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

[raiiny-bay]

more outtakes

[christofairy1003]

Write it down// Optional Bias

• Warnings: smut, minors DNI

• Pairing: Fem reader x optional Male

• H/n = His Name

I go back to my room, closing the door behind me with my free hand, my other one is holding a bottle of water.

His gaze locked on my body that's only covered with a short, barely covering, tight black night gown. Lacy, cuz I know he likes it. His grin satisfied, eyes narrowed, revealing his pretty under-eye dimples, he lets out a small teasing chuckle.

"Satisfied, huh?" I put the bottle down on the night stand, looking at his almost naked figure lying on my bed, arms behind his head, legs crossed. I feel his eyes burning me with his hot gaze. As if that's not tempting enough, he rolls his tongue along the wall inside his cheek, deciding to play with my mind and unholy thoughts a little more.

-"Very much, honestly. But you know you could make me way more satisfied..." he's stripping me with his eyes, finishing the sentence as his fingers tug at the hem of my night gown, slowly making their way between my thighs.

"Your friend says hi by the way," | say, trying to ignore his hot actions, his fingers stop right below where my dress ends and he grips my thigh, not too harsh but firm enough. "He looked like he knows what we are doing up here." I continue, swallow hard when the tip of his fingers gently caress my inner thigh again.

-"We don't have to keep quiet then, do we?" He smirks at me, he does that again. Those eye dimples, this stupid beautiful smile of his, his hand on my thigh; as if the last two rounds weren't enough to break me, he's now messing with my emotions too.

I playfully hit his arm, whining his name. -"I'm joking, chill. I'm just saying, if they already know, why keep it low?" His veiny hand trails up my thigh, making me let out an accidental moan. He's used to the sound of it yet can never get tired of hearing it. -"Besides, I know you like a little risk, maybe getting overheard? Or knowing someone's watching... mmm?" He hums as if asking for my answer to approve.

"Oh hell look at you, can't go through a second without getting hard again. Looks like someone here likes risks more than I do..." I take the covers off his body, exposing the oh so delicate sight I haven't seen for the last 10 minutes I was downstairs.

-"if only my friends knew you're wearing damn nothing underneath THIS..." he starts to say but stops mid sentence, seems like the blood is rushing to his head faster and he gets a little furious about the thought of someone else being aware of you wearing nothing under that piece of clothing.

"What's wrong baby? Getting jealous?" I pout jokingly, babying him with my sweeter tone of voice, finally lifting my dress a little, straddling his lap.

"Calm down, they're all a little scared of you, let alone hit on me or ever touch your girl. Besides, I don't think any of them is as horny as you are, mister." I sit comfortably on his thigh, he lets out a little gasp, making me wonder whether it's the nickname or my actions that made him a little more lost in his head.

His hands automatically move up my body, from my thighs up to my hips and to my waist, he holds me there firmly, as if claiming it as his and I giggle. "I like that, write it down in your kinky journal, you dirty nerd." I joke, exposing the fact that I know he writes down the things I like he does, his eyes widen.

-"You little brat, how do you..?" I feel the heat getting worse, everywhere. His ears turning red, he's getting even harder it looks almost painful.

"Calm down, I'm not gonna mock you for it. It's kinda hot tho. Very hot honestly. I like hot nerds, especially when they're so needy and let me ride them." | bite my lip as I come closer to his face, whispering it in his ear and then placing a soft, mouthy kiss on his neck.

-"Such a F- BRAT."

"You love me."

-"Doesn't change the fact you're a brat!"

"You'd get bored if I wasn't."

His lips are centimeters away from mine, we're still in the same position as he lifts me by my hips a little, placing me right on top of him and I sink down smoothly, making both of us gasp loudly and he takes my lips with his for a hungry, delicate kiss.

His hands roaming around my entire already sweaty body, lifting my night gown up and tosses it on the floor. I pull away again for air but he pulls me back for a deeper kiss, moaning into each other's mouths.

"Goodness..." | moan out his name, along with some curse words as he starts to thrust upwards into me, making my body bounce and we both turn into a mess. -"You like that, huh? Like how I make you feel?" The room fills up with skin slapping sounds, moans and heavy pants, groans and curse words.

-"Use your words, you little brat..." his voice coming out in short gasps that I can never get enough of, his hand moving to my back as he cups my cheek and then spanks it once, sending an electric shock through my already sensitive body. "H/n! Please..." my thighs start to tremble as we both work our ways to the finish line.

Here it is again, his annoying satisfied grin when he knows l'm far gone, almost floating on cloud nine along with him.

-"Please what, kitten? Use your words." The urge to drain him completely just for him to shut up and stop teasing and messing with my head is strong but my legs are getting weaker with every movement.

"Please... please H/N I'm so so close H/N... soft screams escaping my lips, head thrown back as he grabs my chin and makes me look at him.

-"Eyes on me when you finish, kitten. Understood?" F HIM.

"So so close please.." I'm so desperate and he's almost satisfied enough from just hearing me being so needy for release. -"Gonna come? So pretty when you're like this... c'mon pretty thing, I got you. let go f'me." His words, his sharper thrusts, his hands playing with my nipples, kneading my breasts.

Uncontrollable strokes are being dragged along his soft skin as my fingers dig into his back, luckily not enough to make him bleed but the pain makes him make even better sounds as he gets closer himself.

-"I got you, I got you, come for me..." he hugs me tighter as we both ride out our highs, he does first as I follow right behind him.

Heavily panting, I collapse on his chest, finally leaving his body that I hold onto so tightly for the last who knows how many minutes?

"Oh my Gosh H/N I'm so sorry!" It finally hits me that I might've wounded his skin a little too harsh and I feel terrible with it.

-"Shut up you nerd, I'm gonna write it down too, it was amazing." He replies, making me confused.

"You can't be serious. Stop acting like a hero I could feel i was hurting you!" I hit his chest, his arm is back resting underneath his head, turning his face to me.

-"I'll let you recover and I'll mark you up next time so we'll get even, yeah?" He caresses my cheek with the back of his other hand.

"Let me recover huh? Think I can't handle another round right now?" I smirk at him, enjoying the way he's all gentle and loving.

-"Look who's trying to be a hero now." He chuckles, you know he's right, you're too worn out for a fourth round, though the thought alone is pretty tempting.

"Okay fine, but at least let me take care of the scratches on your back, let me see them at least. It felt so good yet so bad..." I turn him over, it really isn't that bad, just a few red lines.

-"See? Now can you calm down and let me hold you a little before my friends come up here and knock on our door?" He turns back around, facing me again.

"Only if you mark me later until we're even."

-"Mmm... say please?"

[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!

[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.

[foresthyena]

Wenclair fic I'm making!

A broken glass and glue

Tw: for this one, panic attack

Charcters: Enid, Wednesday,Thing shows up, Wednesday parents are mentioned for a second

Wednesday Addams

``It's been 5 months since I've went back to Nevermore. I'm roommates with Enid once again, I can't seem to forget her as much as I try. She's intoxicating, like drugs to a drug addict. As much as it pains me, I've grown.... attached to her. It's disgusting, Wednesday Addams will not be attached to anyone or even as much in, "love" with them. No, these are simply just friendly feelings. Though I think I'm coming down with something, sometimes I feel like I can feel her oddly warm embrace from when we hugged after I defeated Crackstone. I will never forgive him for what he's done, expecally Tyler. Atleast I can put it all behind me, Crackstone is dead and the Hyde is locked away. Everything is fine. It's all fine.. nevermind that, I'm writing all of this on my typewriter. Enid said to own a diary, but I will not. This is simply journalism, like the books I write, expect this is only for me. Mother and Father still insist I attend her, it's not..as bad per-say, but it'll do. Much better then those normie schools I'll say. I've also taken up on more after school activities, I see it is better to occupy oneself then sit here and dread the day as it passes. I see it is now, 5:26pm, meaning Enid should be arriving shortly after from her soccer practice I believe. Well I believe I'll end this here, I've spent a total of 7 hours, 6 minutes and 37 seconds writing all of this..``

I watch as Enid shortly comes into the room all sweaty and muddy. Tsk, and the dormitory was clean, and now it's filthy. She bounces up and down making her way to me. I back up hesitantly, I don't wanna catch any illness from her. I listen closely to her as she rambles about soccer. It's kind of enduring...her blue eyes seem to shine more and her scars bring out her completion. I've noticed lately she tries to hide it. Im not sure why, she saved me from the hyde. The scars are a mark of bravery and loyalty. All Addams wear their scars with pride. Enid says something about taking a shower, I wasn't really focused on what she was saying. But once I glance at her again she's heading towards the shower. It's gonna get filthy again from all the grim and mud on her. I make my way to my side of the dormitory and grab a book on my desk. Seeing as there's nothing better to do and I haven't exactly finished this book yet. I lay on my bed and begin to read, I've left off on chapter 25. I began reading and as time flies by, I'm on chapter 33 as Enid now comes out of the shower. Her blonde dyed hair all wet and messy. Her disgusting taste in clothing that's so bright and it makes my eyes bleed and my head hurt. She walks over brushing out her hair and begins asking what I'm reading.

-hi Weds!! Watcha reading over there?

She'd giggle as she glances over me to see, some droplets of water landing on my bed.

-if you must know, it's a book on a female character called Piper whose in a zombie apocalypse and has to find an antidote before she died. And back up from my bed before you get water on my book and damage it Sinclair.

The blonde wolf would back up and apologize, then asking if she can read it once I'm done with it. I never thought this would bring Enid interest, I was sure she'd say it was disgusting. I nod and go back to reading as Enid dries her hair and styles it. I yawn and look at the clock, it's 8:56 and I'm only on chapter 34. I suppose I'll finish reading this during tomorrows lunch or perhaps after school again. I get up and place my book on my desk and turn off the lamp I left on. The room dims a bit as Enids is still bright from her LED and nightlight. I head to the bathroom and change into an oversized t-shirt and some shorts and long socks. Once I head back to the room I see Enid sound asleep on her side. She's holding onto, I guess, a black cat? Hm, she always liked stuff more bright. But she has changed a bit since we've gotten back. I walked over to my side of the room and laid down on my bed. I tossed and turned then getting comfortable on my right side. I look at Enid, I can see her face slightly from the moon laminating on her face. She looks so.. peaceful, calm and.. nevermind. It's been a long day. I must sleep now, I asked Thing to turn off Enids nightlight. The room is now pitch black besides some of the moon peaking in. I sigh and close my eyes as I drift to sleep.

I wake up in a cold sweat and look at the alarm, it's 2:16 in the morning. My chest falls heavy as I try to calm myself. I've never had these dreams, and I never panicked like this. I sigh deeply as I see Enid still asleep. I close my eyes and jolt when I feel a touch on my shoulder. I look around to see nothing. I calm myself down, clearly I've reached the point of insanity. There's a logical explanation for this, I pinch the bridge of my nose and grab the glass of water on my desk. I take a sip and lay back down looking at the ceiling trying to think about the dream. I can't remember anything, it's flashing and going to fast. My head hurts and I feel a sharp pain in my chest and stomach. I clench them in agony and pain as my breathing starts to speed up once again. What is this feeling, Addams aren't weak?! I try to calm myself but it seems to only make it worse. My head starts spinning and my vision blurs as my breathing gets louder. My mind goes blank and I can't think of anything. That's when I hear,

- WEDNESDAY?! HEY HEY, I'm here I'm here!! Wednesday?! Calm down what's wrong?!

My eyes are still a blur but I see Enid right next to me trying to calm me down. She sits me up and sits right next to me. Her hand on my back as the other wraps around my neck. She soothes me until I calm down and wipes my tears. I don't even recall crying, I pace myself and listen to her. The hand on my back goes to grab the water. Enid gently taps it on my lip signaling me to open it. I take the water and drink the rest as my breathing finally goes back to normal. I glance at the wolf who still wears a worried expression.

-thank you I suppose..I didn't mean to awake you or worry you. You may go back to sleep Enid..

I'd say as I look away not able to look at her. She places the empty glass down and grabs my hand gentle. She looks at me as I still refused to hold any form of eye contact. She sighs softly and speaks,

-Wednesday...are you ok? What was that about? I won't judge you, ok? You can always speak to me, just don't hold these types of feelings in...

The wolf still looked at me as I nod, she patted my hand and got up walking to her side of the bed. I looked over and watched her, she grabbed the black stuffed cat and makes her way back.

-I know you typically hate these..but I figured since it's not color you might like it. Please take it Weds? It might make you feel better

She'd tease with a smile and hand the stuffed cat to me. I take it without any argument as I see it's be no use. The bright wolf now walked back to her bed and laid down. Just like that she was fast asleep, maybe it's a werewolf thing. I look at the cat and held it to my chest. I laid down and sighed softly as a soft yawn also escaped. Quickly as a baby I fell asleep holding this disgusting plushed cat.

[ieatsticksandrocks]

I think the aesthetic culture is overrated. Like I love the whole dark academia stuff but I'm just a teenage girl after all and I cant afford all the pretty vintage clothes and I can't make my room look like an antique store. I can't even afford mary janes.

I wish we could care less about the looks and all the expensive stuff and focus on the actual academia spirit.

I love reading, I enjoy reading more than any human interaction, actually but do I really have to read the secret history to fit in (i love that book by the way but you just know what i mean) ? We can still go to a bookstore or to the local library and grab a random book that we never heard about before, maybe only because the title is interesting or the cover is pretty, and we can still romanticise reading it.

I'm writing some poetry using a cheap pencil, laying on my bed, it is bad, i suck at rhyming but it is mine, i love it anyway. It doesnt have to be epic or gut wrenching. Its about something that means a lot to me so its worthy.

I started noticing how the aesthetic culture ruined my perspective of reality, how it made my expectations about life impossible. Not everything has to be pretty and flawless, and they still deserve to be loved.

I wanted to keep journals for a long time but whenever i started one, i just gave up because it never looked as good as a journal on pinterest. Now that i noticed how wrong i was, im keeping three journals. One of them is a pocket journal. Its not exactly like a diary, its more of messy ideas and quotes written down. I carry it in my pocket everywhere.

The other one is my book journal and i write my reviews about the books i read or sometimes even small essays.

The last one is a film journal and i write my film reviews in it. Its nothing professional but it made me realise that my thoughts and ideas are worthy. I mean no one's gonna sit and read my review about how Carmilla movie sucked but it was actually good at the same time, but its important for me so its worth being written down.

Thats all i wanted to say, we dont have to collect antiques to fit in the aesthetic, some thrift trinkets are also fine. The book that is gonna change your life might not be if we were villains but it might be some book you found on a random shelf in the library. Dead poets society is a great film but you might like mädchen in uniform better, who knows.

[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.

[andbrokenmemories]

full murderbot thoughts post

Alright! Finished with Book 7 of Murderbot, System Collapse, and collected my thoughts on the series.

Maybe one day I'll do one last round-up to read novellas and maybe write a Properly Structured Review Innit, so for now this is gonna be the messy notes version of this. Let me give a paragraph or two of review-y thoughts, here, though. Set the stage and all.

So: I liked them a lot! I wouldn't ever say I struggle with sci-fi, but I think in practice I struggle with sci-fi. For other genrefic novels, tropes i Enjoy the Consumption of can usually keep my interest alive long enough; like, Black Sun and Fevered Star didn't light me on fire, but there was a lot of dynamics and play within the space that I could consistently enjoy and keep. Chewing down the line on. real strawberry lace fiction. real gummy worm fiction

Sci-Fi usually struggles more with that, I guess. Or, rather, I don't enjoy genrefic sci-fi for sci-fi's sake? There is, i think, a needle to thread of Good Spec-fic, of "oooh literature on a Weird Way of Existing". that style can keep me hooked, and Murderbot Diaries manages that with all the intricacies of the SecUnit experience. and also you can just have a lot to say! and murderbot has a lot to say! overall 8.5 out of 10. book 1 is a 9 out of 10 (yippeee strained relations distrust etc); book 2 is an 8.5 out of 10 (ART good); book 3 is a 7 out of 10 (i dont really remember those people); book 4 is an 8 out of 10, book 5 is an 8.5 out of 10 but i think it'd be a bunch higher if i didnt find the middle a bit bloated; book 6 is a 7.5/10, book 7 is an 8/10. loose thoughts from my journal from here on. spoilers for the whole series begin in earnest.

I like murderbot diaries the most when its reasonably omniscient, dynamic feeling, with a bunch of pieces moving around; and when those pieces are the psychology of murderbot as it navigates shit. i popped the fuck off when at the start of the long one [that's Network Effect] we got an interlude of murderbot interacting with mensa and her family and Caring and augh. ouagh.

WE HJAVE TO PUT ON THE BEST DAMN TALENT SHOW THI S COLONY HAS EVER SEEN!!!! [this was right when i got to the documentary part of the last book lol]

what if the other sec units went stereotypical serial killer robot and murdered all their handlers. like yes i get an argument against that that goes down the line of “and then we wont be able to extract from the situation and everyone gets killed in retribution” but, also, i feel like early in this series there was a lot of text talking about how sec units don't actually. think like that. in real life. I dont know, maybe i havent adjusted to a Thematic Choice where actually that was unreliable narration, but i find my brain getting caught up on that every time. like comparing how murderbot talks about how sec units think early in the series to later on. bwah.

anyway [in regards to the end of Exit Strategy] something very unique but kind of hash tag relatable about an extended sequence of a character reconstructing their memories from base principles, all sortakinda drunk. seeing all those cute and Telling and I See How It Is moments, which i derived a lot of value from, really fun capper to a book. good times. and then they hit 100% and the microwave goes Ding and they sit right up in bed and go Damn. That was stupid. I'm leaving.

when the panopticon surrounds you on every level and you have a lot of time to think on your self and your connection to your self and gain access to every system that makes you up and makes you you and all you can manage to acheive with it is the recreation of the panopticon within the self. and being without the panopticon is uncomfortable and foreign and strange. when the character does not allow the narrative to woobify them. 😍

ships you can talk to (who talk back only in concepts) are a gender by the way. that first scene [at the end of All Systems Red] of Murderbot working out its take on the all of it to a ship who can't really talk back, and was more or less the default “easily Manipulated bot pilot” that we just kind of sidestep each time going forwards, but like. was also the Same Thing as Mbot in not having anyone to really talk this out with. we are both on the same level. we, two, have not been taught to sell our class, our people out to the humans; we can be Niceys to one another. you can seek that out and find it. there are glimmers and moments like that throughout the whole series going forwards. which kind of makes hanging out with the humies boring unless they're one of the like 3-4 that i feel have an Interesting Social Dynamic with murderbot

following on from that, i immediately started visualising ARTs feed-self as a Kirby Endboss mass of glowing, dazzling, flowing dials/lenses/clocks towering over everyone else. with speech bubbles violently louder than everyone elses. Like that was how my brain went “how would the graphic novel get this Concept of ‘I could squish you like a bug with one instant of thought you are nothing to me you little it/its freak’ across". and its good. its good

[in regards to Network Effect, and trying to sum up my whole feelings on 2.0]: Whoops! Your clone headmate you made underbaked on purpose came out with ADHD and joié de vivre and is kicking its feet up and down in its partition watching comfort media while you go through the shit that made the Expanse expand. that made the signal is. that made the Space [face/off-style pause] Dead

So, what're my big takeaways with the whole series? Everyone trying to Do Therapyspeak on Murderbot and it usually Not Working is nice. There is something wrong with you, and that's not like a puzzle to be unraveled, but the perspective the text then takes on everything else. this world isn't, like, Fascinating and realized with any special flair, but you get to have moments where Murderbot exposits how fucked shit is to other people, or judges a situation it's bitter about as people around it get Fucked Over, and it's just like. It's a fun level of fucked up, in a way, sure, but it's also those moments of like. Ah. Murderbot does not set out to be protagonist-ly about this world, to be deeply critical, to wikia-mode about it all. Only to be constantly drawn to such anyway, to being Bitter and having to exposit to make certain points land because it needs certain points to land because. shrugs, gestures. The World. All of it. but then we go back to like “Hey do you think you have trauma maybe?” “FUCK you” and it's consistent and that's all chewy in a way I find nice. It's nice. We're having a niceys time. smile emoji

[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.")

[PREV LOG] [TABLE OF CONTENTS] [NEXT LOG]

[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.”

[strawberista]

⚅— @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.

[skelswritingcorner]

Patchouli's Revenge: Lavandula Spica | Prologue

This is an original series that I'm writing and plan on publishing as a light novel (which means I need to draw stuff). I've posted stuff related to this story on this blog before, but this is a full-fledged chapter out of... about 30 more of the story. I'll explain the chapters and synopsis in the masterpost.

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse and neglect, mentions of Sad Beige Moms, Religion

Word Count: 2.4K

The two young girls walked up the quiet road, illuminated only by the light of the crescent moon. The older one, with crimson hair and purple horns on top of her head, held the hand of the younger purple-haired girl whose hair was in a side ponytail cascading off her right shoulder. As they walked up the cobblestone path, they walked up to their destination; a simple building built with bricks colored similarly to the path they just walked upon.

The older girl knocked the brass knocker, shaped like a flower. One. Two. One. A secret code with every drum of the brass hitting ancient wood. Soon, the door opened to a middle-aged woman, smiling at the two girls.

“You must be the little sister Rose was referring to. We prepared a room for you already. It’s plain for now, but there is a desk for you to write and a bookshelf for your journals.” Her voice was warm, like sitting in front of a hearth after an especially cold day outside.

The younger girl tensed her hand around her older sister, tears welling up. “Is Rose staying with me?”

The older girl, Rose, shook her head. “Hey,” she knelt down, turning to her baby sister, “I know how you feel right now. If I could, I’d stay with you, but mother would put together a search party if she found out that I was gone for too long. I’m fifteen, I can handle her abuse.”

The purple-haired girl quivered, “But… she’s still mean. At least she ignores me most of the time.”

“And she shouldn’t. She never addressed any love to you, that’s why I asked the clergy here to take you in. I want you to know what love is, since father can’t be with us.” Rose rebutted, “Lavender, I promise that I will find you again. I don’t expect you to use your current name in the future, I know that once I’m old enough I’m gonna change it. When we meet again, tell me your new name, will you?”

Through choked sobs, Lavender nodded. Rose procured something from her bag, giving it to her sister. Lavender opened it, seeing two bright pink ribbons. Her eyes widened, looking at her sister. “How did you… mother would be mad if you brought something so colorful in her presence.”

Rose put a finger to her lips and winked, “Shhh, it’s a secret. Actually, dad wanted me to give it to you. He asked me to while you were fast asleep.”

Lavender nodded, turning to the clergy member.

“Are you ready, my child? I’ll bring you to your room so you can go to bed.” The sister asked.

Lavender nodded, before hugging her sister one last time, “Thank you… I hope I see you again.”

Rose returned her sister’s embrace, “Me too, sis. Who knows, maybe we’ll see each other in ten years.” After both sisters ended their final embrace, a mouth full of teeth opened up behind Rose. Lavender didn’t freak out at this, she knew that was what Rose’s portals looked like. With a final wave, Rose walked through the portal, which closed its mouth and disappeared once Rose went through.

Readjusting her bag, Lavender walked with the clergy member to the annex of where the clergy lived and slept. “I’m Sister Helga,” she introduced herself, “I’m the head of Skuld Church, you could call me a priest.”

“Church?” Lavender tilted her head, “What deity is worshipped here?”

Sister Helga nodded, “We worship Gimle, the god of bonds. Friendship, romantic, familial, marriage, all of that. She also took in orphans, allowing them to use her name as their surname. I hope that you’re alright with using her name as your surname.”

Lavender shrugged, “That’s fine, but I want to pick a new name for myself. I don’t have a problem with the name itself, but my mom’s the one who chose it and… I’m sure Primrose told you how my mother is already, Sister Helga.”

“That’s perfectly alright with me. Ah, we’re here.” Sister Helga stopped at a door, with an empty namecard in front of it. The door had flowers painted on it that Lavender did not recognize.

Helga opened the door, leading Lavender to a quaint room. There was a full-sized bed in one corner, with simple midnight blue blankets and periwinkle bedding. Lavender was relieved at the absence of beige. The furniture was wooden in a rich mohagony, with a bookshelf with a cabinet on one side next to a desk facing the window. The pink curtains were closed, but the faint moonlight from the outside shone in through the blackout.

Sister Helga glanced at the young girl, “Glad that there’s no beige in sight, huh? Your sister told me. Our god always loved vibraint jewel and pastel tones, so we didn’t have to change anything here. We also got clothes for you, you can change into some sleepwear and go rest. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the clergy once you’re rested.”

Lavender nodded, placing her bag gently upon the desk. Once Sister Helga closed the door, Lavender changed out of her beige ensemble and into the black pajama shirt and pants that were neatly folded on the bed. After taking off the beige ribbon on her hair, Lavender laid down on the bed.

She is finally free of her mother. Is a place of worship ideal for a little girl to live? It isn’t, but Lavender is glad that she is away from her mother’s suffocating presence at last.

●●●

When Lavender gets up, the sun is shining through the gap in the curtains. Next to her bag, some clothes are neatly folded with a note on top of them. She hops off the bed and reads the note.

Welcome to our clergy, young one. The sisters of the church can’t wait to meet you! These clothes are hand-me-downs from both members of the clergy and people who attend the church. We also bought you a few packs of fresh underwear. They’ve been washed and are in the drawers of the dresser next to your bed. Sister Agnes and I are going to take you around the church today. There are no services to do, so don’t worry. ~Sister Helga.

After reading the note, Lavender set it aside and looked at the clothes. They were mostly black dresses and other black pieces of clothing, like leggings. After putting some of them away in the dresser, Lavender grabbed the clothing she wanted to wear and put it on. It was a simple ensemble, a long-sleeved black dress that went past her knees and black leggings. She didn’t have any other pairs of shoes, likely since they didn’t want to accidentally give her a shoe too big or too small to fit. Guess Lavender has to continue wearing her sad little beige shoes for now. After putting everything on, she placed her pajamas in the hamper before opening the door to her room.

There were several members of the clergy walking around, some talking amongst themselves while cleaning. In the corner of her eye, Lavender noticed Sister Helga talking to a younger clergy member, most likely Sister Agnes. Lavender walked up to the two, who promptly greeted her.

“You’re the one we took in last night, correct?” The younger of the two asked, “I’m Sister Agnes, I hope you’re alright with me accompanying you and Sister Helga to show you around?”

Lavender nodded, “I don’t mind.”

Sister Agnes clapped her hands together, “Alright! Where would you like to go first, the patchouli fields, the church itself, or the kitchen?”

Lavender thought for a moment. Her mother never allowed flowers anywhere near her mansion, and the kitchen was one of the few places Lavender wasn’t allowed since she could cause an accident. “Can I go to the patchouli fields?” she asked.

“Yes, we can. Come with us, we’ll take you there.” Sister Helga offered her hand to Lavender, who took her hand. The three of them walked outside the annex, and to the fields of purple flowers.

There were little stone paths around the fields, and the gentle breeze wafted the earthy scent to Lavender’s nostrils. It felt pleasant and familiar at the same time. Why was it familiar to her?

“I want to go by the name of the flowers here. What were they called again?” Lavender asked the sisters. Helga looked shocked for a moment, with Agnes equally as so.

“They’re called patchouli. I assume you want to be called Patchouli, correct?” Sister Helga asked.

Lavender, no, Patchouli, answered, “Yes. I would like to be called Patchouli, if that’s okay.”

The two sisters nodded, “Alright then,” Agnes said, “we’ll file you in as Patchouli Gimle in the documents.”

Patchouli nodded. Being referred to as a name that isn’t the one her mother gave her at birth made her feel happy. She could get used to this name with time.

Sitting down next to the field, Patchouli reminisced about her life so far. She only lived ten years so far, but those ten years were filled with neglect from those who were meant to love her. This was the first time a person of authority treated her like a person, and not just a ghost. The only person who actively paid attention to her was Primrose, and now Patchouli has no clue when she will get to meet her older sister again. Given their five-year age gap, and how Patchouli was treated by the rest of her family, one would expect Primrose to also ignore her little sister. Primrose knew better than that, having had more time spent with their loving father before his exile. She doted on Patchouli in private, and was the only one that truly cared for her in that forsaken mansion.

“You look like you’re about to cry, are you alright?” Agnes knelt down next to Patchouli, reaching out a hand to rub her back. The sensation made tears flow from her eyes, as silent tears flown down her cheeks. Agnes grabbed a hankerchief, wiping the tears. “You must’ve had a hard live before you came here, didn’t you? Don’t worry, we’re here for you. Cry the tears you need to cry, we have time.”

So Patchouli sobbed, sobbing into the hankerchief that Agnes gave her. She sobbed so hard that snot came out of her nostrils, and she sobbed and sobbed until the tears no longer flowed.

Once she was done with her crying, Patchouli looked up at the two Sisters. “Thank you… thank you both so much.”

“Oh, you poor girl,” Sister Helga embraced the young girl, “you must’ve had such a hard life if something like this is enough to make you cry. Don’t worry, we’ll be here for you.”

After a while, Patchouli got up, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. “I think I’m done here, can we go to the kitchen?”

The two sisters nodded, beckoning Patchouli to follow them back into the church and to the kitchen part of the annex.

When the three arrived, the kitchen was relatively quiet. Nobody was in there other than the two sisters and the young girl. Helga grabbed a cup from the cabinets, filling it with water and giving it to Patchouli. “Here, have some water,” she said, “Don’t worry if you drop it, this is a plastic cup. It won’t shatter on the ground if dropped. If you’re worried about possibly dropping it, then there’s a table over there where you can drink it.” Helga gestured to the small circular table with a few chairs nearby, where Patchouli went to sit down.

Patchouli drank the water from the cup cautiously. Even though she knew it was unlikely for the sisters to get mad at her, she still remembers how her mother exploded at her when she dropped a plate on accident. Hopefully, with time, she won’t be so afraid of dropping glassware, but for now it still scares her even if it’s purple-hued plastic.

After Patchouli finished drinking the water, she went to the sink to put it in, looking at Helga for assistance.

“Do you need help?”

After nodding in confirmation, Helga walked over to show Patchouli how to clean the cup; grabbing dish soap, a brush, how to scrub the cup, rinse it, and put it on the drying rack next to the sink. It was something foreign to Patchouli, given how her mother had servants to clean, but Patchouli enjoyed it. She often spent time with the servants, they pitied her enough to be somewhat kind to her. The time one of them peeled a fruit and gave it to her to scarf down since she seemed hungry is a memory she fondly holds onto. How is she, anyway? Hopefully she didn’t get in trouble with mother because of her.

●●●

It was quite the day for Patchouli. Picking out a new name for herself, experiencing genuine kindness from those who barely knew her, and being around people who gave a care was quite overwhelming. But now, it was time to do something that Patchouli was reluctant to do: burn the clothes she came to the church wearing.

It was the only color she was allowed to wear throughout her childhood, that emotionless beige tone. Patchouli hated it. If her mother could get away with it, her hair and horns would be mutilated into those depressing hues too. The sisters of the church were willing to help her burn the clothes, as they had a bonfire on the church grounds.

Placing the folded dress upon the charred wood, Patchouli waited for Sister Agnes to cast the spell. The spell that would set the clothes aflame. Stepping a few paces back as to not get burned, she waited in anticipation of what would occur.

“Are you sure about this, Patchouli?” Agnes asked. With a nod of assurance, she extended her right hand to cast the spell. With no words said, a rune showed up above the beige dress, and soon it was covered in flame.

Patchouli could only look at the clothes in contempt. Burning those clothes meant that her mother no longer had control over her, and that Patchouli could have a life that wasn’t controlled by her tyrrany. No more Lavender. Lavender died long ago. Now, she is Patchouli Gimle.

(Want to watch me write more of this story? Follow me on Twitch, if I don't have an appointment I write things on Wednesdays starting at 13:00 EST/GMT-5)

[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?