that emerged from the egg was anything but calm.

He was a horrible Dreamweaver; Not that the child meant to be, or did not try to be better, he just simply wasn't good at anything Dreamweavers were supposed to do: he couldn't chase away nightmares, maintain the lanterns, or even create the herbal potions, incenses, or candles that would help troubled souls to sleep.

He wasn't even a Dreamweaver in spirit: the young, always excitable, loud, and at times irritable youth caused trouble constantly: tearing up stuffed animals or pillows, roasting the Fools, or knocking over candles and other memorabilia; but he wasn't a bad dragon, simply troubled, and as he got older, the more troubled he became.

In his adolescence, he became so anxious, depressed, and so full of malaise due to his complete lack of confidence that he started lashing out in violent bursts of fits and tantrums, concerning his guardians. They all loved the child dearly, and tried to do absolutely everything in their power to help him in any way they could; but in the end, there was no hope; the lack of understanding between guardians and keep lead to a growing rift in their relationship.

Things kept getting worse: Liac's distress caused him to develop insomnia, so what little dream powers he had left vanished. It became palpable to him: he would never be a Dreamweaver.

In the bright light of morning, while all the Dreamweavers of Lofty Castle were sound asleep after a long night of work, Liac left.

Without a sound. Without a trace.

The Dreamweavers never knew what happened to him. They could only pray that no harm would befall the young dragon whom they felt they had failed.

But one day, many years later, he returned.

They were astounded: they couldn't even recognize the dragon standing before them.

Where the young, insecure, sleep-deprived, irritable Liac had been, was now a striking adult dragon, well-rested, tranquil, and confident.

He had been traveling since he left Lofty Castle. He had discovered that he wasn't a failure: he was good at many other things, he saw this when he visited the other Dragon Realms: he could write stories, songs, poems, and epics; he could dance to any beat with the grace of a butterfly in a field of spring blooms; he could bake, draw, play harp and lute, skateboard, and so, so much more.

He had become a traveling dragon, belonging to no guild or realm or kingdom. The road was his home now. He had only come back to assure his former guardians that he was fine, and held no ill will against them.

He currently travels through the realms, acting as an older brother figure to the new generation of dragons, offering advice and optimism, and teaching the troubled to relax and have fun!

General Description

Age: 23 (dragon years)

Scale Color: Lilac blue with a cream colored underbelly.

Mane Color: Lilac white

Eye Color: Moon Blue

Liac has a rather feminine body frame, with a thin waist and wide hips. His wings are much like Lateef's, being patterned after the night sky, with swirls of pink and purple nebulas glistening against the feathers. He has four short horns that appear to be made of crystal, starting off at the base as light blue, but growing into pink and purple, getting darker towards the tips. His mane is extremly long and fluffy, so to keep it manageable he wears it in an intricate braid that is pinned on the back of his head by a crescent moon clip, going down a long length past his hips and ending in a tuft tied at the top by a star clip. His clothing is styled after a gyspy, to go along with his wandering lifestyle: he wears three layers of hip scarves: the top one is royal blue, with golden coins shaped like stars and moons hanging on the end; the one underneath is dark purple; and the last one is pink, with coins attached to it as well. He has a belt with strange pouches filled with herbs and powders, including coffee (as he's a caffine addict). Around his neck, he wears a navy blue scarf, and around his wrists he wears big, golden bangle braclets that have small blue and purple stars and charms attached.

Trivia

People often mistake his name for Lilac. This irritates him, and may the only grievance he has against his guardians (for naming him that way).

He still has some anxiety issues, mostly related to his fear of failure, causing him some sleep problems.

Like the other Dreamweavers, he sleeps all day and stays up all night. However, sometimes he drinks coffee so he can hang out with the other dragons.

He has some Dreamweaving abilities, but they are very poor; the best he can do is lull someone to sleep or sooth their dreams.

He has an enormous crush on Lindar, but hides it behind his cool, casual facade. He is too afraid to tell him the truth, and instead acts like a close friend to the Horologist when ever he goes to Stone Hill for a visit. He is still trying to gather up courage to tell him how he feels, but is kept back from doing so due to his fear of rejection and failure.

He is an excellent dancer, and whenever he twirls or spins, his braid spirals around him.

He can sleep anywhere. Literally, ANYWHERE.

When his mane is down, it is very long and messy; surprisingly, it only takes him a minute to braid it all: Lindar is still trying to study how the hell he's able to break the laws of time like this (as Lindar takes about an hour every morning to get his own hair in order. It's just not FAIR.)

Lindar, when he was first getting to know Liac, constantly called him "Lilac" or "Dream Hippie". Liac didn't mind, surprisingly.

In Game:

If Liac was a character in the game, Spyro would be able to find him in several locations: shortly after being freed, he would stretch out and thank Spyro for releasing him, before saying: "Tell [Gavin, Thomas, Lindar, Lateef, etc., depending upon location] I said 'hi'." When he disappears, he twirls around while strumming his harp.

[elmyre]

Tagged by @belovedyuuri (Thank you!! ^^ I’m sorry about getting to this so late, stress + my usual habit of putting things off/straight up forgetting things constantly has been getting to me)

Rules:

1) Always post the rules. 2) Answer the questions given by the person who tagged you. 3) Write 11 questions of your own. 4) Tag 11 people.

I’ll just tag @sakuracat96 @wheredidvictorleavemenow @peanut-musings @gotvodka @l3monsoda @mostladylikeladythateverladied @dragonsrulemyheart and anyone else who wants to answer my questions (if I tagged you and you don’t want to do it that’s fine too)

1.  What is the last song you listened to on repeat?

I’m not usually the type to put songs on repeat just cause I get tired of them really quickly but last one was Cherry Wine by Hozier cause omg how amazing is that song????? ; ;

2.  Which Yuri on Ice fanfic would you recommend to somebody who’s never read yoi fanfic before?

I mean I’d definitely say the Rivals Series (a canon divergent series of fics with some delicious angst) cause it’s my absolute favorite and I’d pretty much recommend those fics to EVERYBODY but there’s also AU fics like The Merman in my Private Bath (merman Victor and human Yuuri AU with very cute art sprinkled in the chapters) and Expomise (amazing Harry Potter AU) that are just so unbelievably fluffy and sweet. There’s also really good long fics like Met by Accident (the title says it all but the fic itself has a nice balance of romance and angst and friend/familial relationships + it has some Otayuri + the original characters the author made are so extremely lovable). Starstruck is another favorite of mine as well (Actor/Single Dad Victor and his adopted son Yurio meet new babysitter Yuuri, it’s also hilarious and one of the very first fics I read when I started reading YoI fics) I’d keep going since there are so many more fics I’ve read and loved but this is long enough as is so I’ll cut it off here. If anyone who is reading this wants some more personal recommendations feel free to hmu via asks or pm’s ;D

3.  You can take any smell (and I mean any smell) and make a candle out of it. What would the candle smell like?

You know that scent in the air at the beginning of spring where everything smells really earthy and fresh? That smell.

4.  Your comfort book/fic/movie/TV show that you indulge in when you need a ‘pick me up’ is…

Okay it’s totally Yuri on Ice XD I rewatched the entire thing not too long ago since I’ve been worrying myself too much recently and my poor sleep deprived brain keeps making me dream about the upcoming YoI movie and I really just needed something to hold me over

5.  What is your headcanon for Yuuri and Phichit’s first meeting?

(You know, I’m really loving all these YoI related questions XD) I have actually never even thought of that before now but I’d like to think it started when Phichit and Yuuri first became roommates in their college days, when Yuuri had first moved to Detroit.  Yuuri was so incredibly nervous to be in an entirely new country with people who speak a completely different language and rooming with someone who he barely knew.  So he set his bags down in front of the door to his new shared room, and barely even a second after knocking the door swings open and there’s a crazy excited Phichit on the other side.  He goes, “Yuuri, you’re finally here!!! Hold these.” And dumps some hamsters into his arms before grabbing his selfie stick, throwing an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder, and snapping a “First Day with the New Roomie” selfie.  Yuuri is absolutely reeling while Phichit just carries his bags in for him and helps him move in while telling him about the hamsters.  He even helps Yuuri with his Victor posters while Yuuri begins to talk about his poodle and they share stories about their families back home.  He starts out so shy and awkward (and kinda overwhelmed by Phichit being so giddy and talkative) but by the end of the night he’s really happy he gets to room with him.

Also, Phichit totally gave Yuuri a framed picture of their first selfie a year after he moves in, along with a very sweet message.  He may or may not shed some tears over it.

6.  Have you ever named a pet/plushie/object after a character from YOI? What was it and why did you choose that name?

Uuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh does the Yuuri nendoroid count?

7.  Your top 5 headcanons for what life at the Katsuki-Nikiforovs’ place looks like?

They’ve got a bunch of sticky notes around the house. Just everywhere. Victor is a very forgetful person and I’d imagine that Yuuri leaves them for him so he doesn’t forget important things, like meetings or chores. Victor really appreciates it, especially when Yuuri writes a little heart at the end.

They totally massage each other’s feet after a hard day of practice.  No question.

On a similar train of thought, Victor probably does a lot of things for Yuuri that he brushes off as just looking after him for “”“Coaching Reasons””” like running him warm baths or tucking him in or bringing food to him in bed. But really Victor just loves spoiling Yuuri. Yuuri appreciates Victor’s sweetness as long as he doesn’t go overboard, like putting his slippers on his feet or carrying him to the bathroom in the morning. Which Victor has definitely done. More than once.

Anyone who walks into their house without knowing either of them very well would probably think that all the toys strewn out across the living room floor are for their child.  They would be mistaken.  They’re all for the dog.

When Yuuri first came to stay with Victor in St. Petersburg, after having spent about a year back at his old home in Hasetsu, he begins feeling a little homesick.  Victor notices how Yuuri sometimes looks a bit sad and quiet when they’re just relaxing at home, so Victor finds some old Japanese music that Yuuri used to love and asks Yuuri to dance with him. It ended up putting a huge smile on Yuuri’s face for a long while afterwards, and it became a regular activity for them to do when they want to take their minds off something, get some extra exercise, or just have a little fun. They have a playlist with hundreds of songs set up for it now.

8.  Have you drunk water recently? Eaten something? Taken your meds? Untensed? Please do so if you haven’t.

I mean that hardly qualifies as a question but omg that is so sweet?????? ; ; Thank you <333

9.  What is the one quote/song lyric/poem that resonates with you?

“And in the middle of the night when you’re on your own,

I’m chasing down light in the indigo,

It’s just the way you are when you’re overgrown...

...And I will never let you go.”

A quote from this amazing song, which the creators also explained a bit about on their facebook if you wanna check it out!

10.  If you could effortlessly learn one skill in no time at all, what would it be?

I never really have time anymore to study languages so I’d totally try and learn either fluent Spanish or Japanese (since I really want to travel to Mexico or Japan someday)

11.  What is the one question you wish people asked you? What is the answer?

I mean this isn’t really a question with a specific answer, but I’m so absolutely awful with asking other people for help when I need it, so I’d appreciate it if people asked me if they could help me with something.  And then I’d say YES I’VE BEEN WAITING SO LONG EVEN THOUGH I KNOW I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE TO ASK  FIRST BUT ANYWAY

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

My questions would be:

What events are happening this year/next year that you’re looking forward to?

If you could drop everything and go somewhere right now without consequences or limitations, where would you go? What would you do?

What is your favorite mythical creature?

Do you have a song/playlist that you listen to for relaxation? If so, what is it?

What do you usually do when you have trouble falling asleep?

What was your favorite toy/game to play as a child?

Your opinion on wearing socks?

How do you like your coffee or tea?

If you’ve ever done cosplay before, who did you cosplay as most recently? If you’ve never done it before, what is your dream cosplay?

Who is the fictional character that you most relate to, and how are you two alike?

What is the most fond memory you have from the past few years?

[geekyzelda]

Cancer

((This was intended to be a small poem thing and it grew into this. Sorry. Until next time, GeekyZelda))

If you say Goodbye today, I'll ask you to be true. 'Cause the hardest part of this is leaving you.

The morning they received the news from the healer Silas and Sarah couldn’t leave the bed. Tears from both pooled on the pillow as he ran his hands through her hair and she clung to him like a boat in a storm. They lay between the sheets until the sun set, neither sleeping, simply appreciating the other’s presence. No plans were discussed that night, no thoughts of the future. Just their last lingering shred of hope as it was blown out the open window.

The next day, they called a family meeting.

“All Heap children in attendance, please. We have something to tell you.”

The formality of the letter spooked them all.

Simon and Lucy rushed straight to the family homestead first thing that morning. Sam and Marwick traveled through the queen’s way as soon as possible. Edd postponed a date with a cute ordinary wizard. Erik paused in the middle of a three day spell. JoJo left the sanctuary of the Grotto. Nicko sailed straight home from the Port. Jenna cancelled three meetings with foreign dignitaries. Septimus took the first day off of his career.

That afternoon, no later than 2 pm, all Heaps and associated spouses were crammed into the room behind the big red door. The feeling of safety and comfort that usually permeated the space was overshadowed by an ever increasing anxiety. Sarah sat at the head of the table. Silas served a pot of tea and stood behind his wife, his hands on her shoulders. Everyone held their breath as she loosed her news.

“I’m dying kids.”

Time stood still. The noise of the moat vanished outside. The untouched tea on the table grew cold.

William broke the silence. “Grandma, what do you mean?”

And the tears began.

Together, the family cried as the news sunk in and took hold.

“Oh Mum!” “Of all the people.” “How long have you known?” “Too little time.” “There must be something we can do.” “Incurable disease, the healer said.” “How long do you have?” “Six months.” “I love you all so very much.”

Someone mentioned dinner. No one felt like eating.

The family sat together as they scrambled to formulate a plan on how to handle the coming months.

But there is no way to prepare yourself for the death of your mother.

Eventually, the kids left the room behind the big red door feeling like wet noodles. Heavily drained and one big wobbly mess.

Everyone had different ways of dealing with the announcement.

Septimus scared Tod, and most of the Wizard Tower, half to death by blasting a wall with magyk. He glared at the burn left next to Alther’s frying pan clock before Septimus fell to his knees and broke down crying. Tod wrapped her mentor in a hug as he bawled. “I feel like I’m ten again. I’ve only just found her and now I’m going to lose her.”

Edd got home and laid on the floor of his room in the Wizard Tower. He didn’t realize time was passing until someone knocked on the door. Edd ignored it. They knocked again and kept a continuous strain until the man some how pulled himself off the floor, stumbled to the door, and ripped it open. Outside was the ordinary wizard he was supposed to go out with. She smiled sheepishly and held out a glass dish wrapped in plastic. “The tower is buzzing with the news that the Extra Ordinary Wizard’s mother is sick and, well, I thought you could use some company.” Edd stared blankly at her. ”So, is that a no?” “Ah! No, please, come in.”

Erik went for a long walk in the forest. He left the Castle as soon as the bridge was down in the morning with no food and no plans of returning until sunset. He wondered all day long. It was little short of a miracle nothing attacked the man. Absorbed in thought, before he knew it, Erik was lost in a deep, unfamiliar part of the woods. He was beginning to worry about finding his way home when a rough voice sounded behind him. “I was beginning to believe none of my grandchildren would visit me again.”

Two nights after the announcement, Rupert Gringe found Nicko laying in the bottom of a boat they were patching in the yard. Rupert recognized the bottle of whiskey at Nicko’s side as one of the finest the Port could afford to import. It was worth a pretty penny and how Nicko got his hands on a bottle was beyond Rupert. Now, there was little more than a shot’s worth in the bottom. Rupert leaned on the boat. “Where’s Snorri?” Nicko shrugged. “‘Sleep I ‘ssume.” Rupert shook his head at the man’s slurred speech and climbed in with his friend. “Any whiskey left for me?” Nicko took one last swig, draining the bottle. “No.” “... Whatcha staring at?” “Andromada. Cassiopeia isn’t out for another month.” “That’s a morbid constellation, Nik.” “‘It’s morbid times.” Nicko was quiet for a moment before, “I’m gonna miss her so much.” “Yeah.”

Simon accidentally exploded a vial while at work. Marcellus swept it up, claiming it was nothing while side eyeing his apprentice the whole time. When it happened a second time Marcellus pulled Simon away from the work bench and told him to go home. “You need to be with family.” “There has to be a cure. There has to!” “Simon, there wasn’t one five hundred years ago. If they haven’t found some treatment by now, I don’t know if they ever will.” “Then I’ll just have to be the one to find it.”

JoJo accidentally knocked over two fully stocked shelves at the Grotto. When his co-workers came to investigate, they found JoJo picking glass out of his palm. “I dropped the Ghost Friend in a Jar.” “All three hundred of them?” “Yep.” “... JoJo, do you want a drink?” They still don’t know if the glass embedded in his hand was accidental.

Sam dragged a chair outside onto the deck of the Keeper’s Cottage and watched the sun set. He only moved when Marwick dragged him inside for bed at night. Marwick woke the next morning to find the bed empty and Sam back in the chair. On the fifth day of this, Marwick went out to see Sam wrapped in an old knitted blanket. “Sarah make that for you?” “Yes, ages ago.” “She’s a good person. A great Mum.” “The best. She doesn’t deserve this, Mar. Not one bit.” Sam rested his head on Marwick’s shoulder and watched the sun rise, just like his Mum always had.

Jenna’s feet carried her straight to the manuscriptorium. Perhaps the scribes thought it unnerving when the Queen burst into the main room and strode straight to the Hermatic Chamber with tears in her eyes. Perhaps the scribes were confused when the Chief walked out a few minutes later and demanded they all take the rest of the day off. However, years of living in a place as wild as the Castle had hardened their curiosity, besides you never say no to the boss. A few of the older scribes who were close to Beetle expressed concern but were waved off with little explanation. Once the manuscriptorium was empty, the front door locked, and the ‘Closed for emergency’ sign flipped, Beetle led Jenna to his apartment above. There she explained everything, wrapped in his arms, cuddling on the couch. “I can’t do this. I can’t just watch her die. I have to do something.”

A week later, Jenna called her brother’s and sister in law to the Palace. The siblings gathered in a side room, looking more disheveled than they ever had in their lives. Sep forwent his signature robes and opted for a simpler purple tunic and leg wraps under his belt and Ankh amulet. Simon hadn’t shaved and his beard was longer than ever. Nicko smelt like booze. JoJo smelt like smoking greens. Sam’s usually immaculate clothing was rumpled and worn. Edd had his shirt on backwards and wore mismatched boots. Erik was so sleep deprived he could barely stand straight.

All eight siblings looked dead on their feet and hurt in the heart.

Jenna stood from her couch staring at her brothers, Marwick, Beetle, and Lucy. She tried to put on a strong face as she said, “I called you all here today to-” Jenna stopped to take a deep breath and Beetle put a hand on her back. “Discuss our circumstances.”

“Geeze, Jen. Your job sure has made you rigid,” JoJo commented.

Jenna tried to glare at him and failed. He was right. Here she was among family. Jenna sat, dropped her queenly air, and ignored the ugly feeling as her face scrunched and she sobbed.

“I don’t know what to do. I don’t know and it’s killing me.”

“Tell me about it,” Septimus muttered. Simon sighed and nodded at the same time.

The other Heap boys eyed each other. It was rare to see the most headstrong of the siblings acting so forlorn.

“We have to be there for her,” Sam said quietly. He made eye contact with each sibling as he spoke. “We visit her. We help her with the medication. We all go to weekly dinner. We are going to make these the happiest 6 months she’s had.”

“Yeah,” Edd said. “We hang out with her. We read to her. We bring her food.”

“We can’t forget Dad,” JoJo pointed out in an undertone. “We have to be there for him too.”

“I’ll take him fishing,” Sam said.

“I could show him some new spells,” Septimus suggested.

“I’ll go walking with him in the forest,” Erik said.

“We are going to be there for our parents,” Simon said. “They did everything for us. Sacrificed so much for us. It’s time we repay the favor.”

“I just wish it wasn’t so soon.”

Everyone was quiet before Jenna suddenly burst out laughing.

“Do, do you guys remember the fried fish incident?”

Grins spread across faces as memory sparked.

“The what?” Lucy asked looking at Jenna.

“Oh no,” Simon muttered. Lucy gave him a funny look.

The younger girl gave a loud laugh as she sputtered out, “Mum and Dad went out on a date, I think Simon was fourteen at the time. Anyway, they left him in charge of feeding us and he was trying to fry fish but-” Jenna broke off, unable to continue she was laughing so hard, sending Nicko and the twins chuckling.

Simon rolled his eyes and said, “The grease in the pan caught fire and I was so shocked I screamed.”

“Like a little kid,” JoJo interjected with a mischievous grin.

“The neighbor came running,” Simon continued. “She put the fire out but she forbade me from the stove for the rest of the night. When our parents came home, Mum was inspecting the charred fish when Maxie used her lap as a stepping stone to jump on the table and he ate the fish. Gobbled it right up.” Jenna was laughing so hard she had stopped making noise and the rest of the boys chuckled.

“Oh, oh!” Sam cried. He pointed at the twins and practically yelled out of excitement, “Do you two remember when you put a fake poo in Mum and Dad’s bed?”

Erik grinned wide. “And she refused to sleep in the bed for a week? Yes.”

“She had us washing the laundry for a month after that. Until I ‘accidentally’ added the wrong soap,” Edd laughed.

“I knew that was intentional! You ruined my favorite socks!” Nicko said.

“Or, when Sep first experienced Mum’s old switcheroo,” Simon grinned at his youngest brother.

“Oh, no, don’t,” Sep protested, although the smile on his face said otherwise.

“Aw, come on little bro!” Nicko clapped Sep on the back. “Mum had that tunic off you, wiped down, and hanging out the window in ten seconds flat.”

“We’ve all experienced it, even Dad,” JoJo sighed and the boys shuddered.

“Not me!” Jenna said proudly. “I never spilt on myself.”

“Maybe not, but do you remember when Mum accidentally started the rumor that you were dating Joe Mali?” Sam asked.

“Oh, don’t even bring it up.”

“No, I want to hear this one,” Beetle grinned at Jenna and the girl shook her head. Sam was more than happy to oblige.

“Jen used to have the biggest crush on Joe.”

“I was six years old!”

“You couldn’t talk to her without her bringing him up. Joe wore green today. Joe cut his hair! Joe this and Joe that.”

“I am going to throw a pillow at you!”

“How very diplomatic of you.”

“Shut it, Nicko.”

“Mum never let her live it down. I think she still keeps tabs on the boy, no offense, Beetle.”

“None taken.”

“I don’t know why you’re poking fun at her love life, Sam,” Simon stated. “Do you remember when you came out to us?”

Sam shook his head. “I was so stupidly nervous.”

“And all Mum had to say was-”

“‘Took you long enough to realize!’”

“And she went right back to cooking!” Sam yelled sending another round of laughter through the siblings.

“I remember the first time Dad took me fishing,” Septimus started.

“Uhg, what a disaster,” Nicko groaned.

“I never asked, what happened?” Jenna said.

“I fell in the river,” Septimus said.

“No, no, no,” Nicko interrupted. “He’s simplifying it.”

“Nicko-”

“Nuh huh, they are hearing this. Sep was sitting there on the rock, his pole in the river, book in the other hand, like you used to do, Sam.”

“Hey, we are related!”

“Sep felt a tug on the line and called Dad and I over. He reeled it in and, I shit you not, Septimus caught a 50 centimeter river bass. His first time fishing and this kid catches a gigantic fish without even trying.”

“Where’d it go?”

“Just wait,” Sep said and he buried his head in his hands.

“I’m getting there. Dad tried to help him take the hook out of the fish but Sep insisted on doing it himself. He pulled the hook out when the fish jumped. It whacked him across the face so hard he rolled off the rock and fell straight into the water!” Everyone burst out laughing and Septimus smiled from under his fingers.

“When we went home, I was soaked to the bone. Mum asked if I had tried to catch the fish with my mouth,” Septimus laughed.

The giggles faded and the room was quiet.

Almost to himself, Septimus muttered, “I couldn’t have asked for a better family.”

“Aw, little bro! Was that a confession of love?”

“He really does care about us!” Edd and Erik teased.

“Shut up you two, of course I love you idiots,” Septimus flicked in their direction.

“Hey! No magyk in the house,” Jenna cried.

“Now you really sound like Mum, Jen!” JoJo said. Jenna stuck her tongue out at him. “Ah! There’s my sister back.”

“When was the last time we all just, hung out?” Sam asked, half laughing.

The group was quiet as they thought about it.

“The last time we were all together,” Simon began slowly. “Was in the Tower infirmary after you were hurt in the ancient ways five years ago, Sam.”

Sam frowned and the mood in the room dropped.

“We really need to lean to pick better times to get together,” Nicko half-joked earning a few chuckles.

The siblings reminisced into the night, laughing and teasing and poking fun at each other in a way they never truly had. Once in awhile, the weight of their situation would bring itself down upon someone’s shoulders, but the constant laughter banished it away. There would be time for tears and time to hurt. For tonight, the Heap kids just wanted to be happy.

However, like time, happiness is fleeting.

The night Sarah died, she was alone with Silas. The day was a Sunday and the whole family had met for family dinner. There were smiles on faces as eyes avoided acknowledging how fragile Sarah had come to look. Her disease had not been kind and her body was giving up. After a pleasant dinner with a side of concern and a hidden helping of unease, the children left their parents with plenty of time to prepare for bed.

Sometime in the night, Sarah shifted which woke Silas from his restless sleep.

“Do you need something?” Silas asked. His eyes raked his wife’s face, looking for a sign of something wrong. Sarah shook her head and he relaxed a bit.

“Silas.”

“Yes?”

“I want you to know, I wouldn’t change a thing about this life we’ve made together.”

Her voice sounded weak to Silas’s ears.

“Sarah...”

“Will you do one last thing for me?”

“Anything, love. Anything.”

Sarah’s eyes searched his face as she said, “Miss me.”

Silas’s voice cracked when he finally found it. “Of course. Every day, for as long as I live.”

He hugged her close and kissed her head. Sarah held on to the front of his night shirt and took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the man she had given her all to. Of the first and only man she had ever doubtlessly loved.

“The hardest part of all of this… Is leaving you.”

“I love you, Sarah. With all my heart.”

“I love you, Silas. With everything I have and more.”

Silas didn’t sleep that night.

He didn’t move when her breath left her in one final gasp and her fingers released his shirt. He held her body in his arms as he watched the sun rise with tears in his eyes and his heart broken cleanly in half.

[creativewonderlust-blog]

My Thoughts Amidst the Falling Sun

Below is a sort of reflection I wrote a few months ago.  I post every other day with a variety of content. Follow me for more creative blurbs from short stories, poems, and writing tips! 

follow me on Instagram at @creative_wonderlust 

There is a road of which exists only for the explorers. To the average eyes it is simply an old country road with dust being stirred up whenever a car was to pass. However an adventurer would see it differently. I see it differently. What I see is a path to somewhere different if I close my eyes. I may have been there before, but did I really see? Did I really look and observe the life around me and what wonders I may have discovered that no one else has the capability of seeing? I...am an adventurer and I flourish in places that I do not know. So when I look from my perch on a rock I see a road of which, at the moment, I see no end to. For a section of it is blocked by trees so that I find myself craning and bending my body so as to see something incoming. But the only thing incoming is that which calls me.

I do not see a road, but a path of which to follow to take me far, and farther yet away. All I see is a barrier that wants to prevent me, and if I focus hard enough at this special hour it is not there. Now, with my feet in the earth, hard rocks, soft dirt, and a staff to serve as my strength to move forward, and the setting sun cascading of off the trees and bushes that line this never ending path to my future. The sun...oh the SUN that I feel comfort my limbs and there is no doubt in my often chaotic mind that if I was to close my eyes and sink back, I would sink all the way to the ground in a state of intense relaxation. But I musn’t, for what I must do is document all that I am feeling for future reference and inspiration.

The light from the sun overcomes the shadows that it causes and outlines everything in a film of great, bright beauty. The breeze that caresses all life around me brushes against my arms and legs, and on occasion ruffles my hair. To close my eyes to these sensations would mean relief from the torment. RELIEF from anxieties that watch over me, making sure that I do not get TOO comfortable, and doubt that haunts me like a plague, waiting for the right moment to tell me that no, it is not yet banished from my soul. But the feeling of the ground beneath my feet will not be flung out from under me. Because everything around me is living, from the distant sounds of deer coughing in the trees across from me. The same deer that I, upon my first voyage outside, bowed my head reverently to in a thought that if I display exactly the right about of serene beauty, they would stay to watch this human I am, trodding easily from rock to rock without shoes, and with nothing but my own obligation holding me back.

Silly, and quick they were to trot off into the cover of the leaves. But they are still there...watching me. Watching this human display something that they have never seen before. I stare at the sky without any wishes to look away. I look away only to document....I must document. And every vehicle that passes they receive no glance from me. For if not of my own resolve, but of an inability to tear my eyes away from the computer for one moment for fear of losing this feeling in my chest, and the need, finally, to put words down on virtual paper. I feel the occasional insect crawl on my leg, but only vaguely do I register. If it becomes a bother I swiftly brush it off and go back about my work, before I run out of things to describe.

Traces of human habitation still disturb me in this scenery of perfect serenity. The tractor running at the neighbors house with the purpose of putting up a barn tries to weave its way into my inner thoughts. But it does not know me. The sight that informs people that “pavement ends” and that “road work” is happening ahead. It lies; there has been no road work in years and if people were so blind and unfeeling that they could not notice the difference in sound, color, and overall smoothness, then by my standards they are unfit for the road.

A fox carries what looks like a stick across the road to his partner that I witnessed cross earlier. I would explore, but to disturb their presence would spread unnecessary chaos. The birds I hear singing lovely anthems and lullabies would flee, and I would lose the musical silence of nature. Perfect, if the tractor would shut off. Perfect if I did not feel myself floating farther, and farther away from myself.

But is this truly me? Is this the person that danced in the grass for hours as a child and dreamed only of the farthest stars in the galaxy. The girl who dreamed of creatures long extinct, and considered Greece, Roman empire, and Egyptian cultures to be the epitome of human success against the impossible. The girl who thought that...nothing at all in the world was impossible. The one where, deep down, used to think that , for all we know, unicorns and forest nymphs and wizards and mythical creatures existed, simply because we as people have not yet explored to the core of the earth, and there are still depths to the ocean of which have not been touched. Everything is possible until there is absolutely nothing yet to be explored.

As far as that girl was concerned, nothing could ever convince her that the impossible was truly impossible, for if by the time she grew, there WAS nothing left on her planet that had not been seen by the human eye...there was an ENTIRE galaxy left to be seen and explored. She grew older, and older, and she grew to hate the wind in her face. It always felt as though she could not breathe, but perhaps it was all the feelings of her childhood, and moments like this flooding back to her at once, at a rate that she could not handle.

The wind in my hair and the setting sun in my face. That face of which the lips begin to part open, and the eyes sag in a state only describable for the sake of explanation as mental exhaustion. It is not a state of relaxation, but a state of sleep deprivation and discomfort as I return to the me that does not believe anything is possible. I, who question my place on this earth, and whether or not I really belong in this era of all ruling technology. A world where communication is forced and confused by own personal emotions and hardly anyone knows anyone, yet almost everyone believes that they know exactly how a person is based on things that that person has no control of.

With every car that passes the road in front of me...and blocks the view of the small forest...and the wind in my hair from the speed is purely artificial...like the rest of the hours in almost every single day...I lose myself deeper and deeper. Whether it is a matter of conscious disliking of what he or she is thinking of me, who sits with my hideous feet displayed barefoot in front of me on a rock while my fingers are like fire on the keyboard, or one of some simple, irrational fear of being judged...I lose myself. I cannot be myself in this word...and the road gets further blurred and faint with each car, and it no longer looks like a road that has not been traveled. But one that has been traveled far too often.

I belong somewhere else. I wish to reside somewhere that no one can disturb me. The anger and fear, and sorrow and anxiety that is pent up inside me, waiting to be let out can just SCREAM. I can just scream into the air where no one can hear me, and question my sanity...OR marvel at my insanity. A place where I can breathe evenly...where here I can never draw a breath that is not hindered by some invisible wall inside me. I suffocate every day in this binding force inside me that wants to delay my success and my travels…

But it is those people who walk barefoot outdoors and marvel at the way the sun kisses and loves the earth that have the most potential. But only if they look at the sun and wonder what it is he or she can do differently. What is something that no one in the world has thought of yet? What is out there to be discovered in the future, or what new theory can my thought of about the past? For people don’t learn enough from the past, just as they take the triumphs and failures of their favorite characters as fictional as the personalities themselves. To learn from what either has already happened...or a situation of which someone created for an audience to observe and learn from…

I am now exhausted from the random, multi-page description of my mind at this particular moment. Here comes another car and I fear that this is the last interruption I can face without collapsing back into the person that everyone sees, and inside me, my truest form...my most ambitious and hopeful self...crawls back into its shell until I, myself, draw it out again. Because absolutely no one has ever helped me do it.

Goodbye for now, barefooted, adventuring warrior inside of me. Keep my unfinished staff and hold onto it once in awhile as a link into the fantasy-esc wonder you hold in your eyes. As the sun sets...so does your hope and ambition for today. Strength is your greatest ally, but so is your weakness. Do not be afraid to show it, but do not let anyone consider you weak for too long.

[kittypeas]

The Force Awakens and fairytales: part two. Prince Lindworm.

This is the second and (probably) last part or my essay “The Force Awakens and Fairytales”. This time I wanted to describe the Norwegian folktale about Prince Lindworm (which can you read HERE) which, in my opinion, is the most accurate summary of Kylo/Ben & Rey relationship. First, I will discuss a theoretical framework and concepts that I will need to conduct proper analysis of the parallels between TFA and “Prince Lindworm”. But don’t get discouraged! Throughout this essay I will continuously get back to the movie.

Some time ago Pablo Hidalgo tweeted that „long time ago in a galaxy far away” should be read as a begenning of a fairy tale. Surely it means more than just a fact that every movie in Star Wars trilogies is similar to popular tales like Snow White or the Beauty and the Beast. A myth or a folktale is, as Karen Armstrong describes it “in some sense is an occurrence that happened once and happens over and over again”, because it takes place inside each of us when we read, adapt and reenact it. “Mythology, just like poetry and music, should open us to a sense of wonder, even in the face of death or a threat of annihilation.”

This notion reminds me of your posts that I see frequently on my dash: those where you described how reylo helps you in dealing with difficulties, how you find yourself in various traits displayed by the characters, how they can voice your feelings and thoughts. Because every fairytale has also a therapeutic aspect, which manifests itself in the said sense of wonder, described by Rudolf Otto as a numinotic experience. Numinosum is an encounter with Mysterium tremendum et fascinans:

Mysterium which is a source for the English word “mystery” has its roots in Greek “mysterion” which originates from “myein” which can be traced in “mustism”, a condition in which a person is deprived of an ability to speak. Mysterium is a superhuman revelation which we experience in silence because it is both tremendum, as you can guess – tremendous, terrible – and fascinans, fascinating. Igen wrote:

“Our religions and psychotherapies offer frames of reference for processing unbearable agonies, and perhaps, also, unbearable joys. At times, art or literature brings the agony-ecstasy of life together in a pinnacle of momentary triumph. Good poems are time pellets, offering places to live emotional transformations over lifetimes. There are moments of processing, pulsations that make life meaningful, as well as mysterious. But I think these aesthetic and religious products gain part of their power from all the moments of breakdown that went into them.”

There is an intimate relationship between the numinosum and trauma, often conceptualized as a rupture in continuity of personal narrative. On the other hand, experiencing the numinosum –through physically inconsequential process of identfication with fairy – tales characters and participation in their adventures as well as struggles – is a factor that could restore unity to individual’s inner world. To paraphrase Kalsched’s claim: a fairytale describes psyche’s self-portrait of its own archaic defensive operations; in other words, it illustrates a psychological process and even though the events from a fairy tale never took place the material world, they take place inside any of us during the lecture. The Force Awakens, just like the story of a dragon or a snake Lindworm is an example of a type of story about a traumatic event, dissociation or a fissure in personality, and the need for internal integration. In this sense the only hero of the story is Prince Lindworm – or Kylo Ren, whose ego (i.e. self) breaks, or is dissociated.

“I’m being torn apart. I want to be free of this pain”

In TFA it happens when Ben Solo symbolically kills his former self and gives himself a new name. He tells Han that “his son is dead” but you know that it is not true and those two identities are alive and at war with themselves. In the story about Prince Lindworm this division is marked in the moment of his birth. Lindworm was one of the pair of twins. Cirlot writes in his book of symbols: “dual nature of twins has two sides, one light and one dark, one giving life and the other bringing death; […] However, the night craves to become the day, evil admires righteousness, life is heading towards death.” This duality often serves a certain narrative purpose and can, for example, be used to avoid the taboo of parricide, like in “Enchanted doe” where one of the brothers kills their mother. In The Force Awakens it is not Ben Solo, Han’s son who murders him, but alien to him Kylo Ren.

It is said in the beginning of the tale that “And this [that they couldn’t have children] often made them both sad, because the Queen wanted a dear little child to play with, and the King wanted an heir to the kingdom”. Then, it is quite possible that the duality of twins is used to illustrate the process in which all unacceptable affects – anger, aggression, defiance – are placed not in the firstborn son but in his shadow, his evil brother. What supports this thesis is the fact that after the happy ending another wedding is prepared but not a word is spoken about Lindworm’s brother. In TFA Kylo Ren represents the same qualities as Lindworm, while Ben Solo is a boy who was born to the light.

This is not the only split visible in the characters of the narratives. The “Prince Lindworm” fairytale belongs to quite popular type which describe the story of monsters which hunt innocent girls, like Bluebeard, the Beauty and The beast and almost all vampire stories.

Their common point is the motive of a malevolent figure, abducting and captivating defenseless woman. What seems most interesting, is that every time a vampire, a sorcerer, or a terrifying creature is both a persecutor and a savior. In the fairy tale of Bluebeard, the protagonist wants to test his wife, but instructs her how she can get out of his jail. Similarly Count Dracula, who in the Coppola’s adaptation allows the woman and the men protecting her to catch him. As Suzy McKee Charnas writes in the "vampire tapestry": the monster is a "predator paralyzed by an unwanted empathy with his prey".

The titular vampire of the story recalls yet another fairy tale, when he accuses the main character that she wants to seduce him. He mocks her, saying: “Unicorn, come lay your head in my lap while the hunters close in. You are a wonder, and for love of wonder I will tame you. You are pursued, but forget your pursuers, rest under my hand till they come and destroy you"  That's where the title of this novel came from, and this is what medieval tapestries and paintings depict.  Nowadays we think a unicorn is a beautiful, enchanting horse. Once upon a time it belonged to the catalog of wild beasts and in many works of art it is depicted as a dangerous predator, tearing animals and people into pieces.

The ‘Hellsing” manga describes vampires as follows:

It seems that in the depths of his heart the creature from a fairytale wants to be killed. The human part of the monster is suffering because of the terrible fate he was condemned to.  It is the girl who impersonates this dissociated, human element of the monster who wants to be defeated and liberated by death.

“You, a scavenger”

Typically, these women are described as virgins or poor peasants – which in the “Prince Lindworm” tale is underlined many times – the narrator often speaks of their bare feet, as in the Snow Queen tales in which Gerda sets out barefoot to the snowy land to save her beloved Kay from Snow Queen. The Lapland shaman says about her: “I can not give her more power than she already has. Can not you see how great she is? You do not see how men and animals are obliged to serve her; How she travels the whole world with bare feet? This power does not come from the magic, it comes from her heart!…”

Still, the bare feet of heroines or their virginity do not symbolize - as we would expect - their innocence. On unicorn tapestries there is often a scene in which a unicorn sleeps in a woman's embrace, and then the hunter's arrows reach him. In this situation, the victim puts her persecutor in a mortal danger. Similarly, Rey is “no one”, lowly scavenger from a desert planet, uncivilized and uneducated. But she is the one who brings the prince to his knees.

At the end of the story, it is said: " No bride was ever so beloved by a King and Queen as this peasant maid from the shepherd’s cottage. There was no end to their love and their kindness towards her: because, by her sense and her calmness and her courage, she had saved their son, Prince Lindworm”. Stories about young men tell about their courage that helped them in the process of becoming a hero; correspondingly, the girl from “Prince Lindworm” is not fearless, but brave when she decides to oppose the hideous snake, or, in case of Rey, to defy someone who might as well be a monster under his mask. When the girl says "Prince Lindworm, slough a skin!" (just like Rey when she wants Kylo to take his helmet off) he replies, " No one has ever dared tell me to do that before". He hissed and showed her teeth, but the girl was not afraid (“you! You are afraid…!”) and persuaded him to do as she commanded. At first we do not know if Lindworm, outraged by her impudence, will not eat her alive, but there is  this part of Lindworm which wants to obey and – by revealing his weakness to the girl – make him mortal, easy to hurt. And indeed, "And there was nothing left of the Lindworm but a huge thick mass, most horrible to see. Then the girl seized the whips, dipped them in the lye, and whipped him as hard as ever she could. Next, she bathed him all over in the fresh milk. Lastly, she dragged him on to the bed and put her arms round him. And she fell fast asleep that very moment. "

As it has been said, girl’s compassion is the key to Lindworm's transformation but before this act is completed, "the girl confronts Lindworm with his violence on his own terms." Only after reflecting and recognizing his - and consequently her own - destructiveness and aggression (just the way Rey did during the duel on Starkiller Base), the prince-monster is bathed in milk – which symbolizes the milk of his mother – and can be born anew – so he can lay in the arms of woman. Bettelheim said: "If we do not want to be ruled and - in extreme cases – torn apart by our ambivalences, we must recognize them, deal with them in a constructive manner and reconcile with ourselves and our personalities."

Her grief is nothing more but the mercy shown to a monster by a man in him. It is then that the integration of his "ego" with the numinosum happens. As Anna Freud wrote, "The most pressing task of man is to resurrect what he has annihilated in a defensive reaction, i.e. recreate what has been repressed, return to the previous place what has been displaced what he moved, to return to the old place, and integrate what he dissociated.”

 It seems that Ben Solo has a lot work to do! ;)