#its such a gamble because i could write into the void all day long

[lununnunna]

tumblr is so funny because either nobody will see your post ever at all or everyone will reblog it all at once

this post will likely be the former

[cannibal-nightmares]

probably ssmi-disturbjng nonsensical vent ramble because I can't sleep

thinking about how i van get free councilling from the local college from to-be shrinks in training--thinking abt how id be some college yuppies pipedream (or nightmare), a schizo in the flesh. i donf actually restrict defining myself as schizophrenic, but-sorry-the things I need therapy for agitate me so bad, I'll admit it, and I'd want a seasoned professional if I want to get anywhere beyond teaching someone like a lab rat; thats not lack of compliance, its self-awarness. tbh I will actually probably try this route but i also know too clear the reality.

the reason I care about this at all all of a sudden is: I've reallized just what it's going to look like. i need help i do i want to see these doctors and i *have* do you hear me i *have* and I've *tried* and I *continue* to try; I've let them poke at me and ask questions and drag me along--each time, whether they notice it or not, whether it becomes morethanclear, whether I noticed in the moment and say it out loud or if I keep it to myself or if I realize it afterwards, each time i hear overwhelming voices and see stuff. I learned recently rhat my last doc wrote almost a mini psych eval at each meet we had, and in her notes, on each day, she wrote something like "patient is calm, not anxious" etc, but did you know every time I saw her, the room would melt and it was so distractinf. jve had docs get annoyed with me for carrying around a list or script but man I can't remember anything or form any words when everything around me is sinking into the floor. this is all to say, this is all to say, if I want my medical help to be successful, I need someone in my corner to say, "Hey, he might be schizo but please god listen to him," and learne better coping skills even though my current skills are so off the shits at this point that I ended up teaching my last,shrink from a year ago new things aaahhh I just need it in writing that I am not dangerous they all have gotten so scared of me when it's just me who's terrfied of them and forces beyond fhem.

it's a long long story at this point but they're trying to refer me to a neurologist again. which *is* what my original goal was (because thats where my original pcp had me). and I *will* follow through if the path leads there. but. i have so many physical problems now I (also?) want them to redo a general exam. tbh I kinda thought thatsnwhere they'd restart.these people don't know me at all. eleven minutes, she spoke to me for 11 minutes. when I had a regular pcp, one ofnthe *first* things I mwntipned was a weird pain in my left side right behind my bottom ribs. it was dull an inconsistent but I told her. she poked at it, etc, ans told me, quote--I will never forget this--"there's not really much over there that this could be." nothing? oh really nothing? is there just a void in my abdomen over there? im saying this because it's still a problem. ofc it's only gotten worse. it's sharp and it moves around tjat general area. and it wakes me up and scares me. why did they leave me to the wayside why am I still here. I feel like that is/was such an easy look-at than all of my nerve problems and yet? also I repeated myself every time I saw her that it was still an,issue. "it's too expensive to--" ok money means nothing to me if I'm dead. if this was a little thing that has exploded into life or death, I'm going to lose my mind.

im convinced im a dead man walking. I don't think im actively dead, but that im good as dead. my second best plan of action is to wait for the jnsurance market to open november 1st, my first best plan is only the best if I get the gamble and the timing right--high risk high reward. ill be honest, I've thought about walking into an er and admitting myself but they're going to focus on the wrong thing; the social worker I saw recentlyn was concerned for my mental health, sure, but she was more concerned and angry for me that my physical issues have been strung along from day one. if I'm not already insane, fhis is going to drive me to the edge. it already has. ill admit I've thought about doing stupid reckless things to land me somewhere closer to where I need to be. thisnsystem is going to eat me Alive I know it; the best case scenario is in 10 years (if I live thatclong) I will look back on all of this as an embarrassingly funny memory.

fheres *one* thing I haven't mentioned to a single soul yet but it's because idk how. it's like a beast in cage that hasn't realized the door is open yet. I have some major delusions around *it* and idk how to face it alone. but I also don't knownhow to invite anyone into this world. thisnis also why I wouldn't mind a shrink. byt I'm a special case aren't I? I hate it. I don't want to be special. I literally sound like a TV stereotype don't I.

I'm shooting blind shots in the dark at this point why are people mad at me that nothing is landing? I have this constant g overwhelming feeling of I want to go home. i want a hug and i want to go home. There is no physical home is there im in my room rn and I want to go home it's pathetic at this point. I didn't wait. do you hear me? I didn't. I've been in this since the end of 2021. where are we? why didn't they listen to me? I keep finding myself asking that. I know thisnwhole thing is just me repeating myself but there is literally nothing else I can do rn. all I can rn is wait for my nurse to reply back to me. my nerves are on fire and they keep waking me up as cruel reminders. I just want to go home. I am selfishly tired of being the strong one at work. why is it always me? selfishly, why? in one breath im the crazy untrustable young schizo and in the next breath I am the battering ram, the pillar, the mediator, the steady voice of reason. verstehst?? "mad is the man forced to feel the emotion he is forbidden to have at the same time." I,dont wanf to talk about it, I just want to go home.

"I slide off the spectrum, I don't fall anywhere. I'm not counting errors."

[sprnklersplashes]

a laugh I could recognise anywhere (ao3)

inej comes home

He’s kept the window open.

It was easier to justify months ago, when summer had finally blessed Ketterdam. Back then, he could respond with “it’s hot”-not a truth but not a lie- and pretend not to see Jesper’s raised eyebrows or the way Wylan’s lips pressed together in a thin line. They saw right through him but never said a word, out of kindness or self-preservation. And while he can’t show it, he’s grateful for that.

To their credit, they still haven’t said a word, even though summer heat has come and gone and now the sky is grey and the pavement speckled with rain. The occasional Dreg has commented on it, normally the younger ones with something to prove or the older ones who want to show they still “have it”. In those moments, Kaz sees that Dirtyhands still has his uses. One glance from him would banish that topic from the conversation, more often than not replacing it with bumbling apologies. And so the fact of his window becomes a quiet, unspoken and accepted truth. Everyone knows it, but no-one wants to be the first to say it.

Kaz Brekker has left his window open for six months, two weeks and three days. He doesn’t know if he’s the only one counting.

He shakes his head free of the thought and turns his attention to the papers in front of him. The past few weeks may have been kind to the Crow Club upon its grand reopening, the city eager to try their luck once more, but that doesn’t mean they can afford to relax. It took work, more work than setting it up in the first place did, to coax tourists into the Barrel in the first place and then into the soon-to-be-bustling gambling hall again. Kaz looks over the numbers and scribbles down some notes beside them and writes up the rota for the next fortnight’s steerers. The main competition might have taken enough hits to run Rollins out of town (for now), but this city thrives on challenges. New clubs sprouted up like daisies after the quarantine ended, eager to fill the void Rollins’ clubs left. Kaz appreciates the sentiment more than they know, but that doesn’t mean he is ready to sit back just yet. Let those newcomers scrap with him first, then he can pick through what’s left.

Satisfied with the rota, he then pulls that week’s inventory toward him. The tapping of his pen against the table fills the silence, much like he wishes his mind would fill with wine orders and table repairs. Rather than the damned window, the curtain falling out to the other side and likely being soaked by the rain. If the past few days are anything to go by, the rain is only going to get heavier, and if the wind follows suit he might have to replace that curtain altogether-

The side of his hand hits the table, and as he looks down at it, he slowly notices the burst of ink across his glove. He mutters a curse under his breath, then another as he notices the blotch staining the page. His breath rushes out as he dabs the page with his sleeves, hoping to get the worst of it out, while his broken pen leaks ink against the wood of his desk.

He’s pulling open his drawer to grab a new pen when he hears it. The one sound that could cut through him like a knife could, possibly better. A sound that he’d said he’d die to hear again, that if it weren’t for the Club and his Crows and his damned reputation, he might have tried crawling across the sea just to hear again.

He thought, with her gone for so long, he’d forget it. It’s just one sound after all, one inconsequential noise in this world of guns and gambling halls. No-one would blame him, not even her, if he did.

But he didn’t, because Inej Ghafa’s laugh is reverberating through his floorboards, and the world has tilted on its axis.

She’s back, he thinks. It sounds like a grateful prayer in his mind, although who he’d pray to he still doesn’t know.

One shaking hand pushes the drawer, the other reaches for his cane. He rises slowly, the bones in his body creaking like a door on old hinges. His hand tightens around the crow’s head on his cane, the one companion that has served him as much as his real Crows. As the cane makes its first step towards the door, he hears it again, quieter this time. That laugh, fluttering up from three flights of stairs to his office. He hears it, and the cane almost snaps.

He takes his time with the stairs. His cane thumps in a steady rhythm against the wood, as if it can make his heart follow suit. His free hand is shoved into his pocket, his teeth pressed together to stop them from chattering. Everything about him is tight, tight jaw, tight spine, tight hands, the months of anticipation wrapping like a coil around him.

His knuckles almost burst through the gloves as he descends the last flight of stairs. As he does, the quiet murmurings solidify into words and the words into sentences. As the final few stairs come before him, he can hear Jesper filling Inej in on the Van Eck mansion, giving her more detail than he thought possible on the colour of curtains he and Wylan had chosen for the main parlour.

“Jesper Llewellyn Fahey, domesticated at last.” He freezes, his breath trapped in his lungs. All those months looking at maps, wondering where she is, and now he doesn't have to wonder. She travelled farther than any merchant or sailor ever did, and then she came back to the Barrel.

(Back to him, he thinks selfishly).

He lowers himself from the last step and slides into the patch of shadow beside the stairs, his side pressed to the wall. He’s keenly aware of the strange role-reversal taking place; spying on his best spy.

From his vantage point, he sees her, perched on a round table with her feet on the chair. Her hair is braided loosely and falling down her back, a glass held between her hands. Her elbows resting on her knees and her back curved as she leans forward to tease Jesper some more. Her nose scrunches and her eyes crinkle, and for a moment, she looks too good for the knives strapped to her legs. But then she downs her drink. The tilt of her chin is proud as she does so and the square of her shoulders strong. A smile flashes across Kaz’s face. She glows with her power and freedom and purpose , and it's a light that even the Sun Summoner would be put to shame by.

Then she laughs, again, this time at Wylan’s blushing face, and he hides his mouth behind his hand.

He had played that sound over and over in his head, committing it to memory the way Wylan would his sheet music. It was most often at night, laying in his single bed in his attic room, playing it the way one would tell a story to a child. He did wonder recently if this meant he was going mad, becoming so enamoured with a single sound. But he’s had worse experiences with madness. They’re old friends, madness and him, yet madness wishes it had the effect on him that she does.

He looks down, his black-clad legs disappearing into the shadow surrounding him. His hand flexes inside its glove, the feeling both comforting and disconcerting. Six months is a long time for both of them, but it seems to have done more for her than it did him. He’s tried to pull himself out of the grave he dug himself, to find the brighter future Inej believes they can have. To pull himself back into the world, even if it’s a world of smoke and shade and half-dealings. To not shed his past entirely, but to hold onto it as he builds something, real and good and maybe even permanent, from its ashes.  

Even if he believed he’s made progress, he would know it’s not enough.

But Kaz is nothing if not determined, and as he watches her smile light up her profile, he knows he won’t give up. Even if it takes him a year to make a real step forward, to be something resembling what she needs, he’ll try.

His cane hits the ground again, and slowly he steps out from the shadow and rounds the corner. Three heads look up, but he only has eyes for one. He watches her eyes widen as he gets closer, listens to the blood rushing through his ears. Goosebumps rise beneath his shirt, cold sweat trickles down his back. This could be a dream, something whispers to him, and he could wake up in the small hours of the morning, alone and safe in his office. Nothing changed, for better or for worse.

He doesn’t though. Instead he stops just steps away from her table and her expectant gaze. His tongue is pressed to the roof of his mouth, his breath so shallow he could be mistaken for a corpse.

It occurs to him then, that maybe she’s waited for this as much as he has. The thought shakes something inside of him, dusting the cobwebs away from something he thought he’d left behind.

“Hello Inej,” he tells her. The words roll off his tongue, grateful to finally be spoken. He holds his breath, the way only she can make him do. She pulls herself off the table and steps closer, not closing the gap between them entirely. But she’s close enough that they could reach out to each other. She’s close enough for their fingertips to touch, if they wanted.

His chest tightens at the thought, and he doesn’t know if it's out of revulsion or something else entirely.

Maybe later, he’ll test it, and see if holding her that day on the docks was a fluke or proof that something had indeed changed.

But for now, he watches her smile, a soft, “hello Kaz” coming as her reply. And if Jesper or Wylan notice the tears momentarily gleaming in his eye, they don’t say anything.

Neither does Inej, but why would she, when twin tears glisten in her own eyes?

“Welcome back.”

[simplyotometrash]

Some Obey Me Headcanons!

Part One!!

Lucifer

Lucifer has always been the dad sibling. After each of his brothers were “born” while they were angels, he was the one to raise and teach them everything.

It’s common knowledge that Mammon is his favorite. Even if he hates to admit it. He’s hardest on Mammon because it’s the only thing he knows how to do anymore.

Despite the fact that they don’t seem to get along because of Mammon’s antics, Lucifer only ever confides some of his most pent up feelings to the second born. 

The only other person he confides in this deeply is MC.

Before the fall, Belphie was his second favorite brother. Even after things have settled after Belphie was free again, he can never look at the youngest the same.

All he wants is for his brothers to be happy and live on. Even if it means working himself into the ground for their sakes.

He doesn’t ask for help. Help has to be forced upon him.

With how much he works, even at home, it’s not uncommon to find him napping with a pen in hand at his desk and his head on his paperwork.

He wishes he had done better raising Satan. He blames himself for their strained relationship, but he feels as if it is too late to truly fix it.

Sometimes he also wishes he had raised Satan as his son and not his brother, considering Satan was born from his wrath.

Children, for some reason or another, flock to him.

His control issues and needing to know everything that happens under his roof stems from the trauma of the war, the fall, and what happened with Lilith. 

It’s his deepest fear that he will lose his brothers and be completely and utterly alone.

A bisexual mess of a demon. No one can convince me he doesn’t have at least a small crush on Diavolo. 

Mammon

Oh the second born brother. He just wants to see everybody happy. But he always messes up and ends up making people angry instead.

He has severe impulse control issues, hence why he’s broke all the time. It isn’t that he doesn’t want to save his Grimm, I headcanon that his sin of Greed compels him to spend. It controls him and so he struggles to keep money. 

But by gods does he have great luck with gambling. Get him going and he will win big every single time.

But keep that money where he can’t just grab it or else he will be compelled by his sin to buy things.

He doesn’t even want most of the things he buys. His sin took root in that empty space left from the fall and being cast out by the one he called his father. 

His sin pushes him to try and fill that void with objects and money when really he just wants someone’s love.

After centuries of being called scum and a degenerate because of something he has little control over, he gave up trying and gave into just being his sin.

He cries easy but only to MC or Lucifer. He won’t show his tears to any of his other brothers. Maybe Beel sometimes. But only sometimes.

He knows Lucifer’s most precious and deepest secrets. He’s his brother’s confidant. But he doesn’t even breathe a word of these secrets to anyone else.

He tries so hard to get attention, so he does stupid shit. After falling to Devildom, his family was changed forever. So any attention is good attention even when it’s him being punished. 

MC is the one who showed him positive love and attention again. It is one of many reasons he sticks to their side like fucking super glue to skin.

He’s actually a total mom-friend, though you wouldn’t guess it. You’d think he is the type to get drunk and pass out at a party? His alcohol tolerance is actually much higher than he lets on. He cleans up and takes care of people after they’ve all passed out.

Leviathan

He wasn’t nearly as anxious and against socializing before falling to Devildom. He retreated into himself out of fear of the unknown world they had all fallen into after the war.

He has an anxious attachment style. He knows it isn’t healthy. It’s rooted in the trauma that losing Lilith created.

The longer he stayed closed in on himself, the worse his anxiety got. To the point he became a recluse. 

He fears getting close to someone. He feels insecure in relationships, not just in himself. He doesn’t feel like he’s good enough.

He’s had relationships in Devildom before, but the first one ended poorly and it only made things worse for how he saw himself. The demon only dated him because of who he was, and preferred his status as the Grand Admiral of Hell’s Navy. Not as who he really is. 

The few relationships that came after all ended before they really could begin because his anxiety monster was screaming that he wasn’t really good enough. That they only ever pursued him for who he was in status and power.

MC’s persistence to become his friend is what made him begin to do some self-reflection.

They tried so hard to become friends with him, they put so much effort into him, and they encourage him to just be himself. If they do all of that, maybe he really is enough as he is.

He does try to step outside of his comfort zone more because MC opened his eyes to the truth of himself. 

But baby steps are needed.

He taught himself how to code just so he could make games. He got bored after making one and preferred playing to creating.

He doesn’t actually hate Mammon. Their little rivalry traces back to when they were angels and still growing up, competing for Lucifer’s attention. He actually loves his brother very much, despite how irritate he gets.

His envy is its own thing. It took root within his insecurities and has a voice all its own. It used to be so loud that he couldn’t think. But the growth he’s had since MC came into his life helped quiet that voice down a lot.

He’s closest with Satan and Asmo, feeling like he doesn’t fit with his older two or youngest two brothers anymore. 

Satan

He knew from day one that he wasn’t like the rest of his brothers. He was always different. Born a demon, never once an angel. He knew that they weren’t truly his brothers.

All he ever wanted was for Lucifer to be his father. Not his brother. 

Lucifer once was his hero, the person he admired and respected with all his might.

As he got older, his wrath only grew with him. And his anger at Lucifer grew as well.

He wanted to find himself as separate from Lucifer. He knew where he’d come from. But everyone treated him as if he were just some offshoot of Lucifer. He wanted to be his own person. For everyone to see that. It fueled his anger and built the wall that came between them.

He’s an excellent shoulder for comfort. He often comforts Levi when he breaks down or provides reassurance to Asmo.

These three are the middle children, they stick together.

He was alive when the Library of Alexandria was burned. Even though he wasn’t supposed to go to the human realm, he saved some texts from the library and keeps them safe.

The real reason he wears his jackets the way he does is just like when you’re in bed. If it’s full on with both sleeves, he’s too hot. If he doesn’t have it on at all he’s too cold. So one arm in a sleeve and one arm not in a sleeve.

Asmo has tried and failed to give this boy fashion help. He refuses to take it. He thinks he looked like an intellectual (for the love of god please lose the black undershirt at least, Satan).

He carries cat treats and cat food in his bag at all times in case he comes across a kitty in need.

He has sneaked many cats into the House of Lamentation. Lucifer knew the entire time but let Satan have a few days before he “found out” about the cats.

His wrath has burned strong for so long, even when he was passive, that he didn’t know what it was like to feel calm. But MC’s very presence sends a wave of peace right to his very core. 

Asmo

If you’re insecure and you know it clap your hands. 

Levi might seem like the king of insecurity, but Asmo takes the cake.

He masks his insecurities with what people think is narcissism and over confidence. He puts on a show so nobody knows how he really sees himself.

Lust was always shoved down his throat as sexual only. So he went with it. He was supposed to be the Avatar of Lust. To be what was expected of him and to make sure he was liked, he did what he thought everyone wanted.

And it turned him into someone he never wanted to be. He didn’t know how to find himself again.

He isn’t nearly as sexual and lewd as everyone thinks. He’s touchy and clingy, yes, but touch is his love language.

When he’s hurt or doesn’t feel well, if he’s had a bad day, if he’s sad- all he wants is to be held by the person he loves and who loves him. He wants to hold hands or link arms. He wants to wrap his arms around them all the time. 

But because everyone in Devildom only saw him as a sex symbol, he had to bury his truest desires. He had a persona to keep up. 

While he does love to take care of himself, he used to break mirrors because he was so sick of who he had become. It took a lot of time for him to get through it. 

His MC is the only one who wasn’t tainted by his power. A power that seemed to just be active all the time whether he wanted it or not.

Everyone was all over him but it wasn’t as if he could control it. His sin was always active, it attracted people.

But MC wasn’t interested or affected. 

And that was what was most attractive to him. 

They saw him for who he was and encouraged him to just be the true Asmo. Not the Asmo everyone wanted to see.

He is excellent at sewing. He loves making his own accessories and clothing from his own designs. 

He’s ambidextrous. You think that the king of fashion only uses one hand? Darling, if he only used one hand then his homework would never get done. He write with one hands and be painting his toes with the other. 

One of the few people that can get Levi out of his room to hang out. They’ve always been close. Sometimes he does that just so the others can get Levi’s laundry and dirty dishes.

He’s the most emotionally open and stable of the brothers. He’s made peace with his inner monsters and can coexist with them. He’s also surprisingly good at advice. 

Can and will break into Lucifer’s study to make the eldest relax because he’s working too har.

He has bobby pins on him at all times. Not just for fashion but for lockpicking! He can be clever and beautiful!

[rosesastrology]

Hi 🌹,I wanna say it’s been at least 2 yrs since my last ask. I Hope your doing well. I’m not sure what questions you still accept or whatnot. I wanted to ask you if you could tell me about an upcoming romantic relationship in my life or ab a future soulmate? Queens, NY 11/5/22 (10:37am)

Wow, that's such a long time! I'm glad you're still around, it means so much to me. You can look at my pinned post and FAQ for more info about stuff like that. But your ask is fine. This chart was rather unclear and difficult to understand, if I'm entirely honest. A lot of emphasis is placed on it taking a long time before/if you'll meet somebody. It makes the chart a bit muddy to read, but I tried my best.

You're represented by the ASC and its ruler. The ascendant is in 19°38 Sagittarius, and Sagittarius is naturally ruled by Jupiter. Jupiter is domicile in 29°22 Pisces and retrograde. This tells me that you are about to have a change in attitude, so to say. Jupiter in Pisces is abundant in whatever they have their mind on. Jupiter is a slow planet, so it shows the past few years of your life have generally been good. Jupiter will make an ingress into Aries, where it is not dignified by sign. Luckily, it will have dignity by term in the first few degrees. It shows an end of an era. With Jupiter being retrograde, however, this Pisces energy will stay for a while longer. Jupiter's retrogradation will end on November 23rd of this year, but even then it would have to move back and enter Aries. Jupiter is in the 3rd house of communication, learning, writing, media, rumors, news, siblings, classmates, your neighborhood and the vicinity around your hometown.

The moon is in 8°42 Aries and in the 4th house (5° ruler). The moon in Aries is impulsive, driven, volatile, quick to anger, motivated to work and protect. It's in the 4th house of the home, the end of the matter, the past, memories, childhood, childhood home, the father. Being a water house, we have a very emotional moon here. It's her natural house, so it's comfortable and productive. You may feel quite in tune with your emotions, but find it difficult to articulate them to a certain extent because of the Aries energy. It may be easier to talk or sing than to write at the moment. This was the day of the new moon, having just left Pisces. It also only just entered (or technically didn't) the 4th. All of this is implying you have a changed mindset, but things are still in the early stages.

The moon is void of course, meaning it does not apply to form any major aspect to another astronomical body within the chart. When the moon is void of course, it typically denotes delays and feeling lost with regards to the topic asked about. In this case, your next relationship will likely surprise you in terms of timing. The last planet the moon seperated from was Jupiter (L1, L3). This tells me the same things Jupiter did. The topics of learning, writing, communication, physical health and your general wellbeing were central up until not too long ago. The moon's next aspects are as follows: Moon sextile Saturn, Moon sextile Mars, Moon square Pluto.

The 7th house shows the potential partner and is in Gemini. Gemini's rules by Mercury, the planet of communication and two people. This is interesting as Mars is also in the 7th and thus automatically a co-ruler. It could be that two people are shown here. Let's look at Mercury, first: Mercury is in 11° Scorpio and in the 11th house of friends and wishes. It's the turned 5th house which represents sex, parties, fun, alcohol, drugs, children, pregnancy, childbirth, excess, addictions, gambling, amusement, entertainment, etc. Mars is in the 7th house, in Gemini and retrograde. Gemini is another dual sign. Retrogradation in an inner planet is uncommon (Mars retrograde doesn't last long) & typically shows a troubled individual. An individual with internal struggles. It could also show you'll get back together with an ex, or a person who's returning to your life in another way. You'll likely meet them through friends/you may be(come) friends with them first.

I think you will eventually meet somebody but a lot of things will happen between now and then. There are aspects/planets in the way of the perfections, showing that there are other things that will take up your time in the near future. Like money, your self-worth, creative hobbies, self-care and that kind of stuff. I'm saying that because the moon's next aspect is to Saturn which rules the 2nd house. I think the same counts for your future partner, though. And I do not know if you are seriously interested right now in having a partner/your age, so I'm going off the assumption that you will have a partner simply by using common sense and the chart. The chart is rather unclear, in the sense that it gives dual significators and we see this constant lack of aspects where it matters and impediments. I think it'll take a few years before you meet a new partner. I also don't know your gender & sexuality so I can't take the sun and Venus into account here.

[pollenat]

“In cold flesh” | kyh.

➛ DAY6′s Young K. Angst. Vampire!au. All the pretentious talk is meant to be pretentious - they’re artists from the past. I’m too tired to put this in specific time period, sorry friends.

➛ Word count: 1763.

Melancholy, the feeling of emptiness because you miss something so much, your spirit is hollow. Nothing, other than the past, seems able to fill the void. But the past, as wonderful and overtaking as it is, has to be left to its devices. So you’re here – on a gondola, making your way down dark canals – to say the goodbye.

“So… You’re here for a lover?”

Lover is a distant word. One that makes you want to lean forward and ponder upon its meaning. But years of looking for answers are long behind you. The now is shaped like waves of salty water.

“I suppose – you could say so.”

The gondolier cannot take his eyes off of you. Enchanted, he stares at a profile that death made perfect. But he doesn’t know that.

“You’re a strange one.”

���Wouldn’t be first time I’ve heard something similar.”

Someone looks out a window. It’s a woman with hooded gaze, staring at your gondola in clear interest. The gondolier salutes in her direction. There’s no response. He stops the boat shortly after.

“And so we’re here. Shall I-“ The young man doesn’t finish his question, maybe realizing how desperate he sounds. But you’re not the adventure he’s looking for.

“There’s no need. Goodnight.” It’s a not-so-rare sight of someone who wants more than just the payment.

Thankfully, he doesn’t argue. Just takes a moment to stare at your back before pushing the gondola forward. The staring woman is gone, but will certainly be back soon.

You look around, searching for a number someone has given you, and the red door with mold – a characteristic to simplify your task. It helps. Your eyes take in the piece of wood that’s  almost useless. A rat must’ve bitten through what mold has weakened. There’s a hole at the very bottom of the door.

“Coming, coming!” Muffled voice calls after your second knock. It’s hesitant.

Footsteps resonate. Light peaks through the hole. Mechanism creaks. The red door opens.

Were you unaware of the time, you’d have said you made a mistake. But you’re not. After all, a ghost of the past is what you are. And neither the few starker wrinkles, nor the greying hair are a surprise. The shock factor is Younghyun himself – an image hidden under Father Time’s sands. Have you smoothened the skin on his forehead, everything would come in place.

“You’re dead.” Is a fact, in more ways than one.

Moonlight reflects in his widened eyes. Fear? He cannot be afraid of your picture, rather the meaning – perhaps that he has gone mad. But that’s just an assumption.

“I can’t be seeing a ghost!” Door is pushed to close. You stop it with a foot. The meeting hurts. Not enough to force you into retreat, but enough to fill you with relief – you aren’t dreaming.

The wood doesn’t press. Younghyun lets go of it to take a few steps back. You walk inside. When the door closes, you offer him a doubtful gaze. The man doesn’t look convinced by it. But the emotions on your face are surely real. The little of what you have inside twists and tightens. So much you are afraid of.

“I was there when they buried you.”

A sunny day you remember well. Light comes from a room to your right. You need a better look at what the present is made of. Apparently, Younghyun’s life is a product of metals. Cogs, screws and other things you cannot name lie in a disorder on desks and shelves. Some are packed into boxes, but the chaos inside causes you to turn around. Younghyun follows you inside. On the wall behind him, a number of clocks hangs. They all tell different time.

“In an empty coffin?”

“It wasn’t empty…” But the seed of doubt is already sown. “I saw it. I saw your body. I must have.”

“You’ve always been a little bit old-fashioned. According to the standards, of course.” One of the clocks is shaped like a boat. Younghyun retreats as soon as you step closer to have a better look at his other creations. “You’re a clockmaker now? Not the life of a party among elites? Not even a poet appreciating the blooming flower of old age?”

He sighs in disbelief. Now, in this specific moment when his chest rises and falls, he looks exactly like you remember him, signs of age excluded.

“Those were… dreams of a child. I’ve got what I need here – a job, home and… something to keep my mind occupied.” Younghyun wants to say more, but his meaningful gaze at your features speaks instead.

“I’ve noticed pages filled with words. You’re still writing. You haven’t completely given up on the child’s dreams.” Your words cause him to look behind you, at his desk. Shame crosses anxious features. A part of his life he’d rather hide, even from you. Perhaps especially from you.

“It’s a way to help me figure thoughts out.”

Younghyun limps towards the desk. He isn’t quick in collecting the notes, though he seems like he wants to be. Dark eyes get lost in their words, scanning paragraphs, putting them together. After a second or two, he forgets he was meant to hide the words from you. Footsteps have no effect on him. Breath on his neck does.

“Through the hardships, he prevailed. And wondered, and missed. And lived, and died-“ The card is turned around, so you cannot finish, but the other side shows more words.

Now he’s desperate to escape the art he created. A drawer opens and closes, barely containing stacks of carelessly abandoned papers.

“As I said – figure thoughts out. Doesn’t mean they have to make sense.”

You’re standing in place, barely apart. His hands rest on the desk’s counter, scarred and thin. He used to play. Wrote quite a lot for his mother’s piano, but there’s no instrument in the work space.

“The world could benefit from your writing.”

A scoff. “Are you some ghost of regret? Here to trouble me, because I’ve promised it to the face you stole?”

So he does think you a mare. Truth be told, were you in his place, you’d have thought so too.

“If anything, I’m the one fighting regret.” You step away, to breathe in scents that aren’t just him. Younghyun turns around to follow your departure.

“Why?”

“I abandoned you, didn’t I?” He says nothing to that. “When I woke up, you were gone. And so was my life. Nobody to turn to, nobody to ask. I watched my family go on. So much has changed. My reappearance – was too scared to show a corpse’s face. And so I left.” Eyes abandon your gaze. “But I suppose you can never escape the past. Ended up looking for you. To say goodbye – had you gone on, to see for myself – had you decided to stay.”

He pushes the paper-filled drawer to make sure it stays there. Fingers drum against wood nervously.

“Looks like neither of us escaped, though you’re just my mind’s creation.”

Again. He speaks to assure himself. You cannot be a thought – you’re the one thinking.

“Insufferable. I’m standing right in front of you – in cold flesh. Undead, thinking, being, and you cannot just agree with it.” The man shakes hid head. “If it’s that difficult, then just act like I’m real for the duration of my short stay here.”

“Then what do you want?” Though the words are just words, the phrasing feels back-stabbing. You miss his poetry and all-telling essays. “Why are you here?”

“To make amends. Say goodbye and see you one last time.”

“And where are you going next?”

“I’m not sure. Since the moment I died, this” You motion between your pair. “has been my ultimate goal. I wanted to say goodbye and apologize.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one who-“

“-who needed me and was abandoned.” He goes silent.

One of the clocks announces midnight. You cannot be sure it’s precise. The one next to it shows afternoon. Another mechanism says the midnight will happen in a matter of minutes. It’s infuriating.

“How do you live with this chaos?”

A look back at the clocks causes him a smile. The first one you’ve seen so clearly since… A distant point in the past.

“Weirdly, it helps me.” At your confused gaze, he continues. “I’m not contained by time. Day and night – that’s all I know. Work happens when it happens. Sleep overtakes me when I’m tired. I eat when I’m hungry.”

The only thing in Younghyun contained by time is his body, because the soul you’ve fallen in love with long ago is still the same. You take a glance at the limping leg.

“So much time has passed, and yet – you didn’t change a bit.”

“Same could be- should be said about you.” Conflicted, the man walks up to you. “Am I really not dreaming? I’m dead, is that right? There’s no other explanation.”

“You’re not dead, Younghyun.”

He sighs at your cold touch on his hand. Neither of you break the physical contact, though you’re afraid the ice may hurt him. It’s sad – hating the thought of parting and being aware that prolonging the contact will inflict nothing but more pain.

“This is impossible. It’s like you froze in time.” Now, he’s eager to explore more.

The other hand skims your face, ignorant to the cold, persistent to every valley and hill. As if he was a creator, drawing your face to his design. Warmth travels up and down, left and right, stronger and weaker. His eyes follow where the fingertips lead. You want him to go on, do this forever, but Younghyun stops. Fingers close on your chin to angle it properly.

“You know, I’m so happy I stopped caring for the truth.” His eyes search your for the sparkle of life behind glossy surface. “Even if you’re some demon, here to gamble my soul, I can give it to you – for a moment longer in your presence.”

“Keep your soul. I just wanted to make sure you still had it.” Now, his smile is what you’ve wanted it to be – meant for you, caused by you and real.

Younghyun cannot shake the grin off, though he tries. In his attempts, the man lets go of your limbs to embrace you instead. He doesn’t comment the cold. Palms spread on your back, nose hides in your skin, lips breathe warmth. You can even feel the fluttering of his eyelashes.

“Then let’s not say goodbye again.”

Another clock announces midnight.

➛ pollenat’s list of headcanons

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

➛ pollenat’s list of scenarios

[prorevenge]

Pastor lies cheats and steals. He gets exactly what he deserves.

If you want to read on YouTube that's OK with me. You can call me kaldra or OP. as my user name is not easy.

Sorry I am on mobile. Also I'm sorry but I need to be very vague about where this happened.

The cast

Pastor Bob (not real name). Contractor. Me, kaldra (or OP if you want)

Setup I have been a computer technician for more then 15 years. I have worked on all kinds of computers. Everything from tiny point of sale computers to large rack server computers.

I had been attending a new to me church. I was trying to date a women there this church was her idea. That relationship crashed and burned but that's a different story.

Now we can start

It was about 5 years ago. I had just sat through a long sermon about generosity and giving to those that need help. At the end of the sermon pastor Bob asked for an additional donation because the churches roof needed repairs. And it would cost $20,000 US dollars. that's right twenty thousand freedom dollars for a new roof.

After the service I'm talking to my date. Pastor Bob walks over to me. I say hi and he introduced himself we talk a bit. Pastor Bob asked what I do for a living. I tell him I'm a computer tech with a shop. As I'm telling him I have a gelling he already knows what I do. Pastor Bob asks me to have a look at his laptop. It's being very slow So I agree.

I turn the laptop on and I hear a clicking noise. This clues me in its probably the hard drive. But I can still access the data. This is a good thing it means I can probably recover the data. So I tell pastor Bob the hard drive is dying and it needs to be replaced. I also tell him I can probably recover the data. Pastor Bob asked how much it would cost to fix. I tell him for most people I would charge around $250. However I feel I can donate my time so I would just need $60 for a new hard drive. Pastor Bob agrees so I write up a invoice. New hard drive $60 labor $0, data recovery $0, and 2 to 4 days for repair. pastor Bob signed the invoice. So I take the laptop to my shop.

I open the laptop. HP why do you use so many screws and clips. I get the hard drive out and connect it to my recovery rig. I setup the recovery to clone a data to a new hard drive. But not the new one for the laptop. A high end storage drive. I go home after locking up the shop.

Next day Monday I open the shop and check the recovery rig. It's working but it will take at least 10 more hours. So I start work on the other tickets. Then at closing time I lock up and go home.

Next day Tuesday, I've had pastor Bob's laptop for 2 days. I open the shop and check my recovery rig. Good news recovery completed 100 percent data recovered. Report says hard drive developed to many bad sectors. Now I have a choice to make. I could put a 1 TB hard drive $60 or a 120 GB ssd $60. or I could pay some money myself for a 240 GB ssd $100. I decide why not and put the 240 GB ssd in the laptop. I then clone all the data over from the new recovery storage drive to the new 240 GB ssd. An hour later the clone is done. So I check everything the laptop works great and is exactly like how it was before the first hard drive died. Even the logins still worked. So I call pastor Bob and tell him his computer is done. He says that's great he will be here soon to get it.

About 45 minutes later pastor Bob walks in. I show him his laptop working and much faster. He loves it signs the pickup form. He then pays me with a check for $60. It's important he paid with a check. I do a bank run on Monday and Friday. So that Friday at the bank. I am informed that pastor Bob's check is void, what? Why? Pastor Bob had placed a stop payment on the check. So I call him he ignored my call.

I go to church on Sunday. Pastor Bob gives a sermon about not lying. I walk up to talk to him he avoids me. So I leave and decide I'm going to write it off. I spent $100 and some time to do something nice.

A few weeks later a customer walks in looking for a new computer. So I offer he a drink and go over his options. I'm chatting him up an he tells me he is a contractor he mostly does siding and roofing. He is thinking about offering solar. That's why he is getting a new computer. I ask how much does a new roof cost. He says up to about $10,000. So I ask him why would someone say $20,000. He had no idea. I thought it was strange. I asked about the church. Contractor said it would have been simple and around $5,000. And he could probably do it for less. Contractor buys nice new laptop.

Sorry the setup took so long the revenge starts now

Something about what the contractor said bugs me later. Why would pastor Bob lie and say $20,000 for a new roof. And why would he stiff me for $60. I then remember I never cleared the recovery rig storage drive. So I check and there it is pastor Bob's laptop data.

I look around it's slow and I'm all caught up on repair tickets. So I decided I'm going to clone pastor bobs data to a second laptop. I look around a bit. He had all of his logins stored in a folder on the desktop. Including his online dating logins. And online poker. Did I ever mention pastor Bob is married. I start printing his online dating messages. I look back and find pastor Bob had been adult hugging. several women from his online dating. he had been paying for his dates from the churches donation fund. I am getting angry now. Then I realize he had adult hugged the women I was dating when I was dating her.

It was then I decided to break pastor Bob. I printed out all his dating messages and the women he adult hugged. for the last 6 months except I refused to print the naughty pictures. It was an impressive packet. I then decide I need copies of the packet. So I order 100 packets printed from a major online printer. A few days later my order of revenge packets arrived. These revenge packets are amazing double sided. Staple bound, with a cover with pastor Bob's face on it.

Now the conclusion and I think it's worth it.

. This church had a calendar of what the sermon might be about a perfect Sunday was approaching. I go to church that a few Sundays later a bit late. Everyone is in the church so I put a revenge packet on each car. I have a few revenge packets that are in yellow envelopes. So I put them in the mail. I sent one to all the high ups In the church. and I sent a special packet with some of pastor Bob's naughty picks to pastor Bob's wife. I set the return address to the church. I also emailed a bunch of people the revenge packet from a burner email.

A couple weeks after I went back to that church. Pastor Bob was gone so was the wife. several of the women were also gone including the one I was dating. I asked one of the important people there. What happened? The answer was amazing. I was told about the revenge packet and how everyone had gotten one. The day my revenge packet appeared. The sermon pastor Bob had given was about the evils of adultery and cheating on your wife. Thank you church calendar.

The fallout

Pastor Bob was fired and shunned. Multiple women from the church have not returned including the one I was dating. Pastor Bob's wife is devorcing him. And she is the one that owned the house and cars. No longer pastor Bob is now being sued by several people including the one that fixed the roof. He never paid any of them. There was also rumors of a criminal case for embezzlement. No one has seen Bob in a while now. The church might close if they can't find a new pastor. But the churches money is very low. Apparently he also spent over $30,000 on online gambling.

TLDR

Pastor lies, steals, and cheats on his wife with multiple women. Gets found out and doxed. Gets fired, devorced, and arrested. And no one knows I did this to him.

Notes because you might ask.

It's quite possible that several of the very young children and babies at the church were his. But I cannot confirm this.

I have no idea where Bob is now. I would think still in jail.

(source) story by (/u/madbr3991)

[2bstudioblog]

Konami’s wheels are turning... slowly

Lot’s of interesting news heading to our heads this Monday from what I heard from Yong Yea’s video about Konami wanting to outsource their IP’s to 3rd parties.

Obviously, Akira Yamaoka has kinda given away a strong hint that he’s working on a project with Bloober which in this case would be the long awaited SH remake or the direction they had with PT before it got cancelled. Akira Yamaoka also decided that (too late) he wanted to amend the article from his interview and release it later down the line. It’s very unusual that these news happen, but we all know Yamaoka is most famous for his music in Silent Hill.

Which brings me to a funny story about my own involvement of a Silent Hill game. I mentioned this on a podcast that I was part of 2 Konami-owned IP’s that went into another direction and killing off their franchises which have been like dead bodies in a morgue for the last 7 years.

I got the request to write industrial-metal music for a Silent Hill (of course at this time I only knew the IP and their most famous version of the game has been Silent Hill 2.) game. First I was of course very excited to be part of the series, but I jumped to early until I found out it was a Pachinko-machine (A japanese style pinball-game mixed with a touch-screen and a one-armed bandit and a slot-machine in one.), and my heart sank a little. I think I produced 4-5 cues for the machine, but I’m glad that nobody will be able to hear my “mediocre” masterpieces because all you would hear are metal-balls falling into a tray. But the thing about this machine, it had taken cut-scenes from Silent Hill 2, upscaled or even re-mastered/remade the graphics which would have looked great if it was its own game. But it was the same thing they’ve done with all their other IPs when those transfer over to this kind of entertainment. All what was left of it, Jim Sterling turned the game into a Meme and all I can hear is the -”HIT THE LEVER!” and the effects overpowering the music behind it. But I’m glad it didn’t go further then that. Technically here, Silent Hill(s) died with the arrival of the pachinko-slot machine and the series have tried to re-establish itself ever since.

Another game I was a part of was a Castlevania (Dracula in Japan) themed Pachinko-slot machine, with the revolutionary phrase “Erotic Violence” in it’s PR material and video-commercial. I mean, they took the music production part of this machine very seriously because I wasn’t aware of the “EV” part. I just thought it would be a machine praising the history of Castlevania. I was assigned to re-write and re-orchestrate a few songs from Neo-classical Metal music into more Progressive Metal style, and I was super-proud of this one because they had the sheet-music already available for me. All I had to do was re-arrange some parts for a string-quartet (1 cello, 2 violins and 1 viola) and I believe it was engineered and recorded by famed engineer Kenji Nakai who was under and working with famed engineer Mr Bruce Swedien (Michael Jackson, Quincy Jones).

From that moment me and Mr. Nakai stroke a friendship because he has a passion for Progressive Metal and he asked me if I could send more songs his way. From this we both have been incredibly busy on both of our ends, but I hope we can be able to work on something in the future. I have a feeling that might be soon.

So a long story short, Konami spent a lot of money for recording, they approved everything and we were done. But when it turned out to be a pachinko-machine and not a world-wide videogame release, I just had to facepalm myself, asking the question why they keep doing so many poor decisions. Why leaving all those fans out in the cold and really start making Castlevania mean something. This void of “lots of fancy things, but no substance” started right here...

Konami are turning their wheels a little bit too late and too slow until now. After they got rid of Hideo Kojima (Who I believe was thinking of the international-market rather than the domestic one), Konami had only one thing on their minds: Making money quick and domestically. No more wasted time on translations, straight for the gambling crowd. No need to write interesting stories. No need to introduce kids to this adult material. They wanted to earn it back as fast as possible. But we all see their decisions put them on the map as a “black-company”, who mistreat their staff, shaming them out in the office for overstaying their lunch-breaks. Moving staff from one business to another, from a programmer to a Konami-fitness Center-staff, or as a toilet-cleaner at a Konami-owned pachinko-slot gambling hall. The management of the company has been horrendous for the full-time employee. I’m glad I was not part of these later projects and only wrote stuff for them for Pro Evolution Soccer series from 2009-2012. (My work on 2010-2012 was unfortunately un-credited work. :(

Metal Gear Solid V - The Phantom Pain In My Ass

When the playable teaser called Metal Gear Solid - Ground Zeroes, came out on the PS3 and later on the PS4, it was an introduction for the new graphics engine designed by Hideo Kojima’s team, simply called The FOX-Engine. Basically this “game” was more of a demo rather than a full-product. But it looked great and with a fantastic score by Akihiro Honda, Ludvig Forssell and Harry Gregson-Williams, it had everything going for it to become something really awesome. It became a standard approach from Hideo Kojima now to produce “Playable Teasers” to show a great concept while offering a 3-4 hour short campaign, showing off the engine’s graphical capabilities.

Still, the story was under progress and I knew early on that Hideo Kojima really didn’t want to do it after he always felt that Metal Gear Solid 4 was final. But here is the curse of the die-hard fans, and I’m sorry to say it. No matter how many Iron Man movies Marvel crams out, at the 3rd movie, I started to feel “This does not feel like Iron Man anymore”. But that’s what the fans wanted and is a standard in the movie industry. Always produce a trilogy. Indiana Jones has always been the 3 movies from 1981-1989. The 4th one doesn’t really need to be called Indiana Jones at all. It was there I felt, just like with Metal Gear Solid V, they were beating a DEAD RACE HORSE.

I can’t deny the talents on display for Metal Gear Solid - Ground Zeroes. It laid down some really cool foundations for the gameplay, but I still believe the better game-series for stealth was beaten by the likes of Splinter Cell and most recently Thief. Stealth in MGS has always felt a little bit childish and I only really enjoyed MGS 1, MGS 2, tried to play MGS 3 (still have it one my Vita!) and will try to finish it. MGS 3 has felt like the TRUE Zeroes experience, with the inception of the story and lore behind the cloning of Big Boss. MGS 4 finally brought it all to a great finale and I felt, there is NOTHING more to tell. MGS 1, 2 and 4 is the Trilogy, MGS 3 serves as the Prequel and I see nothing wrong with that.

Mission - Erase Kojima’s Legacy

The making of MGS V - The Phantom Pain is kinda true to it’s title. Can you feel the nostalgia? Or are we just imagining the sensation of a Metal Gear Solid game past it’s prime? The missing link? The missing limb? And with the worlds biggest cop-out  of everything that had to do with story was completely missing.

Each mission is playing out every time the same, with an intro to a TV-show, giving away massive spoilers to who would appear in the mission, you do your thing (not so much of story, just a “go-here, do that approach, sneak back out, head to pick-up) rinse and repeat. I wonder how much of this was Kojima’s fault? I don’t think he was up to it. I’m sure he fought for more story but the big heads didn’t want to listen to what makes a MGS game a MGS game. The new management had now already played the hand to disown the man who put Konami on the map for games since the mid 80s.

The game is no longer marketed like before. The tagline “A Hideo Kojima Game” no longer exists and will never be part of Konami’s mission of erasing the person who gave them their fame and the recognition that a game carrying the name Konami was a brand of quality for any gamer out there. Me myself, personally only played PES because of the stellar animations, but its recently since 2012, I stopped playing the series. FIFA had already cheapened itself, PES likewise. Updating the graphics, but the same old animations have been recycled back to the PES3 days. Maybe there’s been an update in the collision engine, but otherwise everything stayed the same, with the huge amount of data collected from previous years of motion-capture, why do it all over when its all about the brand recognition? Saving money on processes wherever possible. Simple Math. And here it is. MGS V is not a MGS game.

We already knew it was going to be a massive budget behind the game of MGS V. But what can Konami do to save money on MGS V? They already have the Fox Engine running from Ground Zeroes. The assets for “Snake” (I’ll let you know why I put quotation-marks around it) and standard models will extend somewhat. Oh, yes, let’s save money on a character that doesn’t speak (Quiet), over-sexualize the character to start a fan-base of people who just dig character design, animated a sexy “shower” routine for the character for boys to go nuts over. What about voice? Let’s not really try to sync the voices to the mouths. Let’s have the guy from “24″ record his performances onto tape-logs. Kiefer Sutherland would have been a good “Snake”, but I understand now that you are not “SNAKE”. The game explains pretty soon at the end that you are just a Medic and all the tapes you’ve been listening to is the original Big Boss. You never where the character of Snake. Even though this all could have been handled better, Konami wanted to save money wherever possible. We also knew David Hayter was not asked or put forward to return as “The Voice of Snake”. But in this case I start to wonder myself, David Hayter might have dodged the biggest bullet in the most expensive, commercial and very controversial game of all time once Konami decided to kill everything that built up their reputation.

Even during production Kojima managed to start working on PT. The game Konami “silenced” after it was released on the PS-store. Guillermo Del Toro and his friendship with Hideo Kojima’s dream-game was put on ice. All because Kojima was about to get frozen out of the company that was according to Konami “Wasting too much bloody money”. I might get blacklisted for saying this, but once the new management started to mess with the other IPs for just domestic/gambling market, that’s where everything went sideways. Konami wasn’t treating their heritage with respect.

It took them 7 years to realize their mistake! And now, for those who wants to be part of 3rd party developers who would get a crack at a new Castlevania, a new Metal Gear Solid (remake I hope), Konami has realized that the only way they will survive (Yeah, Metal Gear Solid Survive killed them HARD) is to let other’s take over. Maybe my dream of scoring a Metal Gear Solid game would be somewhat more possible now rather than working in the confined space of limitations posed by the higher ups at Konami. Let 3rd party developers breathe life into the IPs because I know there are smarter ways to tell a story and I would gladly like to see the return of David Hayter in the seat, without having to deal with the blank-face approach that he was faced with every time he had to audition for Snake in MGS 2, 3 and 4! David Hayter is a fantastic writer, actor and voice-actor. He has the chops and I think we are all ready for either a re-make or a better follow up to MGS 2 and the time between that one and MGS 4.

[bluefirecas]

Belonging.

Word Count: 2.6k

Rating: General Audience

Warnings: Mention of depression.

Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester

Summary: Set post 13x06 (Tombstone). Castiel just came back from the Empty. Jack left the bunker and now Cas is ready to leave to find him.

Author’s note: I’m a first time writer; honestly this is not what I do! So please ignore my mistakes! It’s an angsty with a happy ending CODA and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it.

———————-

It’s extraordinary the things you can accomplish once you put your mind to it. At the time, Cas had little hope that his plan to escape the Empty would work. He never thought he had it in him. He took a gamble and now he’s out of that dark place, the void, leaving behind the worst parts of himself in the Empty. All his time on Earth, and the Winchesters, taught him to fight for what you want and when the time came, Cas knew what he had to do.

Sitting in his car, still parked in the bunker’s huge parking lot, he’s desperate to do anything he can to find Jack and save him from everybody; the demons, the Angels and probably himself. After Jack vanished, Cas and the Winchesters tried every lead they had to track the nephilim, but he’s surprisingly good at staying under the radar, considering he’s only been here for a few weeks. Jack was so angry and hurt when he left and Cas feels responsible. How could he let this happen? Jack was his responsibility and he had made a promise to Kelly that he would protect her son no matter what and teach him everything he can about embracing the human side of him. And now Jack’s gone and Cas doesn’t know what to do. He’s helpless at the moment and he can only hope the Angels haven’t gotten a hold of him, or worse, Asmodeus’ demons. He can tell Jack’s a good kid from the little time he’s spent with him. After all it was Jack who woke him up in the Empty.

He knows he should start the car and start moving but there’s something that’s eating him up. He wishes he still had his wings and he could just zap himself anywhere but it’s his fault that the angels fell. It was a trap, and he fell for it like a fool. Just like he thought he could help by letting Lucifer in. Dean tells him that it wasn’t his fault; that he was only trying to help but Cas still feels guilty for everything. He wishes he could be of help, and not just be a screw-up. Whenever he tries to do the right thing, he fails, and that burden, that failure is absolutely crushing him every moment of his existence because he’s hurting everyone around him. He doesn’t know how to fix it. Nothing seems to work in his favour and he’s starting to feel like he shouldn’t be anywhere near Sam and Dean for their own well-being. He’s never told them about this, but he feels like if he does, they’ll agree with him. He is broken, and he knows it. He doesn’t know how to get rid of this feeling. Feelings. He has feelings now and no way to cope with them. It feels strange, to be a cosmic being, an angel who’s fallen in every way possible. Ever since he experienced what it like is to be human, it has always stayed with him. His compassion, his morality, the taste of PB&J, a slight feeling of belonging, and most importantly, his feelings for Dean. But he also felt the pain, the guilt, the feeling of hopelessness, his inadequacy and his failures. It still haunts him to this day and he doesn’t know how to make it stop.

It’s time to leave his thoughts behind and get going, he tells himself. He told the Winchesters he will check with the Angels if they had any information that can help him find Jack and bring him home. Dean wanted to join him, but he can’t let that happen. He can’t let Dean accompany him. He’s only been back a couple of days and they haven’t even had a chance to talk. And with everything that’s going on, Cas can’t focus on anything else but Jack, no matter how much he wants to stay at the bunker, his home. Home. Not in heaven, not with the Angels, but with Dean, with Sam, his family. He still doesn’t know if it’s true but that’s what Dean always says, and Cas wants to believe it, so bad, but he’s not able to.

The day Castiel saved Dean Winchester from hell was the day this one insignificant human became his mission. He would do such things for him that he didn’t know he was capable of doing. He was a warrior of heaven, always following his orders, always being the best at his job, and always fighting for what’s righteous. He never thought anyone could change that; anyone, let alone a human. Dean Winchester changed everything for Castiel. For starters, he became “Cas”. He’s always liked his nickname, the one Dean gave him. And Cas loves it. Dean. Dean. Dean. He can never get him out of his head. He remembers it all, right from the beginning to where they are now. He was just a “hammer” as Dean says, not caring about anyone or anything. And then he started having doubts, all because of him. He wouldn’t have been able to help stop heaven’s dirty plan had it not been for everything he learnt from Dean - his mission, his friend, his best friend and now, his family.

He will never forget the day he woke up in the Empty. It was pitch black, nothing to see and nowhere to go. How poetic, Cas thought. After everything he’s done, he probably deserves it. An eternity of solitude and unrest, nothing but his memories to accompany him. And then just when he thought he was all alone, he found someone. It called itself “the Empty” but it looked just like his vessel. How can he forget looking in its eyes and seeing his worst fears, and the most terrible part of him staring back at him? Everything the Empty told him was true, or it seemed true at that moment, and Cas was on the verge of giving up, but he didn’t. Because somewhere along he realized that he’s not worthless. He has a family on Earth. Sam and Dean may be damaged but they love him. He had to get back to them and be the guardian angel that he’s always been. And now there’s Jack too, he’s Cas’ mission now, after Dean, he has a cause and he just cannot abandon him. He can’t give up.

And just like that, he was out. The sun shone on him again and he was free. He called Dean; he’ll always be the first phone call Cas makes. And look how happy Dean was to have him back! How can he ever doubt him? That he doesn’t love him? But he will never ask Dean about it. He will never read his mind. And he will never act on his feelings for him. He’s still an angel and Dean’s not. Why did it have to be like this? His time as a human taught him so much about them - about their feelings, about food, about pain and heartbreak, but most importantly, about love. Love that he felt in his heart, his soul and his whole body, love for Dean. His soul ached for Dean’s comfort, his warmth. All he wanted was to stay with him, be with him and hold him close. But he didn’t know it would be this hard. Dean told him to leave just when he needed him the most. And that was the first time he could hear his pulse racing, his body numb and every atom in his being telling him to scream at Dean and ask him, how he could do that to his friend?

He got lost in thought again. And in fact, he’s so lost that he doesn’t even hear footsteps coming down from the bunker. He looks to his right and watches as Dean’s rushing towards him, waving him to stop the car. Cas stops the ignition and gets out of the car, all confused and worried. Did something happen to Sam? Why would Dean be in such a rush to stop him otherwise? Dean reaches the car, and puts his hands on his knees, panting, gesturing to Cas to give him a second to catch his breath. That moment Cas is reminded again that he is an immortal being and he’ll never grow old, but Dean is not. He will age, and he will one day, leave him. He puts a hand on the hunter’s shoulder and asks him with concern, “Dean, what’s wrong? Is Sam okay?”

“He’s fine. Listen. I know you told me to not come with you but I don’t care. I’m coming with. Can’t let you get yourself into trouble again.”

“Dean. I’m an Angel. I know how to handle myself.”

Dean felt a flash of irritation followed by a moment of grief. He remembers what it was like with Cas gone.

“Are you sure? Because from what I remember, last time it got you killed. And I can’t let that happen again!”

Dean is staring at him like he’s about to murder him. Cas could see Dean is running on sheer anger now. He decides to reason with him. He knew there’s no point arguing with him right now. He takes a long breath and speaks calmly.

“I was trying to protect you and Sam. You know that.”

“Cas, I don’t care. I’m coming with you and that’s it.”

“Dean, please. Let me do this. I owe it to Kelly. Jack was my responsibility and I’ve already ruined it once when I died. I can’t wreck it again.”

Dean looks away and takes a step towards the driver’s seat to open the door, and looks back at him and speaks with conviction in his voice.

“That’s what I’m saying, Cas. I can’t let you get yourself killed again. I just can’t. I watched you die. I won’t let that happen again. Ever. So you get your ass back in your crappy car and we’ll do this together.”

Cas takes a step back. He doesn’t know how to stop Dean. Again, nothing works. Dean can be so stubborn. Why wouldn’t he just back off this once?

“Why do you care so much Dean? What if you get killed while you’re trying to protect me? What will I tell Sam? I can’t live with that guilt for the rest of eternity. I can’t take that chance. So if I die, I die. I deserve it. I’ve just made everything worse for you. I don’t want Sam to lose his brother because he’s trying to save me.”

Dean can’t believe Cas just said that. He looks at his angel with a resolve. He’s determined to stop him and he will. He’s not going to leave Cas on his own again. He’s always had trouble talking about his feelings, no chick flick moments, but not today. Cas just came back from the dead, again. Dean can’t lose him now. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.

“Cas, can we talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about, Dean?”

“I know I haven’t always been there for you, especially when you lost your grace and you needed me the most. I was a dick to you. I still am sometimes. But you’re my best friend and I care about you, man. I need you!”

Dean takes a step towards Cas. It’s been a few seconds since he stopped talking but Cas hasn’t said anything. Dean can feel the tension building, he can see the beautiful ocean blue eyes staring at him, and the pain they bring with them, something he never noticed before. Cas is the first one to break eye contact, he looks down and then looks back at Dean. In all the time he has known Cas, he’s never seen him like this.

“Cas? Say something?”

“I don’t know how to make you understand, Dean. It’s not just about that. I can’t stay here. I want to, I do, but I can’t. You don’t understand, you never will. And I can’t blame you for it. It’s better if I go. Let me go, please.”

“Too bad. I’m not going to let you just leave like that. So try me.”

“Dean, please. Don’t force me.”

“I’m not forcing you. I just want to know what’s wrong. So tell me, I want to know.”

“You don’t understand the consequences it can have if I tell you. It can be catastrophic! I can’t risk it, Dean!” Cas raises his voice.

“Damn it, Cas! Why can’t you just talk to me? Can’t you see I’m trying to help you? You’re my best friend!”

Dean pauses for a moment, collecting himself. “You’re more important to me than you think, Cas. Can’t you see that?”

“What…?”

“I… I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t understand anything. All I know is that when I lost you, I thought it was final and I tried to bring you back, I tried! I prayed to Chuck, I begged him to bring you back, to bring mom back, but nothing happened! There were days when I didn’t want to live without you in my life. I didn’t know what to do!”

Dean moves closer now, and Cas can see the tears forming up in his eyes. Just when he’s about to say something, Dean raises his hands and cradles his angel’s face gently, his thumbs caressing his cheeks.

“Cas. I don’t understand how it happened, I don’t know when it happened, but now you’re back by some miracle and I have to tell you. You are my everything. I’m not losing you again okay? Now you better tell me everything that’s going on.”

“Dean… I don’t know what to say, or how to say it. I’m not human and I’m not allowed to feel anything. But the day I met you, everything changed. I rebelled, I constantly went against my kind and now I don’t have a home. I’m neither an Angel nor a human. You and Sam are my friends but look where that got you. I always bring trouble and when I can’t even protect myself, how will I protect you?”

“You have a home, Cas. This is your home. I’m your home. I want you to stay here with me. I don’t care about anything else!”

“Dean, please. You have to understand that we don’t belong together. We can’t. I don’t belong anywhere. I’m an outsider and I always will be.”

Cas cannot let this happen. Dean must understand. He can’t risk his life. He can’t be with him. He gently moves Dean’s hands away from his face and turns his back on him.

Dean won’t let this go. It took him so many years to finally realize how he feels. So much time wasted, so many missed opportunities. He goes around Cas to face him. He won’t back down, and this will not be the end. Cas is not even looking at him, but he will make him.

“Cas. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Cas looks up at Dean, astonished to hear these words.

“I want to be with you. You get it? I want to spend the rest of my life with you and only you. You’re not an outsider to me, Cas. You’re my family. You’ll always be. You can never hurt me or Sam. You belong with me.”

“You deserve someone better than me, Dean. You deserve to be happy.”

“I deserve you. You make me happy. I dare you to take that away from me.”

Castiel smiles. Dean Winchester is stubborn.

“Now let’s go upstairs and tell Sam, he’s been waiting! And after that, we’ll go and find Jack, the three of us. We’re better together.”

———————-

If you read it all, thank you from the bottom of my heart :’D Please don’t hesitate to leave comments, I would love love love to know what you thought about this :)

Thank you @dochollidayed & @bend-me-shape-me for all your input and being so effin’ patient with me :’)

Tagging: @starsmish​ , @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you , @magnificent-winged-beast , @givedeanhisangel, @princesscas​ , @wanderingcas , @ahoyspn , @inacatastrophicmind , @super-sootica , @deanandcastrash​

[lauren-scharf]

The Mathematics of Memory

The Mathematics of Memory

An Imitation of Form of Eula Biss’ “The Pain Scale”

By Lauren Scharf

For Grandpa Will

0---

An advanced fifth grade math class told me of the unique qualities of the number zero. Nothing can be divided by zero. There’s no way to carry out such an equation. I fantasized what it would be like if I could find a way.

 I am sitting on a plane to New York, preparing myself to be coddled by parents, grandparents, and cousins, who have been counting down the days until my visit, and they’ve finally reached zero.

 An underachiever in all other subjects, I excelled in math because of my ability to remember things through numbers, as though their values and patterns made up an alternative language.

 Can zero be divided by zero? I think of this and ask my high school A.P. Calculus teacher. Her quirky response explains that black holes are where God divided by zero. I immediately imagine writing zero over zero on the next exam, and watching the equation animate to a swirling vacuum that sucks the surrounding scribbles and equations inside, leaving a blank page.

 In a deck of cards, there is no zero. Each card has some worth. The closest suitable are the Jokers, which belong to no suit and are commonly discarded before a game is dealt.

 The New York excursion is for my youngest cousin’s Bat Mitzvah, or “Bas Mitzvah,” as my Grandpa says it. It’s the last of this generation, and there is yet to be a Bar Mitzvah. Grandpa makes a regular joke at reunions like these. “Where are all the boys?” There are no grandsons. The Scharf family name stops here.

 Any number over itself is one, except the infuriating zero.

 ---1---

My sister taught me fractions when I was little. I didn’t ask her to. She also liked to correct and poke fun at my childish mispronunciations. “Count-culator” made sense to me for the purpose it served, as well as “Old-timers.”

 “It’s ‘Alzheimer’s,’ Lauren.” She had to write the word out for me before I caught my mistake.

 An ace holds a discontinuous value in a deck of cards. Aces high means eleven. Aces low means one.

 I was a year old when I took my first plane trip, once again to New York. I don’t remember a thing about it but home videos show the brown shag carpet and gold furniture in my grandparents’ house just as it all looks today. Nothing’s changed there.

 My grandpa taught me how to gamble. I was the only first grader to recognize the checkers pieces as poker chips.

 ---2---

My favorite children’s game was Memory: a deck of cards, usually with pictures if meant for a younger age, is set up in rows and columns, face down, and turned up two at a time in an attempt to find a match. I was unbeatable. My parents and their friends were so impressed by how quick I was to recall a pair and pick up techniques. “You have to pick up the one you think it is before the one you’re sure of,” I would tip-off to my opponent.

 Grandpa’s game is called 31. Much like 21 but with an extra card in each hand. Players take turns picking a card from the deck and discarding; if the top of the discard pile follows suit of the next player’s hand, they may pick that card instead, but forfeit the secrecy of their suit in hand.

 The higher the card number, the higher its value. Face cards are ten. Aces are high.

 No one ever picks a two from the discard pile. It’s not worth the risk, not to mention the subsequent mockery from other players.

 “A deuce for my favorite Grandpa!” One of my favorite things about 31 is playing just ahead of my Grandpa so I can discard all of my worst and lowest cards, simply to catch the looks on his face.

 Grandpa has my eyes; or I suppose I have his. They light up and widen when we’re caught by surprise, but squint into slits when we smile, more so if we’re laughing. His eyes are a little more hidden among wrinkles and behind a thick pair of bifocals.

 Memory storage is marked by two stages: long term and short term. It’s difficult to draw a line between the two. How long is long and how short is short? My understanding is that the long term is for the firsts. First kiss, first pet, first day of kindergarten. While short term is for the lasts. Last night, last Tuesday, last book you read.

 In one of her first games of 31, my sister jumped from the table and shouted “Thirty-two! Thirty-two!” She was convinced she had two aces of the same suit.  

 Thirty-one is the highest score you can get in 31 (fittingly). An ace and two tens, all one suit. This hand ends the round instantly and every player but the holder of 31 surrenders a chip to the middle. A player can also end the round by knocking with what they believe to be the highest hand, or at least not the lowest. The lowest hand must pay up.

 My sister had two aces alright. One, hearts, the other, diamonds. We made her pay double.

 ---3---

Some experts separate memory storage into three stages, adding the “Sensory stage” to long term and short term. The sensory stage acts as a filter to determine what information will pass into short term, and perhaps eventually long term, or if it will be stored at all.

 Information is only in this stage for a flash of a second, like an exposure to film. That kind of information, however, is preserved through a different medium.

 One of my first vivid memories is of a day in preschool when my mom was late picking me up. I couldn’t tell time but I knew when the hands formed an “L” pointing to the number three, my mom was due to walk through the door.

 This was most likely not the first time she ran behind, but it was the first time I noticed. I developed a tickle in my throat, and as the angle of that “L” turned more acute, the tickle progressed to more of a scratch. I wanted my mommy. At three years old, this was the first time I would recognize a common sickness coming over me.

 My family took a trip to Rhode Island when I was three. My mom had to tell me that; I had no recollection of being in Rhode Island. To me it was just another trip to the east coast to see family. When on the beach I saw my grandpa’s jolly sized belly and asked why he had an inny belly button while I had an outty. He told me it was to make a nice home for the spiders that lived in there. That, I remember.

 The most infuriating hand to pick up in 31 is three tens, each a different suit. Thirty points altogether yet the hand is valued only at ten. The first card I pick up from the deck determines what I’m collecting. A couple times, this has been a fourth ten of the remaining suit. At some point, I’ll have no choice but to discard a high card, reluctantly assisting my opponents.

 ---4---

I’m not the best at Memory anymore. Ever since a childhood friend became the first to beat me, I’ve been on something of a cognitive decline. We lost touch years ago, but I remember her birthday was four days before mine.

 Many fail to see the pattern in dates, which are frequently the first details to fade from memory, despite that each presents its own reminder in the form of a reoccurring anniversary.

 They also separate into four seasons.

 All of the cousins and I were born in summer; six birthdays fitting perfectly from late June to early September.

 Memory retrieval in the human mind is broken up into four common components: verbal recall, aural recall, visual recall, and tactile recall.

 Retrieval through speaking, retrieval through hearing, retrieval through seeing, and retrieval through touching or writing.

 Numerical recall is perhaps too rare or vague to classify.

 Grandpa’s birthday is in March. My dad says he’s 88 years old, but I don’t think he’s remembering correctly. Like father, like son.

 The four suits of a traditional deck of playing cards are spades, clubs, diamonds, and hearts.

 These suits originated from the French style of playing cards and, while not the first, they were the cheapest to manufacture, and thus the most popular.

 Other countries alter, slightly, the name and appearance of certain suits. For instance, clubs are acorns in Germany and Italo-Spanish or Latin decks have cups in lieu of hearts. These discrepancies are mostly found in cartomancy, or tarot cards.

 Whatever the icon, each suit follows a pattern rooted in the feudal system: Spades for nobility, clubs for peasants, diamonds for merchants, and hearts for members of the clergy.

 The suits also consistently associate with riches and romance, adversity and agriculture. Can you find each match?

 The four elements, earth, water, fire, and air tie into the four suits as well, though this pattern is more obscure and it is arguable which suit belongs to which element.

 ---5---

When my dad told me of the changes in conversation with my grandpa, how he asks the same questions every five minutes, I shrugged it off as a natural consequence of aging. I’ll believe it when I hear it for myself.

 My memory runs on aural recall.

 Some card decks hold five different suits, the fifth tying in the classical element Aether, a void or space, dark matter, pertaining to the space above the terrestrial sphere.

 In mythology, Aether is the open sky where only the gods live and the pure air which only the gods breathe; heaven.

 Aristotle names Aether as the fifth element but noted that it lacked the qualities of the other four in that it could be neither hot, cold, wet, nor dry, and its only recordable change was in density.

 Much like a black hole.

 An estimated 5 million Americans suffer from Alzheimer’s disease. By 2050, the number is expected to hit 13.4 million.

 ---6---

Almost 60% of Americans think Alzheimer’s is genetic.

 Like eyes, or a smile, or a family name.

 No matter how random they may seem in the world of arithmetic, numbers consistently go hand in hand with formula. Strategy requires such a pattern to ease the task of memorization. This is how some people are able to memorize Pi to a thousand digits, if they really have the time and patience to do so.

 My sixth grade locker combination was 24-6-42. Two plus four equals six minus four equals two.

 The combination of my locker in 12th grade is a blur.

 ---7---

Seven is my lucky number, which sounds very cliché, but I picked it for my favorite month, which has my birthday, July. The 10th of July if you’d like to remember it.

 Seventeen is my sister’s lucky number, chosen, I think, for the day her birthday falls on. But then her name also has seventeen letters. Then again so does mine.

 Therapies show that keeping the brain engaged with patterns and puzzles delays (though does not prevent) memory loss and confusion.

 All these years Grandpa was teaching the family how to gamble, I should have explained to him the grids and patterns and tips and tricks I found in Memory.

 Just a reminder, my birthday is the 10th of July. Seven/ten. Seven plus ten is seventeen. Seventeen letters are in my name. If you didn’t remember it before, perhaps you will now.

 ---8---

Alzheimer’s starts in patients when certain forms of the gene apolipoprotein E, or ApoE, promote the formation of an abnormal amyloid precursor protein, or APP. APP clumps together to form plaques that break down tau proteins, whose purpose it is to stabilize a neuron’s structural integrity. Once broken down, the neuron dies, leaving a hole that disrupts the electrical signals traveling among the nerve.

 Much like a black hole.

 Tau ÷ (APP × ApoE) = x over zero. I found it.

 When film is overexposed, it processes as a white, almost heavenly void or space.

 Not only is there no cure for Alzheimer’s, but there’s also no way to test absolutely positive for the disease until an autopsy is performed. I think that’s a bit too late.

 Unlike a three year old with a sore throat, my Grandpa is 88, give or take, and he doesn’t know if he’s sick.

 Screenings, recall tests, and family member reports promise 80 to 90 percent accuracy.

 It’s getting there.

---9---

I once read about a photographer who developed a journal documenting the final three years of his father’s life. The old man lacked all short term memory storage and would ask his son over and over where his mother was, as though no one told him of her death.

 Tired of watching his father’s heart break again and again, the photographer joined the game of pretend, and told his father she’d simply gone to Paris to join the circus. The pretending continued until the father’s death at ninety-nine.

 Once parties and brunches that follow the very last Bat Mitzvah die down, the family finally gets a chance to crowd around the kitchen table for a good old game of 31.

 “Where are all the boys?” He asks this more and more these days. I want to think that he believes it’s funnier with repetition, but part of me wonders if maybe he doesn’t remember asking just minutes before. Another part wonders, and worries, if he’s really not sure of whether or not he has grandsons.

 They’ve gone to Paris and joined the circus, Grandpa.

 ---10

Grandpa knocks with the confident gambler’s attitude he’ll probably always have.

 The family each takes one last turn before we reveal our hands.

 Grandpa has three tens; thirty. However his hand is only worth ten. He’s forgotten the suits.

 This game, this last game, goes in my long term memory.

[voidbeantm]

the post-concert sadness is intense this time round and i really didn't feel like dumping this on twitter or any of my friends so it's going here ignore me just let me ramble

i really dont know what it is about concerts that leave so many people with post-concert sadness. it's so common and yet it's really hard to pinpoint a main cause.

part of it has to be the crash that comes when the post-concert euphoria wears off. it's like caffeine. the buzz is incredible but the crash is extremely draining.

maybe it's the fact that ive spent so long looking at these people and these performances through a small screen. as much as i talk about how important it is to conceptualise and treat celebrities like real people, the fact of the matter is that no matter what, celebrities never really seem like "real people". yes, they're real people but they're essentially strangers. and when you spend most of your time observing them through a screen, your brain starts feeling about them the same way it feels about fictional characters you really really like. they're real but you never really expect to see them with your own two eyes, walking and talking in front of you. there's a disconnect between how you feel and what you know rationally. suddenly, it hits you that these people are real and right there, being completely incredible. every frustrating facial expression, every surprising and dangerous dance move, every tiny moment of friendship and banter, it's real, they're doing it right in front of your eyes.

maybe it's the fact that for the first time ever, im not alone during a concert and suddenly, my anxieties leave me completely and allow me to completely let loose instead of holding back just a smidge like i always have. ive seen them twice before this but none of them were the korean concerts and ive always been alone and ive never gone this wild before. it's freeing and euphoric and we refer again to what i said about euphoria crash.

maybe it's seeing them in their most natural comfortable state relative to being onstage. the two times i saw them previously were in singapore and malaysia. it's evident that they're much more comfortable in their homeland. which, by the way, completely understandable!! for one, there's no language barrier in the way and they're free to express themselves fully without having to pause for the translator which, no matter what, will always distrupt the natural flow of banter. there's the fact that the concert hall is so so so much bigger. there's the fact that the crowd at home probably just feels familiar and comfortable. vixx and kstarlights have such a close rapport that they rarely have to guess how the crowd will react to the things they say or do. with foreign crowds that you dont perform to as often, every single time it's a gamble. there's a much bigger pressure to impress and do as well as possible to leave a lasting impression in order to grow your audience there. i dont know the right words to describe it but there was just something different about seeing them this time. they were so open and comfortable. maybe what i said about finally having friends to share this experience with earlier applies here as well in a way. when i was alone, it wasnt like i enjoyed them any less, i just felt a tiny bit less free to let loose. in the company of familiar and comfortable people, i was finally able to. it could possibly be the same for them as well.

on my end there was the whole business of sitting so far away that i watched the whole thing through either my binoculars or the display screen. i always forget that im not able to pause a real life performance and go back to rewatch parts i might have missed. during concerts, it's do or die. if you miss it, you miss it. i haven't had the chance to check fanaccounts or fancams in detail on twitter but even a brief glace told me that i most definitely missed quite a few bits. and with the amount rewinding i freely admit to doing, it's not a surprise how much i hate missing out on things.

related to the above, im actually not sure how much of me missing out was actually just me being unable to remember most of anything that happens during a concert once it is over. especially when it comes to new songs. aside from a few key parts of the choreography, i barely remember what the performances for the new songs were like. i can't remember most of what happened. this always happens to me after every single concert and apparently, im not the only one. it's like there's something about the nature of a concert that exists in a time-shifted dimension. everything exists and is held in that dimension, in that moment of time alone. you're only ever able to bring scraps of it out with you. it's like trying to hold onto a dream after you've woken up. unless you write down everything right away, it's gone. but then you see a stray photo, the odd fancam, and it triggers a memory. it's almost magic. and you can't just rewatch the performances through fancams or the dvd even though you'd have a much easier time seeing everything going on but it's just different. you'd be back to seeing them on a screen again. and dreams dont work like that anyway dreams are lived once, the rest are just disjointed memories.

finally, there is just plain old missing them. i already miss them. i just got reminded once again that they're real and in front of me over a day ago and now they're back to being images on a screen. every song i hear, every video i watch just makes me remember that, at one point, they were real. and i miss them.

honestly, this it didnt really fully hit until i boarded the plane alone and set off for home. for the first time in three days, i was without friends to fill the void or the stress of travelling on a time limit to distract me. suddenly, i just felt sad and hollow and tired. on a personal level im probably also exhausted both physically and mentally from the constant travelling, especially on a time limit as well as socially from meeting "new" people and being in the presence of people in general for a few days straight. ren and natsu were incredible and so fun (i will not ever get over what it's like to hang out with actual starlights ever) but you know how it is with introversion. even when you with people you want to be with, your energy will deplete. my brain is telling me it's going to clock out for a good few days before its ready to come back again

i dont have a satisfying conclusion to this mess of words. i dont even know how i feel now that ive bled off all of my feelings into text. it's a mix of sadness, wistfulness, and residual awe because everything i said above as well as having to say goodbye to my friends.

i dont want this long ramble to make it seem like im not grateful for the opportunity to see them in a korean concert. i absolutely am. i will cherish this memory forever. i just. i wish i were both less and more predictable of a person. if i could i want to do it again. i want to see them in a korean concert again. but i don't know what i'll be like a year from now. what if i no longer like them? some people probably find these to be blasphemous words but im not going to lie about myself. interests change. ive gone through so many obsessions in my over two decades of life. given, this is the most involved ive ever been in an interest and the only fandom ive ever made any friends in. but what if i do stop liking them? based on available data, the average length of an obsession is about three years for me. im approaching my third year as a starlight. my projected expiry date is coming up. i dont want it to. but i dont think i can stop it if it does. i shouldn't. no one is obligated to like anything they dont want to. but i dont want to not like them anymore. i dont want to lose what ive managed to find here.