#i'm gonna go sit in bed & write them all down in my journal :-)

[raiiny-bay]

more outtakes

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i'm outta my head over you Pt. 1

On AO3 here: i'm outta my head over you

prologue/pt. 1 to my @steddie-week 2023 entry! i'm doing a part/chap to the same fic for each day so pt. 2 will also be up at the same time as this!

there's also a playlist that i'm going to be updating daily with each day's songs :o) you can find it here

hope you enjoy!

Steve has been listening to the same tape over and over again for the last month.

Robin realizes it's the same one when they hang at Steve’s one day. They mean to watch a movie or something but end up in his room (Robin laying across his bed on her back reading a magazine and Steve hunched over his desk writing something in that little journal he’s been carrying around lately), when she starts listening a bit closer to the tape Steve has playing.

“Did you really take this out of your car with you?” It has to be the same one. Must’ve grabbed it on his way out of the car. She always gets out before him.

Steve his face turns pink. “..No.”

“What’s the deal with this tape?” she sits up and takes in his flustered face. “Oh my god!” She gasps, “Someone made this for you didn’t they? Who is it? Is it someone I know?”

He scoffs. “Oh yeah. You know them very well.”

“Oh. My. God. Did Nancy give it to you?”

“What? No! You think Nancy Wheeler would make me a mixtape ?”

“Well, I would say one of the kids but these are all cheesy love songs, so not them, and I’m guessing it wasn’t one of the girls you’ve managed to score a single date with either. If it was one of them they’d definitely be a stalker and you wouldn’t be listening to this so much.”

“Also the fact that I agreed it was someone you know very well.”

“Was it Jonathan? Or Eddie maybe? Or–” she was going to continue but stopped at how bright red his face becomes “Eddie??”

“No. …No, it wasn’t Eddie who made it for me.”

“Are you sure, cause your super red faces says otherwi–”

“I made it for Eddie.”

Robin has no words. Words do not exist right now. Her brain is flatlining at the implications this brings up about her platonic soulmate.

“Steve–”

“I made it for Eddie, but he’s never gonna know. Got it?” He pushes an accusatory finger into her face and very pointedly goes back to scrawling in his journal.

Robin lets him alone for a few moments before: “Eddie, huh?”

Steve sighs “Yeah. Eddie.”

“So is it just Eddie? Or is it all guys maybe?”

“Uhm..” He rubs the back of his head, still looking down at his journal. He for sure just got pen marks all over his scalp. “I think it's guys in general? Maybe? There've been other guys I’ve thought about before…at least a little bit in…that way. But it was Eddie that made me realize it for sure.”

He looks up at Robin from beneath his lashes, seeming to be worried about her reaction to that. 

“Oh Dingus,” She scoots to the edge of his mattress and folds him into her arms, a rare hug, even for the two of them. “Thanks for telling me.” Robin whispers into his hair, and Steve lets the tension from his shoulders go.

They embrace for a bit longer, and when she lets Steve go, “So tell me about this mixtape.”

“It’s actually only half a mixtape. I’ve only filled up one side.”

“Are you going to fill up the B side?”

Steve shrugs, eyes going back to the vague shape he’s drawing over again in his notebook. “If I find more songs.”

“More songs…?” Robin trails off for him to continue.

“....more songs that remind me of him.”

“Eww grody!” Robin smiles, shaking herself as if trying to shake off Steve’s affection. “Dingus, this is adorable, why these songs? If you fill it up, are you going to give it to hi–”

“No! Nonononono, he is never ever going to see this tape, okay?”

“Okay, okay, I got it.” she puts her hands up in surrender. 

He goes back to his book and she drops the topic. For about half a minute.

“So why these songs? Besides you being hopelessly in love with him.”

Steve sighs, but says nothing. 

“Oh shit, you didn’t even deny it. You are in love with him!”

Again, he says nothing. Just keeps looking down at his notebook. She can see his face is still red in embarrassment. After a breath, he sighs, and hands over the notebook.

There’s messy scrawl all over the pages it was open to and the two pages before. It looks like the pages started as a tracklist, but were soon covered in little doodles and notes for other things as well. ‘Dustin doctor FRIDAY at 3’ is hastily written in next to ‘Heartbeat - Wham!’. There’s a little bat (the animal) drawn next to ‘eddie said ozzy’ and the song title ‘Runnin’ with the Devil - Van Halen’.

“These are the songs.” Steve says, just barely over a whisper. “And why.”

“Why what?”

“Why they make me think of him.”

Robin reads a couple of the entries, and they are sickeningly sweet. Some have details so personal even she hadn’t known them.

“Steve, this is–”

“Weird? Creepy? Stalker-ish?” Steve says bitterly and starts to curl in on himself, emotionally as well as physically.

“Hey, no, none of that..” Robin closes and drops the notebook on the bed and reaches forward to pull Steve back out of his shell. She’s only somewhat successful, planting her hands on either side of his face and getting him to look up at her.

“I was going to say that this is really sweet. People make mixtapes for the people they like all the time right? So what’s creepy about you doing it?”

“One: It’s me, a guy , making one for another guy. And two: people don’t usually obsessively write about why they added the songs.” 

“Then that’s just a bonus.” Robin states matter-of-factly. “If you ever do give this to Eddie, he’ll actually know how you feel about him, and not just guess.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve sits up, removing his face from her grasp, “He’s not ever going to see it, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“You’re not going to give it to him? Ever?”

“Nope. Guy crushing on another guy that probably doesn’t feel the same way, remember?” He says, pointing at himself then glaring down at his notebook like it offended him personally. "Just drop it, okay Robin?"

So she does. For now.

-----

Robin is at her wits end.

Her whole existence is half Steve mooning over Eddie, and half Eddie mooning over Steve.

The pining from both sides is driving her absolutely insane.

“You’re driving me crazy, Eddie. Please just tell him how you feel, I can’t deal with this much longer.” she tells him one day at lunch, murmuring close to him over the roar of the students around them.

Lucky Eddie; he survived hell and was recently expected back at school to graduate.

“You can’t keep secrets, birdie?” he mumbles around a pretzel.

She almost scoffs, but stops herself at the last second. 

“Not from Steve I can’t! ! He’s my best friend, my one and only soulmate, the Dingus to your Doofus. I tell him everything and knowing you like him when he–when you could just tell him yourself is driving me batty!” Nice save she tells herself.

Eddie doesn’t notice the slip anyway, already shaking his head at her.

“Just drop it Robin, even if he finds out I’m gay and is cool about it, doesn’t mean that Steeeeeve Harrington would ever be into Eddie the freak.”

The after-lunch bell rings at the same time he stands, slumping off out of the cafeteria and into the hall without a spare glance backward.

“Okay that’s it. I’m done.” She stands, determined. 

“Done with what?” Dustin asks, also standing to throw his tray away.

“Men.”

-----

Robin’s able to enact her scheme not long after that.

Steve is leaving with his parents on a trip (for once) and will be gone for a few days.

“Ew your mom is bringing you along now too to try and keep your dad from having an affair? What’s she gonna do, leave you in the room the whole time?”

“Ha ha ha.” he rolls his eyes, sarcasm dripping from every ‘Ha’. “I’m meeting with them and my grandparents about my trust fund and going over their will with them both.”

“Ugh, I always forget you’re a snobby trust fund baby.”

“Thanks, Rob. Makes me feel fantastic when you put it like that.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do?”

“Whatever, just tell me what you want me to do while you’re gone.”

“Well, Eddie’s taking the kids since you just started driving,”

“When’d you and Eddie get illegally married and then almost just as illegally divorced?? You sound like you’re talking about a custody agreement.”

Steve’s face turns pink, probably at the thought of being married to that Doofus. Ugh, he’s so in love it hurts. Truly.

“Shut up, Robin.” he shakes his head at her. “Anyway! He’s got their schedule covered and if he doesn’t, he’ll never hear the end of it from Henderson. You’ve just gotta watch the house, ‘kay?”

“Got it, water the kitchen, make sure the yard stays clean…”

Steve smiles fondly at her “Yeah, you got it.”

--

As soon as she knows Steve is in the air (really, AS. SOON.), she takes Steve's songbook and tape to the library. 

She pays the ridiculous cost of $0.25 for them to copy both page spreads, and immediately drives to the Forest Hills trailer park.

Eddie is on his porch with a cigarette hanging out one corner of his mouth, his acoustic guitar on his lap.

“I’m coming up, Munson, you better put out that cigarette!” she yells out her window at him as she parks.

“Yeah, yeah, waste all my smokes, why don’t I?” he grumbles to himself, but stubs it out all the same.

“Put the guitar down too, I need your full attention for this.” she says, coming up the two steps onto the porch and stopping in front of him.

He looks at her incredulously, but puts it down, leaning the guitar against the arm of the loveseat.

“Okay, you’ve got my full attention.” he spreads his arms out wide. “What is it, Birdie?”

“You are to take what I give you, and not breathe a word about it to Anyone. Else. You hear me?”

“Oohhkay? You’re freaking me out, Rob.”

“You’re Uncle’s working tonight right?”

“Yeah..?

“Take this and listen to side A.” she hands over the tape and he eyes it suspiciously, turning it over in his hand. “You’ll want these too.”

Eddie takes the offered papers and unfolds them. “Is this a tracklist?”

“It might be,” Robin shrugs and turns back to her car. “Steve will be back in three days. I have an excuse ready for why the tape’s gone if it takes you longer than that, but I’d rather not have to use it.” she calls over her shoulder.

“What does this shit have to do with Steve?”

She’s at her car now, and gives him a look over the top. “You’ll figure it out Eddie.”

Part 2 here!

[pray4saint]

IM BACKKKK, can i get jamie with a reader who gets really overstimulated easily. like maybe it's when r first comes home from a long day at work or something, and he's just like BLARING music, and r just starts spiraling, and jamie can't figure out why—until he does.

that was very self-indulgent, but do with it what you will. 🫶🫶🫶🫶

james potter with overstimulated!reader

masterlist & descrip. pg. 13+. reader has sensory issues. established relationship. use of 'y/n'.

a/n. as someone with mild sensory issues, this shouldn't be too difficult / reminder for readers, only my mutuals can request marauders fics

you come home tired, already a little dizzy in the head. through the door you can hear your boyfriend's music and you sigh, turning the handle and pushing the door open. across the room, the vinyl player sits, playing one of his favourite songs at full volume, and now that you're in the room, it feels so much louder than it did in the hallway.

when james hears the front door close, his head snaps up from the journal he was writing in and when his gaze lands on you, he smiles. ”hey doll, welcome home.” you return the smile, although yours isn't genuine, it's irritated and forced, and james can tell. but before he can stop you to ask what's wrong, you've walked off to the bedroom and closed the door.

after about fifteen minutes, he gets up, leaving the music playing. when he nudges the bedroom door open, he sees you sat with your back against the headboard, knees pulled up to your chest and your head in your knees. you weren't crying, and he felt a small wave of relief come over him. ”close the door..” you muttered right as james was about to step closer to you. hesitantly, he shut the door and took small steps closer to you. ”s'something wrong love?” he sits close to you but still on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed on the bed while the other dangles off the edge. you don't say anything, you can't. it's all getting too loud. all you can manage is to lift your head enough to nod a yes. subconsciously, his bottom lips moves out past his top and his lips downturn. while your head is still up, you notice.

”is there anything i can do precious?” it was the overwhelming sound of the music in the next room. you knew that much, but you couldn't stop the switch in your brain that went from silent to screaming. james looked at you with such intent despite your yelling about work and your colleagues and the boss and your family. but still, you didn't say anything about the music. james only nodded along to your loud complaints. you rarely ever snapped at him so when you did, it wasn't only unexpected, it was a little bit scary too. then the switch is off again, and you're leaning back against the headboard, shutting your mouth tight. ”i'm gonna go make you something to eat, i know you had a hard day today..” his words are quiet and shaky, and you feel bad about your outburst. it's not his fault. ”would you please come with me?” he outstretches his hand to you and your gaze shifts between his eyes and his palm. timidly, you place your hand in his and the two of you walk out of the bedroom.

as soon as the volume is risen again against your ears, you go to retract your hand from his, except he does it first. he moves to turn the music down, way down, and then decidedly off. at first you think he could read your mind, but then he speaks. ”c'mon, gotta be able to hear you talk.”

”okay, what about?” your voice is at a normal volume and your tone is stable and james is confused. ”wha-” somehow in his mind, he pieces things together. the storming off, and outburst and the silence, the loud music. he pieced it together because marlene was the same way when he was in school. james reaches to take both of your hands in his and bring them up to his lips for quick, gentle kisses. ”was it the sound? if so m'sorry love.” for a moment you're left in a haze, mostly about how he figured it out and you just stare at him.

”yeah.” finally, the word escapes your mouth as you let out air you didn't even know you were holding in. ”how did you–”

”marls was the same. but believe me y/n if i had known it'd cause you issues i wouldn't have–” you cut him off with a squeeze of his hands. ”jamie. it's fine. you didn't know.” he looked at you with heavy regret, like he could cry. he looked like a kicked puppy. by his hands in yours, you pulled him a little closer to you and pulled one of your hands out of tangle and placed it against his cheek. ”i promise jamie, i'm okay.” he nods against your hand, leaning into the warm touch. ”i need you to promise to give me some kind of sign you're uncomfortable if anything like that ever happens again.”

you almost laugh, you knew james wouldn't let it happen again, at least not in your own home. but james' serious expression makes you swallow your laugh and bite back an amused smile. ”i promise.”

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.

[sleepyowlwrites]

first thing I do after returning home is to clean my room and put away all the books I've acquired in the last couple months. and do laundry, 'cause I need shirts. now dad can stop saying "there's more stuff in here" every time he comes into my room.

I made space for all my writeblr friends' books to be together, right underneath the most favorites shelf. when my fancy ARMV comes, I'll have to shuffle again, but whatever. I'm finally utilizing this wine crate I've had sitting around. it's hiding my second Cassandra Clare shelf, 'cause yeah there's two of them. The books on the floor are either give away or "I dunno whose these are" and also my bts albums that I don't want anymore. if anybody will pay for cost of shipping, you can have them. I had not intended to recollect the Lunar chronicles, especially since I never finished them the first time, but the covers! are so pretty!

got my owl prints into frames. if I can remember, I'll link the etsy artist here. somebody comment and remind me. did I really need fancy versions of Howard Pyle's Robin Hood and King Arthur? no, but I wanted them. you can't see the bottom shelf but it's Rick Riordan, Michael Morpurgo, and some misc stuff down there.

I moved some stuff here, too, so the middle shelf is all fairytale or fantasy stories, and star wars is up with the graphic novels. I got ready player one, a book I was never going to buy, from a discount store this weekend, and it's hanging out with Dune, 'cause I was never gonna buy that either.

the plan is to get shelves that are 84" so they go up one shelf higher than that last one. I have a little step stool so I'll be able to reach the higher shelves, and they'll go across from almost my doorframe and hopefully I will then have enough space. but then I won't because I will keep acquiring books. I could always put some floating shelves on the wall beside the window, every bed. my journals take up a lot of space. they're not like sketchbooks. I can fill those, take pictures of each page, and then throw the sketchbook. but journals I want to keep.

I also need deeper art shelves, but that can wait.

once I'm back on meds and my brain stops being scrambled eggs all of the time, I am going to read these books, and make art, and write stories, and it’s going to be great.

[punsmaster69]

27/SEP/20XX

tori invited me over to bake with her today.

we're probably makin' a pie.

gonna leave my journal here, i'll write the rest later tonight.

——

"I have already prepped the ingredients, so we just need to mix, form, and bake!"

"sounds good."

"Oh! But first-"

she opened a drawer and suddenly a large white shirt was being pulled over my skull.

"The baking shirt!"

"the... baking shirt?"

"It is in case you spill something. This way, your clothes will not be stained! Frisk usually wears the shirt, but it seems to fit you as well."

"...fit is a bit of an overstatement."

the 'baking shirt' is a giant white shirt that stops just above my knees in length.

it probably used to be tori's.

"you're sayin' i'm as messy as a child, then?"

"Well..."

"...yeah, that's fair."

we ended up with a little too much filling, so tori prompted to just eat it ourselves.

"It'll be our little secret!"

she happily lifted a spoonful of the dripping butterscotch-cinnamon filling mixture into her mouth, handing me a spoon as well.

"maybe you oughta wear one of these shirts too, tori."

i wiped away some of the mix she'd gotten on her face with my thumb, but couldn't quite get it all out of her fur.

"...!!"

"you'll have to rinse the rest."

she stood there with a kind of surprised look on her face for a second, then stuttered out a quiet 'ok' before splashing water on her face at the sink.

....i must've weirded her out a little bit, suddenly touching her face. did it out of habit from when paps was younger, i guess.

sorry, tori.

after putting together the pie we went to her living room to read until the pie was done.

ended up taking a nap instead.

——

when i came to, i wasn't on toriel's couch anymore. i was asleep in her room. she was sitting on the end of the bed.

before i could even say anything, she put her hand over my mouth.

"Shhhh! I do not want Frisk to know you are here."

"what're you treatin' me like a fugitive for all of a sudden?"

"If they know that I invited you over while they were gone again, I will never hear the end of their teasing about you."

"what about the pie?"

Tori pointed to the nightstand, where a two slices of pie sat in a plastic container.

"guess that means i'm getting kicked out, then?"

"You will have to go home at SOME point tonight."

"...Unless you'd like to stay here in my room all night."

...

"if you're already being teased about hanging with me as is, i probably shouldn't be in bed with you."

"You're making it sound like we are doing something else.."

suddenly, a knock on the door.

tori grabbed a book, threw her blankets over me, and leaned against me like i was a perfectly normal ball of blankets.

...the detergent she uses is pleasant-smelling.

"Y-yes? You may come in."

i heard the door open.

"Mom, can I-"

"...What are you 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨?"

"..I am simply getting cozy!"

"Okay.. anyway, can I have a slice of the pie in there?"

"I hope it is good, I made it with S-"

"Er- love!"

"Is 'love' a new ingredient to your pies?"

"I suppose not.. I hope you will like it anyway."

"Thank you for the 'love' pie!"

i heard the door close, and their footsteps disappear down the hall.

tori quickly unwrapped me from her blankets.

"I hope it was not getting too hot under there."

"i'm good, but.. how am i gonna get home without them seein' me?"

she inspected the window, then formed two right corners with her fingers. tori held them up to me, trying to gauge if i could fit through her window.

"Might be a bit of a tight squeeze.. but, I think you can fit!"

"you sure i won't get stuck?"

"You can almost certainly get through!"

....

yeah, i got stuck.

she tried to pull me back inside, but my shirt got caught on the window.

"tori, wait-"

my shirt tore on the corner of the window, and we went tumbling to the floor.

the door swung open.

"Are you alright?-"

"........."

"h..heya, kid.."

..... can't blame em for the look of disgust on their face.

would be... pretty hard to explain how this happened without it sounding like an excuse.

they silently closed the door, facial expression stuck in the same look of disgust the whole time.

we both sat in an embarrassed silence for about five minutes before anyone spoke.

"I will explain what happened to them later.."

suddenly becoming conscious of my exposed ribs, i grabbed a blanket to cover myself.

"you happen to have a spare shirt?"

she sifted through her drawers, looking for anything that could be close to my size.

"This looks like it could fit alright."

tori held up a blue pajama tee with the words "girl boss" on it.

"....guess it's better than nothing."

tori left the room to go talk to frisk. i followed shortly behind after putting on the new shirt and gathering what was left of my old one from the window.

grabbed my jacket, said an awkward goodbye to frisk, (who was now staring daggers at me) and got home as quickly as possible.

...

i'm still recovering.

[blindrapture]

FRIDAY JUNE 10TH, 2011 (Clearly Exaggerated)

2:37 AM Blackpool.

2:51 AM We’ve arrived at the marketplace.

2:52 AM Mistress is sitting atop her makeshift throne. She’s watching me. I don’t see Donnie anywhere. "You're very observant. You can see her after I've seen your journals." ……crap. The Rapture Duck ate my earlier journals. Mistress is coming down from her throne. She's laughing. She snaps her fingers, and puppets arrive holding a rather wet and wrinkly looking book. My journals from Spain. "Is that what you were talking about?" Yes, ma’am. I forgot Mistress can make her puppets do dirty work. And they’re always watching me, watching my every move. Mistress grabbed the journal and is now flicking through it. The light here is rather scarce. There’s a couple barrels nearby with fires in them, but other than that and the moon, there’s not really much light. Mistress looks disturbingly real under this light. Even though she’s just a marionette. She looks like she’s almost human. Almost. "Oh, just look at all this... I'm so pleased! You're such a good pet. 'The White Jester,' I'm impressed, you inspired an epithet! The name suits you." Th.. thank you. "God, all these descriptions of violence are making me horny. You sure know how to win a girl's heart."

3:00 AM She just made out with me. She made sure to do it for longer than last time, and with all the puppets watching. And one more person. She's pointed out Donnie in the crowd. Donnie’s oh my god Donnie’s thin. What the hell have these guys been dYES MA’AM Mistress wants to make sure I know who’s watching for this next bit. …oh god, Mistress, I can’t, no. "You. Me. Right here, right now. I promise I won't give you splinters." I really can't. I just got back, I'm gonna want to unwind... I really appreciate the sentiment, I promise, but I mean I've never even done it bef

6:54 AM Mistress says I’m amazing at that. Mistress says I can get more tomorrow night. Mistress corrected herself. Mistress says I will get more tomorrow night. Mistress wants me to go to bed now. Mistress will let Donnie go with me. Mistress says one last thing. Mistress kissed me on the cheek and said “Welcome home, White Jester.” Mistress is gone now.

8:41 AM It was a slow walk home to what used to be the tropers' house. Donnie looked at me for most of the walk. She looked to be in a lot of pain. And she looked sympathetic. I tried my best to return the look. Donnie’s in the bathroom now. She went straight in upon returning. My body is in a lot of pain. In retrospect, I’m glad I wasn’t allowed to keep writing in my journal for that. It’ll be easier to forget. Donnie’s crying. Donnie’s sobbing. I’m going to go see what I can do. I just.. have to. I owe it to her.

9:11 AM Donnie’s asleep now, next to me. I talked to her. I let her cry on my shoulder. I really feel like I owe her. I have no idea what they’ve done to her while I was gone. She won’t tell me. I respect that; I won’t pry. She just told me that she wished, when she came out of the bathroom, it would all go away. When we got into bed, Donnie started hugging me and still hasn’t stopped. I’ve got my arms free. But I.. god. I need to think of some way out of here. I need to get us both out of here.

5:40 PM Woke up at noon. Can’t remember the nightmare. It had something to do with last night.. and some event with my family. My arms were busy hugging Donnie, so I didn’t write it down. I think that’s for the best. Then I drifted off to sleep again. Donnie’s up now, which is why I am. I didn’t dream a real dream this time. I just heard Mistress’ clearly exaggerated sexual moans over and over again. Does she really enjoy the sex? Can you even call that sex? How would I even know? Can you even call me a good guy anymore? Can you even call me a human anymore?

5:49 PM Donnie and I are going out to look for a meal. Together. .w.

5:54 PM We agreed not to go towards the marketplace. We’re just looking nearby.

6:02 PM Restaurant. Raiding the kitchen.

7:40 PM There was food. Lots. We cooked some meals and sat down at a table for two. We talked. About happy things. I told Donnie about some of the fun I had, the new CDs I got, the SLCEMs, Jordan Versus the Minotaur, and how much I missed her. Donnie told me about a new dress the Mistress got her. It’s pretty. And.. blue. I like blue. We mostly spoke about our old lives, really. I talked about what life was like back when I used to live in America, all my old friends, my old schools, the video games I once played. Donnie talked about her life in Surrey, the evenings she’d spend with her mother, the volunteer work she'd do at Halliford, the days she’d spend out wandering through town for the sake of it… At one point, Donnie grabbed my hands and told me how she really didn’t know if I was gonna make it back or not. She didn’t know if I had it in me to.. kill people just out of no choice. She didn’t even know if she could trust me to come save her. As much as we get along, I haven’t even known her for a month. I told her she was completely right; I’m practically a stranger to her. I told her I completely understood why she’d be so afraid and hopeless. These are tough times. But the important thing is that I’m back. I mean, that is the important thing. ..right?

8:01 PM ..I killed those people. I killed a lot of people in that church. I did. I’ve done horrible things. I can’t imagine how much disgust Donnie must feel. I’m terrible.

11:01 PM ..Donnie gave me a hug. Randomly. Maybe she doesn’t hate me. But I’m still terrible, I am.

11:11 PM I wish I could redeem myself.

11:58 PM Knocking on the door. Checking.

(Attached: "The Harlequin once had a pet cat. She named him Cheese Puff, and he was orange and little. Cheese Puff loved cuddles. The Harlequin would take Cheese Puff to see the seaside, and she'd dream of getting a house on a cliff, waking up every morning to Cheese Puff licking her nose. But this was before he came into her life and made her promise her love. After that, she found Cheese Puff's feet in her backyard, curled up like little.. well, cheese puffs. She never found the rest.")

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[shieldofiron]

Anyway basically I love your blog and whenever it pops up it makes my day better, but I can barely ever find Jason fluff, so that is what I want, please write me Jason fluff I don't care about anything else please and thank you. I don't care what ship or what format, I just want my boy to be loved. (I hope I'm not bugging you or anything)

Oh Jason fluff is tough, he was literally built in a lab for angst. But I will try.

---

It took a long time to get used to it. Their new studio apartment is a little cramped, though they do their best to carve out alone space. They could probably get a bigger space, but they're saving for Corroded Coffin to be able to cut a demo in a studio.

But one day Eddie found a squat little armchair for half price in a furniture store and they carried it home five and a half blocks. Well... mostly Jason carried it.

They tucked it in the corner behind the slatted dressing screen they found out by the dumpster, and Jason hung one of Eddies's old hellfire t-shirts over the hole.

"There. Now whenever I need to talk to you I can just..." Jason had pulled the shirt aside and poked his head through, "Hello."

Eddie had smiled, knees drawn up in the chair, hair trailing down his shoulders, "Hello!"

Sometimes Eddie wants to practice alone there late at night, or days like today happen, when Jason comes home from his long evenings at the school, giving Eddie the finger when he calls out, "Hello, Coach Carver!"

"I need the corner," Jason says with a huff.

"Of course," Eddie waves his oven mitt in the air. "Take your time, Tiger."

Jason flops down in the chair, running his hand over his face. The kids had just been little hellions today, running him ragged. And it took all he had in him to be patient with them, to not lose his cool. He'd taken his coffee break out in the alley behind the school, screaming into an old sweatshirt.

He almost wanted to take out his journal, but he was fairly sure if he did he would just write, BAD TEACHER, and HORRIBLE BOYFRIEND over and over. But he's trying not to do that, hate on himself so much. So instead he just sits, trying to breathe slowly, feels his heart beating in his chest, and prays for some clarity.

There's shuffling on the other side of the screen. And then suddenly it topples forward, hellfire shirt flapping in the breeze. Jason reaches out and catches it on instinct before it slammed into his knees.

Eddie knelt on the edge of their bed, cheeks painted red, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry-"

"What...?"

"I was gonna knock," Eddie flaps a hand in the air, "And when you said 'yes,' I was going to pull back the curtain and say... you know..."

"Hello?"

Eddie's blush spreads to his neck. "Hello."

Jason smiled, despite himself. "Hey."

"I know you're probably having a bad day, I just..." Eddie flaps his hand in the air again.

"Come here," Jason can't help but smile bigger.

Eddie is across the space in a moment, taking Jason's chin and kissing Jason softly, folding into his lap. Eddie sprawls his long legs over Jason's.

"I love you, Freak," Jason whispers, stroking Eddie's hair back from his face, "Sorry I was gruff when I came in. Bad mood, but that wasn't fair."

Eddie shakes his hair out, "Takes one to know one, Tiger. It's fine. You know I love you in any mood."

The chair was squat and tiny. And the corner was a little cramped, and Eddie's stack of books nearly fell over when Eddie tried to get closer. But it was theirs.

There was no other space they'd rather fill.

[ubike-official]

my dear friend ive been thinking of you talking about having self hatred blinders on with your trip and it really resonated with me like yeah thats exactly what im dealing with rn and trying to pry them off myself but still struggling with it even as im aware of it, i was wondering if u had any tips for moving forward and out of that kind of self hate and trauma fueled horse blinders mindset (aside from yknow. general healing and unpacking it all). no rush or pressure for replying i was just wanting to pick ur brain a little about it ily i hope ur day is going well

Hi Rey, my friend Rey! Thanks so much for being patient with my reply. I wanted to really sit down and give you a good proper answer here so I reviewed the Ancient Texts (my old journal entries). One thing that really helps for me dealing with the trauma self hatred blinders is the feeling that I owe it to myself to be confident. I think of sad little child me and how I know she wanted to be confident and accepted. And when I think of how others made me feel this hatred and that it's not a natural state. That my natural state was happy even if it was short lived, that i deserve to return back to that state.

Now thats easy said but very much not easily done. I still have moments where I realize after the fact i was isolating and falling into bad habits. Like when I was abroad i remember once the guy sitting next to me said hi to me outside of the school gate and was inviting me in to come talk with everyone and i literally ran away and tripped down a flight of stairs where no one saw me, cried, and dragged my bloody knee to a pharmacy to buy a bandaid and no one batted an eye. At that moment i felt like what just happened was proof that I was awful and no one cared about me. But in hindsight that wasn't true. Those people were inviting me in and i ran away. And i wasnt a bad person for that! i just had a lot of trauma and needed some grace and time to process it!

And it took me around 3 months to muster up the courage to try again. And I mustered it a couple of ways. One of my very bad traits that I'm working on is judging others. I remember there was this guy that took the same bus as me, that had such an obnoxious Australian accent and was so Caucasian and had the audacity to just talk to anyone. And I haaaated him. But like, one day it clicked while i was being a hater, this dude legit did not know or care who i was. he had friends and did so many things i wish i could've done. I stopped seeing him but soon a similar guy appeared that was of the same type of person, and one day I talked to him. And it didnt amount to much. But it helped me get over that block. Because if i was gonna spend all that time disliking him, i wanted him to at least know who the hell i was. at least once. Not for external validation, for me. And I feel like sometimes having that awkward, scary conversation can really help.

In terms of processing and healing I really love physical journaling. It doesn't need to be fancy or coherent, but writing it down, especially before bed helps me really process whatever things are weighing me down. I like to get it out right before bed so i can go to bed with a clear mind and not have the 3am lying in bed spiral. And def try to gauge what things you can unpack and resolve with a session otherwise it can leave you worse off.

One thing that helps for me that may not work for you or others given your health situation. I think a casual low intensity amount of drinking with friends or at a bar in a safe space helps. For me being just a little tipsy makes me put my guard down and connect with others and gain confidence from small, low commitment, one off interactions with strangers. This can also be replicated Non alcoholic/substancy in like a cafe, library patio, or community setting. If you're able to find somewhere accessible to you and be a regular and say hi, get some low level interaction. When I came back home from Taiwan I made it a habit to try and say hi to people when i went for walks and just get comfortable doing that. Or I'd make small talk with checkout clerks at the grocery store and juat add a comment in. Like sometimes I'd just rehearse saying something about the weather or the week or idk, anything. And just whip it out of your back pocket. Sometimes it'll land, sometimes it wont.

Hope this is at least somewhat helpful! you've got this, we're in this together^^

[deathvisited]

3 months after being taken

her hand shook as it held the pen, her eyes lifting to look at her closed and locked door before swivelling to the camera in the corner. biting her lip she scooted up the bed, raising her knees and using them as a desk before she started writing.

"hey baby girl, you'll be a year old in a month, and I can hardly believe it. i know you probably won't ever believe me but I wanted to see your first birthday, watch you smash vanilla cake in your cute chubby face, hear you laugh and giggle when your daddy picked you up. i didn't want to leave baby girl, i know no matter what you're gonna have the best birthday ever. I'm sorry i won't be there to see you go through this milestone, and while I'm not there physically i am mentally, i won't forget. I'll light a candle for you. and i know you probably don't understand why I'm not there, that you probably miss me, but momma's trying to save you from the same fate i went through. i will protect you, and I've come to accept that where i am right now that's the best thing i can do. you have been the best thing that ever happened to me." she sniffled, wiping her cheeks as tears rolled down them, leaning back and biting her lip. things had been hard for a long time with fia, she'd struggled a lot, she knew she had, she hadn't always been the best mom, but she'd done her very best. she was still struggling with everything, and the fact that she had to hide all of it just made it all the harder. "i know that your daddy has probably talked to you about me, but if he hasn't don't blame him too much, you know? he's doing his best to look after his family, he's always done that. you are in the best place i could hope for, and i just wish i was there with you."

6 months after being taken

verity was nursing the bruise with a glass of scotch sitting beside her before her eyes slid to her desk. she wrote fia every week as a sort of ritual these days, but today she felt drained, tired, worn down. her eyes closed as she took another sip of her drink, her hands shaking. she didn't know if she could do this, it was all so much worse that she had remembered. maybe it was the distance of time that helped soften the edges of cruelty and lack of empathy she encountered, a way to stay sane after having survived it. she had to get back in her mothers good graces sooner or later and then maybe she'd stop being put on the floor. maybe that would be enough. laying her head down on her desk she cried silently, her shoulders still. any sign of weakness and her mother would hold it against her. she needed a break, and tonight had been anything but that. rising a little unsteadily from her vanity she picked her way across her clothes strewn room to her bed before digging out the journal. she had no privacy anymore, at least before she'd been able to hide in her bedroom but now there was an extremely visible camera, and more that she likely couldn't see. still.... she pulled out the fairytale book she'd hollowed out, the letters inside it before setting her drink on the night table beside her.

"hey you, i've been too scared to write you I think...... i know you don't understand, and why would you? i never told you exactly what my life was before I was gone. i never wanted you to know, or look at me differently, I didn't want to see the pity in your eyes. i wanted you to be my sanctuary and maybe I made it so that that was too true. you didn't know, and you didn't understand the fear and horror I felt when I looked down at our little girl and was so scared that i'd ruin her. i didn't hold that against you, but I was failing you, and fia, and myself. i wanted to be the best wife I could be, and yea.... we were young, oh so young to have a little girl, but I wanted to be your fairytale dream girl, so fun and bright and bubbly while I raised our child and instead of I was dark and full of nightmares. i felt lost, like I wasn't myself anymore --- the self i'd found with you --- and that you couldn't see that, that you didn't care and I was jealous of both fia's relationship with you and your relationship and dedication to her. i wouldn't have wanted it any other way, but everything seemed to come so effortlessly to you, and I was just ruining everything. i didn't leave, I was taken and maybe that's how I should start this, explaining my life and who I am and what I was made to be. because that's what I am, a construct of my mothers wishes, her desire for power, and the way she thought she could get it. she had me simply because she wanted someone that could replicate her life but do it better, I was trained the same way she was, I was made to be her mirror image, except I was a little broken, a little crooked, not the perfect daughter she wanted. she started grooming when I was 7, and it just progressed from there. when we found each other I was running from her, I know you never pried and I appreciated that, but..... my life was a living horror show of both hating my mother and loving her endlessly and hoping for her approval. she took me, and she didn't know about you and fia and..... i don't think I can come back until shes gone, it's too dangerous. she'd see fia as another chance to make the perfect daughter and I can't allow that. i hope that one day, if you ever get this, you'll forgive me because i don't know if i can forgive myself. i love you. i love fia. i loved our family and maybe you really are better off without the taint of me in your life."

@thewholecrew

[backwards-readings]

The Door that was Never Supposed to be Opened.

Chapter 4: A Bird in a Cage

{Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3}

{A/N: This was originally posted on AO3, if you would like to read it there you can find it HERE. I'm going to be straight up with you and tell you that this is pretty much a self-indulgent self-insert fic. I'm not gonna lie. If you don't like that, that's cool, have a good day. But if you're DTF with it, let's get right into the story.}

{Art Credit: this lovely artist

++TW: There are depictions of Suicide. Please, if it is a sensitive topic for you, skip this chapter. I'll add notes on the next chapter a quick summary of what happened without going into detail. I want you to be safe more than I want you to read my writing. If you're struggling with thoughts of harming yourself, please reach out to someone you trust. If you're in the US, you can call 988 to talk with someone, or text HOME to 741741. There's help. There's hope. Be safe, please.++

The next few days I am consumed by anger. I scribble more sketches in my book, but the strokes are dark, and in places the lead of my pencil rips the paper. I tear the pieces of the ruined paper out of the book in strips, balling each strip up and throwing it into the unlit fireplace. I sit on the floor for a bit, staring at the torn pieces of paper sitting in the soot. Tears begin to form in my eyes and I pull my knees up to my chest, hugging them. All this just because I wanted to help someone. I pick the journal back up and begin drawing again, this time taking time to carefully sketch out the face of the man in the basement.

My tears stain the page around the drawing as his face takes shape. I stop when I get to the hair and set down the journal, leaving the drawing unfinished. His face already haunts me, the hopeless look follows me when I close my eyes. The hopeless look that I’ll soon have as well. I stay sitting on the floor, numbness creeping across my body. A numbness that starts in my hands starts spreading across my body, taking hold of me. A tightness creeps into my chest and something tells me it’s here to stay for a while.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The next few days I don’t even bother getting out of bed unless it’s to use the bathroom. What’s the point of putting in an effort to eat and drink water if you’re just going to be stuck in the same room for possibly the rest of your life? Ms Downard comes in a few times and clicks her tongue at the untouched food, taking it away and replacing it with fresh food, but she never says anything to me.

The first two days my stomach grumbles, and on the third day my stomach feels like it’s tying itself in knots, but I don’t care. Better to starve to death than to live out my years in this god-forsaken place. After five days of staying in bed and not eating, Ms Downard finally addresses me.

“Honestly, you think a hunger strike is going to do anything for you? Eat, don’t eat, Master Burgess doesn’t care. It would just be one less thing for him to worry about. One less thing for me to worry about, too. Lord knows I don’t have to bring you fresh food every day. I’m doing this out of the kindness of my heart, not asking for anything in return.” She lectures me but I don’t respond. If this is her idea of kindness then I don’t want it.

“Nothing?” She huffs “Fine. I don’t care. Have fun sulking in bed until you wither away into nothing. I don’t care.” She leaves a tray of food on the table and leaves, the click of the lock a bitter reminder. That night I take a few bites of the bread that she left, but I throw it up as soon as I get it down. I crawl back into bed and cover myself with the blankets, a chill clinging to my bones that I just can't shake.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

I’m so tired but can’t sleep. I try again and again to eat, but only a few bites make me sick to my stomach, no matter what it is. I drink the water left for me but it doesn’t seem to stay my thirst. I run a bath and sink into the water, the sting of the cold water doing nothing to wake me up. I wash up slowly, letting my hands and feet get wrinkly in the water. After my bath I sit wrapped in a towel on the bed, not waiting to put on the dirty clothes I’ve been in since getting imprisoned. I’m clean, but I don’t feel like it. My chest is still tight and my skin crawls with invisible dirt and bugs. I try to eat a bit of bread again and this time it stays down, feeling like lead in my stomach.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

The next morning, there are clean clothes laid out for me on the table next to my tray of food. It’s a servant's uniform just like my old clothes were. They’re ill-fitting, probably left over from one of the girls who left. The sleeves cover my hands, and I trip over the skirt. There’s no apron to put over the plain dress, but I don’t think I would put it on if there was. I have no need for one as a prisoner. I sit down at the table and eat a few bites of cured meat that sits on the tray, the salty flavour causing me to nearly gag. I eat a little of the bread, hoping that it will calm my stomach, and sit on the bed with my journal and draw.

Once again, my drawings turn from inanimate objects to him. No matter what I do, I can’t get him out of my head. I hate him for it. If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t even be locked up. But instead of minding my own, I had to try and become his saviour. I scribble him over and over again, his features flooding my mind. As I create him over and over again, anger begins to bubble. He haunted me when I was free, and now that I am captive he is all I can think about.

He may not have actually been a devil, but he tricked me just the same. If he is such a powerful being, why didn’t he warn me this would happen? Why didn’t he tell me? He let me try to help him when he probably knew the outcome. That bastard might have even wanted this, envious of my freedom. I get up and throw my book across the room, sick of drawing. Sick of everything turning back into him. It hits the wall and falls with a loud thunk, but does nothing but make me more angry. I begin to see red and next throw the tray of food that has been given to me, and then push the vanity in the room to its side and let out a yell filled with anger.

I stand there, seething for a moment before my seething hot anger is replaced with ice-cold sorrow. Tears fall from my eyes faster than I can wipe them away and I sink to the floor, unable to stop the convulsions of cries. I curl up on myself, my sabs raking through my body like waves crashing into rocks. I don’t know how long I lay there for, but eventually my ragged breaths even out and I lay on the floor in silence. My eyes wander around the room, taking in the destruction of my fit, and they fall on the broken mirror of the vanity, shards of the silver-backed glass strewn across the floor.

I drag myself towards the broken glass, grabbing a shard that fits perfectly into my hand- as if it was meant to be. My head throbs with every heartbeat as I palm the glass, feeling the sharp edges. They may have taken away my freedom, but I am not helpless. I don’t want to live caged like an animal. I can’t. I won’t. I hold the shard in my hand, shaking as I sit up and press the jagged edge into my wrist, a hiss of pain coming from my lips as it bites into my skin. Tears well in my eyes again as I watch a stream of blood trickle down my arm, landing in my lap. I dig deeper, pain clouding my vision before I remove the shard and move it to my other arm, my hands shaking more and more. I repeat the process, digging into my flesh until I have to bite back a scream. I remove the makeshift blade and drop it in my lap, holding my bloody arms out in front of me. My eyes begin to feel heavy, and I lay down, not caring about the shards of glass on the carpet that dig into my skin.

Despite the pain, a small smile graces my lips as I lay there. My eyes land on the book I had been drawing in it, the pained stare of my drawing subject meeting my eyes. I don’t remember drawing him looking like he was pitying me, but then again, I had drawn him so many times, that I probably just forgot. I close my eyes, ready to let the darkness take me, to embrace death like an old friend, but instead, I hear a voice. Soft and comforting, like a warm breeze on a summer evening.

“Oh, you poor little thing.” The voice says, and I use what little strength I have left to open my eyes. A woman kneels in front of me and gently brushes a bit of my hair from my face. The woman has dark skin, and her beautiful curly hair hangs around her face. Her eyes are soft and kind, like she knows every hardship you’ve ever been through, but wouldn’t dare judge you for them. She smiles at me kindly, and I blink slowly, trying to figure out if my loss of blood is causing me to hallucinate.

“I’m so sorry for what they’ve done to you.” She says, cupping my cheek with one hand as she brings her other hand down to my arm, gripping my wrist. But I don’t feel any pain. Instead, it feels like warm water is being poured over my wrist, and I feel a bit stronger, but nauseous.

“I did this…” I say, my voice cracking as hot tears roll down my face.

“No, dear. You are not at fault for your death. You saw the only possible way out and you took it.” She says, moving her hand to my other wrist. I feel the same feeling of water running down my arm and I gag, rolling a bit more onto my side as I dry heave.

“I know, I know. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” The woman says, gently stroking my back. “You fought a battle that was stacked against you from the start, and you should be proud of how long you held up against it.” She says softly, gently pulling me upright.

“But I’m not ready to take you yet, Patricia Everly.”

[freezethebeez]

silly c!tubbo poem thing?

it's more a journal entry. like, give ctubbo a journal and a pen and he'll write this probably.

-> pre-ghostboo, post-mansion, canon-divergence, lots of fluff and maybe a suicide mention for good measure.

thingy thing below the break :)

-

it's been harder to tell the difference

between dreams and reality these days,

especially when everything's kinda of blurred

into this haze of a life that i never thought i'd live.

i mean, it's fucking bizarre how many stars had to align

to get me this mansion and this child and this husband—

and the two fucking fireworks to my face,

what a fucking miracle that was.

it snows a lot here so we tend to stay inside—

just the three of us—

and i can't even remember the last time i've felt peace,

but the quiet evenings by the fire are pretty nice.

ranboo and michael like to make snow angels,

and i like to let them bury me in the snow.

it feels safer there, and kind of warm.

it's a nice place to hide while they sword-fight with icicles.

good thing our bed is warm—

and how crazy is that?

not my bed but our bed—

as in ranboo and me sharing a bed.

but yeah, he's so warm at night.

i thought he'd be cold but he's not.

he's so warm, and his hands are soft, and

it feels nice when he runs his fingers through my hair.

i haven't washed up in a couple days,

and i've been working lots— maybe too much—

so i'm covered in shit all the time, but

he still gives me forehead kisses, so that cool i guess.

fuck, that's right,

i was gonna talk the nightmares—

about the explosions in that little box.

i still get them lots, you know.

it's so silly because it's been over a year,

but for some reason my mind really likes that record.

it likes to play it on repeat, but i don't like it,

but i don't really have control over that, so whatever.

it's really scary when it happens, because

it really feels like i'm there again.

i'm in that box again and techno's got his gun to my face again

and i see the flash and i hear the crack and it plays in slo-mo sometimes.

those dreams make my face feel all hot and sticky,

and i feel so ill when i have them.

sometimes i get properly sick.

it's not very fun.

it was really not fun in the past.

tommy's told me all about it because

he was there when i first got them.

we both had panic attacks and that was awesome.

but yeah, he helped me and i helped him,

and we got through it, so i think that's why he didn't

bully ranboo more when i first met him because

ranboo got to take his place so he wouldn't get panic attacks anymore.

then tommy got them for a different reason,

but that's besides the point.

i still feel bad about that.

it makes my hands feel cold and sweaty.

the nightmares happen less now tho.

thank gods ranboo's still got me

when i wake up screaming.

it's a bit of a routine at this point.

we always wake up at the same time on those nights.

he'll pull me into his arms and bring my head to his chest;

he'll run his hands through my hair; i'll be warm in his arms—

not hot, just warm. he's hot and i'm warm.

sometimes michael wakes up, too,

and the walls and floors and cupboards must all wake up, too,

but michael is only one who can walk in— so he does— and he'll say: "bo's yellin' again."

so ranboo will lift him up into bed

and we'll all cuddle up together,

like we do by the fire,

and everything will be fine for once in my life.

i feel a bit bad sometimes—

in the morning i'll tell ranboo that i'm sorry for waking him,

because it takes so long for him to sleep, you know,

but he'll wave it off with the soft hands and the warm voice.

i'll make him tea tho because he doesn't like my verbal apologies,

but he likes tea with milk and sugar so that'll do.

we'll sit by the fire and watch the icicles melt,

and he'll have tea and i'll have coffee.

things'll blur together—

but things'll be good—

like when the cream mixes in with the tea

and the coffee.

i hope that i don't have to bury him

and he doesn't have to bury me—

not in snow, but in dirt;

i hope that we both go down together.

those fireworks took out more than just me—

they can take us both out, surely.

maybe i should call techno again—

or i could test out that new switch.

not now tho because ranboo's making soup

and i've gotta have that first.

his soup is so good and michael likes it too;

michael is a picky eater

i used to be a picky eater, too,

but i grew out of it.

i think i might be growing again—

but maybe in the way that the icicles that melt.

yeah, like the icicles.

it's so warm outside.

it's warm inside.

the snow is warm.

maybe we can play outside today

and make a snowman.

i've got some work to do.

i'll bury myself then after lunch.

okay, plans are set.

i'll see you then.

byebye!

[strawberry-barista]

⚅— @falseamore asked: —⚅ ⚅— 📖 if youre still accepting this for roman :0 if not ignore me uvu —⚅

Journal Entry

— ★ ⚄ ★ —

He had picked that book up and sat it down maybe seven times since he'd gotten back up to his apartment. And every time he went to detail the man that had been shadowing his life recently he'd stop and toss it down again. He wondered when things had gotten to this point of complicated between them, that he was spending hours sitting around and mussing his hair and finding no space to write anyway.

It wasn't until he was in his bed, ready to sleep but completely unable to, that he finally picked up the book again, determined to just throw everything in the deepest recesses of his mind onto the page, whether it was structured or not. Whether it made sense or not.

Who is this asshole? He acts like such a damn kid sometimes, and I know he does shit just to get under my skin. What does he want from me, really? Sometimes... He really reminds me of Queenie. I think he's trying to do shit to get me riled up like Queenie does. And I feel like I'm getting pretty endeared to him, too. That wasn't supposed to happen... There's a lot wrong with this situation. I can't have anyone getting close to me anymore. Joshua says I can still be close to people without making them family, but I really don't think that I can. If we're gonna stay friends I just want to push him away. I want to keep him as far outta my circle as I can. I wanna be a planet to him, unreachable and unknowable. I don't want him to know who I am or what I do or how I live. It's dangerous for him, a hell of a lot more dangerous than even the shit he's gotten himself into now. I don't want that. I don't want this. I don't want him to suffer at the hands o my overlords. And if something happens to me instead. Shit. Shit. But I don't know. There's something about this asshole. I don't know how I feel, but I wanna protect him. I wanna bring him under my wings and make sure he makes it out. I want him to find happiness. I want him to find love and I want him to live peacefully. I feel like I have to be a little closer than just friends for that. But Joshua doesn't want anymore siblings, and I'm pretty sure Roman wouldn't appreciate that, either. But then, what does that make him? What am I left with? How do I feel? God... I haven't had trouble figuring out how I feel for a while. He gets so unabashedly close to me. I know he's just messing around but Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck all of this shit. For once in my fucking life I want to understand what's going on in here. I cannot let myself get that attached to him. I can't let it happen. Fuck him. I think I might love him, in some way. I can't define it yet but. Godfuckingdammit Roman.

[dzpenumbra]

9/2/22

I can't really write much tonight. I've been going to bed after dawn again and it's messing with my days, waking up mid-afternoon just basically guarantees I don't go outside. I haven't been on a walk at the river in close to a week? Maybe longer? I used to do it every day. I miss nature quite a bit, I want to spend as much time as I can in it because I don't really know where I'm gonna end up next.

I've been oddly drawn to the ocean, like... a rocky coast, a stone beach, something like that. I'm sure all the properties on beaches got bought up in the pandemic boom, or they're airbnb's now, but that would be a cool place to end up. Start the day with a travel mug of black coffee and a satchel bag, walk up and down the beach for a bit, maybe sit with a journal and write or draw. Not a bad life. Skating might be a bit tougher, but not the end of the world, I'm sure.

I talked to my Mom a bit today, reconnected. It had quite a few misfires, me being confrontational (calling out behaviors that aren't working, trying to address problems) and it resulting in defensiveness and counter-strikes. It had some good parts though, mostly commiserating about my Dad's OCD and PTSD stuff. I think it helped her a bit to vent, and I was able to relate not just from her perspective having lived with him myself, but from a first hand experience of having lived in similar shoes with OCD/PTSD, with the bonus perspective of a shit ton of mental health education and having worked on it personally for several years.

I stubbornly wasn't for many years, but now I'm starting to get a bit concerned about being a child of two people with pretty major unresolved issues. I think it's just really hard to process how it's even possible for someone who actually has their shit together to be born of and raised by two people who are just plagued with decades of neglected inner-work. I was never too much of a proponent of nature dictating a personality, though there is a lot of shit I can't explain about myself, like why I'm intuitively just drawn to creative things and exploration. I really wasn't raised to do that. And I really shouldn't exist if I was raised by two people who don't want me to be me... So where the fuck did I even come from? How am I here? I guess, given enough time and space, I kinda raised myself.

I think I developed the ability to stay motivated and focused on being a good person, to generate that from within. I don't know, maybe I was taught it at some of the camps and stuff I went to when I was younger. How to be brave and face your demons, how to trust people and ask for help, how to be confident in your own skin and accept yourself for who you are. Stuff like that. Maybe some people never get introduced to those things outside of fiction, and maybe learning those things at a young age is important. I don't know. I'm just concerned that I may be similar to them, the way I used to be, with a lot of destructive social habits and no awareness of it. It's an actual nightmare, it's like... I would prefer a dream where I go to speak in front of an audience and then I see everyone laughing and suddenly I'm naked or something? Or I'm pissing myself or something? Because I can play that off, I can say "yes, and", I can roll with it. But becoming suddenly aware that you are just an asshole and treat people hurtfully and they just haven't told you? That shit is nightmare fuel.

I think that's just residue from having done so much shadow work. The fear that you've barely scratched the surface, because you know the work is never done. But I think it's just my empathy gone haywire a bit, and I don't give myself enough credit. I think I'd be a great dad someday. I think I handle my panic, anxiety, depression, trauma, etc. way better than I ever have, and honestly better than anyone else I know. I need to be able to give myself credit for those accomplishments, to be proud of that.

That's the funny one, right? With trauma. I don't know if I've written this before on here, but I picked up in a workshop once a simple thing that really stuck with me - "Trauma = Shame". It's pretty dead on, when you connect the dots with it. But some people react to that shame by just covering it up with an influx of its opposite - Pride. And Pride, as we know, is a big ol' sin. The worst, they say, because all others flow from it. I struggle to be confident, because I struggle to be proud. I fear Pride. I know very well how powerful it is, and what it does to people, how it corrupts. But I need Pride. It's really the only thing that will make the dream I described last night, the life I want more than anything, come true. If I truly believe that I deserve it.

I feel like others have fed their Pride with mine. It leaves me at a deficit, in a department which I'm already diminished in. I have spent decades training and nurturing my humility, in my quest to be really fuckin nice. And cool. And now, I guess I've gotta work on fluffing my ego. Otherwise, I'm just going to end up a pawn in someone else's game. Again.

Well shit, that got a bit dark. Oh well. I'm cutting it "short" and heading to sleep before the blue dawn light turns into the yellow or orange dawn light. Fingers crossed I get some nature time tomorrow!

[arctic-fiction]

Chapter 6: Exposed

✨Masterlist✨

Summary: Time is running out

Rating: Teen

Warnings: violence, blood, swearing, (fictional) religion

Wordcount: 2538

Author's notes: I promise the next chapter won't take me 5 months to write

Skye burst through the infirmary doors, still holding me in his arms, startling the Healers in the room. Tesni hurried over and asked him what had happened.

"I can still talk, you know? And walk for that matter." I pushed myself out of his arms. Tesni took me over to a bed, and two other Healers pulled Skye behind a different curtain. Tesni started looking me over. She tilted my head back and examined the cuts on my chin and the swelling around my nose. With a small glowing orb, she tested if my eyes still responded to light.

"Your nose is broken and you cut your chin, but you're not concussed," she concluded. "What in Yana's name did you do? And where have you been? The sun set three hours ago. Do you know how many panicked Acolytes and Guardians I've had running around here?"

"At least three."

"Funny. Add a zero to that, and you might get close. They frightened my other patients and made a mess off everything. I can't run my infirmary this way." 

"I'm sorry. I didn't know they would come looking for me here. I didn't mean to cause you any problems."

"Start explaining how this happened, and I might forgive you." She pulled my face up. "Sit still, I need to set your nose back into place." I gave a quick nod and sat up straight. 

"This is gonna hurt." She prodded some metal tool up my nose and set the bones right. Tears ran down my face and I whimpered at the burning sting.

"Almost done."

"You were a lot nicer to me when I was struck by lightning." My voice sounded nasally and warped.

"You caused less chaos back then," She snickered. "All done. I'm gonna grab some water to clean your face and then bandage you up."

"So have you thought of a good lie yet?" Karah asked, leaning against the wall.

"No… Maybe I should tell her the truth."

"Are you certain that's a good idea?"

"No, but at least we have the journals now. And I don't know what else to do."

"Who are you talking to, Light-bearer?" Tesni had walked back behind the curtain, holding a bowl of water and a towel.

"The point of no return. Choose wisely." Karah faded into the shadows, leaving me alone. Thanks for nothing, you useless spirit. I shifted on the bed and looked at my hands. The blood had dried and turned a rusty brown.

"Tesni, can I trust you?"

"Of course you can. I'm your Healer."

"I know, but can I trust you with… non medical things?"

"What are you talking about, Light-bearer?"

I looked up to the ceiling. Yana, Aurel, give me strength. "When I got struck by lightning, I freed The Dark One."

She dropped the bowl, and it cracked as it hit the ground.

"I know what you're thinking, but it's not as bad as you think!" I sputtered. "I… he… listen, I got hurt today looking for evidence to back up his story. We found his journals." I scrambled to grab them. "Tesni, we've been lied to our whole lives. If you don't trust my word, trust his."

She held onto a pillar for support and took a big breath. "Okay. I trust that you trust him. Give me the journals. I'll read them and keep them safe for you." I handed the books to her. "You're in some hot waters now, Light-bearer. Stay safe."

"Thank you. I will."

Sunlight filtered in through the crack between the curtains, stirring me awake. Every fibre within me ached and begged for rest.

"Close the curtains, please." My voice was hoarse with sleep.

Karah pulled them further open, flooding the room with the light of early dawn. I flung my pillow at him. It merely fazed through him and hit the wall with a soft thud.

"Well good morning to you too." He rolled his eyes.

"Go back to sleep."

"I don't sleep."

I pushed myself up to look at him, before flopping back down. "Wow, you really have the worst luck in the universe. So what, you just spent the entire night brooding and plotting your revenge quest?"

"I don't brood, I ponder," he scoffed.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that, Karah. It looks an awful lot like brooding when you're staring out the window all grumpy."

"I got a lot on my mind."

"Like Sephri?"

Karah froze and stared at me with wide eyes. His already quiet voice barely above a whisper. "Where did you learn that name?"

"Who is she?"

He leapt from the window frame to the bed and grabbed me by my hair, dragging me up to meet his eyes. They burnt with rage. “You’re going to tell me exactly where you learnt that name, or by the gods it will be the last lie you’ve ever told.”

“In the catacombs,” I cried.

“Liar.”

“I’m not! I swear I’m not! I-I saw her when I touched that table. I heard your voice too, but..”

“‘But’ what?”

“Why were you there? Why are you still hiding things from me?” His grasp on my scalp burnt and tears pricked in my eyes. He released me, and I sank back down to the bedroll, wiping the tears from my face. “I have done everything I could for you. I dragged Skye and Tesni into this madness. I risked my life for you, and it’s still not enough for you to tell me the whole truth.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It wouldn’t be complicated if you would fucking tell me!” I pushed myself off the ground. If he had a body, our chests would be touching.

“Have you no sense of boundaries!?”

“Do you? The only times I don’t have to listen to your colour commentary is when I’m asleep!”

“Do not push me.” He glared.

“If I go down, you’re coming with me.”

We stood there in silence for what felt like hours, neither of us daring to back down and waiting for the other to do so. The sun had made its full appearance, and I heard chatter from down the hallway. My stomach growled.

“They’re going to wonder where you are.”

“So be it.”

He sighed and stepped back. I grinned triumphantly. “You are acting like a petulant child.”

“And you are resorting to name calling cause you’re out of options,” I chided and crossed my arms. “So it’s not like you’re a beacon of maturity.”

“Why do you care so much about matters that don’t concern you?”

“You almost ripped my head off my shoulders over it. I think it concerns me quite a bit.”

Karah bit his lip and furrowed his brow. I simply stared him down. He groaned. “Fine! Since you’re so keen on sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, I’ll tell you. Sephri was my daughter. I tried everything I could to keep her safe, and I failed her. You heard me in that vision because they used her as the first vessel.”

“She’s my ancestor, isn’t she?”

“You’re a lot like her.” He wiped a tear from his face. “Just as stubborn and impulsive as she was.”

Guilt overcame me. I stepped closer to him and reached out. “I’m sorry Karah, I-”

He pulled back and shook his head. “You didn’t know.” He turned away from me into the shadows.

“Hey wait a second, didn’t you say your first vessel was a newborn?”

“Did I? Whoops” and with that he left, leaving me stunned in the room.

Mornings were always peaceful. The mess hall was filled with the quiet chatter of people starting their day. I sat in the corner with a mug of elderberry tea and simply watched the crowd. Tesni slid onto the bench on the other side of the table.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Hi.”

“I read the diaries you gave me. I’m keeping them safe for you in my room. If you need any help, my Healers and I have your back.”

“Thank you, Tesni.”

“Light-Bearer!” Skye came flying into the room. The conversations in the hall stalled.

“Well, good morning to you as well,” I said.

“The High Priestess is looking for you,” Skye fretted. His breathing sounded ragged and uneven.

“Wow, are you okay?”

”I’ll be fine.” He wiped the sweat off his brow.

”Your shirt is wet.. Are you bleeding?”

“I’m taking him to the infirmary,” Tesni stood up from the table. “You go to the Sanctum. Stay safe.”

I stood in front of the Sanctum doors fidgeting. Skye stood next to me picking at his wings.

“Karah?” He hummed in response. “What should I do?”

“Keep your distance. If she attacks, don’t try to disarm her. You’re not strong nor skilled enough for that. I’ll stay with you.”

I nodded and pushed the doors open. The High Priestess stood at the altar polishing a knife. Great.

“Close the door, please,” she said. I did as she said and walked up to her, keeping a few feet distance. I felt Karah place his hand on my shoulder.

“You wanted to see me?” I asked warily.

She lazily inspected the knife in her hand. “Yes, yesterday I noticed something odd when I went to my quarters.”

“Something odd?”

“ You see, there’s a space behind my mirror, leading down to the cave system below. And someone had picked the lock.”

My heart was pounding. “That does sound odd. Why would someone do that?”

“I don’t know, Light-Bearer. Why would you?”

Karah’s grasp tightened. I kept quiet and swallowed down a lump in my throat.

“You should really pick more trustworthy friends, Light-Bearer. That little Acolyte of yours cracked under the slightest bit of pressure I put on him. I know the two of you went down there. I don’t know why, but once I do, I will burn down everything you hold dear.”

“What did you do to him?” I bit.

“He now has some nice marks to match yours.”

I trembled with rage. “How dare you!?”

“How dare I?” says the one who keeps sticking her nose where it doesn't belong. “What gives you the right?”

I pulled free from Karah's grasp and walked up to the altar, slowly and deliberately, until the blade was pressed against my throat. The sharp edge stung, and a small drop of blood glided down my neck. "If I was such a hassle, you would've killed me by now. But you don't have a vessel prepared to replace me. Strike me down, and a handful of insubordinates will be the least of your problems." I stared her dead in the eye, as she clenched her jaw.

"This isn't over," she hissed.

"Trust me, it won't." And I walked out of the Sanctum.

"Find Skye for me," I said to Karah after I closed the door. He didn't answer. "Karah?"

"She could've killed you," he said.

"But she didn't, so what's the problem?"

"The problem is that you're acting like a reckless idiot! I'll find him for you, and pray for Yana's grace you don't tear him to pieces."

I stormed into the infirmary and saw Skye sitting on one of the beds. Tesni was bandaging his left arm. I threw my sandal at him, narrowly missing Tesni.

"You traitor!"

Skye shrunk back into the bed. "Light-Bearer, I-"

"All this talk about how they would kill us if they ever found out, and then you just tell her everything? And for what? The small chance to save your own skin?"

"Light-Bearer, please calm down." Tesni stepped between us, but Skye pushed past her.

"Hey, listen to me." He grabbed my shoulders. "I didn't tell her about Karah, okay? I only told her we went into the catacombs, that's it. No how's, why's or what's."

"He's speaking the truth. She said she didn't know why you went there," Karah said.

I took a deep breath before asking: "What did she do to you?"

"Look for yourself, I haven't bandaged his back yet," Tesni said.

Skye turned his back to me, and I gasped. The skin on his back was cracked and charred. Blisters littered his shoulders. Blood has seeped and caked onto his wings.

"She pulled feathers out?" I whispered. He nodded.

"Do they…grow back?"

"I don't know."

"What in Aurel's name could cause such burns?"

"Sunfire Steel," Karah said. "Enchanted metal that burns with the heat of a star when it comes in contact with your skin. They...she used it on me too after they captured me."

I watched Tesni finish her work and gritted my teeth. "We can't stay here."

Everyone looked up at me. “Staying here…It’s like the ground is eroding away from underneath us. It’s only a matter of time before we fall off into the deep end.”

“If we leave, they’ll come after us,” Skye muttered.

“They’ll come after us no matter what we do. It’s an ‘if’, not a ‘when’.”

“So you want us to die out in the ruins?”

“I don’t wanna die pointlessly, surrounded by my enemies!” A vase on a nearby table burst into pieces, startling nearby Healers. I grasped at my own hair and squeezed my eyes shut. My ears were ringing and my head spun. My blood boiled in my veins. I couldn’t breathe.

“Hey,” Karah grabbed my hand, “Take a deep breath. We’ll figure something out.”

“How did you do that?” Tesni asked, looking at where the vase used to stand.

“Your chest is glowing red.” Skye said slowly.

I looked down. A deep, red light glowed from deep inside me, illuminating my ribcage. I desperately covered it with my arms. “What are you doing to me?” I turned to Karah.

“I’m not doing anything!” He reached out to it, and it glowed brighter. I recoiled back. “Well whatever it is, make it stop!”

"Hey you two, you're needed in the Sanctum." A female Guardian stood in the door opening.

“What for?” Skye grabbed his shirt and hopped off the bed.

“Are you stupid or something? There’s an eclipse.”

“Why weren’t we told?”

“Beats me. I’m just here to pass it along. Just get your asses over there.”

I gazed out the window in the small side room, seeing the faint outline of the moon rise over the mountains in the distance. Faint groans came from behind the folding screen.

"Do you need help?" I called out.

"No, I'm fine," he said.

"Doesn't sound like you are. Can you even lift your arms?” No answer came. I walked around the screen. There, Skye stood awkwardly in his trousers with his gown in hand.

“I can’t get it over my wings.” I took the white garment from him and tiptoed to his back. I felt up the back of the gown until I found two large slits. My eyes darted from the gown to his wings and back again. “Wait. How do I..”

Skye started laughing. “Hey cut me some slack, it’s not like I’ve ever had to work around wings before.”

“Fair.”

“Just give me some pointers alright?” He shrugged and spread out his wings, knocking over the folding screen.

“We’re a disaster,” I laughed. After a moment, I recovered and finally managed to help him into the gown. I moved back and started buttoning up the front. Skye stared at me with an intense look on his face I couldn’t decipher. A faint orange glow started spreading across his cheeks.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” he said softly.

“See it as payback for all the years you helped me get ready.” As I went up, I focused on the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, and the small star-like bright spots that littered his collar bone. 

“There,” I said as I fastened the last button, “That should do it.”

He still looked at me with the same conflicted look on his face. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing. Umm,” he hesitated. “Can you pray with me?”

I nodded and he took my hands in his. We closed our eyes, and he started praying in a soft tone.

“Dearest lady Yana, hear my plea. Keep evil away from us. When they draw near, make them feel your righteous fury. The closer they are, the stronger the pain. So mote it be.”

A knock came to the door. "Twenty minutes until totality. Showtime." The same Guardian as before said.

"Right," Skye said.

Guardians lined the walls of the Sanctum like marble statues, armed and stoic. Farmers and Healers were standing in the back, and Acolytes sat in front of them. The High Priestess was nowhere to be found. Nervous chatter arose from the crowd. I looked at Skye and he shrugged. I took a deep breath, held my head up high, and walked to the altar.

The doors slammed open, and the High Priestess stormed into the chamber. The crowd gawked at her, but I merely flashed her the biggest grin I could. She narrowed her eyes at me. 

"Long time no see," I said.

"Shut up." She hissed. "Sit there, be quiet or else."

The moon rose into view from the skylight. The words from the High Priestess echoed in the distance, drowned out by the ringing in my ears. The Sanctum spun around me, and before I even realised what was happening, I had crashed against the cool marble floor. Skye bolted from his place, dodging Guardians who were in his way, and slid onto his knees next to me.

"Stay with me, Light Bearer."

A shriek erupted from the crowd. "It's him! The Dark One!"

[waterforlorn]

— day two. october 8th. 8:16 am.

i won't keep writing down the time i write my entries, i think. i'm used to it, cause i always write my entries at the same time - or close to it, but i don't want to force myself to do it this time. don't know when i'll have the time. like, i ... think it's time to allow exceptions in the schedule without beating myself up over them. if that makes sense? i know i'm just writing this down and nobody's gonna read it but me, but i'm asking myself for permission i guess.

some days i wonder if i should pop in with the doc again and drop the fifty journals i've got sitting in my drawer off. but do i want a stranger reading my thoughts and shit again? nah. i ain't some angry kid anymore, or a soldier. only reason i ever allowed it was because it was that or early retirement from the army and i'm not sure where i'd be if they hadn't forced me into it. that and the schedule. i'm grateful and i'm not planning to drop it entirely, i know i can't. i need it. it's the only thing keeping me in line.

I KNOW THAT.

i feel it every day. the hunger. the rage. i thought that maybe if i just stuck to routine, if i kept the rage locked away for long enough and maybe beat up some shitheads.. that it'd go away. that one day i'd be free, but i guess i won't ever be. i'm close to halftime, this vacation only reminded me of that. do i see myself doing this forever? camp and fighting? i used to. but not anymore. though... i'm afraid what happens if i turn my back on everything. what if i no longer have an outlet? i keep telling nico i'm looking forward to retiring with him and living life in peace in new rome, but i don't know if i can.

i need something to channel the anger into. like, something to pour it all into before it consumes me. meditation and routine can only do so much. i wanna tell him i worry, but how? how could i possibly tell him? or anybody? i don't get how others can just throw their thoughts at others without hesitation. maybe i'm broken or something. but i wouldn't even know where to start or how to explain. nico isn't supposed to know about my struggles. i'm not sure how he'd take it. i know i should've told him before we did more than fucking, but i didn't realize we'd get there before it was too late.

still don't get how that even happened. doesn't matter now, i don't regret it. i wouldn't change anything if i got another chance to ...deal with nico. don't see no reason why i should. i ain't unhappy. not at all. NOPE.

guess driving brings out the rambler in me. 2 pages in and i haven't even stated what i should've.

my day, emotions, thoughts.

it's still early. it's ten, we picked up some food in a diner on the highway and we're just driving again now. yesterday was good. we crashed at some motel, nico got us a room with just one bed and the receptionist's jaw dropped. not that i mind sharing a bed. we've been doing it for a long time now. i'd not even consider sleeping in separate beds. fuck that idea. the night was ... pretty good. as most nights are with him. i got no complaints.

although, i do wonder if nico actually has a place in mind or if we're driving through the country aimlessly until he sees a place he likes, which ... would be madness. right? yeah. he did say we're gonna be driving for a day or two more, but he had an idea for a stop on the way.

WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE DRIVING?

i've asked him and all but got no reply so far. so i guess i gotta be patient. shouldn't be that big a problem, right? i mean patience has never been one of my virtues, but i learnt... yeah. i learnt. i think my day's not gonna be much different from yesterday. it's just gonna be driving, food, sleep.

as for emotions, i'm doing okay if we're ignoring that outburst up top. guess i just worry nico doesn't like what he sees once he gets to know ...me. he knows more than most but with how busy we've been in camp, i've had options to hide myself. sometimes. now i won't. we'll be with each other all day. i can't bear the thought of life without him anymore. SO STUPID. what the hell is wrong with me lately?

which brings me to emotions again i guess. fear. i'm afraid? I GUESS. it's been a few days since i dreamt of the forest, but when i did, it sucked. i know it's in the past and i don't wanna think about that day anymore, but sometimes it just haunts my dreams. a lot less than it used to, though.

as for thoughts... uh. all of the above i guess. i dunno. i don't WANNA think as much as i do. i wanna enjoy this while it lasts. when we get back, shit's gonna hit the fan again and i'm gonna spend my days worrying about my the MY idiot again, so until then.. i guess i'm triyn got cut back on the thinking part.

the weather out's pretty good. it's warm, the sun's smiling down on us and it's shorts weather honestly. we had ice cream yesterday, i forgot to mention. can't remember when i had ice cream last. or ever. like i'm a kid. i liked it though. we're gonna find a steakhouse for dinner today cause i said i want to and nico's in.

i hope the kids are alright. i could text, i know. but again. DISTANCE. i wanna enjoy the break and focus only on nico vacation. it's gonna be fine so long as he and i are together, right?

[tilysia]

What are you thinking feeling about the idea of change? It's a heap. "I am free to be what i want to be"

Today i am wearing my challis dress in blue and ive got on a shoe i dont care for. I look as if im going somewhere now - to see the new city.

I leave the porch and take a walk. I climb three more steps and branch forward out. I'm full of hope and guidance as i walk the path forward. My memories are gentle now and the walk isnt as sad as it could be. The dress glides with me around every curve until my identity is changed.

In the distance where no one is watching multiple thuds, stomping is recognized and someone topples over with relief. I am accepting the seat of a neighbor's offering and wait to be recognized again.

That's when my dress is dusted off and i am swung back in motion. i make a wish for a good reason to dance down the road. I turn right and left and make a small climb up toward a square of burlap that says im so glad you're here in a bold arrangement of rainbow.

I open the door and am greeted by a soothing wave of coconut: my dwelling.

I drop my things on the table and check the refrigerator for the tea i made before I went to check the mail. The sound of crackling plastic solidifies my arrival further as i move swiftly in the kitchen to put together a steak sandwich.

I gobble it up at the desk while my sim poses triumphantly amidst her own creation and turn on my essential oil diffusor. I like it lit up in here and make a celebration of it as the shade makes its play across the room.

Everything is fine and I'm certain going to sleep tonight as I'm full and proud of the adventure that may or may not happen instead. Will i… take off for the happy mat, the couch or my freshly invigorated bed?

I go for the bed and let Hulu hollow my face. I'm watching talking cartoon animals, but they seem so calm to each other i think I'm part of the crowd. :D I'm gonna watch this again.

Somehow what I've been reading paid off in the night hours. I notice when I don't wake up crying on my way to the bathroom - my feet are flat on the ground after - all. I get dressed and make my way back to the computer desk - I've been working to make the food journal into a writing course. The practice devotional was encouraging my industriousness after i caught up with what i've asked for - i should focus this way again on Sundays too, I consider on.

In a back room somewhere a smartphone chirps with vibrance and flies off its seat and small clams scuttle. A river calms and the sun burst through a marvelous city.

I'm sitting in a tiny room with my purple glitter scissors cutting stuff up and eyes glow back at me upon assembly - this one is purple and pink. I give one to a friend because I made three. They live in the vicinity but also in town. I'm a freak about walking to see them.

When i visit i take my futurecard with me - there’s an otherworldly thrift shop around the corner that reminds me i dont have to have it all. I go for a red top and khaki pants for nostalgia.

That night i sleep tight and wake up returned to the couch where I've reconnected a small fan. It's the hour where the property expands like fresh milk which spills into my bedroom as a reminder of true beauty. I hold still while admiring its light. The buildings that are outside now care for each piece of brick it houses and all is washed in white.

When ive finished cleaning my apartment of all the debree of suffering what i have to purchase is more teak, mocha, m.a.c, inkjet and medication for my fashion glasses from Walmart (because they have visuals). I go crawl in bed holding my blanket, the only one, and snap a pic of myself in solitude.

I was happy as a clam but when i step out in beige its time to regain my composure. Today I've got 10 printouts of the daybook how to and four jars with a request of 10$ on them. I also make 5 copies of a daybook in blue and 5 copies of a daybook in red. I know exactly where i will put them.

The glory of the trees are upon me as i make my way. I'm not so flat with a full heart so i sit down and reconsider my thoughts. I'm hungry. There is a perfect bologna and cheese sandwich right around the corner. I purchase 3, classic Lays, cherry coke + a cookie & turn away.

I go to the laundry side of things to gather myself and return to the counter and offer the cashier my jar who warmly accepts after making a couple donations. I leave enlightened but in a good way - they chose a blue one & a red one too.

The walk back into the library district is energizing. I bounce over the railroad tracks. By the time i walk the curve a coolness picks up my body and I am once again returned home where the grass is hard with summer, and I am a bird of paradise.