#i do not control my brain it is stupid

[nebulize-my-mind]

sometimes I consider not writing at 3 on the morning and actually getting some sleep and writing at a normal hour when I'm coherent and don't question what I was on when rereading my notes

and then my brain gives me the best evil idea for a character's heart-wrenching emotional breakdown at 2:51 AM and I'm gone

[angelnumber27]

It’s so embarrassing and heartbreaking being in so much pain over losing someone while knowing they don’t give a fuck if you live or die. Your favorite person becoming a stranger is a special kind of hell.

[werewolves-are-real]

Time Travel Temeraire snippet

At first, Laurence assumes he's dead.

It's a natural conclusion. He remembers dying, after all.

He and Tenzing were at a function hosted by Wellesley. They were mostly there to support the dragons. Temeraire had long abandoned them to quarrel with Perscitia in the courtyard, with half a dozen ferals watching like it were a jousting match. Wellesley had laid out his grounds to allow room for dragons and men to mingle, but a good portion of the guests retreated inside to avoid the raised voices of the dragons.

Laurence wonders how Temeraire felt about that, later. About not seeing.

He was stabbed. He barely remembers it – just a quick pulse of pain in his chest, looking down. Red blooming over his coat.

Then he was on the floor. People screamed. Tenzing appeared, grappling with a tall and finely-dressed man; he used a dinner-knife to punch a hole in the stranger's throat, in a fantastic spray of blood, and dropped the body at once to kneel by Laurence's side.

He remembers Wellesley barking orders – bandages, water, a hot knife. Have to cauterize it, he'd shouted. Keep pressure -

But Tenzing never spoke. Just pressed down on Laurence's chest, over the wound, without particular panic. Laurence still remembers the grim resignation on his face; Tenzing knew what was coming. Laurence was glad to have him there when he died.

Then Laurence woke up.

The world sways in a familiar way, a rhythmic motion that Laurence registers on a soul-deep level. He's on a ship. But why? Where is Tenzing, Temeraire? Why would they put him on a ship?

“I think the fever's breaking,” says a voice. A naval doctor, disheveled and salt-stained, with long scars down his bared arms. “Oh, and awake too!”

“Well thank Christ,” says another man. One Laurence recognizes.

It's Captain Gerry Stuart – but he looks different, younger than the last time Laurence saw him, with smooth skin and dark curly hair.

Gerry died two years ago.

“Well, Lieutenant! You gave us a scare – how are you feeling?” Gerry asks.

“It's Admiral,” Laurence corrects rather than all the other things he does not dare ask. He hates the title foisted upon him; but it's at least more comprehensible than Lieutenant, and he clings to that rather than demand where did you come from.

Stuart throws back his head to cackle, though the concern doesn't leave his face. “Still perhaps a bit feverish, I think!”

“That might be the laudanum,” says the doctor, also amused. “Why don't you sleep a bit more, Lieutenant?”

“But where is Temeraire? Or Tenzing?”

“I can only assume you had some very vivid dreams,” Stuart chuckles. “You were babbling and babbling for Temeraire – isn't that a ship?”

“Perhaps the flagship of his fleet,” suggests the doctor, and Stuart laughs again. “Get some rest, Mr. Laurence. Holler if you need me.”

They both exit the sick-berth. Laurence stares blankly at the door.

What?

Laurence pats his chest. No wound. He looks down, startled by the pale thinness of his fingers, his youth-soft skin.

Well; not soft. Callouses cover his hands. But even these patterns are different – hard skin in places where he would hold a sword, or pulls ropes. His hands should be more wrinkled, yes; but these callouses faded years ago.

“Where am I?” he asks when the doctor returns. “And what is the year?”

“The year? 1793. You don't remember?”

1793. Laurence was 19 in 1793. A lieutenant for two years, on the Shorewise.

The doctor narrows his eyes. “What's my name, lad?”

Laurence swallows. His stomach churns; for the life of him he can't remember.

The doctor rushes off to retrieve the captain.

_____________________________

Laurence is diagnosed with brain fever, and partial amnesia. Gerry is horribly guilty about laughing, earlier; Laurence could not care less. He is given strict orders to stay on bed-rest for another week, in hope his strength will recover – and his mind.

Laurence doesn't think he'll have any issues working – he's forgotten many of the people around him, true, but he may never forget the way to run a ship. He's far more concerned with learning what happened.

From all appearances, it is indeed 1793. France is undergoing riots, and declared war against Britain in February. Temeraire has not hatched. Napoleon is probably a corporal or general himself, at this point. If he exists at all. God knows, perhaps Laurence is only mad.

But he doesn't feel mad. His memories are too vivid to be mere fever-dreams. A man cannot dream up twenty years of life!

But neither can a man go back to his youth, and live it all again.

I have a dragon, he thinks of saying. There is no war, because I captured Napoleon – an unknown man who makes himself emperor.

Mad. It sounds mad even to Laurence himself. But to imagine that Temeraire was a fever-ridden dream... Tenzing and Granby and China, all of it...

Laurence doesn't share his turmoil with anyone – not even with Gerry, who checks on him fretfully. After a week the doctor declares him well enough, physically. He's paired always with another lieutenant for the first few days on duty, and his shipmates watch him carefully for signs of permanent debilitation; but aside from a moment or two of hesitance, Laurence competently resumes his duties. The oversight lessens.

Laurence thinks about writing letters.

He thinks about writing to Tharkay's late father, who ought to still be alive, inquiring after his son. He thinks of writing to Prince Mianning, asking about the health of Lung Tien Qian. He thinks of writing to young Midshipman Granby, his unwed brother, his dead father...

Not all of them would reply. But he could ask questions. Could verify the truth of things. Unless this, instead, is the delusion.

Is he in 1793, imagining the future? Is he in the future, imagining the past? Or maybe he is already dead, and this is the reality of hell. He came here burning with fever, and now he burns with fear. Surely that is it's own form of torture.

Laurence is ironically given the task of tutoring the midshipman and lieutenant-hopefuls more than any other duty as the weeks pass; his crewmates still look askance, and the more eager of the midshipman become protective. Laurence remains perfectly capable of command; it is only that he can't help but be absent-minded, sometimes, staring at all the crewmen that pass him like they are nothing but moving paintings. Images of a world that no longer matters.

One evening the midshipmen drag him away to a meal with the other officers. It's a noisy crowd; Laurence would find the friendly bustle comforting in another life.

One of the senior officers, Lieutenant Moore, waves him down as Laurence enters. Evidently they used to be friends, given his notably concerned behavior of late. Laurence can't remember the man, and has a sneaking suspicion he died too soon to make a lasting impression.Moore jostles him when Laurence sits at the long table. “Will! Did you get any letters with the last batch?”

A patrolling gunboat brought a satchel of letters just this morning. “I did not,” Laurence says. He's grateful for the fact. He'd found a few pieces of correspondence in his quarters that he dutifully sent on; he cannot imagine writing a letter now, in this confused state.

“Then you've had no news! Robespierre has gone mad. Madder than before, I suppose.”

“Robespierre?” asks Laurence blankly.

Lieutenant Moore double-takes, as does everyone else around them. “Good lord, Will, please tell me you remember Robespierre?”

Right... Robespierre's reign was brief, but this is when he led France. Some of the things the papers published...

Well, at least Laurence has a well-worn excuse for his ignorance. He plays up his malady: “Yes. I think I recall he was... French?”

Groans of horror mixed with amusement echo around the table. “...Well you aren't wrong,” says Moore, looking pained. “He has styled himself the 'President' of their Assembly, which is some stupid way of being king; the French are all mad about removing and adding words right now. I don't know how they expect anyone to hold a conversation.”

“We should... probably educate Mr. Laurence about the war at some point,” some midshipman mutters. Laurence doesn't recall his name.

Moore sighs again. “Anyway. Robespierre is a tyrant, of course. But he's elected someone else to rule France! Barely more than a boy, too.”

Laurence frowns; he doesn't remember what Moore's talking about. “Why would he do that? Did they capture one of the Bourbons?” Declaring himself regent of a child-prince would at least make sense.

“Well, at least you remember them. No; it is some nobody, a young soldier. Not even French! I cannot fathom it.”

It feels like Laurence has been dunked in ice.

For a moment he can't respond. “What was his name? The soldier.”

“Napoleon Bonaparte. He has been chosen as head of their new heresy, the 'Cult of the Supreme Being,' they're calling it; and now de facto head of the government, too. Must be a priest? I don't know, nothing the French are doing makes sense. I expect his little group will be as short-lived as everything else about these riots.”

But Laurence doesn't think so. “...Excuse me; I'm feeling a bit poorly,” he says, rising on wavering legs.

“Yes, you look it! Go on, we'll tell you about the war later...”

Laurence flees.

[hypn0electra]

ok fine i'll post this here. yumeship but fucked up and evil

[villa-kulla]

2024 in review:

January: Strong start, fun at work, creative plans, many outings with new people, successful birthday cocktail bash thrown, plans to keep the momentum going -

January 23rd: cat dies

February: depression/crippling loneliness

March: depression/crippling loneliness

April: depression/crippling loneliness

May: depression/crippling loneliness

June: depression/crippling loneliness

July: depression/crippling loneliness/therapy

August: start dating this guy with whom i have a history because that's just what people do isn't it? he loves me and is ready to settle down, so maybe this is it, maybe i should just settle and join this club of monogamy and kids that i've watched every single one of my close friends join over the past 3 years, leaving my the 7th wheel at every single social function because it's ridiculous that I'm in my early 30s and my most significant relationship was with a cat, maybe it's time to finally grow up and settle for someone, you had a very slutty bisexual 20s back when it was cute, but as long as you're still somewhat attracted to guys, might as well let the pendulum settle that way because it'll be societally easier for you in the long run, and all the while you can ignore the voice in the back of your head that this is wrongwrongwrong and you don't want this, also it's too embarrassing to have a sexuality crisis in your 30s when you've been out since your teens but whatever, and you should settle down anyways because maybe it'll give your life purpose i mean look at your past year, maybe you wouldn't have taken the death of your cat so hard, at least you'd have a built-in social circle, and everyone does say that they never felt truly alive until they have kids/partner, and while your parents never pressure you they've certainly hinted that it's weird you haven't settled down yet and you'd be happier with a family of your own, therefore obviously my life must have no other value, maybe they're right, so let's settle down with a guy whom i quite honestly find irritating now and who doesn't spark joy but it's been hard to tell because everything is irritating to me lately and nothing sparks joy, and i try so hard and stay reasonably social and have hobbies that get me out of the house and am financially stable with a challenging full-time job that's sometimes rewarding and eat well and exercise a lot and these are all Healthy™ things to do so why do i feel like dying every time i wake up and have to face getting through the day, and isn't it pitiful that the one who was always Little Miss Talented and Smart and Pretty growing up has amounted to a sad, lonely, unfulfilled girl who hasn't lived up to any of her creative potential, and people will always see her as a cat lady except even more pathetic because her cat is dead, and maybe my best years are really behind me, and i'll just be stuck forever tagging along after friends who've moved on with their lives, so better commit to this guy you find tiresome right because husband + kids = happiness, maybe those nuclear family people are onto something, maybe husbands and kids are for when the rest of your friends get husbands and kids and you start to lose them because the friendship is different no matter what anyone says, and you've always been good at forcing yourself to do what's good for you, and deep down you know this is nonsense and won't solve anything, but it can't possibly make things worse than you've felt all year, and also this Guy feels like his life is starting over with you, but you feel like your life is ending with him, and the only reason you'd stay with him is so people don't pity you, and more than anything you can't bear for people to pity you and you suspect they all secretly are pitying you simply because you're single and there must therefore be something fundamentally wrong with you, and you used to be able to dismiss thoughts like that as stupid, but then again you used to be a lot more happy, and it gets harder and harder to ignore the thought that something is wrong with you, and the only thing worse than other people's pity is self-pity and every time you stop and think about your unhappiness you cry because you don't see how you'll ever feel happy again and you know you don't deserve to feel this way, but you can't actually remember the last time you were happy, it was certainly before your cat died, and I miss him so much and could this guy just stop fucking texting me for one second, oh god it's me, hi, i'm the problem it's me -

September: depression (but busy!)

October: Meds! / break up with guy + floods of relief!

November: Don't even remember

December: Actually kind of okay!

Anyway, Happy almost New Year!

[childofthestone]

thinking abt the veilguard companions and sighing heavily

[patchyworx]

People talk about fast metabolisms like it's all fun and games and eating whatever you want but they fail to remember that it also means your body is Incredibly Stupid and decides that you become deficient in everything in a couple or so days where it takes most others a week. Or months compared to "oops you forgot to photosynthesize sufficiently :( no i don't care that it has been freezing and overcast for the past week, you didn't absorb enough sun. Perish Badly."

Or at least it would be if i didn't like citrus fruits so much, probably

[yyamssoup]

and another

[ratinthevoid]

why did i believe i can ever come out to her

[arctic-hands]

My parents make better friends than they ever did spouses and like that was painfully obvious to me at age ten to the point I was pleading with god during my christian years by saying "I know divorce is a sin but I'll take the punishment if you let them divorce" but for whatever fucking reason they thought it was better for me to wait until I was eighteen to split and then they marvel at how all my romantic options just end up being friends and how lonely I am romantically

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[solar-halos]

can i complain about something? just kidding im gonna do it anyway (warning i talk about hurling)

at the beginning of the year, my brother blew chunks in my car. he did not tell me and instead cleaned it and then sprayed it with fabreeze before returning it to me. but then it started smelling really bad again so he had to admit his sins. idk about him but i was not gonna fucking drive my car when it smelled like someone’s vomit comet so i deodorized that shit with pine sol (while i was SICK. bc he apparently was not gonna do it). then i got it shampooed. then i stuck this super strong mutant masks-the-smell-of-anything air freshener in the trunk. and it seemed like it worked for a little while!!! up until it didn’t. idk i fabreezed it again (like fabreeze specifically for fabric) and i have a feeling that it’s not gonna be very long until it starts to smell again. which like. that’s MY CAR. like that is something i actively pay for. and he threw up in it. according to my other brother he didn’t even try to roll the window down he just immediately started vomiting

[maretriarch]

its been like over a year since ive gotten my period and ive been weight restored on and off within that time and you think it would eventually just come back but damn i really think its gone for good. i know i SHOULD like be bothered by it and it does add to my constant health anxiety but i dont know....i don't really want to go to a doctor...im saving at least ten dollars a month on tampons right now....think about the economy....

[skrunksthatwunk]

eughhh i feel dumb

[your-magloving-satinwhistle]

GUESS WHO LET THEIR HAIR DOOOOOOWN!

GUESS WHO'S GONNA TRY AN WRITE ABOUT HOW BOUT FLO AND ARTHUR STRUGGLE TO "LET THEIR HAIR DOWN"!

... No guarantees but like... tis very significant. Yesterday I put this style on Flo (Erumae's style, but with longer locs pulled back), and it felt right! I keep trying to put Flo in this style just to see if I feel comfortable enough with it and guess what! Twas the housefit it works best with!

This is so funny and fitting cuz Flo always has their hair up in a ponytail cuz the partial down style frames their face weirdly in the main look (irl reason), but the housefit is less bulky so the hair isnt too much! For Flo reasons they always prefer a ponytail cuz it's practical, they don't feel relaxed enough to take it out and wear it loose and it makes them look too much like Erumae when it's partially down. And I know I haven't shown it much, but they have a lower mask on all the time. The cinematic scenes took it off, but yeah they're always covering their face in some way and it's for the same reason as the ponytail. It's practical and it's a guard. Security blanket. Makes them feel more comfortable talking to others. Same thing with Erumae, but... less security blanket and more cool factor.

I also wear a ponytail (at work) and a mask irl all the time, but that's just... that was coincidental.... partially.... Remember to mask! I digress.

Now what makes this even better is that I made the housefit specifically to talk to Arthur so the little bug/glitch where my body covers up his face when I talk to him isn't obstructive. The hair I struggle to put on Flo fits it and I didnt cringe. Put it into perspective in the game, Arthur is the only one who gets to see Flo feel safe and relaxed enough to dress down/let down their hair and ultimately let their guard down. Arthur also struggles with letting his guard down too!

I dont know if I made any sense... Idk what Im trying to say, my brain is fried from work but I made progress on fleshing out Flo and their relationship with Arthur! They have something big in common that they struggle with and overcome together! Yay!

[space-ninja-fashion-show]

I haven't played much in the past two weeks which apparently means that the moment I grab any frame other than lavos, my brain gets very confused about this thing called "energy" and also about "what do you mean not every frame gets really fast when you press 2"