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asirensrage · 2 years ago

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An Offering - Rengoku Kyojuro Oneshot

Title: An Offering Rating: PG Fandom: Demon Slayer Warnings: Spoilers for s2. Talk of death and the afterlife. Summary: He didn't expect what came after.

Notes: We all agree that I have no control, right? I had to get it out of my head. This might be a prologue to something I'm playing with that I haven't shared or it might just be me working my way through what happened lol. This is my first time writing him (and I've only seen the anime) so forgive me if I make a mistake. Inspired by the poems Fire Island by May Swenson and Rewriting Icarus by Fiona (@wearealsoboats). I listened to Elegy for the Arctic by Ludovico Einaudi on repeat while writing this.

He remembers dying.

He was not successful, not in ensuring that the demon could not harm another, but still he was at peace. He gave his final words. He had faith in the young around him.

The sun rose and Kyojuro faded.

Was this death?

He finds himself standing, whole and free, staring at a dark ocean. The sky is alight with stars, more than he can remember ever seeing in his life. They sparkle against the water, giving a glimpse of a never-ending abyss before him. If the waves were not crashing against his feet, he would think it still. He does not feel the water. Not entirely. The memory of the action, the feeling of his feet sinking into the sand, teases the edge of his mind. He knows what it should be and yet it is not.

“Strange, isn’t it?”

He looks to the side, trying not to show his surprise at the sudden presence. He did not feel their approach. He did not sense them.

“Knowing what it should feel like without being able to do so,” they explain. They step closer and he can make out more of their features. Strange how he can see them clearly when the only light above them is the stars and a fading moon. He thinks it is a young woman but then something shifts and he finds himself uncertain.

“Where am I?” Kyojuro asks. It seems to echo in the darkness despite his hesitant tone.

“Walk with me,” they offer instead. They turn and Kyojuro finds he has to follow. There is something familiar about them. He knows he has not met them before, as certain as he knows he has died, but he cannot explain the comfort they seem to radiate. He falls in step next to them.

“I am dead, am I not?” he asks.

“You are,” they nod.

“And what is this place? Is this where people go when they die? Are you to lead me to my next life?”

“If that is what you want,” they give him a small smile. “You are an interesting creature, Rengoku Kyojuro. Your soul is bright, strong with all that you have been through.”

He tries not to frown in his confusion. “I do not understand.” He looks at this person next to him. They are somehow taller now. “I have done what is right, what all those who are stronger than others should.”

“You have,” they agree. “And it has brought you death.”

“Death is inevitable. It is part of what makes us human. It gives meaning and beauty in life.”

“There are few who realize such things,” they say.

They walk in silence. The beach seems neverending, stretching further with every step on the dark sand. His feet sink into it and yet he feels nothing. He does not like it.

“Do you have any regrets?” they ask, looking at him now. They are shorter again.

Kyojuro thinks of it. Did he? He would regret not being able to see his family again, to see his brother grow into the man he knows Senjuro will be. He regrets that his death, inevitable as it was, caused pain to the people he cares about. But in his life? He cannot regret his choices. He has done what is right. What is just. How could he regret that?

“We see.” The person, if he could call them that, stops. They turn to the ocean. The moon that hangs above it is brighter now, somehow fuller than before. Kyojuro steps up next to them. “It is rare,” they say, “to find a soul that burns as yours does.”

“I do not understand.”

They smile and he is struck suddenly by why they are familiar to him. They remind him of Oyakata-sama. Similar energy and yet…this was somehow more. He had the sense that they only reminded him of the Leader of the Demon Corps because they chose to. For him.

“No, you would not,” they agree. “Many will die in the battle you have given your life for.”

Kyojuro tenses. It is not a surprise and yet he wishes it were not so.

“They will succeed,” they say. “But all victories come at a cost. All choices have their repercussions.”

“Their success is what matters,” Kyojuro says. “I would mourn for my friends and comrades as they will mourn for me, but all of us made the choice to act. We would gladly give our lives for the safety of the innocent people around us.”

“We would expect nothing less,” they say softly. “You are not one who flies too close to the sun, Kyojuro. You were one in your own right, a star guiding those around you and warming all who reached your gaze.”

He blinks in surprise. It was the kindest thing said about him, particularly from one he did not know. “My thanks but I only did what I could,” he replies. “I only aimed to help others.”

“We know.” They shifted again, something that he could not place but he was reminded suddenly of his mother. He had thought he would see her again.

“Why am I here?” Kyojuro asks. He does not understand. What is the purpose of this conversation? Is he to move on? Is he to remain here on a beach of black sand and an ocean of stars?”

“It is ash,” they say. “Not sand.” They look back at the ocean. The moon has changed again, he realizes when he follows their gaze. A slim crescent. “We spoke of choices and the consequences they collect. A spark can light a candle or set a forest ablaze.” There is a beat of silence. “We enjoy your soul, young Kyojuro, and would offer a choice.”

He frowns slightly. “A choice?”

They look at him, eyes as dark and endless as the sky above. “To continue and renew. To return. Another chance to allow you to experience the fleeting life you admire.”

The offer strikes him. It is not a choice to live as a demon, but as a human. And yet… “It is not the nature of things to return from the dead.”

“No,” they agree. “It is offered.”

“At what cost?”

They smile at that and look at him. “It is not a sacrifice for you to make.”

“I will not accept anyone giving their life for mine.”

“Will it comfort you to know that is not the cost?”

“You have not answered what is!”

“And we will not. It is a choice, Kyojuro and it is offered on our terms. Continue or return.”

He does not trust this. He does not know this being who changes shape as easily as it is to breathe. He will not sacrifice an innocent. He gave his life to protect people. He does not regret that. But he cannot deny the desire to see his brother again, to fight alongside his comrades and see the success this being spoke of. He will not accept if that success is broken.

“Agreed,” they say. “We accept your choice.”

“Wait!” He calls out as the world seems to fade around him. “I did not choose!”

“You did,” their voice echoes in the darkness. They are no longer there and Kyojuro is alone again. “Look for our gift, young Kyojuro.”

“What gift? I did not accept!”

“They will find you.”

“Wait!” But nothing responds and Kyojuro stands in the emptiness. “I do not understand!” There is a faint sound of laughter before his vision goes black.

taglist: @raith-way @chrissymunson @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse

#don't look at me #lol #rengoku kyojuro #demon slayer oneshot #rengoku kyojuro oneshot

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blaqueswanzaghouliishiilikeda · 1 year ago

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k…so…hmm i don’t know if i’ll leave this up. im truly in a moment where i just wanna be lowkey. i don’t exactly want to be perceived too much rn. but this pride is really important to me. and i don’t really even know if this is worth anyone’s time, but i feel like i should say something...if only just to be able to look back and see that i did celebrate in my own way.

i don’t think i’ve had a pride where i’ve experienced it the way i would have liked, tho this is the year where i really feel whats at the heart of it the most. im queer and genderfluid/nonbinary. not just in how i love, but also how i live. i’ve had some recent revelations about all that that’s been really exciting, but a lot of figuring myself out happened in the midst of a great deal of crisis so there hasn’t been very much, joy or celebration these past few years. last year in particular was so hard i experience such a severe period of anhedonia and apathy i didn’t think i’d see the other side of it. iwtv was the first thing i was able to fully enjoy, and feel the enjoyment, and then coming on here and meeting so many amazing lgbtq+ people (espc. my black mutuals) has been mind altering. not even an exaggeration! talking and sharing ideas and laughing and just enjoying you guys has shifted my life experience in ways i wish you knew. i wish words could express it, but i don't think they really can. so i guess this is a thank you to my gay vampire show family as it is a very real celebration that i chose to watch it and that i'm still here.

there used to be a goal post for not being here. and wanting to see S2 shifted that. and then immersing myself within this fandom experience gave me reasons to push it further. and then suddenly i was being inspired to do things for me that i had given up on just bc connections i've made. and now i dont even know where that goal post is. it used to be so clear and in sight. i was almost a statistic in the worst way. one of the most effective way to erase us is by making us take ourselves out of life so they can say it was us all along. something was wrong within is. but nothing is wrong with all the beautifully complex and chaotic ways i exist. something is wrong with a society that doesn't want me in it when the world clearly does. when it keeps giving me reasons to keep going and keep fighting despite the opposition. even if i took myself out, i couldn't be erased anyways bc i’m so loved. as i am. im loved. and i love and that’s really untouchable. on the other side of not being able to feel, and not being able to care. im reminded im loved. and i feel it now. and i care so much about it that its given me fight. its given me the stubbornness and spite required to live in all this.

i think a lot about this.

[image description: a poem by Lucille Clifton titled - won’t you celebrate with me.

won’t you celebrate with me

what i have shaped into

a kind of life? i had no model

born in babylon

both nonwhite and woman

what did i see to be except myself?

i made it up

here on this bridge between

starshine and clay,

my one hand holding tight

my other hand; come celebrate

with me that everyday

something has tried to kill me

and has failed.

end image description]

i know theres a lot of pain. and grief and uncertainty that exists throughout this fandom. i know there’s a lot people are experiencing that they aren't sharing or getting into. if my life is anything to go by i know that suffering in this life can sometimes be so egregious you question what it’s all for. i question that a lot. even now. and i don't have an answer really. I don't think it’s my place to answer that for others anyways. but i’m celebrating you guys bc you’ve helped me feel. and care. and i attribute so much of the joys i’ve had these past several months to getting to experience you all. you were here when i came searching for something to connect to. even if i didn’t realize that’s what i was doing at the time. we’re here together now. and you may not know it or feel it. but just you being here ripples and reaches. so i really hope you’ll celebrate with me. they didn't kill us. and the ones that have passed live on in the ways we still love them. still grieve them. and honor them in everything we do. our lives are written in pen and permanent marker all over the world. they’ll tear off the flesh of their fingers, raw and bloody, before they ever succeed in wiping us away. we’re rooted in the core. the earth remembers us and keeps bringing us back. bc we belong here. happy pride.

#a little pride message to my fellow children of gay vampire divorce #this fandom has been really meaningful #also a personal message to myself about what it is to survive #i used to hate when people called me a survivor. it still kinda irks me #but i do like being something that can’t be killed #queer really and truly as in fuck you #but also queer as in i love you sm #🌈💕✨🫶🏾#mw posts

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lets-talk-spirituality · 1 year ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/lets-talk-spirituality/723310673106468864/httpswwwtumblrcomlets-talk-spirituality72330?source=share

Thanks boo 😘🥰

Hellllllloooooooo, omg I had so much fun writing this, reading through everything and dissecting information. It reminded me how much I love to research and learn.

But buckle up peoples this is a long one.

**Initial thoughts while watching the video (before any research or reading anything):

The ladder at the beginning

Is he finally coming down to earth? (The rover from mars, finally coming back down to earth.)

Where is he coming from and where does this ladder lead?

Was he up there looking for something?

Then later I had the thought if this was purgatory, but I’ll explain later

Celesine Venus and lyric matching

That caught my eye fast but I didn’t know where it was from

Also the lyrics are matching what’s in the video, very show and tell because when he sings reading your horoscope we see the Celesine and a woman in the background with a book which has a zodiac sign (credit to this post for catching that https://www.tumblr.com/illicitaffairs1989/723335756122374144/harold-never-beating-the-im-still-thinking-about)

He’s on a roof when he sings that lyric

And with the snake person, would she carry a antidote because she works with snakes?

Cloud Box

This caught my eye, and it could just be a transitional piece for the music video

But it was coffin like and represents the sky

And the way he bursts out and cuts to the cannon and him flying

Blue-and-yellow macaw

Literally the only form of a blue bird we get but it’s mixed with yellow.

Any form of a true blue bird is missing

Santus Circus

I wanted to check if this had any meaning and it’s an actual circus and they provide their equipment.

Which is pretty of cool of Harry and nice for the circus, hopefully they get tons of business now.

If anyone is interested here’s their social: https://www.instagram.com/p/Cu4tb-dsQEr/?hl=en

Harry on a horse

At first I was like are you showing off, peacocking here cause he looks cute on a horse I will say

But it kind of interesting to end on this darker look but the contrast against the blue sky, chef kiss again.

Fashion

I alway love the styling and fashion choices in Harry’s work, they’re just a chef kiss. This video is probably my favorite so far. I loved the skeleton

I loved the last outfit, the skeleton one (Welcome to the Black Parade anyone?) this was designed by Steve O Smith - highly suggest checking his work out, it really cool. https://www.instagram.com/steve_o_smith/?hl=en

Harry’s the only male and his place and role in the circus

Normally his videos feature a wide variety of people and genders

And this one he’s surrounded by women

Also what his role in the circus? Is he the ring master, what is his place? It feel like there’s something missing. A puzzle piece.

———

**Initial thoughts on what lets-talk-spirituality wrote:

I love your poem, it’s like the state of celebrity and how we read gossip and find entertainment out of their lives and rough patches they go through and we forget that they are real people. And I feel for Harry, I feel since he started, people have said so many things about him, blown parts of his life way out of proportion and treat him like an object. And he was so young and had to navigate all that b.s.

The colors and Truman show:

I noticed the colors as well, they felt familiar for some reason, but yes very vivid and dream like.

I haven’t watch the Truman show and I have to check it out, I know the concept of it, but it’s interesting. Why is he climbing back down. Was he made to climb back down?

Mirrors:

Thank you! I was trying to figure out the mirrors at first.

I was thinking of the lyric “We don't really like what's on the news, but it's on all the time” and all the stuff that’s said about him

Self reflection and growth he’s going, maybe his spiritual journey, he’s learning and growing

Maybe he is in a time of self reflection, has he had time to reflect and also thinking about everything, he’s been on the go-go for so long.

Penny farthing bike and vintage circus

Yes that’s for sure that kind of bike, and it’s interesting because I always found those bikes scary, I’m scared of heights so that fall would hurt.

And a pull from the wiki article: It became obsolete in the late 1880s with the development of modern bicycles, which provided similar speed amplification via chain-driven gear trains and comfort through pneumatic tires, and were marketed in comparison to penny-farthings as "safety bicycles" because of the reduced danger of falling and the reduced height to fall from.

Another interesting pull: Although the trend was short-lived, the penny-farthing became a symbol of the late Victorian era. Its popularity also coincided with the birth of cycling as a sport. Playing with symbols again.

Also I love the vintage vibe, I always noticed that with some of his music videos how he pulls from the past and the mood board for this video has a lot of vintage elements: https://www.tumblr.com/hldailyupdate/723293053705699328/moodboard-for-the-daylight-music-video-19-july?source=share, maybe his past lives and he has a love for the past, looking at the past, something is there.

But in this music video he’s playing with heights, and trying to reach heights, and there’s a risk when you’re doing these stunts and trying to reach heights. If you fall you’re going to get hurt bad.

Charlie Chaplin:

Yes, let’s freaking go, I love old school Hollywood and the start of cinema, I don’t know if you ever listen to this podcast: http://www.youmustrememberthispodcast.com but its so good and gives great context to what was going on and stories lost to history.

But things that stood out to me: The Tramp, as portrayed by Chaplin, is a childlike, bumbling but generally good-hearted character who is most famously portrayed as a vagrant who endeavours to behave with the manners and dignity of a gentleman despite his actual social status.

Chaplin's social commentary, while critical of the faults and excesses created by industrialization, also shows support for and belief in the "American Dream".

The obsession of working with efficiency and assembly-line productivity ultimately drives the Tramp mad. This could be seen as "an attack on the capitalist rationalization of production." However, "the film also guardedly affirms American middle-class, particularly its optimism." For example, one sequence depicts the Tramp's dream in which he and the gamine live a traditional middle-class lifestyle.

Sad Clown:

Omg I think I missed this convo 😭, but I do remember the look and I was like another David Bowie inspired piece, ashes to ashes, funk to funky, We know Major Tom's a junkie, Strung out in heaven's high, Hitting an all-time low, Bowie’s character in that video is Pierrot. 👀👀👀

four horseman of the apocalypse

This is fascinating, I did see a white horse in the background of the YT thumbnail but we never see it in the video

This line you pulled is interesting: the third carries a balance scale, rides a black horse, and symbolizes famine. One of Harry’s signs is Libra and the symbol for Libra is the scales. The scales reveal Libra's need for justice, balance, harmony, and fair play. Libra's glyph is representative of an equal sign or the horizon with the Sun rising above it.

Celestine Venus

I have to check that book out, and the Venus thing, hmmm

The wiki for the book had this interesting line: The book is a first-person narrative of spiritual awakening. The narrator is in a transitional period of his life and begins to notice instances of synchronicity, which is the belief that coincidences have a meaning personal to those who experience them.

Him as the only man

I was trying to work through this, and that was a order of thought I had too, I always remember this clip from he James Corden show where he says its tough out there: https://youtu.be/Vc7IswqXN5U?t=170

To the left, to the left!

This I did not think of! And holy crap what an interesting article and something I noticed but never gave much thought. Us humans are so fascinating the way we give meaning to things. But the idea of left and right holding meaning.

The left symbolizes death or darkness I think we get sacred with death and darkness, but death could be a new beginning and darkness you’ll never know what you’ll find and he fell willingly. He’s taking the risk, hmmm

Napoleon and horses in art:

Wiki for Napoleon section: The refusal to attend a sitting marked a break in the portraiture of Napoleon in general, with realism abandoned for political iconography: after this point the portraits become emblematic, capturing an ideal rather than a physical likeness.

And the whole Influences section.

And the horses in art article was very insightful, these two stood out to me:

Without a doubt, as we said earlier, some of the most famous horse paintings were created during the emergence of Romanticism. (Harry the romantic.)

Because they are not so ever-present in our society anymore, horses have stopped being such a frequent sight in artworks. Cars replaced carriages, tanks replaced cavalry and horse races, although still in existence, are generally interesting because of the betting and the money. It could be said that, in Contemporary art, the steeds could still be depicted for their graciousness and nobility, rather than a specific role they have in modern-day life.

———

**My thoughts / more in-depth:

*The Ladder*

This was bothering me, like it was the first thing, where is it going, why is he coming down from it. So I started looking into a ladder leading to the sky to figure out the symbolism, I was starting to think is it stairs to heaven? But it’s a ladder. And when I think of the sky I think of the heavens and space etc. But after finding what I found it made me think, is he in purgatory?

So what I found was the story of Jacob's Ladder, I’ll pull some interesting things:

Wiki Article: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jacob%27s_Ladder

Jacob's Ladder a ladder leading to heaven that was featured in a dream the biblical Patriarch Jacob had during his flight from his brother Esau in the Book of Genesis (chapter 28). The significance of the dream has been debated, but most interpretations agree that it identified Jacob with the obligations and inheritance of the people chosen by God, as understood in Abrahamic religions.

Biblical narrative

The description of Jacob's Ladder appears in Genesis 28:10–19:

And Jacob went out from Beer-sheba, and went toward Haran. And he lighted upon the place, and tarried there all night, because the sun was set; and he took one of the stones of the place, and put it under his head, and lay down in that **place to sleep. And he dreamed**, and behold a ladder set up on the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven; and behold the angels of God ascending and descending on it. And, behold, the LORD stood beside him, and said: 'I am the LORD, the God of Abraham thy father, and the God of Isaac. The land whereon thou liest, to thee will I give it, and to thy seed. And thy seed shall be as the dust of the earth, and thou shalt spread abroad to the west, and to the east, and to the north, and to the south. And in thee and in thy seed shall all the families of the earth be blessed. And, behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee whithersoever thou goest, and will bring thee back into this land; for I will not leave thee, until I have done that which I have spoken to thee of.' And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said: 'Surely the LORD is in this place; and I knew it not.' And he was afraid, and said: 'How full of awe is this place! this is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.' And Jacob rose up early in the morning, and took the stone that he had put under his head, and set it up for a pillar, and poured oil upon the top of it. And he called the name of that place Beth-el, but the name of the city was Luz at the first.

— Genesis 28:10–19

Christianity

Jesus said in John 1:51 "And he saith unto him, Verily, verily, I say unto you, Hereafter ye shall see heaven open, and the angels of God ascending and descending upon the Son of man." This statement has been interpreted as associating or implicating Jesus with the mythical ladder, in that Christ bridges the gap between Heaven and Earth. Jesus presents himself as the reality to which the ladder points; as Jacob saw in a dream the **reunion of Heaven and Earth**, Jesus brought this reunion, metaphorically the ladder, into reality. Adam Clarke, an early 19th-century Methodist theologian and Bible scholar, elaborates:

That by the angels of God ascending and descending, is to be understood, that a perpetual intercourse should now be opened between heaven and earth, through the medium of Christ, who was God manifested in the flesh. Our blessed Lord is represented in his mediatorial capacity as the ambassador of God to men; and the angels ascending and descending upon the Son of Man, is a metaphor taken from the custom of dispatching couriers or messengers from the prince to his ambassador in a foreign court, and from the ambassador back to the prince.[6]

The theme of a ladder to heaven is often used by the Church Fathers. Irenaeus in the second century describes the Christian Church as the "ladder of ascent to God".[7]

In the third century, Origen[8] explains that there are two ladders in the life of a Christian, the ascetic ladder that the soul climbs on the earth, by way of—and resulting in—an increase in virtue, and the soul's travel after death, climbing up the heavens towards the light of God.

In the fourth century, Gregory of Nazianzus[9] speaks of ascending Jacob's Ladder by successive steps towards excellence, interpreting the ladder as an ascetic path, while Saint Gregory of Nyssa narrates[10] that Moses climbed on Jacob's Ladder to reach the heavens where he entered the tabernacle not made with hands, thus giving the Ladder a clear mystical meaning. The ascetic interpretation is found also in Saint John Chrysostom, who writes:

And so mounting as it were by steps, let us get to heaven by a Jacob’s ladder. For the ladder seems to me to signify in a riddle by that vision the gradual ascent by means of virtue, by which it is possible for us to ascend from earth to heaven, not using material steps, but improvement and correction of manners.[11]

Jacob's Ladder as an analogy for the spiritual ascetic of life enjoyed wide influence thanks to the classical work The Ladder of Divine Ascent by John Climacus.

Jacob's Ladder is depicted on the facade of Bath Abbey in England, with angels climbing up and down ladders on either side of the main window on the west front.

*Where’s the blue bird? / Why wasn’t he dressed as a blue bird?*

As I was surfing through Tumblr after the video dropped, I noticed some were asking, where’s the blue bird? Why wasn’t he dressed as a blue bird, why is he the yellow bird. And some confusion because he's singing about a blue bird but he's yellow.

And I’m like exactly, and I’m like yes they’re catching on, because like we said he’s the yellow bird, he’s not fully free, he’s a performer, a singer, he can’t up and fly away. He’s stuck in this circus, practicing away. Not going back up that ladder. Who is this blue bird, talked about but not seen. Which leads to my next point.

*The missing presence / Make one's presence felt/heard/known*

There was a missing presence in the video, the blue bird, no where in sight but mentioned frequently. Felt in the area and in the lyrics. But where is said blue bird?

*The rainbow*

Somewhere over the rainbow, look at gifs two and four: https://www.tumblr.com/londonharry/723292594841501696/harry-styles-daylight-official-video?source=share

And heaven is somewhere over the rainbow.

Somewhere over the rainbow

Way up high

There's a land that I heard of

Once in a lullaby

Somewhere over the rainbow

Skies are blue

And the dreams that you dare to dream

Really do come true

Someday I'll wish upon a star

And wake up where the clouds are far behind me

Where troubles melt like lemon drops

Away above the chimney tops

That's where you'll find me

Somewhere over the rainbow

Bluebirds fly

Birds fly over the rainbow

Why then, oh, why can't I?

Somewhere over the rainbow

Bluebirds fly

Birds fly over the rainbow

Why then, oh, why can't I?

If happy little bluebirds fly

Beyond the rainbow

Why, oh why can't I?

*Harry on a horse / Tarot Symbolism*

So after the Celesine Venus and lyric matching and someone brought up on Tumblr the death card, I don’t have the link tho. But then cards started to pop into my head.

Death Card: Tho on the death card it’s normally a white horse and in the music video I can’t tell if the sun is rising or going down. I'm thinking its setting and its the golden hour.

Link: https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/major-arcana/death/

The Death card shows the Messenger of Death – a skeleton dressed in black armor, riding a white horse. The skeleton represents the part of the body which survives long after life has left it; the armor symbolizes invincibility and that death will come no matter what. Its dark color is that of mourning and the mysterious, while the horse is the color of purity and acts as a symbol of strength and power. Death carries a black flag decorated with a white, five-petal rose, reflecting beauty, purification, and immortality and the number five representing change. Together, these symbols reveal that death isn’t just about life ending. Death is about endings and beginnings, birth and rebirth, change and transformation. There is beauty in death, and it is an inherent part of being alive.

A royal figure appears to be dead on the ground, while a young woman, child and bishop plead with the skeletal figure to spare them. But, as we all know, death spares no one.

In the background, a boat floats down the river, akin to the mythological boats escorting the dead to the afterlife. On the horizon, the sun sets between two towers (which also appear in The Moon Tarot card), in a sense dying each night and being reborn every morning.

NOTE: The Tarot card meaning description is based on the Rider Waite cards.

The Fool: When he’s walking on the tight rope, he throws his head up to the sky and makes this gesture and then falls and I instantly thought of the fool. Link: https://youtu.be/-UJCMfuFtSQ?t=163

I think that’s my favorite part in the video, falling into the unknown, the leap of faith, that hopefully something is down there to catch you. Very brave.

Link: https://www.biddytarot.com/tarot-card-meanings/major-arcana/fool/

THE FOOL DESCRIPTION

The Fool is numbered 0 – the number of unlimited potential – and so does not have a specific place in the sequence of the Tarot cards. The Fool can be placed either at the beginning of the Major Arcana or at the end. The Major Arcana is often considered The Fool’s journey through life and as such, he is ever present and therefore needs no number.

On The Fool Tarot card, a young man stands on the edge of a cliff, without a care in the world, as he sets out on a new adventure. He is gazing upwards toward the sky (and the Universe) and is seemingly unaware that he is about to skip off a precipice into the unknown. Over his shoulder rests a modest knapsack containing everything he needs – which isn’t much (let’s say he’s a minimalist). The white rose in his **left** hand represents his purity and innocence. And at his feet is a small white dog, representing loyalty and protection, that encourages him to charge forward and learn the lessons he came to learn. The mountains behind The Fool symbolize the challenges yet to come. They are forever present, but The Fool doesn’t care about them right now; he’s more focused on starting his expedition.

NOTE: The Tarot card meaning description is based on the Rider Waite cards.

*Height Themes*

Brining this back down from the bike section because its interesting, But in this music video he’s playing with heights, and trying to reach heights, and there’s a risk when you’re doing these stunts and trying to reach heights. If you fall you’re going to get hurt bad.

*Breaking the 4th wall / Staring at the camera*

I have to go back and look at his other videos, only lights up comes to mind, but he’s making eye-contact a lot in this video. Which kind of breaks the story up a bit and makes it more immersive. But at the 2:35 mark really grabs my attention.

*Also re enacting his childhood video?*

Someone posted this https://notoriousbeb.tumblr.com/post/723302511830843392/this-is-so-precious-i-may-vomit and I don’t know if its an actual video of him. But if so why is he reenacting this? Looking back at the past again? Where it all started?

*Was Harry raised religious?*

I don’t want to pry into his life, but I’m curious because I feel like he throws a lot of religious symbolism and I feel like in past channeling he mentions religious things. But it's interesting.

———

Totally separate from the music video but it came to me last night.

Was it all a dream?

Let me throw this out there. I was thinking about the past few music videos and the album as a whole. And I wonder, when we think of Harry’s House, we think of the physical space. The physical symbols, you are home door etc. But what if he was inviting us all into his mind, into his dreams? And I saw some comments that his videos don’t make sense,. But when do our dreams and fantasies we have in our head make sense? It’s our brain trying to figure out the outside world or its spirit sending out symbols.

And when you look through his music videos through that lens and looking at dream symbolism that’s when it gets interesting and more fun as well. 😜🧐

I'll throw in one dream symbol I was looking into, which was for the ladder: https://www.auntyflo.com/dream-dictionary/ladder

But it’s just a theory, a 🕵️‍♀️ theory.

——

Other interesting things I saw on Tumblr:

https://www.tumblr.com/haylorfan89/723353922505474048/i-found-sm-in-the-daylight-mv-it-looks-like-a

https://www.tumblr.com/womanexile/723375221220966400?source=share

——

I have the week off from work and I have been resting and working on getting my energy back.

But I hope you and everyone enjoys the read and I hope it inspires others to look and think what it can all mean!

I’m off to play some video games and rest some more. Have a wonderful day, I'm excited for Saturday and to feel the energy.

with love,

🕵️‍♀️

My love, you’ve truly outdone yourself. I’m hella impressed. And I definitely made some connections reading through this! I’m gonna go through and comment.

when he sings reading your horoscope we see the Celesine and a woman in the background with a book which has a zodiac sign

When I saw it was Sagittarius I immediately thought about him being on the horse later so I wonder if that ties in. Sagittarius is known for being the sign of higher education, philosophy, and religion, and it rules travel. It makes me feels like the horse at the end may symbolize him either beginning this journey to higher understanding or highlighting that he reached the Sagittarius state, like he’s more self aware and educated and worldly.

I loved the last outfit, the skeleton one (Welcome to the Black Parade anyone?) this was designed by Steve O Smith

Yes! Omg I didn’t even see that. But what a great reference.

Lyrics that stick out from that song: He said, "Son, when you grow up, Would you be the savior of the broken, The beaten and the damned?"He said, "Will you defeat them? Your demons, and all the non-believers. The plans that they have made?"

Here’s this dress I mentioned for others to see.

This is interesting because I’ve said Harry is aware of his role in the bigger collective. He knows his mission and you bring up the latter as a bridge between heaven and earth. I think Harry may see himself as this in between too. Not saying he thinks he’s a god but he’s aware others think that. Celebrities are treated like modern day Demi-gods. Omg this connects to another poem I wrote!

Would you leave demigod status

For a day upon the earth

Would you descend mt. Olympus

To heal me of my curse

Maybe he’s descending Mt. Olympus to mingle with mortals. We’ve discussed the deep Greek mythology references and I mean he did play Eros.

Harry’s the only male and his place and role in the circus

I want to add that he’s the only male presenting one, I saw somewhere else that there are men in the video but they aren’t overtly masculine. It’s interesting because of the discussions around his gender, and sexuality.

I was thinking of the lyric “We don't really like what's on the news, but it's on all the time” and all the stuff that’s said

That’s an interesting connection to make! When the TV is off, you can more clearly see yourself. It almost becomes a mirror.

Now I’m randomly thinking of the Greek myth of narcissus (yes where the word narcissist comes from). Basically narcissus fell in love with his own reflection “shut your mouth, open your eyes and see, I’m still the only one who’s been in love with me.”

penny-farthings as "safety bicycles" because of the reduced danger of falling and

Interesting because I think there’s a theme of fear of falling, or falling in love as dangerous, but he mentions it in many songs, literally falling. I totally think he has intimacy issues which can make falling in love scary. I can’t reference all his lyrics but some of the leaked ones had lines like “I could never get sick of you, I just bit off more than I could chew” “who’s this man holding your hand” I think falling in love freaked him out.

The obsession of working with efficiency and assembly-line productivity ultimately drives the Tramp mad

I immediately thought of this lyric “Go home, get ahead, light-speed internet.” And “all we want is automatic all the time” and “tea with cyborgs.” Harry seems to reference dissatisfaction with our current society in some of his music and he seems to be commenting on humanity and it’s short comings.

Sad clown

Okay basically I was talking about how I think Harry sees himself as Pierrot and is always pining for his Columbine. The sad clown becomes friends with the moon. This character is supposed to be a comic relief character.

There’s also a famous song called Tears of a Clown, by Smokey Robinson

Furthermore, the sad clown is a trope in art and creates the Sad Clown paradox, which explores the link between depression and using humor as a coping mechanism.

https://medium.com/the-collector/interpreting-the-sad-clown-stańczyk-ffaff072e3d6

Vintage Circus

Okay! So I remembered after I posted my post yesterday about this tidbit I read at the Blues museum in St. Louis. It said that touring blues musicians started out touring with side show circuses as a way to reach people. We also see this in the Elvis movie, how Elvis started with touring with the local fair/circus. Many artists play fairs early in their career, specifically in the Country music field. Furthermore, the touring life is part of the circus as well as for Harry. There is a resonance there, it’s a similar lifestyle.

One of Harry’s signs is Libra and the symbol for Libra is the scales. The scales reveal Libra's need for justice, balance, harmony, and fair play.

Yes! I thought of this Libra connection as well. But also famine, when we think of famine we think of people who are hungry, he brings hunger. Think about the rabidity of his fan base. Starving for more always. Ties into music for a sushi restaurant video where he’s literally going to be devoured.

realism abandoned for political iconography: after this point the portraits become emblematic, capturing an ideal rather than a physical likeness

Yes! Isn’t that interesting because Harry in his career embodies an ideal. There’s commentary there about reality versus impression. And later you commented on how horses became obsolete and Harry discussed how Billie Eilish sort of helped him come to terms with his own obsoletion and how his fame and career may change when he stops being “it.”

Bluebird

I think we talked about bluebird symbolism and how it was used in Bukowski poem to represent this hope or this dream, creative outlet as this bluebird that he has caged inside. Miranda Lambert has a song called Bluebird too. I think it’s interesting because he’s saying he can’t be a bluebird. Presumably he can’t be a bluebird like his person. But also it’s kind of this heartbreaking experience right. Like I wish I could be what you need but I can’t. If I could, I’d give you the world but I can’t be. And a lot of relationships have this outcome where ultimately you realize you just can’t be what they want or need and that means you aren’t meant to be together. It’s one of the most heartbreaking moments ya know? Also blue represents sadness and yellow represents joy. I think in his growth he’s accepting he can’t go back, he can only be who he is now and he has to release the past.

Clouds

First, this video gives this vibe:

Isn’t it crazy how even back then he was leaving hints. I wonder how intentional or coincidental (synchronistic) it was.

Also I had this thought too, his head is literally in the clouds, an idiom that means like not being in touch with reality or like being a bit delusional, unrealistic. Head in the clouds made me think of Drake.

Was it all a dream?

In promotion of the album he said that he wanted people to feel a day in the life of him and his mind. So yes some of this may be more dreamlike or not seem logical because our minds aren’t always logical

**also to note. He released LNT music video on July 13 and this one on July 19. Just thought that was interesting to connect.**

Thanks so much to you for all your investigation. It took me multiple hours to respond and I’m sure it took you long as fuck to write this all out. We’re so happy you’re here, vesty nonnie. Love you!

#🕵️‍♀️ anon #harry styles #daylight mv #harrys house #harry styles mv #song analysis #mv analysis #daylight music video #harry update

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kazumiwrites-originalfics · 1 year ago

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Not a Phase

SUMMARY: My sexuality won’t change to fit your ideals. WORD COUNT: ~800

WARNINGS: Internalized homophobia, homophobia, more internalized homophobia, etc

A/N: Is this about my pansexuality? Yes. Is this how I came out to my language arts teacher and like a couple of her classes (because she loved it so much that she asked if she could share it out to the class on Google Classroom as one of the best pieces of writing that quarter)? Yes. Even six months later this still hits hard I-

they’re so pretty (my first thought) but it’s not love (my second thought) …right?

not talking about guys (though they are pretty too) i’m talking about girls (not like you didn’t expect it)

but it’s not as if it’s real

or that’s what i thought.

never thought i’d feel this way; wouldn’t have ever believed i’d be gay.

if you asked a younger version of me, she’d stare up, blinking, not understanding: what does that even mean?

never even knew what it meant, not until fifth grade; never even knew a person who was “that way,” not until sixth.

it wasn’t until the end of seventh grade that i figured it out; that the mere presence of a girl could make my heart race without doubt.

i still remember the day when my eyes were wide open, realizing that these weren’t just some random thoughts; that they weren’t

normal.

that most people didn’t think girls were pretty; maybe a guy would. (my gender is a mess; that’s a different story)

it was as if all the years of ignoring it, of hoping it would go away, of denying it, (whether intentionally or not) didn’t work

like sappho and her poems was my queer awakening

aphrodite, goddess of love: her affections pulled me to a girl, not only guys.

do i really even like them? analyzing every bit to try to see what was so special about them, about girls.

(was there anything special?) (why did i feel this way?) (am i broken?) (why don’t i only like guys?)

even after i realized that my feelings were real, i still didn’t believe myself.

maybe there was a mistake, an error.

something wrong deep inside of me.

am i a joke? is this a game? why am i like this?

the confusion in me as i research seeing the multitude of names for different types of love finally making me realize and even accept the fact

that

i don’t care who i fall in love with i don’t care about what gender they are a guy, a girl, neither, or any—

that the heart wants what the heart wants, and it only depends on personality, not the looks.

but then again, i feel like i never fit into one place never gay enough, never straight enough never fully accepted by either group

“you have to have it rough, and you have to choose a side.” “you can’t have both, you can only be gay or straight.”

even now, i worry that it’s just a phase that i’m just going through something that it’s just not real

that i’m faking it. that i’ve been pressured into thinking this way

the words people say don’t help; hurts even worse when it comes from someone i know, maybe even care about (a classmate) (a teacher) (a friend) (a crush) (a family member)

their opinions drag me down; a hurtful word, a downward glance, even a quiet noise of distaste can make my chest ache, my heart hurt, tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

even though i know (i’ve known for more than two years now), i just don’t get accepted by everyone, especially not the people who matter the most.

“it’s just a phase.” “you’re too young to know anything.” “you need to find a good husband.” the implications that a wife would not be accepted.

it’s really amazing to be queer, isn’t it? always happiness and rainbows.

no one talks about the shame, the fear, the hurt, from both yourself and others.

forced to be hidden in “the closet,” a shell, only showing a glimpse of my true self, of who i really am

but i just remind myself no one can drag me down. that a flag with pink, yellow, and blue shouldn’t make me want to hide.

and just because people want to hurt me doesn’t mean that i should just let them.

still, some days i feel bad ashamed pained

like i shouldn’t be gay, that it’s just plain wrong. falling prey to their sharp words; listening to it, accepting it as truth.

but on other days? i feel better prouder stronger and that’s a good thing to feel, to

know.

able to be confident in who you are without any regrets. tentatively stepping out of “the closet;” starting to tell others the truth. happiness as they accept, not caring if they don’t because i was born this way— and nothing anyone says will ever change that.

knowing deep inside you that you are who you are

—and accepting it—

is much more important than having someone else acknowledge it, accept it, be happy with it.

pride in who you are is the first and most important step to accepting yourself.

#kazumiwrites #pansexual #acceptance #lgbt #poem #tw homophobia #tw #queer #pan #internalized homophobia #tw internalized homophobia #i keep misspelling pansexual i should be ashamed of myself #i don't think i'll ever be able to write a poem as long as this #sexuality #not a phase #not just a phase

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giftfromblythe · 1 year ago

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Construct

There’s a papier-mâché girl

unfolding in your head

She lives in your mirror,

she sleeps in your bed

And somehow you know

If you press just right

The whole thing will crumble

You’ll be alone in the night

She’s oh-so fragile

See how she bends

But her beauty’s the sort

You hope never ends

So you coddle and guard her

As slowly she grows

Until at last she’s complete

And oh how she glows

Suddenly you’re seized

By a terrible need

To tear into her

And see if she’d bleed

But if you hold back

From leaving a scar

Someday you’ll find

That she’s who you are

This is a more recent poem, written about a year and a half ago. It’s a celebration of how far I’ve come in my recovery.

I used to…not exactly struggle with self-harm. It didn’t manifest as a long term, consistent urge, but rather as occasional impulses to injure myself in some small way. Usually when I was feeling trapped or fake—I’d wish for some physical sign of what I was going through because it didn’t seem real otherwise. There were days when I’d wake up with bruises on my arms from where I’d bitten myself. I know now that my brain was lying to me about my suffering not being real or worthy of help just because it wasn’t physical (in fact, in a lot of ways it was physical, but I didn’t have the context to know that yet), but at the time it seemed true. I scared myself with it sometimes, with how intense it was and how it seemed to be escalating. During one of those times, I called one of the therapists at my college’s counseling services and they were able to talk me down from the urge. I called again the next time it happened, and every time after, increasing my therapy sessions so there was less time between people checking on me or asking a friend to check in if I couldn’t go to therapy that week. I was surprised by how much having people supporting me helped. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised—support was what I felt I lacked in the first place, when I felt trapped because I thought I had to go it alone.

I gradually managed to grow past those self-harm urges by working on both my self-esteem and my anxiety in therapy; I felt trapped less frequently, so I got the urges less often, initially, and then my self-worth grew enough that even when I did feel trapped or fake, I could remind myself of the things about me that are real and beautiful, of the people that see those things in me and will offer help if I ask.

Sometimes I still get the urge to self-sabotage if not self-harm, but even that is growing less and less frequent.

This poem uses the imagery of building a girl—a self—out of papier-mâché to describe how (re)building my self-esteem has felt throughout my recovery. It was slow going and felt as if it could fall apart at any moment, messy and frustrating but with a beautiful result. Sometimes I wanted to stop, wanted to tear it all apart because it was something new and that scared me, but in the end it was something I wanted too badly to give up. And now I’ve found that the promise at the end of the poem is true: I am that beautiful self I reconstructed. Perhaps I was all along and just couldn’t see it.

As always, thanks for reading. I hope this story gives you the impetus to get help if you need it, just like I did all those years ago.

Take care, listen well, and share your stories.

—Blythe

#mental illness #poetry #recovery #depression #anxiety #self harm #ptsd

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heniareth · 2 years ago

Note

Hihihi can you please do 10 and 12 from the romanticism asks for Astala and Ilanlas? :D have a good one!

Hihihihihi to you!!! I apologize for the wait, 'tis the season. But!! Let's talk about moody poetry and theme songs for Astala and Ilanlas!! (I hope you're doing well and I hope you're having fun and resting these days. And, if not, that you'll get to do so very soon). Let's go!! (Under the cut, because it's a bit long; I couldn't choose just a few verses from that one poem)

10. What piece of moody poetry or novel quote best encompasses your character?

Astala

For Astala, we have this poem here:

Don't tell me that you understand,

Don't tell me that you know.

Don't tell me that I will survive,

How I will surely grow.

Don't tell me this is just a test,

That I am truly blessed,

That I am chosen for this task

Apart from all the rest.

Don't come at me with answers

That can only come from me,

Don't tell me how my grief will pass...

That I shall soon be free.

Don't stand in pious judgement

Of the bonds I must untie.

Don't tell me how to suffer,

And don't tell me how to cry.

My life is filled with selfishness,

My pain is all I see,

But I need you, and I need your love...

Unconditionally.

Accept me in my ups and downs,

I need someone to share,

Just hold my hand and let me cry,

And say, "My friend, I care."

It's listed as a poem by J. Hendel on TheSilverPen.com. Basically, I relate it to the part of Astala that rebels against her lot in life, is angry that she didn't get to marry and stay home and instead has to go out and save the world by herself. This feeling, I think, is prominent in the first days traveling with Duncan. Later it gets sort of shoved aside by the urgency of saving Ferelden from the Blight, until the Deep Roads. There she gets to see exactly what awaits her and every other Grey Warden at the end of their life, and the feeling resurfaces, tinged and nurtured by a deep-seated horror about what she's seen in the Deep Roads.

Ilanlas

For Ilanlas, I have found this quote:

"Never regret thy fall, O Icarus of the fearless flight, For the greatest tragedy of them all, Is never to feel the burning light."

It's attributed to Oscar Wilde, and it just... It fits. The fire imagery. The idea of flight. I relate them very much to Ilanlas, who, at his best, is someone who would love a good dive down the cliff and unfurling his wings at the last possible moment to not smash into the ground below. For Ilanlas, risk and the thrill of doing something dangerous is part of life. He is a liiiiiiiiittle bit of an adrenaline junkie and doesn't like to be made to sit still while everybody discusses their new course of action. He prefers to just do it. And, for a chance to be the person closest to the sun, he'd take the fall.

12. What is their character theme song and why? If it has lyrics, which line best fits them?

For Astala, I'm giving you this song:

youtube

It's an instrumental piece, and it just reminds me very much of her time as a dockhand in the Denerim harbor. It's nice and calm, like it's a very slow morning at work and she's found a moment to just sit in the sun, close her eyes and listen to what's going on around her. There probably was some sort of merrymaking in the Alienage the night before and she's tired from that, but happy. It's warm, she's had some food and life isn't so bad.

youtube

For Ilanlas I have Hymn for the Missing by Red. It's a terribly sad song. He's got others, of course, some angry, some just about everyday life, but this one really hammers home just how much Tamlen meant to him and how heavy that loss weighs on him. He's determined to search for him and find out what's happened, but he's not going to like the answer. That art of his story is a tragedy from the get-go, and the song just puts me right in that mood. Ilanlas really feels incomplete without Tamlen. It's not like they were always together, but Tamlen was someone constant in his life the way very few people have been; always had his back, always came back around whenever they fought, always managed to cheer him up. Things were easier with Tamlen around; now he's just... gone.

And on this sad note I'll leave you. I'm looking forward to getting to the part where Ilanlas finds Tamlen again. It's gonna be an angst fest >:)

Thank you so much for the ask!!! This was very fun to write XD XD XD XD I hope you have a very lovely day, stay warm and have fun ^^

#astala tabris #ilanlas mahariel #ask game #for fun

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y0ur-l0cal-sc3m0-t33n · 11 months ago

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I wanted to write you a love letter, but I can’t. It seems so easy when people do it, but my love got wasted away already. I look at you and all I can see is how I loved you just like how I loved my dad. I loved you so much dad, even with the bruises and fear I would feel deep inside, knowing any day you could snap and break my frail, small, young body. I wasn’t what you expected a kid would be, I was loud, I was emotional, I needed attention, it was too much so I learned to be what you wanted me to be. I loved you so much even the fear I felt couldn’t make me run away from you. I loved you so much I couldn’t bear to be the reason you’d snap so often. I loved you so much I can never see myself loving someone who doesn’t scare me like you did. Your words would cut me to my core, leaving scars that could never fade, yet these scars scream how much you loved me in my eyes. Everywhere, in and out, I look at them and think of you, of how much you must’ve cared about me despite all those harsh words. You must love me to not have killed me like you threatened so often to do. I love you so much now I can only picture you when talking about love, describing this bond we had. I wasted my love away on you. I look at you and all I can see is how I loved my first boyfriend. Loved you so much it blinded me to the pain I was feeling. 15 years older than me, yet you must’ve cared about me like no one else did before. You were there when no one else was. You cared so much you couldn’t turn your eyes away from me even when I was in pain. I loved how much you cared for me, even when you were the one hurting me, you would always make sure I would be able to handle it. When I cried regretting giving in and sending you those pictures, you were there to remind me how it was an act full of love. You were always there to remind me what love is like. How the feeling twisting my stomach everytime you asked something of me was simply what love was, that the fear I felt deep into my core was just a normal part of loving. Those cuts all over me weren’t scary to those who truly do love me, it’s just that nobody does around me, and that’s why I ought to trust you. I love you so much I still think of you when writing love letters now. I love you so much I still see you in everyone I love. I look at you and all I can think of are those pills I use to pop to feel good. You feel just like the drugs did, and it’s scary to imagine you knowing that. The rush the lines I would do in the bathroom counter feels exactly like the rush I feel when talking to you. I loved them so much, I still think about them everyday. Pills, perks, powder, the angel dust that saved my life while ruining it at the same time. How would you react knowing that's how you feel to me, that’s how love feels to me. I wish I could tell you I love you, but I can’t. My love got wasted, and now, love to me is just being black and bruised, being fucked by people I barely know, being afraid and ashamed of it. To me, loves comes in a small plastic bags and can only be shared when giving a favor in return. To me, love is just one of those things that hurts in the end. Love is nothing more than something you can buy at a party and do discretely in the bathroom. Love turned my hearth to one of stones. Love can never be again to me. Love is something I’ll never know. I can’t tell you how much I love you, because I myself don’t even know. I can’t even know if you will be good to me or you’ll end up leaving me black and blue, bruised and bleeding like everyone else did. So this won’t ever be a love poem, because I don’t know what love is like. I only know that I appreciate you, and it’s the best I can give you.

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solivagant-nubivagant · 1 year ago

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So yeah I told him about my blog…he’s cute. He wanted me to talk about it. Idk maybe I’ll give him the ID some day…that would be a big step tbh…

Idk I just feel kinda gloomy rn. Nothing special. I’m thinking about him. He’s pretty, like ofc, guys are usually handsome and hot and all that. While he is DEFINITELY all that, he’s also pretty. And I mean that in a way you say “pretty boy” like someone who is cute and cuddly and kind and handsome. Tbh if he were an icecream flavour he’d be bubblegum or vanilla. Why two so damn different ones? Well bubblegum is his favourite. And it’s so like him…when I first had that icecream, (and yeah if he was food he’d be icecream) it reminded me of childhood, and just the whole absence of purity and innocence and joy…I can’t describe it but it tasted the way playing hopscotch felt…and that’s a lot like him, sweet, funny, nostalgic, comforting. Whereas for vanilla, I said that because well quite frankly, I love vanilla, (my favourite would always be caramel but still) you can never go wrong with a vanilla flavoured thing tbh. Plus it’s customisable, you can add a *ploop* of caramel on it with some fruits maybe? And it tastes awesome. Idk vanilla is just comforting to me, again, not good with expressing feelings tbh (it’s the autism)

Vanilla is like something you can lean on. Like when I don’t understand any flavour I just go with vanilla. I can lean on it for support if that makes sense there’s nothing that can go wrong with vanilla.

He’s like that.

Idk what it’s about him but he feels a lot different than other people I’ve met. With people I’ve had crushes on or been in a relationship with, I’ve always felt this rush of excitement and all butterflies and all yk? But with him, while I do feel those (OH DEFINITELY whenever I look at him for the first time on every video call, I have to hold my breath he’s just so damn pretty) but he feels very comforting to me, like I know him. Idk that’s the best way I can describe it, talking to him feels like we know each other. I’m so shy, the first time I talked to my ex on call I did not speak a single word on the call because of how many butterflies I had (yeah I loved that guy) but with him even if I don’t wanna /can’t talk, I somehow go ahead and invent it. I don’t wanna stop talking to him, I never want our time together to end.

And tbh, I just don’t mean that just cause of romantic love or something, it’s very genuine. Not *just* romantically. I love him like the way I love my best friend, I just have a bit of romantic feelings too. If that makes sense.

The way he talks and the facial expressions he makes, man I love listening to him and observing him. The way his accent gets all mixed up when he’s ranting, even though I have a bit of a trouble understanding him then, I love it. I’d listen to it on repeat. May sound creepy lol. I’ve written poems about people, and intellectual paragraphs, but the thing I’m writing rn is the most genuine thing I’ve ever written about someone. I genuinely love him, and not just in a romantic sense.

Huh I’m thinking if I do decide to give him my ID 💀 what would he think if he read this…? 💀💀

Doesn’t mean I’m gonna hide it though, I love him, and that’s the truth. He has to deal with it 😂

While a few people (2) before him knew I have a blog I’ve never actually shared my ID with someone. Yeah but I do wonder, what he would think of me if he ever decided to look through this thing. Would it change the way he looks at me? Maybe. Well we’ll see…but hey if you read this whole thing, just know that some of the things I’ve written down here are written in my most impulsive depressive moments, I do that, I speak weird stuff just to get the impulsive thoughts out of my head, most of them I don’t even believe in later. My mother always told me to get the impulsive thoughts out, and it does help so. Tbh I never filter out this blog, it’s one place I feel my most authentic self. And if I do end up sharing this with you, I just want you to know me for me too. <3

Well whenever he calls me up it means so much to me tbh, he showed me his sketches, he just makes me feel loved and so does Zainab. Like both of them, they make me feel so loved, and I’ve never had that before…I was always told people always hurt you, and they’ve done that, but these two just…change my perspective on things every-time I talk to them. They care about me, they LOVE the fact that I talk so much when all my life people told me to shut up, seriously both of them tell me to talk more like can you believe that

I love these two so much, honestly both of them won’t even realise how much I love them. They’ve been with me through my worst moments and it seems like they have no intention to leave any time soon. Man I just love them so damn much. They make my life worth living tbh.

Him tho…tbh I can talk more about him..idk for how long I’ve been typing, sitting behind this door, but rn it feels good to do it.

He got so happy when I told him we could have a *chance* of meeting, I don’t think I would ever be able to imagine he was so happy if I didn’t hear it in his voice. Man…it’s just so hard for me to imagine someone being so happy to see me. It made my heart melt, I wanted to cry and hug him so damn hard.

I don’t think I’d be able to go tho, situation at my friend’s house isn’t that good.

I’d hate to break it to him…but we’ll hopefully I can visit him some day. I really do hope so. Ok if I get the college I want I’m going on a solo trip to see him. I deserve that.

Tbh I also wanna know what he thinks of when he’s looking at me or talking to me…like I REALLY wanna know IM SO CURIOUS

I WANNA KNOW EVERY DETAIL DAMMIT

I doubt it’s as elaborate as mine 💀😂

Tbh that’s also kinda fascinating to think about how different/similar (I doubt that) our thinking is. Must be fun to analyse it lol

And now my buttcheek hurt from sitting on the floor to long. See that’s the thing when you have a flat bum. No cushion support

#1 November 2023

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iuwon · 3 years ago

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little hints he gives when he likes you

enhypen ‘02 line x f!reader. no warnings. fluff (?) but kinda boring ngl, non!idol au. unedited. ‘02z liners crushing over reader.

₊˚‧☆ﾐ PARK JAY

replies the exact split second you text him a message. respects you more than any man alive. fidgety around you, scratches the back of his neck. keeps things that you gave him even if they can’t be of use anymore. a lot of caught red handed efforts of him almost reaching out to hold your hand. wears the ‘oh-my-god-take-me-to-heaven-i’m-in-love’ expression whenever you do something endearing. telling you randomly “you’re cute”. then after, soon subtly dropping down a “i like cute girls”. looks at your social media pictures at least 10 times a day. sends death glares at people who cross over your line. instinctively grabs your waist and pulls his own body in front of the direction of the said ‘threat’ whenever he sees danger coming harm’s way in order to protect you. taking the blame for mistakes you made.

shares his future plans with you. always noticing and verbally appreciating every little thing you do. tries to hide his emotions whenever someone who likes you hangs around with you and fails. gets riled up and ends up sacrificing his own piece of clothing for you to wear whenever your outfit is of something revealing. “i don’t need those other girls, i’m talking to you right now”. has too much pictures of you in his photo library, either funny or cute. takes an effort to look good around you. intense eye contact. acts different in private because he wants to be his best. remembers things you’ve said that you don’t remember saying.

₊˚‧☆ﾐ SIM JAKE

too obnoxiously flirty to know if he’s hinting or playing around. winks at you. often whines to you about wanting to be the only person you hang out with. stares at you like it’s his favorite pastime. his name is always there popping up in your notifications. tags you in his social media reposts; ‘LMAO @/YN LOOK AT THIS FROG’. available for you 24/7, just say his name. helps only you with homework in return of having you spend time with him. wants to pay for you. “let me at least buy you this hoodie, if i can’t have the honorary title of being your boyfriend then let me at least enjoy the perks”. spams you with texts. learns how to dance like your k-pop idols so you can fawn over him, he wants you to simp over him too.

tries to understand your style and clothing so he can have matching clothes with you. “oH wE’Re maTchiNG, wHaT a cOInciDencE!” cheeky and playful, but whenever someone hits you up he’ll seriously claim himself as your boyfriend. you obviously don’t take it to heart. has a notebook of poems that’s obviously about you. snatches your phone and places himself as your lock-screen and wallpaper. treats you like a princess; literally bridal-style carried you to the nearest infirmary when you tripped and sprained your ankle. likes to spoon-feed you. makes it a point to make you feel like the most special person alive. you both know there is no other girl in his life, as he often reminds you. he’s your number one biggest fan and supports every decision you make. literally adores you. gets into the stuff you like to do so you would talk to him more and find him more interesting.

₊˚‧☆ﾐ PARK SUNGHOON

unknowingly searches and looks for you when you’re not around. calls and demands everyone’s attention when you’re trying to speak. insults anybody who insults you. surprisingly mentions you a lot to his friends. his friends going “oH YOU’RE THAT GIRL HE WON’T SHUT UP ABOUT - OUCH!”. makes a spotify playlist for songs that remind him of you with your name as the title. remembers your favorite starbucks drink by heart. secretly glances at you often but can barely look at you in the eye for three seconds straight. calls for your attention more than often. subtly asks you if his new haircut or outfit looks okay. tries hard not to laugh at your jokes but fails, everything is 1000x funnier when you say it for some weird reason. gives you his own things especially if you don’t have it.

flaunts his good looks and achievements in hope for you to acknowledge and compliment him. the moment you talk about another guy, saying how funny he is that you can’t stop laughing, his smiling eyes would vanish and drop. he would barely respond to your declaration and would act like he hasn’t heard you, giving you a look that screams total disinterest in what you just said, his mood sour. accompanies you (especially when you’re going alone) and wouldn’t dare leave despite acting like a jerk. gives the cold shoulder to anyone you’re crushing on/who’s flirting with you and couldn’t honestly care less if they got rammed by a car. finds ways and opportunities for you to hang out with him and have you all by himself, while he teases you that you can’t get enough of him.

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kestalsblog · 2 years ago

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Things to Keep in Mind While Writing Poetry: for "Pretentious Poets"

(Long Post)

Let's start this off with an important reminder. In poetry, we should never assume "I" or any first-person pronouns are the same as the poet/author. They relate to the speaker of the poem, who may or may not be the poet. The speaker is like a characer in a story. With that being said, be prepared for many readers to conflate the two no matter what - and let's be honest, many times you do intend the "I" in poems to be you, the poet.

In poetry, there is a tendency to meditate on philosophical concepts, right? And something interesting often happens when we meditate on the meaning of life, the nature of man, etc., etc. We get big egos. We get pretentious and think we have all the right answers and start blaming everyone else, developing a "me vs. them" mentality even if we don't mean to.

This can lead our poems to sound pretentious, preachy, or more arrogant than we intend. In attempting to condemn what we see wrong and rewrite reality to mach our own ideals, we forget that we too are often responsible of the same vices of which we accuse our fellow human beings.

This habit can lead us to do many harmful things in poetry, including but not limited to the below:

Imposing our own thoughts on other living things (including animals, which are definitely not sharing our same thoughts and perspectives). I recommend reading "The Fish" by Elizabeth Bishop if you want a fantastic example of a poem that uses an animal to talk about human ideas and then by the end appropriately lets it go. But this one can be super terrible in some cases. Remember those wretched people who tried to claim slaves were happy because they would sing in the plantation fields? Yeah, never assume you know what another person is thinking and never impose your thoughts on them.

Using the suffering of people we know to make a point. Example: you might write a poem about a loved one's death to stake a claim about the unfairness of the world. Well, don't forget that you are writing about a real person. Make sure you do that person justice and don't just use them as a springboard or a symbol. Your loved one is MORE than a symbol. Much more. You might be so caught up in your heightened emotions, you don't even realize. But no one is just a symbol for your poem! Yes, suffering can be included in poems. But should it be romanticized at the cost of another human being?

Positioning yourself as the know-it-all saint, God's mouthpiece. Preacher Poet. "Look at all these people and all the ways they have ruined the world! Let me teach you the truth!" Well, bud, take a look in the mirror. I bet you've hurt someone else. I bet you've contributed to the destruction of the environment. I know you don't want to come off as holier-than-thou in your poems. This can lead to the below issue too.

Ignoring all the bad things to save face. You know that Facebook friend you have you're super jealous of? The one who's always posting flawless pictures of her super-amazing family while you're miserably scrolling along, wondering how anyone can be so happy. Like those white-teethed people on Facebook, perfect, sugary-saccharine poems about good ol' you start to give more cavities than joy. You're not the perfect FB person in real life, so don't be that in poems. Not saying to air all your dirty laundry for the world to see, but a good reader can point out fake-cheer. There's an opposite way to go, too (see below).

Competing in the trauma/oppressed Olympics. "I am the most hurt person alive. Everything that has happened to me is the worst thing ever and no one understands." I don't think I need to elaborate much on this one, but open your mind while writing and remember the plight of others as much as your own. Many people do understand and poetry can be a beautiful way of connecting to other people and sharing our truths. We love to write about our trauma because it helps us work through it in a healthy way, but we shouldn't diminish others' pain to do this.

Assuming you know everything. Spoiler: you don't. No need to keep reading your poem. One of the best parts of poetry is its inquistive nature. Poets and readers can ponder a question together, and what is more intimate, more lovely than that?

All this is to say that poetry requires a kind of self-awareness and empathy some other forms of writing don't. It's personal. It's both private and open. Can you get away with the above if you're an amazing, self-aware poet? Sure. Can you break the rules and write a satirical poem, purposely positioning yourself as a pretenious a-hole? Yeah. But the issue is that a lot of beginning poets are making these mistakes very genuinely and might be a little horrified to realize how their poems come across to some readers. I believe in the goodness of most people deep down.

Anyway, stay mindful, poets.

[P.S. No, I don't know everything either! I think tip and advice articles can start to sound know-it-all themselves. I just compile thoughts and ideas I've gathered and have learned from others along the way that I find useful :) We're all learning, right? I'm just really passionate].

#writeblr poetry #writeblr #writing community #writers on tumblr #writing #writing advice #writing tips #advice for writers #poetry #poetry tips #poetry advice

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spencersmagic · 4 years ago

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a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :)

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x @spencerreid-mgg @eoupe @inlovewithbabygirl @galaxydefenderjulia @username2002

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aminiatureworld · 3 years ago

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Leaden Dreams

Characters: Albedo, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 1,908

Warnings: Vague depictions of sleep paralysis

Premise: In which the reader experiences sleep paralysis

Author’s Note: First time writing Kazuha! I just finished his story quest today, so I hope that I have an okay grasp on him. Still working on his talking style a bit but I adore his personality.

Also though I experience the part of sleep paralysis where you’re awake but can’t move (can’t recommend the experience) it’s usually during the day so I don’t really experience dreams. As of such if this is inaccurate in any ways I’m very sorry.

Albedo

Albedo knew about sleep paralysis on a theoretically level, knew that it was a phenomenon that caused one’s brain to awaken when the body was still fast asleep. He’d never given the concept much thought, not any more than he might any other bit of science that remained shelved in his mind.

Now that was certainly not the case.

Albedo knew the telltale signs, the small spasms that revealed the battle between your mind and your body. Knowing that you were fighting to move your limbs, open your eyes, relax your jaw, he would always speak first, knowing that you might not immediately respond.

“It’s alright my dear, I’m here. I know it’s frightening, but I promise you’ll be able to move soon. Just focus on one thing, alright? Maybe your eyes this time, since last time you tried moving your tongue. That’s it, just one thing first. It’s always better to start small.”

He wouldn’t move from his sleeping position until you regained control of your body, afraid that a sudden touch might cause you even more distress. Keeping himself carefully pressed into the mattress he didn’t fare lift his head, for fear his face might melt into something frightening. Since he knew he was helpless, his goal became to stop things from getting worse.

The moment you began to move however the alchemist would jump into action. Turning lights on he would pick up the glass of water from his nightstand before gathering you up into his arms, positioning himself so you could listen to his heartbeat as you drank. The first time it had happened he had left the room to get the glass to soon, and the memory of you curled up desperately into the covers still tugged at him.

Albedo would then go through what you had half-dreamed with you, thoroughly debunking all the distortions of your normal life. That shadowed human outside the window was a combination of the balcony and the half opened curtains. The voices were partially his own, partially your brain trying to process your own breathing. The figure hiding behind the door of the hallway was because of the boxed piled along the other side of the wall. The people dancing on the ceiling could be fixed with a repaint. Over and over he would remind you of the fact that you were safe, that your amygdala was simply going into overdrive. Over and over he would thoroughly debunk your nightmares until once more things settled into place, piles of clothing becoming one more fabric, dressers no longer dancing as if possessed.

He would tell you to wake him up if he began falling back to sleep, determined that he should be watching over you to make sure an episode didn’t happen as you were falling back asleep.

In reality though you didn’t mind if he drifted off a little before you. His breathing was a soothing melody, his slow, steady heartbeat a rhythm with which you could anchor yourself. He was staid and sure, and that was something you grasped onto desperately, something you would never stop appreciating.

Soon enough his reasons would soothe your mind, and you’d fall once more asleep.

Kazuha

The first thing Kazuha always did was pull the blankets over you. If the outside world was threatening you, then he’d simply block it out.

Making a cocoon around the two of you he would begin to tell stories. Fairy tales, things that had happened to him during his travels, anything that you brain might latch onto. The stories were always very short and self-contained, easy to understand, and through your panic addled brain you always seemed to find them.

Sometimes when things were particularly bad he’d softly cradled your hands, careful not to move to quickly or too suddenly in case the sensation caused you to panic even more.

“Our hands fit together so well, don’t you think? I could write a poem about them, or maybe about yours. Maybe you’ll help me with it after this is over? It will be soon dearest, I know it will.”

Sometimes he would sing little songs that he’d picked up. Usually sea shanties, their rhythm helped you, less complex than poetry, more lyrical than the jagged fear that screamed at you.

Kazuha wouldn’t ask you to share immediately. When you finally moved he would first squeeze your hands gently, kissing them before your forehead, asking if it was too hot beneath the blankets, then making sure a light was on if you needed a little fresh air.

He never acknowledged what had happened before you did, but he wouldn’t pretend like it didn’t happen either. Instead he would ask if you wanted to listen to a story or tell one. Whichever you chose he would keep holding your hands, making sure that even when he gave you space there was still something that grounded you.

Sometimes when you cried he would tell a very specific story.

“There once was a warrior, brave of heart. So brave were they that shadows tried to chase them. Someone this noble cannot exist! They cried out. The warrior must be false. We will find their weakness. However no matter how hard they tried this weakness was never found. For the warrior was truly brave in heart and soul.”

Normally you might consider such a story overdone, but in those liminal moments between fear and sleep the story format helped. This was simply a harrowing part of a story, but there would surely be a better end.

Scaramouche

Scaramouche never thought that he’d ever sleep next to you.

Humans were loud and irritating, and that only became more true when the Harbinger was trying to get a few precious hours of sleep.

However after a particularly bad week he decided that the only solution to your terrible lack of attention was to deal with the matter himself.

He wasn’t necessarily nice about it, grumbling about your poor sleeping habits, saying that this was an awful waste of time. However the moment that panic consumed you, the moment that things started to twist around you, you felt a sudden hand on your arm.

“These idiotic phantoms are nothing. Come on, I know you’re strong enough. How could you ever let something so puny win against you.”

Though you certainly didn’t agree with him about that you had to admit it helped somewhat. Though your initial panic never disappeared, it became easier to climb out of your dreams, to see a light at the end of the endless tunnel of fear.

Every time you jerked once more awake Scaramouche let himself admit some sort of relieved satisfaction.

“You’ve done it again. As you always have. I don’t know why I bother sleeping here when you’re competent enough on your own.”

Nevertheless Scaramouche would always let you embrace him, not commenting on the tears that often accompanied you. Loosely resting his arms on your back he let out exaggerated breaths.

“Will you sleep now?”

It didn’t matter if you said no. Scaramouche would simply mutter something about bad sleep habits, but he would nevertheless stay awake.

He would always fall asleep last, even when his eyes burned slightly and his body called out for rest.

If he was going through all this trouble after all, he might as well see it through to the end.

Xiao

Xiao saw dreams as extensions of human karma, of human wants and needs and wishes.

If a human dreamt a good wish, it was a revelation of their hearts desire. If they tossed and turned with nightmares it was their fears and shames manifesting. A dream was never just a dream, a shuffle of random events and names and faces. Dreams were alive; dreams had their own wills, all connected to the will of the human they were attached too.

Xiao loathed to see you haunted by your dreams. How could someone so wonderful as your be chased by something so awful? The little that you told your partner caused a distant sort of dread. He could never understand your fear of falling asleep, but he surely felt the dread of whether or not you might be allowed peace.

The threads that surrounded you, that surrounded all humans, always tensed when you were entering an episode. Careful not to leave your side too much Xiao would light a few candles, not too much to be jarring to your eyes, not too little to add to your nightmares. If you could only open your eyes then Xiao would pay even more attention, making sure that the dim lighting didn’t add to your distress, shifting the candles or blowing them out if need be.

Xiao didn’t talk much normally, but he would keep up a steady stream of questions in these moments, even if you couldn’t answer them. Whether you were aware of his presence, whether the window being open was a problem or not, whether you needed more light or less. He would keep these questions in the back of his mind for you to answer once you could again, not only so he could do better next time, but in case the nightmares we too close to be spoken about.

Usually Xiao would ask about them again in the morning, and sometimes you would discuss it then. Though the yaksha knew that nightmares were often the fears that humans accumulated, the curses that attached themselves to unsuspecting victims, he never talked about that aspect with you, indeed when he talked about it at all. Most of the time he would just listen, tracing soft circles along your back and down your arms.

Right after an episode Xiao would make his way over to you. Most of the time he would stay in one place while the episode was happening, near the candles or by the window, making sure he didn’t startle you anymore. Now though he might move every once in a while, or turn your head softly towards him if your eyes became fixated on one spot in the room. Always he’d go to open the window, and the familiarity of the routine became something that lulled you back into a sense of piece.

Not sleeping himself Xiao never told you that you need more rest, that you should go back to sleep. If you needed to stay up the rest of the night so be it, he would be there with you. If you were too tired and found yourself drifting off to sleep he would promise to protect you, to fight off any demons that might be lurking.

Sometimes Xiao feared that his burden of curses exacerbated your sleep paralysis. Those evenings he would wait for you to sleep before slipping away. Always he would leave his sleeve and his mask, making sure that if you woke up you would still have something of his presence to comfort or protect yourself with. Those nights he would stare out into Liyue and think about all the things that he carried with him, all the things that you did too.

Regardless of those nights he would be there in the morning.

“Did you sleep well afterwards?” He would always ask. Regardless of your answer, which he would surely pay attention to after his second question, he would stare into your eyes.

“Do you think things would be easier without my presence?”

Always you said no.

#idk why but I enjoyed writing xiao especially for this #not that I did love all of these this is such a good prompt #genshin impact fanfiction #albedo x reader #kazuha x reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin albedo #kaedahara kazuha #genshin scaramouche #genshin xiao #genshin impact #scenarios #headcanons #very short scenarios lol #requested #my writing

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years ago

Note

Hello there may I request the Dimitrescu daughters celebrating their s/o birthday, it’s my birthday today☺️

Happy belated birthday, anon!!! Wishing you many more happy (and hopefully less chaotic) years to come! Under read more for length.

Bela + Birthday

On one hand, she wants to be the first thing you see when you wake up. On the other hand, she’s got a million things planned, and no matter how much help she enlists, she’s bound to end up running late. So maybe she’s not the first thing you see, but she’s crawling into your bed before you have a chance to fully wake up. Wrapping her arms around you, murmuring ‘good morning’ and ‘I love you’ into your ears. Sleepy kisses all around<3

Will stay with you for as long as you want, but will ‘subtly’ encourage you to get up eventually, after all she’s spent the past month planning this day. It’s possible that she’ll end up slowly sliding out of bed, an inch a minute, saying ‘no more kisses until you get up’.

Once you’re out of bed, it’s time for a decadent breakfast. A whole buffet table filled with your favorites (the ones appropriate for this time of day, at least), with any servants you’re friends with being allowed to join in. If you’re not from Romania, Bela will go out of her way to have the cooks learn recipes from whatever country you grew up in. Might throw in a few non-breakfast items too. Mmmm, thinking about my family’s krumkake recipe now, so good<3

What happens next depends a lot on your specific personality. If you enjoy parties and social gatherings, there will be festivities in one of the castle’s larger rooms, again with any of your friends being allowed to join (even visitors from the village, should you wish to invite them). A large cake will be served, likely baked by none other than Ava Caldwell (please excuse my shameless OC mention).

If you’re more introverted, or shy, Bela will keep the gathering very small, likely just her family and you. There will be music, a few gifts from the family, similar but smaller treats. Less energetic, more casual and comfy family time.

Come lunch time, the two of you will have some private time again. Depending on weather/season, she’ll either take you for a picnic in the garden, or a quiet meal in the observatory. Think candles, lots of strategically placed flowers, warm blankets… all that cheesy stuff. Afterwards, she’ll let you take the reins for a bit. Essentially, you’ll spend some quality time doing your favorite hobbies together. Feel free to info dump/rant all you want, Bela will stare at you with love in her eyes regardless of the subject.

Once you’ve had your fun together, it’ll be time for dinner, which will once more be with her family. Everyone will be on their best behavior (under threat of blackmail, except for Alcina, who’s just, you know, a good mother who wants her daughter to be happy). Again the cooks will go all out for the meal, making whatever dishes weren’t appropriate for breakfast. There will probably be leftovers- unless, of course, you decide to let the other servants enjoy what you cannot finish.

Finally, before bed, Bela will let you open the gifts from her. The two of you will be in either her room or her private study, away from everyone else. She’ll have prepared 3 gifts for you. One will relate to your personal interests (a hobby, a movie/book series you love, etc), one will be something the two of you can do together, and the last will be something you can wear/keep on you to remind you of her (not that you could ever forget, really).

I’ll leave the detail of what happens that night to your imagination, dear reader, so as to not assume anything about *ahem* attractions, gender, or any possible… deviances (kinks, if that wasn’t clear). Regardless, there is cuddling<3

Cassandra + Birthday

Wakes you up, first thing in the morning, with kisses. Just crawls into bed with you and smothers you in somewhat sleepy affection. Do you know how hard it was for her to get up at this hour? Relatively! Which is why you’re not allowed to get up get up, at least not for a while. Mandatory girlfriend snuggles. No escape. If the two of you are, ya know, of the persuasion to do certain things… without clothing… then yeah, that’s probably also happening. Please don’t judge me, I’m tired (and asexual) and am trying to avoid this being unnecessarily ns/fw.

Doesn’t really want to share you at all, even on your birthday, but will let you mingle with friends/have a nice group breakfast if that’s what you want. Just expect to be sitting in her lap for as long as she can get you to, alright? Might tone it down if her family is around (okay, well, if her mother is around). Will pretend to judge people for whatever gifts they get you unless you specifically ask her to stop. Repeatedly whispers things in your ears to distract you, ranging from the audaciously inappropriate to “my gift is going to be so much better than that” to very sweet “I love you”s.

Lets you plan as much or as little as you want for your special day, though won’t hesitate to suggest things if you struggle to come up with stuff/can’t decide. Again, she’d prefer to spend as much of the day with you as possible, and would prefer your gatherings be very small. Like, maybe just the two of you. Going on a hike to your favorite spot, or painting together (even if you don’t know what you’re doing, because she’ll get nice and close to help ;) ), or just curling up with her somewhere cozy.

Whatever you end up doing for the day, she’ll probably have a servant pack you guys some lunches, so you don’t have to interrupt whatever you’re doing.

Dinner will be… a surprise. Planning is not her area of expertise, so Cassandra will enlist the help of her older sister, resulting in a romantic meal that, well, at least has hints of your girlfriend’s personality in it. Yes, she picked out the color of the napkins. Yes, the flowers she had asked for turned out to be poisonous, so yes they did have to swap them out last minute. Oops, you darn humans and your ‘mortal weaknesses’. Honestly, the display is very touching. She asked for help to do something nice for you<3

At the end of the night, she’ll take you to her art studio, where there’s a big painting that’s been covered up for a few days or so. She’ll pull the sheet off, oddly shy, and you’ll see it’s a lovely portrait of the two of you… except you’ll be wearing a necklace that you’ve never seen before. Which Cassandra will quickly pull out of her pocket, to give you as the second part of your gift :D

Cue a night of cuddling (and possibly other activities… such as sleeping).

Daniela + Birthday

Might as well bodyslam you first thing in the morning, honestly. She’s very excited, and loves you very much, and just wants to have some nice morning cuddling (and kissing). Solution? Make sure that she spends the previous night in the same bed as you. Seriously, it’ll save you a fair amount of pain.

Has the least planned of the three, despite having the most ideas, mostly because she struggles to actually organize things. Expect to spend however long you want in bed, just relaxing, probably still with lots of kisses and cheesy dialogue about how much she loves you. When you get up, however, the two of you will be surprised to see that Daniela’s family decided to help her get shit together.

There will be a nice breakfast, with your friends present, and Bela might even delay her own meal just to play some music for you. Afterwards, the family will give you their gifts. They won’t make you open them yet if you decide to save it for later, though, so no worries.

Then, you and Daniela will be encouraged to go out and have some fun. Which means a nice almost-picnic in the gardens, with less of a meal, more of some sweets/snackies. Cue more cuddling, and dorky poetry reading. The poetry will always start out serious… but by the end you’ll both be trying to find the lamest, cheesiest poems you can get, reading them to each other in increasingly ridiculous voices. Somehow you’ll end up reciting dirty limericks. Eventually you realize that Daniela isn’t even going through her books to find them, and is actually making them up as she goes. You’re not sure you want to know how she gained this skill.

Eventually you’ll head back inside, for lunch. At this point, there will be more music, some optional dancing, with a surprising amount of servants being allowed to just enjoy themselves. If parties aren’t your thing, Daniela will be more than willing to sneak you off somewhere more… private. For various reasons, you know. Doesn’t have to be anything more than cuddling. But this is Daniela we’re talking about, so…

The evening will mostly be up to you, with Daniela wanting to do whatever you want to do, even if it’s not something she’d normally enjoy. She just wants you to be happy<3

Dinner will be romantic, like with Cassandra, if admittedly far more chaotic. Still, it’s very lovely, and she’ll probably get adorably flustered as she tries to make things perfect for you. Expect her to get you multiple smaller gifts, and repeatedly mention that she wasn’t sure what to get you, so she kinda just… got everything. It might be best to reassure her that you mostly care about spending time with her. But, you know, also tell her you enjoy the gifts because she really did panic about them.

#bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu

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