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moonandstarshyuck · 1 month ago

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"Always."

lando norris x gn!bf!reader

notes: I haven’t written since 2019, so bear with me. I’ve found myself thinking about a little blurb for Lando recently (actually a lot of ideas, but this one is sticking with me more than the others at the moment).

For some context, Lando’s been receiving a huge amount of hate online (and in-person) recently. I haven’t been a fan for that long—I got into F1 this summer, in 2024—but I’ve grown to care about him. I was there for Lando losing the championship, and while I think we all knew it would come to this (Max winning felt inevitable) but I’m proud of Lando for pushing so hard this entire year.

Still, with all the hate directed at him, I’m seeing a new side of him, and I’m learning that he’s a person with feelings like anyone else. I can tell he doesn’t always have the highest opinion of himself and tends to take the blame for anything that goes wrong during his races. What struck me about this is how much I relate to it. I blame myself for things out of my control or when I mess up. What sucks with Lando is that his small, human errors are what so many people focus on to criticize him—whether it’s why he didn’t win the championship or why they think he’s a bad person (which he absolutely isn’t).

The inspiration for this came from an interview he did after the Brazilian GP. At that point, everyone knew it was almost mathematically impossible for Lando to win the championship, and he talked about struggling in the aftermath: “I literally couldn’t sleep for the first two days…So I did like, what, 36-40 hours straight. So that probably made everything worse. When you’re tired, you’re more moody, and that kind of thing…I was just sat at home alone. It probably would have been better if I had been with my friends. But they don’t live in Monaco. They also have lives and are busy doing other things. And I’m a big overthinker, so like the whole flight home, the whole week, it just played over and over in my head. What could I have done differently? Why did I do that? Why did I not do this? You start thinking of all the scenarios that you kind of blame yourself for, why it’s now not possible, that kind of thing. And yeah, because I overthink and I struggle with that kind of thing, that took a bigger toll in the days after. It wasn’t an easy time.”

And I keep on finding myself wishing someone could have been there for him in person, so that he was okay. So, I wrote this. The reader in this is dating Lando but is written as a gender-neutral character that uses They/Them pronouns. The reader also has a service dog, a Bernese Mountain Dog named Thunder, to help with their own depression and anxiety (I’m not an expert on service dogs, so this many not be 100% accurate).

They woke up that early morning to the sunlight shining on their face, streaming in from the window outside. The bliss of sleep clung to them as they lay there, cocooned in warmth, the covers snug around their body. They stretched lazily, blinking their eyes open.

Instinctively, they turned to look beside them—only to find the space next to them empty. It’s too early in the morning to be anywhere else but in bed, even for training, they thought. Lando should still be here.

The realization pulled them out of their sleepy haze. The past couple of days had been not kind to Lando. They knew that he had a tendency to keep his feelings bottled up and beat himself up over his perceived failures. They understood that feeling all too well—the guilt, the constant sense of disappointment, the nagging thought that were never good enough. They had wrestled with those feelings since they were a child.

It wasn’t something that had an easy fix. If they had found the answer, they would have shared it with Lando years ago. But they had learned that the best way to fight those thoughts wasn’t isolation. Talking to someone, writing feelings down, even simple positive affirmations—thought they might sound silly—could help push back against the negative spiral. They had told Lando this countless times.

But Lando had a problem with not wanting to “inconvenience” anyone with his emotions. No matter how many times they reassured him that they were always there for him, he struggled to let himself. They didn’t blame him—it was human to struggle against your own mind.

What made everything worse was the constant online hate. Every little mistake or sarcastic comment from Lando seemed to turn into an avalanche of criticism. They remembered the first time they’d seen him like a hateful comment about himself on Instagram—the little heart next to a cruel statement, paired with note: “Creator liked this.” It had broken their heart. How could the Lando they loved ever believe such awful things about himself?

After Brazil, it had been clear that he wasn’t okay. He’d barely spoken since coming home, choosing instead to himself. They had given him space, hoping he’d find a way to process his feelings. But by the second morning, when he still hadn’t come to bed—almost forty hours after returning home—they knew they couldn’t stand by any longer.

That morning, they rose slowly from the bed, a plan beginning to form in their mind. Lanod needed someone to step in—someone to remind him he didn’t have to face his struggles alone. They were determined to be that person for him. They couldn’t take it anymore, seeing the person they loved so badly, punishing himself over his ‘failures.’

The first step was to confirm where he was. Grabbing their phone, they opened Twitch and navigated to Max’s stream. After a few moments of watching, they heard Lando’s voice—tired, strained, but unmistakably his. He was joking with Max, his words clipped, like he was holding himself together with sheer willpower. It was enough to break their heart. They opened their messages with Max.

Thunder's Owner

Lan’s streaming with you rn?

Sent at 7:48 AM.

After a few seconds, Max replied.

Maximilian

Yeah he’s on voice-only.

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Gonna do something about him?

Sent at 7:50 AM.

Max knew. Of course he did. He probably heard the exhaustion in Lando’s voice, the edge self-loathing that came with overthinking. They typed back quickly:

Thunder's Owner

Yeah

Sent 7:52 AM.

Going to unplug his setup and drag him out of there.

Sent 7:52 AM.

Maximilian

Lol.

Sent 7:52 AM.

I’ll keep an eye out for when he disappears.

Sent 7:53 AM.

Thunder's Owner

Thx

Sent 7:54 AM.

They quietly made their way to Lando’s gaming room and eased the door open. Lando sat at his desk, controller in hand, headset clamped over messy curls. He looked worn down, his shoulders slumped as he focused on the screen. His voice through, muted put playful, as he bantered with Max.

For a moment, they just watched him. Even now, he was handsome, but the tiredness in his expression made their chest ache. He deserved rest. He deserved to feel okay. And he wasn’t going to get that by sitting here punishing himself.

As soon as Lando died in-game and leaned back in his chair, they seized the opportunity. They crossed the room, catching his attention when they came into view.

“Why’re you—” Lando began, frowning, but they didn’t let him finish. Reaching down, they unplugged everything from the wall.

“What the hell—” he exclaimed, spinning around in his chair.

“No,” they said firmly, cutting him off. “I’m not you hurt yourself anymore. Get up.”

Lando blinked, clearly taken aback. “You can’t just do that!” he protested, but they were already tugging gently at him arm, urging him out of his chair.

“Angel, what are you—”

“No,” they repeated, their voice steady. “Get up,”

Lando hesitated for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh and standing. They took his hand, leading him out of the gaming room and down the hall to the living room. He didn’t resist, but he followed like a man in a daze. Once they reached the couch, they turned to him. “Sit,” they said, pointing at the cushions. Lando raised an eyebrow, opening his mouth to argue, but they shook their head. “Stay.”

They turned to Thunder, who had been waiting for them in the hallway, and told him, “Thunder, guard,” while pointing at Lando.

The dog immediately moved into position, standing alert in front of the couch. Lando’s eyes widened slightly as Thunder fixed him with an unblinking stare. He shifted as if to get up, but Thunder’s stance didn’t waver.

“Jeez, I wasn’t going to get up,” he mumbled to Thunder, but Thunder just sat there and watched him until he fully relaxed back into the couch.

The thought ran through Lando’s head, how he had honestly forgotten how menacing his own dog could look. He knew Thunder was trained, saw reminders of it daily with how he interacted with his partner, but he was still shocked at how trained Thunder really was at that moment.

Thunder was still staring at him when he pulled out his phone from his pocket, opening up his texts with Max.

I was just dragged out of my gaming room and told to sit on the couch and like a dog.

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Not against it, but how tf did they get so determined?

Sent at 8:05 AM.

Thunder’s watching me right now.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

I forgot how menacing he could be.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

*Picture attached.*

Lol.

Sent at 8:06 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

He’s like ‘try me, I dare you’

Sent at 8:06 AM.

Yeah, I don’t particularly want to try him

Sent at 8:07 AM.

Max (The 1st One)

Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

They told me before they did it

Sent at 8:07 AM.

I just let them. Lol.

Sent at 8:07 AM.

Helpful. What if they were trying to kill me?

Sent at 8:08 AM.

They wouldn’t have had to if you kept doing what you were doing.

Sent at 8:09 AM.

Lando’s let out a quiet sigh, Max’s words sinking in. He glanced at Thunder, who hadn’t moved, and felt a pang of guilt. He’d pushed himself too far again, and this time it had clearly worried his partner.

A few minutes later, his partner walked back into their living room. He thought they looked beautiful, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of boxers. They were entirely focused on the bowl they were carrying, and only looked up when they got close enough to hand it to him. He gently took the bowl, looked into it and saw it was one of his prep meals. While not his favorite breakfast, he knew he just needed to eat first, so he started taking bites.

He glanced up every so often, and each time he did, his partner was just sitting there and watching him eat. Lando almost chuckled at his own thought that they looked just like Thunder when watching him, and he smiled into his bowl at the thought. His partner didn’t see his smile, but he continued to eat until he had finished the bowl.

When he was done eating, he set the bowl down, and his partner again pulled him up by the crook of his arm. He just let them do so, having a thought of what was going to happen next.

His partner led them both down the hallway to their bedroom, and opened the door, leading him to sit on their bed, then they turned around and went to close their blinds and draw their black-out curtains to cover up the sunlight from the window. They had turned on their bedside lamp earlier, and the soft orange glow of the lamp permeated the room. They walked past him again, going to close the door after letting Thunder in, then they walked back to their side of the bed, and pulled him to lie down against them.

As he settled against their chest, he felt a bit odd, it being a bit of a difference to feel how much he was loved by them. How much they cared for him. And he finally spoke again, “Thank you.”

“Always, Lan. Always.” They replied, pressing a kiss to his hair.

And for the first time in days, he let himself sleep.

author's note: got inspired to actually write something for once...ty @koalapastries for the inspiration (unknowing inspiration but ty) (also sorry for using your layout outline

comments & reblogs appreciated

and i made the dividers :)

#formula 1 x gn reader #formula 1 x male reader #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x gn!reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando x reader #lando x you #f1 x you

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a-confused-spoon · 4 months ago

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Jinx's haircut: how Powder and Ekko's story comes full circle

Hi! So, it appears Jinx will be cutting her hair short in season 2 (which is cool as fuck), and I’ve been seeing a lot of discussion on it, so I wanted to share my two cents 😊

I might refer to Jinx and Powder as if they are different ideantities, but I'm aware that's not how that works; it's just an easier way to express myself. Also english isn't my first language, so apologies for any possible wiritng mistake (this is a bit of a mess 😅)

* deep breath in *

As it has already been pointed out, this choice must have a deeper reason other than esthetic (I've been seeing the phrase "hair holds memories" used a lot), and what's even more interesting is that her new look resembles a lot how she used to look like as a kid; a bit bizarre, given how the entirety of season 1 showed us how Powder and Jinx's coexistence only brings the girl pain. As a matter of fact, the finale makes it clear to us that even she sees these two sides of herself as mutually exclusive.

So why and how exactly would this happen now?

What I keep going back to is the idea that maybe, just maybe, this has to do with her possibly "taking the lead" in Zaun; whether she actively becomes a leader or if she just "leads by example" (therefore passively), it doesn't change the fact that for better or worse she will be depicted as a leading revolutionary figure.

And fair enough: she singlehandedly killed half of the Council, the people who hold decisional power and have contributed to the misery on the other side of the river. After Vender's failed attempt on the bridge and Silco's focus on his own business dealings with Piltover among everything else he did, Jinx's attack on the city - something she does to ultimately solidify her identity as Jinx - opens a door that the Undercity was waiting to be opened for decades.

Here's the thing:

Being Jinx doesn't just mean acting on unbridled rage and being a menace to society; it means being feared by most, if not all, with the only possible exceptions being those who also accepted their inner monster. To put it in Singed's words, "If you take this path, they will despise you".

Being Jinx fundamentally implies loneliness.

Silco was consistently reminding her this: "I am your family; everyone else betrays us" / "Everyone betrays us Jinx! Vander! Her! They will never understand, it's only us".

In the official clip 'Enemy of my enemy' we find out that he only saw her cry twice, the two scenes we also witness as an audience, meaning he didn't see her cry once during the timeskip, and I'm sure it's safe to say that she most definitely did cry a lot given how she goes from episode 3 Powder (scared, couldn't grasp the concept of killing someone, heartbroken by the nickname jinx) to episode 4 Powder (a beast, kills in cold blood, has taken Jinx as her actual name)... it must've been an ugly transition, and it definitely didn't happen overnight; if Silco, who was the closest person she had all that time, didn't see it, then I think it speaks a lot on how alone Jinx really was in her darkest times.

For all the love he had for her, he reinforced this idea of isolation as an unescapable consequence of the right path, and I think this is also reflected in the lair that (supposedly) he found for her, especially when you compare it to the Firelights’ one:

The Firelights (this is important for later) are all about community and sharing joy as well as struggle and pain; they live in a place of healing, filled with life, without a roof so the sunlight can reach them during the day, and at nights living bugs that shine a light of their own fill up the hideout.

Jinx's place is diametrically opposed to this: it’s dark and looks cold, it's completely made of metal, the roof’s blocking any natural light and it hangs above an abyss with no bottom to be seen; the only company she consistently has are the puppets of her dead brothers and the only living thing that knows his way in is the only one that can understand, the only one she can rely on - aka Silco himself.

However, as Jinx herself knows, this may have worked for him, but it wasn't working for her for the longest time: she never stopped yearning for affection, love, friendship- that part of her never really went away; it was only being suppressed, suffocated, maybe unintentionally, and I strongly believe that it only worsen her trauma, and it's one of the things that made her spiral so bad into her depression, to the point of hallucinating.

I think that Silco's line in the baptism scene is particularly relevant here: "You need to let Powder die, so the fear of pain will no longer control you", where the fear of pain would refer to the fear of being on her own, of always failing and disappointing others, of being weak and never satisfying the desires, expectations, hopes that Powder carried within her to be “a valuable member of the team”.

If she lets Powder die (which again, she does in the final episode of season 1), this is no longer a problem: if she doesn't do teams, because teams don't want a jinx to begin with, that fear can't get to her; if she's a solo player, a self-sufficient loose cannon, she won't need to rely on anyone but herself because she's strong on her own and does not need the support of others.

If her power lays in the monster she is, the one everyone condemns her for being, then that childhood wish of hers just isn't a realistic option.

...but then this happens.

We know from the teaser trailer that in the operation Caitlyn's leading, 'finding Jinx' and 'neutralize any agent still loyal to Silco' are separate objectives. Which makes sense, since as far as they know Silco was the leader of a group of people, and now that he's gone Jinx is an individual under her own agency and her own agency alone. If initially she fights by herself, for herself because she can and fuck Piltover, then it all falls in line with what I stated so far.

But then we hear Sevika, who has hated Jinx's guts and who Jinx has hated back since day one, telling her to get the people together, to unite the Undercity as one because she can do that. Mind you, the girl has lived in Zaun all her life, she knows damn well that the end of Piltover is something the entire Undercity has been waiting for (“Imagine what the whole of the Lances could do!” from episode 2); yet despite this she needs to be openly told what is going on, that she’s not sizing the opportunity she’s created. She isn't, cause... her? Leading? A group of people? No. Not after the last time she tried to help, and most importantly, not after everything she learned under Silco.

Jinx can't fathom the idea of herself as a part of a part of a team. How can she? She literally just came to terms with isolation as ever present- and now, for some reason, the people of the city, who always either ran away from her or wanted her gone, are dying their hair blue in her image, trusting her, following her, painting murals of her as the bringer of revolution.

She isn't taking power forcibly like Silco did; she's just doing her thing, her Jinx thing, and Zaun, on its own, is choosing her as the leading figure.

Imagine how frustrating it must be for Jinx to look back and realize that Silco, her father- who has loved her, forgiven her, raised her, called her perfect, defended her, was there for her, saved her, guided her- was wrong, and put her in a condition of never ending existential pain when she could’ve had it differently the entire time; imagine how confusing it must be for her to look back and realize that it never mattered whether or not others understood her, 'cause she wasn't as unlovable or unforgivable as she thought herself to be in the first place, that Silco and Vi were never her only options.

Imagine how painful it must be for her to look back and realize that for all this time she could’ve had friends and be accepted and be trusted and rely on others because she never HAD to be alone.

...keeping this in mind, let's talk about Ekko and the missing flashback from episode 7 for a moment.

Admittedly we don’t have a lot of information, other than it took place not too long after the events of episode 3 (then again, to be fair, we don’t know a lot about their relationship as enemies as well: it’s all between the lines; I surely have my own opinions of how they feel about each other being on the enemy side, but I don’t believe it’s super relevant here). What’s for sure about this flashback is that it was a defining moment in both Ekko and Powder’s journey, especially for the latter. Someone surely died, and it 100% was Powder’s fault. It could be both the result of her very first crisis or her first intentional murder; in both cases it results in her deciding for herself to align with Silco as opposed to her best friend.

The way I like to see it is that, since the trauma was still very fresh, she might have been too scared of the idea of fighting alongside others after what happened last time, and she pushed herself to kill someone on purpose just to push Ekko away and prove a point (Silco’s point). I love the idea of the tragic irony of Ekko being the one person Powder managed to really save, and Powder being the one person Ekko couldn’t.

Personal headcanons aside though, the last part is the most important one here: Ekko couldn’t save Powder from Silco, and by extension everything he represents.

I’d like to point out that one of the most tragic aspects of the two becoming enemies (to me) is that, throughout those years, they reciprocally were the only living person the other shared a past with (well, Vi too, but she was in prison the entire time).

Silco not only takes over by force, he also marks as his all the places of said past: the Last Drop, Vi and Powder’s house… one line that always stuck with me from episode 7 is when Ekko tells Vi “All that’s left is Jinx, and she belongs to Silco”.

Not with Silco; to Silco. As if she too a piece of the past he turned into his property.

It’s like he understands that while yes, Powder made the decision by herself, that she wants to stay with Silco, he also knows that the man is the one to blame for... well, all of it; the kid was there when Silco showed up unprovoked at Benzo’s place, he knows things went downhill from there.

Ekko knows that he is the bigger problem and the bigger enemy. Even Vi, without knowing a thing about the past few years, can tell Silco put some shit into her sister’s head; Ekko can probably guess the same, difference being that Ekko has the responsibility of keeping other people safe, and he can’t risk it all for someone that, while possibly manipulated, ultimately isn’t collaborative. Ekko can’t jeopardize all he’s built and done for his former best friend, no matter how much it hurts him to be her enemy.

Back to season 2.

Like the entire fandom has already pointed out, there’s a 99.9% chance there will be an alliance between them and Jinx, especially when looking at Ekko’s new outfit.

Of course, this will not be immediate: my guess is that while Jinx works alone at the very start Ekko will be with Heimerdinger and following the arrest of the Firelights we see in the trailer maybe there’s a split. And even after Jinx takes charge so to speak, and possibly frees them, among others, from Stillwater, it’s possible there will be (and there should be) stages in the alliance: initial distrust, potential fight within the community- like yeah, let’s not forget what Jinx did to these people.

Even if they do go ahead with it, it is probably out of necessity more than anything else, with not one but two military forces against the whole of the Underground. It’s not like they’d be the most ecstatic faction about it, and the same goes for Ekko, which is why the new look will probably come in later.

But exactly like he could see Powder for a brief second on the bridge clearly enough for him to stop himself from beating her, he will, most definitely, see her again through Jinx's inner turmoil... that, and she also can’t keep her shit together when it comes to what she's feeling, the girl really is an open book.

And yeah, the situation would be pretty emotionally disorienting: she's being as Jinx as ever, but people like her now, which is something she used to want as Powder, who is supposed to be dead, and they're willingly following her like they willingly followed Vander and there's murals of her with him, though she's pursuing what aligns more with Silco's dream, but also turns out Silco was wrong about Powder, who might still be alive deep down- the whole thing is a big big mess.

Despite everything that I said about him, it’s not like Jinx would start to resent Silco. She could never, not after his last words to her. They mean the world to her, he means too much to her, and let’s not forget she probably hear his voice now too, along Mylo’s and Claggor’s; it might even be a calming voice to her, one she’s happy to hear even if she knows he’s not real… which makes it all worse and more painful to deal with.

In this scene from the trailer, it seems like Ekko’s talking to her (some have pointed out the blue hair out of focus). Since this is still the look in season, at this point in time Ekko (and the rest of the Firelights) are not truly committed to this alliance with Jinx, and vice versa, Jinx is still figuring out how to deal with all this unexpected appreciation.

If there’s one thing we’ve learned about Jinx’s way of dealing with inner conflicts, especially ones that deal with the memories of the past, is that it often leads to disaster. This is a bit of a long shot, but what if the reason Ekko’s so beat up Is because she unintentionally sabotaged one of their own attacks on Piltover? Or perhaps they were caught up in a tough situation because of something she did or didn’t do? My point is that if he really is talking with her while in this condition, she probably is in a similar one.

Regardless, they are on the same side, and they are having a conversation. This is very likely the first time they reach out for each other since the day she chose to not go with him.

And I think it’s believable that of all the people she now has beside her, she’d talk to Ekko: he has this leader stuff already figured out. He has and still is taking care of people and keeping them safe better than she ever will, and on top of that, he still is the only one in Zaun (again, aside from Vi) who has known her since before she was Jinx, and he spared her on the bridge. He’s the perfect person to open up to.

And, get this, not only Ekko understands the pressure of taking the lead: he knows what it means to look back at someone you were fond of and feeling the pain of being wronged by them. He knows what it’s like to look back at old memories of someone you trusted and wonder if all those moments together really were what you thought they were, he knows what it’s like to wish it could all go back like it was, just so that candid version of them you have in your mind can still be true, present and untainted by the ugliness that now ruins all those precious moments.

He knows, 'cause he went through it with her... and now he can finally reach her.

Ekko may have not been able to save her from Silco then, but he can save her from Silco now.

And since he has built a community that grieved together, went through pain and joy together, he simply does what he’s always done with the Firelights. Sharing.

He tells with her what has worked for him: “Sometimes, taking a leap forward means leaving a few things behind”- in the Franch dub he says “leaving a part of oneself behind”- meaning it doesn’t have to be all or nothing: she has the power to choose what to kiss goodbye and what can stay…

…and then she cuts her hair.

I think it’s important to note how these two moments are very similar in setting. I kid you not, the first time I watched the trailer I was convinced this was a scene where Jinx was burning Silco’s body after she killed him- which frankly could still be the case. I’ve also seen discussions being made for the little girl we see in the trailer being burned here, or Sevika, but I don’t think it’s either. Jinx is completely desensitized to death, even when Silco died her makeup isn’t this ruined. My guess is that this is something much deeper:

Jinx never properly grieved the past. Ever. So, maybe, she’s burning the part of herself she’s leaving behind. The hair she cut.

The hair Silco used to braid for her.

These two scenes parallel each other because “nothing ever stays dead”, but Silco must stay dead, for her own sake. For her own happiness: she is leaving him behind for good.

Only after this moment we get the new look for Ekko: he can work with this new Jinx, the one that now knows she can work within a team, even to the point of committing to the outfit (lol).

If in season 1 Jinx accepted her identity as it was defined by Silco, in season 2 she's re-inventing it under her own conditions: she gets to choose what "being Jinx" may or may not include. And it will always include a little bit of Powder.

Thanks for reading! 💚💙

#or I could be completely wrong #and someone just cuts it #but still #it was fun to write this #arcane theory #except not really #arcane #arcane season 2 #jinx arcane #ekko arcane #arcane silco #powder #timebomb #i ship it #but this also works platonically

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fuwaprince · 1 year ago

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👉👈 Hi friends! I have a long, serious post made just for you(!) that isn't full of spoilers, smut or mooning lawn gnomes. Please read if you can, this is a 💥 mutual aid request 💥

It has been a horribly painful and long while as most people following/keeping up with me know. and in a few days I'm going to be down $1500, which is basically all my fucking $

I can't afford Christmas for anybody, which sucks and I'm very sorry. I can't even take care of myself and haven't been, which also sucks and I'm very sorry

Landlords spontaneously raised rent on me more than halfway through this month as punishment for not getting to my house chores and not communicating, to be totally honest with you. I feel ashamed and awful about it but I didn't want to clean the place while multiple ppl living here had tested positive for COVID and kept walking around unmasked... I am not fully vaxxed because I've been too depressed to get any kind of necessary medical care done and I didn't want to catch COVID in the middle of my finals week for the semester. I woke up to being angrily and rudely bitched at first thing after the last of my finals (I passed at least). It wasn't a humanizing text. Fuck the mistreatment though. Rent is now almost doubled and it won't be lowered

There was no room for negotiation and I truly believe they've resorted to pricing me out of living here because the group of renters psychologically tormenting me wasn't effective (actually- putting a picture of my rapist on the fridge rly was super effective in getting me to isolate myself in my room all day and so was outing me as trans to the transphobic ass neighbors.... But I didn't and still don't have any place better to move out to, like the way they were hoping I would. Yes, I have looked and BEGGED btw)

I want out of here NOW, but I can't leave. I tried and had to come back because it was the best option. I can't afford to stay in a motel/hotel/BnB just to get away from them for a day or two during Christmas. I don't have any friends who I can spend the holiday with either. During the semester, I resorted to convincing classmates with keys to locked buildings to let me crash in them while they worked at night and I would leave before anybody showed up. Now that school is out, I can't do that. I don't have any family I can reach out to for support or friends who I can depend on for immediate help. I have been crying day in and day out for weeks. I have records of it posted throughout my blog. Literally crying for days on end. I'm being so fucking transparent

All that lump of text is to explain to whoever is out there, who might be listening and willing and able, to please consider helping me, if and ONLY IF able. I know times are tough and if you'd rather use your $ for other reasons or just don't have any to spare, don't sweat it and take care! 🫂

I've thought about what I could do for a long time and have helped myself how I can. It isn't enough. I've applied for so much assistance. Been approved and been sabotaged by my inhumane mom (who does not love me) via stealing my legal documents and letters and hiding them for months. My mind jumps to grim places but I'm clinging for dear life to whatever hope I have left that says things will get better. I wish I knew somebody with a business that I could work for. Part of me feels so fucking terrible for asking for help because I feel like a waste of all your resources. I feel like I shouldn't ask, like I really do not fucking deserve help, but there are friends online who care, who I know mentioned being interested in helping in whatever ways they can

So to the people who care to seriously me, I'm ready to accept it: please send me nice words to get through this and feel less alone. It feels pathetic to ask but I would love a nice letter. A nice card even. Kind words of any kind would go a long way. It means more to me than food. I have felt so broken and every day feels like a test to figure out how badly I actually want to live

I'm also leaving my cash app and paypal here in case anybody would like to do more than what I'm comfortable asking but probably very likely will inevitably need very very soon. I will be left with fucking nothing and I will have no idea what to do once rent is paid

Thank you to those of you who have sent love, offered to listen and heard me out. I really wish it wasn't so hard to survive. I'm trying to feel better knowing there are people out there who are also without help and hoping the best, but it doesn't make me feel any better or comforted tbh. I just wish the help was there for us. I wish there was a place to go for spare love, care, compassion, empathy, kindness, humanity, generosity... I need that more than I need $. Call me stupid but that's what I live for. I don't live for paying to survive in terrible conditions. I live for love and to smile with friends

I hope to write back to the friends who have already been so kind as to message me soon btw. I'm sorry for not replying sooner. Your overwhelming support is sincerely sweet and sometimes I cry because I can't believe people are so nice (to me???). It'll give me something to do that doesn't make me feel like dying! :') so thank you thank you thank you *fist bump*

Hope you're all doing as well as you can and that somehow things get better. Hope anybody else struggling like me doesn't make the mistake of isolating like a sick and dying animal. You deserve love. You deserve support. Don't be like me. Have the courage to reach out to the people who care about you for help as early on into your emergency as possible. Don't let your situation snowball because you spend so long trying to figure out if you're worth it!!! This Random Tumblr user is here to tell you that YOU ARE. Sending my infinite everlasting unconditional love. Be nice to yourselves. Be nice to each other. Fuck the hateful assholes who wish I would just kill myself already. Tell your friends you love them. Happy Holidays!!!

And here's a single picture of a mooning lawn gnome at the very end, as a treat! I told you this post wasn't full of it.... It just ended with it 👉👉

#i decided i rather write a help post rather than a suicide note or my own obituary #sorry to ask for your attention AGAIN #mutual aid #important #help #i'm very sorry #mutuals can all kick my ass once for not abandoning me during these times #i wish i had a $ goal but i do not as of now #I'm taking it a day at a time #doing my very best and trying so damn fucking hard.. please help #i rly would just like to escape and have my own tiny place one day.... some place i can live and love happily in #i was on the steets earlier this year and living out of my ex's car. i do not want to go back to that out of desperation #i have been through so much just trying to survive in place where i don't feel like i belong or welcomes me #i need help #babbling

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martiandmichelle · 8 months ago

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Ya comfortable cause this is a kinda long post. . .

Some of you long-time followers may remember that I used to do a fair amount of prostitution. I cut way back on it several years ago after one bad experience and the growing success of Studio M. I did keep a (very) few of my favorite johns that I might see once or twice a year. One is a guy near my age (73) who lives alone on an isolated ranch in Texas. In the 11 years I've known him he's always been a gentleman with a great sense of humor. Unfortunately (or maybe fortunately!) he has minimal control of his average-sized cock and cums quickly though only a couple times a day. In between those few orgasms of his he spends his time with me groping, sucking, and staring at my tits.

Soooo, anyway, it was during my last visit with him this past late winter, and while his was admiring his handiwork with my boobs, that he asked me about other tricks I had going. I try to be as honest as I can with someone who pays so much interest and cash on me, so I told him he was only one of 5 guys and 1 woman that I prostitute for. He wanted to hear more so I told him what little I could - not wanting to give away any secrets of my other clients. He began rolling my nipples between his fingers and masturbating them as they grew, lowering my resistance and increasing my breathing. He said he thought it would be really hot if I prostituted myself more often. The winter/spring "conference" of the southeastern US chapter of my global studio was coming up and he thought I should go and advertise my services. By this point my nipples were squirting milk all over the place and my cunt was gushing so how could I say no?!?

So, I went. He guessed at what I could charge new clients and I thought he was crazy while still begging him not to stop what he was doing to me tits. (I never have charged him more than I did that 1st time with him.) I took his suggestion and got management's wholehearted approval to go and show off and offer my services for what I thought was a ridiculous price. I made a bet with him that, at that exorbitant price, I wouldn't get over 10 clients.

So I staked my space at the "show" and opened up for business. Advertising my all natural T cup tits (that's before I grew to a U cup) and learning the next largest natural bust was an M cup, I thought maybe I had underestimated my traffic. What I did underestimate was my underestimation! After only one hour of opening, the organizers had to move me to their largest empty booth because of so many guests visiting me. My midday, they had moved me to my own room and at 5:00 pm they moved me again to my own ballroom - and even THAT was crowded!! (The photo above was from the conference as I accepted a sealed offer from a member.)

I simply could not believe there was that many men (and women!) who wanted to - and were willing to pay so handsomely - for time with me and my body! There were guys going together to have, threesomes, foursomes, fivesomes, and more "-somes" with me. There was no way I could say anything but "yes!" and "Thank you!" to them all.

If you would like to read more, just message or inbox me, or even just comment on this post. I'm not starting this service until after my mountain trip so my first "working visit" is on October 3rd of this year. 2025 is going to be wonderfully busy!

(But don't fret, I'll still be posting here lots!)

#marti #back view

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yourlovingfng · 5 months ago

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Through photos and codes.

Chapter one.

Soap×Photographer&HackerFem!Reader

10 July 2011

It's 12.30 pm, you're currently in the paddock waiting for the start of the race, you decide to send a few texts, right now he's in Credenhill, not really that far away from where you're located

"How did it go this morning?"

You get no reply, he'd left you on read.

Whatever, you expected it, he will probably see it tonight.

-----

"Here you go, anything else?"

"A pen please."

"Got you."

Credenhill's hell, nothing to do but train. Soap is in a stationery at base, to celebrate he decided to get himself a journal, pocket-size, the squared lines are a bit blurred but it will work he just needs something to keep his mind busy during the hours he gets to rest.

"there you go"

"thank you."

Finding an isolated spot he decides to log the first happenings of the day:

Today he got to train with lieutenant Gaz, he thought him various ways to shoot and use a sidearm, “Remember, switching to your pistol is always faster than reloading” grabbed even a compliment from successfully stabbing a watermelon,

Than he met Captain Price along with other members of the team, CQB test. The CQB test is a "mock-up" of the cargo ship they will infiltrate in the next upcoming mission.

-----

Is now 10 pm and you just got home, the job is pretty demanding and most of the time you take a few days off just so you can at least have a social life apart from the workplace.

You just got out of the shower and hear a notification from your phone; it's Soap.

"Where are you?"

"At home in Hereford, why?"

"You wanna grab a pint?"

"Only if you don't make me drive in circles again, like last time."

"Ah don't worry lass it's actually near base but I'll send you the location just in case."

"It better be or I'm shaving that mohawk of yours Johnny, let me get ready, I'll see you in 30 minutes"

-----

Coming to destination you search for him but it doesn't take you much to immediately recognize him,

"there's my bonnie!" he welcomes you with open arms, you reach for him after getting out of your car and embrace his warmth tightly,

"Johnny you look like shit, went through hell in here?" you laugh looking at his face,

"just the start lass, just the start of this." he sighs maintaining eye contact,

"at least they didn't shave that head of yours." you offer him a simple smile,

he opens the door for you and get inside, the place wasn't that crowded, it was but you could've imagined the seats getting full of soldiers, the dim yellow lights that hung down from the ceiling gave a sense of comfort and privacy accompanied with the pub's wood interior, after grabbing your pints you both took a seat at a small table nearby, in the corner of the pub,

"So how did the breakup go?"

"it went alright, it was simple and there wasn't a fuss about it, but I feel like I lost a part of myself, I just wish we could've spent more time if it wasn't for the job. How about you?"

met with a slight pause you decide to take a sip of your pint,

"Nothing much went to the infirmary a few hours ago and the nurse tried to make advances on me"

You are taken out of surprise this time and almost choke yourself

"Did you fuck her?"

"It was a he but no."

"Well look at you pulling both genders."

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suspensefulpen · 1 year ago

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Ballroom Waltz

TW: Discussions of Torture and Kidnapping, Bad Caretaker, Multiple Whumpers

“I really think you should meet them.” Caretaker nodded with a smile. “I think you’d like them a lot.”

“They sound interesting.” Whumper One hummed before taking a sip of his champagne. He glanced to his right, scanning over all of the faces on the dance floor. “You got me out here, I would at least like to see them. You make them seem like they’re the best thing on this Earth.”

“Oh, they are.” Caretaker nodded again. “They’re quite wonderful. I’ve known them for about four or five years now. They’re really sweet.”

“Is that right?” Whumper One squinted at him. “Since when do we keep secrets from each other Caretaker?”

“I know, I know. But you’ve been so distant lately, especially with me moving away and all. I thought maybe you didn’t want to be bothered. So I just kept it to myself.” Caretaker shrugged, looking down in his own glass. “I kind of miss the good old days Whumper One.”

He turned his gaze back to the sea of people waltzing out on the dance floor. “Is that why you bought this building?”

“Yeah… Kind of.” Caretaker nodded. “I just wanted to relive a few memories with you. I realize that’s the only way to get you to come out anymore.”

Whumper One smiled. “You know I like to have fun, Caretaker. How could I turn such an invitation down?”

“That’s why I asked you to come.” He smiled back.

Whumper One remembered back when he and Caretaker were young. Whumper Two too. Whumper Two always threw balls every weekend just so the three of them could have fun. During every one of them, they’d pluck out a lucky guest to torture for a couple of weeks. They always picked a stray. One that no one would notice if they suddenly went missing. Once they were finished having fun, they’d toss them aside and move on to a new one. And of course, they made sure the guest wouldn’t make a peep about what happened to them. If they so much as thought about it, their life would be on the line.

One night they found themselves a guest lingering near them way longer than necessary. Without a second thought, they quickly made them their target. That night was the biggest mistake of their lives.

Whumper One cleared his throat, attempting to ignore the pain slowly seeping into his calf. “So, have you heard from Whumper Two lately?”

“Whumper Two told me he would be here. He should be on his way.”

“So exactly what part of our memories did you want to relive?” He faced Caretaker again, giving him a look. “The part where we danced the night away, getting as drunk as we possibly can? Or the part after that?”

Caretaker smirked behind his glass. “I think you know which part I mean.” He took a sip. “I say we do that. But we add a little aftercare afterward?”

“Aftercare…” Whumper One repeated, as if the word was unfamiliar to him.

“Yes,” Caretaker nodded. “Think about it. What’s more scary? Knowing you’ll be hurt, or not knowing who you can actually trust?” His smirk turned wicked.

Whumper One tried his best to hold back a laugh. “And here I was thinking you felt like you were getting too old for this. And that was why you moved away.”

“Isolation.” He raised a brow at Caretaker. “Think about it, Whumper One. We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one can hear a thing. Last time won’t happen again. Even if they do scream. Everyone will be too busy dancing and drinking to even pay it any mind. Nobody would even care.”

“And this person you’ve been talking about…they aren’t actually your friend are they?” Whumper One narrowed his eyes. Silence followed his question as Caretaker shifted his attention elsewhere, his smirk never faltering. Whumper One only laughed. “You’ve gotten worse than me.”

“I can’t blow my cover yet though. I’ll let you and Whumper Two take the lead.”

“So you’re not gonna help at all?” He raised a brow.

“Oh I will. I absolutely will. I’ll feed you information.”

Whumper One slowly began to realize Caretaker’s plan. So that’s what this aftercare thing is all about. This is all so we can break them more easily. This was also why he never told me about them and pretended to be their friend. He was planning all of this from the beginning. Whumper One smirked. “You’re a real sick bastard, you know that?”

“I learned from the sickest.” Caretaker’s own smirk turned into a soft grin. He made eye contact. “You can break someone more than physically, you know.”

“You know what, I–”

“They’re here. Stay there.” Caretaker whispered before walking away. Whumper One watched him walk across the room to the person standing cluelessly by the door. He squinted as the two greeted each other before Caretaker began ushering them towards Whumper One. When they got closer, Whumper One noticed how well dressed they were. Draped in fine fabrics from head to toe, one could only assume the amount of wealth they had. They were very beautiful as well. It was a bit hard to ignore that. Whumper One imagined they looked just as beautiful when they were crying. “Whumpee, this is my great friend, Whumper One.”

Whumpee smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Whumper One. Caretaker talks a lot about you.”

Whumper One did his best to suppress the surprise in both his tone and his expression. Not only were they gorgeous, they had an angelic voice to go with it. “Is that right? I’m assuming they were all of my failures and embarrassments.”

“No, of course not.” They shook their head. “He tells me a lot about how you two grew up together and you were really close friends.”

Whumper One glanced up and the grin Caretaker wasn’t even trying to hide. He stood straighter, adjusting his suit jacket. “Well it’s nice to meet you too. Any friend of Caretaker’s is a friend of mine.” Whumper One placed his glass down on a nearby servant’s empty tray. He held his hand out. “How about a dance? We get to know each other for a bit, yeah?”

Whumpee looked surprised but took his hand anyway. “Oh, alright. Sure.”

Whumper One led them out onto the dance floor. He quickly noted how much smaller Whumpee was compared to him, only coming up to his shoulder. He threw a smirk over his shoulder at Caretaker.

This should be fun.

Part 2

#creative writing #writeblr #writer things #writers on tumblr #suspense #plot twist #whump #whump writing #emotional whump #ballroom whump #bad caretaker #multiple whumpers #implied torture #implied kidnapping #penni writes

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artist-issues · 1 day ago

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ohhh it’s like maybe an allegory for the coronavirus lockdown?

…okay i get why putting that under a microscope would have fearful elements but like what about a werewolf and transforming into a non-understanding beast lends itself to that wait I just got it.

If it’s like “We were all under lockdown and isolation and all we had was out-of-proportion fear-flavored social media to connect with, i.e. we felt like everyone around us was changing into non-understanding monsters, so we turned against them” okay, I get it.

But it’s probably not a 1-to-1 allegory.

If it was, a werewolf story is still a really weird choice of premise for that. Because like how are you going to resolve it?

The mom would need to come up with a way to reach the dad, in his werewolf-ness, by realizing that A) something about the infection and his actions as a werewolf is completely fear-motivated and then B) she has to come up with a way to calm the fear that’s “exacerbating his condition” in order to talk him down. Re-establish understanding.

Except the fear was amplifying our inability to understand one another during the lockdown, which led to bad communication. But bad communication is what caused the fear in the first place. So like. It’s a circular problem.

I think I’m talking myself into wanting to see this movie.

But he still looks like stupid Big Buff Gollum. Not a werewolf. So also, why would I see this movie.

You know what I would do? I would have the family established as kind of bad at communicating in the first place—like, that’s their real-world problem—but it’s brought to sharp focus because of a new scary thing happening in their life.

Like, maybe they’re moving. They’re moving, because Dad just lost his job and has to get a new one in a totally new town. He’s scared that his failures are snowballing, and he won’t be able to keep this job either and provide for his family. Mom’s lowkey scared of that, too, and he can sense it, (for some relatable reason, like maybe because her father walked out on her family after losing his job when she was a kid) and it’s creating tension in the marriage.

Maybe the dad was fired because he tried to pull off this big business risk that everyone older and more seasoned than him was telling him not to do, and he did it anyway, because he’s prideful, and it blew up in his face. Then, to make matters worse, he recently stumbled into a destructive habit to cope—like, maybe he came home drunk for the first time, ever, after getting fired, and the Mom didn’t even really know he had a problem with alcohol up until this point.

So he’s scared he’s losing his family because of his mistakes, and his mistakes happened because of a fear of…losing his job and then losing his family, when he felt pressure at work in the first place. So he’s been doing a self-fulfilling prophecy thing to himself. The wife’s starting to struggle with that, too. She’s processing the fact that he’s lost his job and moved them and also maybe has a problem with alcohol or whatever substance abuse—she’s still processing it. It would be one thing if what Dad did just affected her, but they have a daughter.

And Daughter is still learning what to fear and what not to fear. And she’s learning it from Mom and Dad, who are both figuring out how to make her feel comfortable with this move, but there’s marital tension getting in the way.

So when we meet them, they’re driving a moving truck to their new home. The dad is overcompensating, insisting on being the one to drive all through the night, doing all these little things to try and prove he’s got it all covered (even though he just lost his job for making a dumb big-ego move, and then freaked his wife out by coming home drunk the same night.) Everything he’s doing to prove he’s got it covered is actually fear-based pride, and it’s just making the wife a little more tense with him, because him being so insecure and stressed is making her feel insecure and stressed. Plus, their circumstances as a family just got rocky overnight, and she’s had very little time to process. So every time she offers her two cents in any given situation, or tries to help, he takes it as a lack of faith in him and brushes it off, and she takes that as him pushing her away. Which he kind of is.

And then there’s the Daughter, who has no idea what’s happening, she’s young, she’s never moved anywhere before and she really just needs her parents to clearly communicate that everything is going to be okay because they love each other no matter what else changes—actually, let’s make that the Main Point: “Family Shows One Another That They’re Loved, No Matter What Else Changes.” That’s the point of our werewolf movie.

But! Her parents aren’t doing a good job of teaching that to her right now, because they’re not relying on one another anymore. The Dad needs the Mom to show him that even if he fails, she’ll stick with him. But because he’s afraid she won’t, he’s not communicating that that’s what he’s afraid of. So he keeps making all these fear-based macho decisions, and it’s a vicious cycle. (WE’RE TITLING THIS MOVIE ��VICIOUS CYCLE”, DO YOU GET IT, LIKE CYCLES OF THE MOON)

And the Mom, she needs the Dad to show her that he won’t give up and hurt them (emotionally or physically) because of mounting pressure. She is showing him that fear, but that’s all she’s showing him. She’s not showing him faith that he can stick it out. The daughter doesn’t even know what to be afraid of, she’s learning that through the movie.

So! That’s where we meet them. And then they’re driving their moving truck through Creepy Nighttime Woods, and Mom’s like, “I can drive if you need a break,” and Dad just shakes his head and shrugs her off all “I-Got-This”, do you get it, it’s a mini-example of their whole issue.

There’s uncomfortable silence, the mom looks back to check on the daughter, expecting her to be asleep, but she’s wide-awake and doing that kid thing where they stare and keep their ears open and just observe their parents’ weird interaction. She’s just holding a little stuffed dragon animal, sitting there, an antenna to catch all their mysterious marital subtext.

Daughter asks Mom how far they are from their new house, and Mom looks at her phone and says, “just an hour, sweetie,” but then Dad answers at the same time, “three hours,” and points to his own GPS, and the Mom realizes their phones are mapping different routes to get to their destination. The Dad picked a route that supposedly has less traffic and isn’t on the freeway. That’s why they’re in Creepy Nighttime Woods.

Mom says something like, “why are we going this way,” and Dad reacts with nervous, reassuring “Leave It To Me” language, but it’s tense—

And then BAM Something comes out of the woods. In the middle of the road.

Dad swerves to avoid it, Mom screams his name in fear (and a teensy bit of involuntary resentment, the knee-jerk “why is the vehicle you’re driving suddenly moving so shockingly” way) and the whole moving truck topples and wrecks. It can be like in the trailer where the Dad comes to with the truck half-hanging off a steep drop, Random Guy in the passenger seat falls out, gets nabbed by some beast, scary scary.

(The Random Guy needs to be there for story-later reasons. Maybe he’s an ex-coworker and friend of Dad’s who feels bad that Dad got fired and offered to go with to help them move, like a real bro. But he’s asleep when the first interaction between Mom and Dad happens)

But you know what I’d do, the monster that takes Random Guy would look like a Beast. A big hairy animal. A frighteningly fast, slavering, bristling creature.

Dad has already helped Mom and Daughter out of the precarious truck when he sees this happen to Random Guy. Then just like in the trailer, the Beast jumps up, trying to get at him in the vehicle, its way too fast to see, but it only gets one crazy slash in before falling. It’s attack upsets the delicate balance of the truck, and Dad, bleeding from the cut, climbs out and tells them to run. It’s just in time, too, because the truck goes smashing down the drop.

They do, Daughter alarmed and asking, “what?? what is it?” and Mom not wanting to run because she didn’t really see any of that with the Beast, and all of their possessions just fell down the embankment plus it’s not really normal to start running from the scene of a car wreck and their friend Random Guy is down there, assumedly buried under the truck now.

But Dad screams at her about it, which is pretty out-of-character and a motivating tipoff to Mom that something immediately dangerous is happening, so they all take off. They don’t know which way to go, there’s a tense moment where they stop and Mom is arguing with Dad because of that, then a horrifying Something makes a Sound somewhere between roaring and screaming nearby, and they all panic again and flee.

They catch sight of the dilapidated one-story house, which looks empty, and Dad breaks in. They all huddle inside, and the Sound happens again—they look out the window Dad broke to get them in, and through the fog and darkness, there’s an even darker mass on the edge of the woods. It’s just a vaguely moving blur on the horizon at first, but then they see the steady evil lights of two predator eyes, staring across the yard.

Mom shrieks that it’ll get in through the hole he made, and they block that up in a blind panic while Daughter stands against the wall behind them, staring with big eyes at her dad’s bleeding arm. They wait to see if it’s coming, but it doesn’t seem to be. No more loud guttural bellowing either. After a minute or two of heavy breathing and silence, Daughter starts crying for her stuffed dragon. It got dropped in the woods during the chase scene. Mom goes to comfort her, while dad remains at the window, leaning against the bookcase, looking at their surroundings.

They’re in a house that’s partially wrecked. There are photographs in shattered frames on the ground of an old man and his grandsons. The old man is the only one holding a fish, and he’s smiling, but the two grandsons in the picture look uncomfortable. Like they don’t know him very well. There are also several broken beer bottles on the ground, and whoever used to live here apparently left in a hurry.

Dad goes to call for help. They left their phones in the truck, but the old man who lived here apparently had a landline. Who has landlines anymore? Dad tries to use it, but it doesn’t work. Well of course it doesn’t. Because who has landlines?

Mom is taking Daughter away from the window and a subconscious protective instinct makes her want to get the kid in the center of the building. She sits Daughter in a bedroom, which was closed, but the door opens to reveal that unlike the rest of the house it’s a dusty, neatly organized little boy’s room with bunk beds. It looks even more deeply untouched than the rest of the house.

Daughter starts to ask where Random Guy is, still crying, and Mom says they don’t know, but—and then Dad sticks his head in and interrupts and says Random Guy is “checking on the truck,” which is believable to Daughter because she’s little and didn’t see where Random Guy went, but it’s a lie, and Mom is surprised he’s dealing with the situation by telling a lie, even if it was to protect the daughter from immediate trauma.

Dad catches that look, and almost like he wants an excuse to get away from it, he says he’ll go get Dragon and check on the truck. Mom immediately protests—she thinks they should all stay there, because of obvious reasons, but she doesn’t want to freak Daughter out by mentioning the dangerous Thing they just escaped. Daughter also doesn’t want Dad to go anywhere, which heartens him.

Dad compromises by saying they’ll have a slumber party, then he’ll “check on the truck” in the morning. Daughter doesn’t like this idea, looking around at the dark strange house; her adrenaline is still pumping and the concept of “bedtime” is immediately terrifying. Fears brought to the forefront of her little mind, she asks what that scary roaring sound was while they were running.

Dad takes her from Mom and sets her on the bed. He tells Daughter “it was Dragon, protecting you, out in the woods. Remember what Dragon’s job is?”

“Protect the Princess.”

“That’s right, Protect the Princess.”

The Daughter may or may not be buying this explanation. “It was scary,” she says tremulously. Dad glances warily at mom and keeps it going. “Well sometimes being scary is part of the job. He has to be scary, and roar like that. To scare anything bad away from you.”

Daughter is sort of calming down, because mom has found a different, dusty toy dragon in the boy’s room. This one is a plastic action figure instead of stuffed, but she hands it to the Daughter, sort of helping to ground the kid in their new surroundings. Daughter asks if this is their new house, and Dad says it’s not, they’re just “borrowing it” for the night because nobody’s here, but “after Dragon comes back,” they’ll all go to their new house together.

Cuts to Mom easing herself out from underneath sleeping Daughter, and kneeling down next to Dad. He’s on the floor, unrolling dusty sleeping bags onto the bunk bed’s other mattress. She asks what they’re going to do, and he says he’ll go out and get their phones from the Truck as soon as it’s light, and call for help. As he’s saying this, he’s having a hard time using just one arm to get the sleeping bag unzipped. It’s been out of use for a while.

And this, so much longer after the fact, is the first time Mom notices his arm wound. She reaches to help him, alarmed and saying something fast like, “what is that? When did that happen?” but he pulls away on a reflex (because ouch) and says, “it’s fine,” then, trying to sound cavalier and a little funny so she doesn’t worry or get her feelings hurt that he pulled away like a child with a scab, “As long as I don’t touch it. It got a little piece of me, but it’s fine.”

This is the kind of personality the Dad character has. He’s very charming, but his personality naturally lends itself to kind of put-on, casual bravado at default.

She wants to clean it. He says he can do it, she can stay with Daughter, and goes out to look through the abandon house’s medicine cabinet. While he does, we can have some quick scary flashbacks cut in, between his tired dirty face in the bathroom mirror and the freaky-blurred-glimpse of teeth and snarl-wrinkles from the attack in the car, and predator eyes in the dark.

Traumatized, he makes sure all the doors are locked, sits on the couch for a little bit with the vague hope that his friend Random Guy isn’t dead and will come staggering up to the door, finds a shotgun in a montage of poking around the house, and then he’s exhausted so he tries to sleep with his wife in the kid’s room. It’s fitful. Because of course it is. And his arm, bandaged now, looks worse. He wakes up in a sweat at dawn and finds that he’s alone; his wife is now curled with their daughter on the bunk bed.

Dad stares at them for a moment, then gets up, rubbing his injured arm, now like triple-wrapped in a bandage.

Cut to Mom exiting the bedroom, careful not to wake Daughter, mindfully removing the now-empty sleeping bag from the area with a concerned glance down at the bloodstains on it. She looks up and around for Dad, and, when she makes it to the window, nudges a crack in the makeshift barricade just in time to see him, toting the shotgun, heading into the woods. She looks helplessly over her shoulder at the bedroom, and then strains to keep him in view as long as possible.

—-

Dad goes out to the wreckage of the truck in dense morning fog and there’s a gradually-mounting, tense sequence of him poking around. First of all, when the truck swerved, it apparently crashed and snagged on more than just a tree—it hit an old telephone pole and took it and the phone lines down with it. No wonder the stupid landline doesn’t work; he wrecked that like he wrecked keeping control of the truck. It’s all downhill from Dad noticing that.

Like, literally! Maybe he can slip trying to get down the steep drop (after all, he has to try and get their phones) and it’s the fault of his injured arm. He loses his grip on the shotgun during that fall and it’s out of view somewhere.

No worries; things are slightly less scary in the day, and he can at least see any predator coming. Besides, there’s a blood trail leading off into the woods where Random Guy was taken…so it’s throat-closingly awful to think about, but maybe the Animal is full, for right now. He looks like he’s considering following that trail, but then remembers the top priority.

First Dad tries to get into the cab of the truck, where he can immediately see that his own phone is totally smashed. I like the idea of it buried under a few other hard objects that were flying around the cabin during the wreck, and one of those is a case of beer.

When he tries to climb into the backseat, where his wife’s phone was last seen, he catches a glimpse of blood smeared across the rear passenger window (which is now pressed into the forest floor, because the truck’s on it’s side.) This blood is in a completely different place than the trail of blood that indicated Random Guy, getting dragged away from the scene of their wreckage last night.

So it’s not Random Guy’s blood. Did the truck squash the creature that attacked him as it fell? If so, how did it follow them back to the house?

Dad doesn’t have time to figure that out, because there’s Something in the woods. He can’t see it, from where he is in the fallen truck, but he can hear it. Heavy breathing. He listens for a second, terrified, staring helplessly out at the shotgun which he can infuriatingly now see through the front windshield, cross the clearing where it rolled after the fall. But after an eternity of listening to leaf-mold crunching and labored breathing, he suddenly hears a human sound. Like a groan, warbling its way out of a weirdly-deep bass breath.

So with that, he decides to get out of the truck. He creeps out, because even if it is a human, he has to pull himself headfirst out of the cab’s window-facing-the-sky, with an injured arm, and that’s a vulnerable position, and he doesn’t know who’s out there. But he does it anyway, because it sounds like the person’s in pain. Even if it doesn’t have the voice of his friend Random Guy.

So Dad drags himself up and sticks his torso out of the car with a, “hey,” and at first the audience is treated just to a view of him looking uphill…and all we can see in the foreground is a pair of grimy bare feet, the legs of which are tense and jerking around like the rest of the body is in a silent-standing-wrestling match with something invisible. The jerky almost-seizure movement is causing the only sound: slightly rustling the leaves. When Dad turns his head and looks in the direction of the camera, at the owner of the trembling bare feet, his face is transfixed with horror.

Well do kind of a pan from around the back of dad’s head just in time to catch a glimpse of what is probably a man—but something’s wrong, he’s moving all hunched over and there’s something scary about how fast, and he might be naked??—stumbling out of sight into some brush with one throaty wordless noise of fear. What’s also horrifying is the otherwise mute-strangeness of the encounter—Dad does not call out to try to get the person to stay.

He pulls himself out of the truck and staggers over to the shotgun. He picks it up and starts following the trail of blood, with many a look over his shoulder, creeped out by the hobo or whatever-it-was that he caught a glimpse of. (It’s the werewolf who slashed him, but it’s dawn, so he caught sight of it mid-transformation back into a guy, that’s what I’m trying to say.) But in his other trembling hand is his wife’s phone—also smashed. The case has one of those clear backs that you can slip a Polaroid into, and there’s one of Mom and Daughter swinging on their old home’s porch swing. He can’t go back virtually empty-handed, with no answers about their friend and no working phones.

Dad finds Random Guy’s corpse at the end of the trail. It is not graphic, I don’t do graphic. But we see enough to know that it definitely is a corpse, and that, weirdly, Dad’s look of horror and revulsion slowly fades after crouching down beside the body. (The actor’s gotta be real good at nonverbal narrative.)

Dad actually drops the wife’s phone and reaches for his friend’s bloodied arm with a very unsettling look on his face. He doesn’t look disgusted or afraid or grieved, he looks something else. There’s heavy animal-breathing, apparently coming from his own imagination, getting louder and louder in his head. But then he blinks at his own arm as it reaches, an inch away from touching the gory limb, trembling. Dad blinks again, like he’s seeing his own bandage for the first time somehow. He comes to himself, and now there’s real horror in his eyes. He stares at his bandaged arm, then the bloodied stump he’d been about to grab, then out at the woods. He grabs the shotgun, and stumbles backward away from his friend’s body. He’s practically fleeing the scene, as if he killed the man.

Cut to Dad picking up Dragon, the stuffed animal, where it fell, bundling it into the same grip he has on his wife’s useless phone. He’s got one hand full of those and the other still carrying the shotgun as he enters the house.

The next scene would be Dad kind of trying to tell his wife what happened out there. She asks if he saw what It was (there’s no need to clarify what “It” refers to, though she’s hoping it was a mountain lion or something.) He says no, and looks very troubled, probably remembering the hobo and trying to figure out what that has to do with anything. Mom sees his face and asks, “What?” meaning, “what’s wrong? What is it?” But he doesn’t like her to ask concerned-questions, so he says, “I don’t know, nothing,” and adds that he thinks the truck took a chunk out of the animal. Maybe in a joke about the phones also being crushed in the wreck, trying to alleviate the disappointed-stressed reaction that gets from Mom.

She wonders how it could’ve followed them while it was hurt, and he says he thinks maybe it was sick, not in its right mind, rabid or something. He’s kind of a know-it-all, always likes to have an answer for everything, plus he’s shaken, so pretending to have answers helps. She immediately says “rabid?!” And wants to see his arm. He hesitates, because ouch, and also there’s a flash of the sight of Random Guy’s bloody body in his mind’s eye—he doesn’t want to look at any more blood, even his own, out of a vague wariness that he’ll experience into that same weird trance again.

But then Daughter comes out and squeals excitedly at the sight of her stuffed Dragon toy, safely returned. The conversation is put on hold.

All of this takes about twenty minutes of the runtime. I don’t know, measure timing was never my strong suit.

Over the next day, the couple is keeping Daughter entertained and avoiding prolonged conversations, except for when Dad tries to convince Mom that he should go and look for help; he’ll just follow the road they came down to a town. She puts this off in hopes someone will pass by, instead; yet Dad keeps bringing it up. But he can’t hide the fact that he’s getting sicker, and she really doesn’t want him to leave the house. She’s more for the idea that they all go together, if anything—but what about Daughter? If there’s a wild animal out there, how do they justify taking her with them?

He says she should just trust him to go get help and be back before nightfall so they can clean up this mess. But she argues that he should not just leave she and Daughter in a stranger’s abandoned house in the middle of the woods, the territory of a possibly-rabid man-eating predator, with no phone.

They fight. Which is sad, because Dad is having a hard time keeping up with the argument, let alone winning it, because he’s running a pretty high fever at this point.

He wasn’t going to tell her about the possibly-homeless disfigured person he saw, but he mentions it by accident as they go back-and-forth, because he’s not thinking very clearly, (being ill.)

The whole argument he’s like clutching his hurt arm and fumbling irritably with the bandage—the argument starts while he’s trying to unwrap it to check the wound before a dinner of cold cans of soup—and Mom tries once or twice to get him to sit down and let her do it, but they’re both distracted by the argument they’re having. Now she’s really mad and a little worried, because hobo, what hobo, what is he talking about? He didn’t tell her about a hobo earlier. What did he see out there?

Daughter is hearing all of this, even though she was told to stay in the boy’s room and play. She creeps to the door and tries to watch the bickering match, but the floor squeaks and her Dad somehow hears it, halting the argument. Mom goes to reassure/scold her, which interrupts the mounting argument, and gets her a can of soup.

When she comes back to the living room, she and Dad share a more tender moment. It’s hard to stay mad when he looks so exhausted and sick, and still doesn’t seem to have the motor skills to unwrap the tightly-wound bandage. He’s just flopped there, picking halfheartedly at it. Besides, if he can’t even do that, she’s basically won—he’s not going anywhere tonight.

During this tender scene she makes some sweet gesture like sitting next to him holding his hurt hand in hers, and quietly saying, “This thing took the fight right out of you, huh?” Then she starts undoing the wrapping, and adds, “you could’ve just let me help you.” She’s talking about the bandage, but also she’s talking about everything else. He just stares at her—because this is the kind of conversation they need to have, and her softening toward him feels good but also mounts that constant pressure, because he really does love her and he really is sorry for all this, but how can he convincingly communicate that without it seeming like an admission of defeat? Not just for the wreck. For the wreck of their lives.

But when she does unwrap the bandage, his cut looks…fine. The skin is red and angry, there’s definitely something going on there, but the actual rip in the flesh is miraculously healed over. It should’ve needed stitches for that. What the heck is going on?

So he gets to have a kind of delirious line with a smile, like, “see, maybe I don’t need help.”

But she doesn’t like the loopy way he says it and checks his forehead, and he’s burning up. She goes to the landline and we can have that scene in the trailer where she tries to reach someone with it: “We were attacked by some animal, I think it was sick, it infected my husband, we need help,” but of course she’s not getting through to anyone.

And he just looks at her in a sad stupor, from the couch, because of course he also didn’t tell her that his truck-wreck knocked down the landline, so that mystery is still a mystery to her.

But then there’s a sound of crying from upstairs. Mom tells Dad to stay put and goes up to find Daughter distraught. She’s in an upstairs bedroom, by an open window. The night air is ruffling the curtains. Mom doesn’t like that one bit and shuts the window, sitting her daughter on the bed, then on further thought goes to try and nudge a bookcase over in front of the window. Might as well have all entrances barricaded. But then she notices that all the books have been tumbled onto the floor (they haven’t been in this room yet.) And when she looks over at distraught Daughter, she sees that the bed isn’t just mussed up—the sheets are shredded.

Mom steps back and out of the room, towing Daughter with her, her face a mask of confused horror. What happened in this abandoned house? Did the wild animal get in here, at one point?

Daughter sees the look on Mom’s face and stops crying, because she’s getting more afraid of whatever could make mom look like that than she was upset about…whatever was making her cry. Mom asks what that was. Daughter tearfully claims that Dragon fell out the window. Mom huffs and sighs and hasn’t the current frame of mind to play along—she says, “you threw your Dragon out the window? Honey—you know we’re not going outside, why would you do that?”

“So he can fly and get help from the town for us and Daddy doesn’t have to. But he didn’t flap his wings! He just fell!”

Mom comforts Daughter and takes her back to her room. It takes a while of playing and promising to go get Dragon the next morning (nobody’s going outside during nighttime, she threw him into the backyard and there’s no back door so you’d have to go all the way around the house in the dark, are you crazy) before Daughter will calm down.

But when she comes back to check on Dad, he’s non-responsive. She’s distraught. Ten minutes ago he was smiling and a little of his bravado-humor was coming through, and now he’s twitching and making really guttural noises. She’s very upset by this, because this on top of everything else? Is he rabid? She doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t want to wake Daughter or let her see how sick Dad is, obviously. So she gets him upstairs, into bed, but he’s thrashing around in the torn-up sheets when she leaves him to try the phone again.

I like the idea of dragging this part out. Because if the scare-factor of the movie is “horrible breakdown in communication is causing hurt” then the right idea is to have the transformation into a werewolf be gradual. And that’s the scary thing. With little moments of hurt before the actual now-it’s-going-to-kill-us transformation.

What am I doing, I’ve spent way too much time on this

BASICALLY in the course of this second-night-in-the-house the dad would do lots of strange, upsetting things. He disappears from the bed upstairs and Mom finds him in weird places, like the basement. (Like in the trailer.)

He’s hallucinating about the moment he came home, drunk,to tell her he’s lost his job, and then hallucinating the day he came home and sprang the news on her that he’d decided they should move, and then hallucinating the resulting fight they had—but she doesn’t know that. She just sees him standing in the dark staring at nothing and shaking. She tries to talk to him and he just looks at her blankly; we get a glimpse into his perspective, just like in the trailer. He can’t understand what she’s saying.

She tries to lead him back to bed and he goes, the first time. As they stumble up the stairs she’s saying things like, “Come on, honey, two more, step up, do you need to rest?” but he’s hearing her say things like “Do you know what you’re doing?!” Like she did before accusing him of “uprooting our daughter’s world, all her friends are here,” or, “do you know what you’re doing?” back during their honeymoon when the car broke down and he tried frustratedly to analyze the problem. Or sometimes the things he hears her say as they inch their way across the landing don’t make sense at all, and that’s when he tries to talk back and ask her “what? What’s happening?” And all that’s actually coming out of his mouth is weird, gurgling snarling noises.

The second time she goes to check on him he’s curled in a ball in the bathroom on the floor, not moving at all, so tightly that at first she doesn’t even know what she’s looking at over there against the tub. When she realizes it’s him again she tries to wake him up and get him back to bed again, but maybe his eyes are actually wide open, he seems to be wide awake, he’s just not moving. That’s freaky. But she gets over it and decides to try and examine his arm while he’s so still—and he lashes out and spazzes, and she gets out of reach just in time but as he flails he busts a hole in the wall next to himself.

He doesn’t seem to even notice that he’s done this. Then he’s coming toward her, and his jaw is jutted out, and the whites of his eyes are completely gone, it’s just pitch-black dilated pupils, and his whole body is shaking so badly that his legs aren’t making the best use of the muscles that would stand him up so he’s sort of just dragging himself toward her on one uninjured arm, making all those deep guttural gargling sounds. She’s babbling to him, trying to snap him out of it, “stop it, you’re scaring me, what is it” But clearly nothing’s getting through.

Then Daughter, waking up after the loud sound, is calling for her mom from upstairs. Hearing that, Mom remembers there’s something happening outside this immediate frightening moment, then categorizes the hole in the wall and insensibility of her sick husband as “threat to Daughter” in a snap decision.

She finally scrambles backward out of the bathroom and locks him in. He doesn’t try to bust down the door, exactly, but she can hear him brushing confusedly up against it, see the shadow of him under the door flopping around. A finger or three scrabbles in the opening—his nails have spontaneously grown in the last few hours, grown to points.

Mom turns, breathing hard, to find Daughter there and tries to explain. Yes, that’s Daddy—he’s not feeling good, they need to give him some alone time. Daughter wants to bring him her leftover soup, but Mom insists that they leave Daddy alone and go into the living room for a little bit. This is so she can try the phones again—the phones, or the old hunting radio she saw in the cabinet.

While they’re there, Daughter is on the couch but she can’t stop looking at the shadow crossing the light of the bathroom, and listening to the ever-deepening, throaty sounds her dad is making. She is clearly remembering what he said about roars, and goes to look out the kitchen window at the backyard. Maybe she can spot Dragon. Instead, we get a nice jumpscare of yellow predator eyes watching her from the treeline. It’s the first werewolf. She’s frightened, and steps slowly back and back, not knowing exactly what she’s seeing. She goes to her mom for comfort. Her mom is intent on the radio. So we just see Daughter look over at the bathroom light again.

We pan slowly around the mom’s head as she gets a signal from the radio. She’s never worked one of these before, so she’s having to experiment. We can see the shape of the kitchen island moving out of view behind her. It does seem like there’s someone responding to her whenever she tries to talk into it. We can see the blurred corner of the stairway coming into view behind her. Whoever is on the other end, they are so muffled, she can’t tell what they’re saying, but the timing sounds like a response. We can see the landing coming into view behind her. She’s turning the knob and repeating things like, “Can you hear me? My family is trapped, there’s been an accident off of, uh, I think we were about twenty miles off the interstate, uh, can you hear me?” She listens for a response. Someone does finally answer, asking if she can confirm if she’s near a particular address. She gasps in relief and tries stammeringly to remember the one outside the building they’re in.

And behind her we stop on the shape of Daughter, outlined by a huddled, freakily-still silhouette framed in the bathroom light.

She let Dad out.

Mom whips around when Daughter says, “Daddy?” in such an uncertain voice. She drops the radio.

Dad’s hair has lengthened and his stubble has come in thicker but we’re not in full-wolf-mode yet. Which is worse, because his face has this indescribably blank, vacant look to it, like a shark’s. Except it’s frozen in some kind of weak grimace, like he was in pain before his facial muscles stuck that way. He’s staring straight through Daughter. Because his lips are pulled back and his jaw is still jutting, we can see the glint of pointed teeth. He’s scarily still, crouched in front of his daughter, except for how the lower muscles of his legs convulse every once in a while and his fingers are twitching. They’re claw-like. The arm that was clawed is ripped back open, this time in several places, and the nails of the opposite hand are stained red.

The bathroom behind him is in shambles. The old toilet has claw marks warping the porcelain. There’s blood on the fractured mirror, and it actually looks like some of the smears are purposeful—was he trying to write something in gore, and forgot what letters are supposed to look like?

Mom tells Daughter to come to her right now, and doesn’t take her eyes off of the uncanny transformation of her husband. There’s something about the way his face looks that is too scary to be considered “sick and in need of care.” Something that makes her want to drop him in a hole far, far away from their child.

Daughter is frozen. (Kids freak out when their dad shaves their face, imagine this.) Mom begins inching her way up the stairs step by step, but the moment one stair creaks, Dad’s head snaps toward her with such stomach-plummeting suddenness—and his right set of clawed fingers clench around the edge of the top step and immediately splinter it with unbelievable force—that Mom has to stop and settle for just reaching for Daughter. “Come to mommy right now.” She hisses, eyes wide.

Daughter tries to take a step back, forgets she’s on stairs, misses the edge of one, and gasps as she slips. Mom lurches up. At the same time, Dad opens his mouth and it’s impossibly wide and toothy and he makes a sound that is his normal human voice if it just had volume and no control over tone. He snatches at Daughter, but his arms and hands are shredding her puffy winter coat because he’s not accurately using the grabbing muscles in them. Daughter is stupefied in fear at first. Her mom is lightning-fast and uses a blue of pure mom speed and strength, and in one crazy twist she rips Daughter away from Dad. Daughter recovers enough to shriek into her mom’s shoulder. Everybody’s moving now.

Mom never stops the momentum that caught Daughter—she’s half-running, half-falling down the rest of the stairs herself as she bundles them into the kitchen, almost-forming the name of her husband into their daughter’s hair. Dad is a blur of reeling motion—his arms appear to have gotten longer, or maybe it’s just the way he’s holding them, endlessly reaching, fingers curled like each is one long claw-from-the-knuckle. His legs still won’t straighten up and hold him so he’s doing a mix of walking on his knees and all-fours hobbling, but it’s all frighteningly fast, and he’s staring, staring, staring.

He stays basically almost on top of them all the way until Mom is in the kitchen, she gets the landing inbetween them and she whips out an old knife from the sink and holds it out. “Get back!”

Daughter unburies her little head from Mom’s shoulder and twists to look at what’s going on. This movement steadies Mom, who tries to hold the kid at an angle where her own body is between her husband and their child. It also seems to momentarily jog her remembrance that this is Dad, at least enough for her to add his name in faux sternness when she repeats, “Get back.” This is like the part in the trailer where the same thing appears to be happening.

He doesn’t seem to register the knife. It’s her voice that has given Dad pause. Not because he recognizes it, but because he seems to have no idea what that sound is, judging from the slowly tipping head and black eyes. He keeps lurching toward them, but when his body makes contact with the island in the way, he goes wild and starts smashing everything he can reach.

Mom makes sure this isn’t her and Daughter. They attempt to escape, and there’s a a series of chases. First, she’s high-tails it to the truck, carrying Daughter. That goes fine until the truck won’t start (just like in the trailer) and then he smashes the windshield. She screams and tries to drive and flee, hoping he’ll fall off, but his flailing claw-hand disrupts her steering and they’ crash straight into the tool shed. Mom sees this about to happen and, in another burst of mom-superheroics, wrestles herself into the backseat and bundles both her and Daughter out the back door before the collision. Without stopping to check the destruction of shed or car, she flees.

They race into the woods, which was a terrible plan, but what else could they do? They make it to the road when they’re encountered by four hunters in a pickup truck.

One of them is holding a radio, two of them have rifles. They appear to offer temporary asylum—but then of course the werewolf gets there, and it turns into a true nightmare. It’s all screaming confusion. Mom is shielding Daughter’s face from all of it, and you guys get to join Daughter in obliviousness of the gory details because what am I doing, this is so long and it’s not even my movie and if it was I would artfully avoid graphic gore.

At one point Mom is scrambling to escape as the hunters are getting mauled in various stages of confusion and gunfire, and she falls down the embankment their truck tipped off of. There’s pained rolling, and she’s stunned, but Daughter is mostly unhurt, rolling a few feet away. There’s a moment where the werewolf approaches and Daughter tries to tell Dad it’s her, and tell him he doesn’t need to be scary, and Mom catches the tail end of this interaction before coming fully to alertness and racing to save her child. That probably would’ve resulted in death, because in all this fighting and gore it is apparent that the werewolf doesn’t appreciate anyone making sudden movements besides itself. But one of the hunters is still standing and shoots at it, so that gets its attention long enough for mom to grab Daughter and limp, one ankle twisted from the fall, back toward the street.

The last hunter gets werewolf-victimized, and then the chase is back on. Mom is barreling back toward the house, with one of the fallen hunters’ rifles, because it’s the last semi-safe place she’d been able to be, but she’s not going to make it. They’re in the backyard. She can hear that horrible throaty noise, this time full-werewolf scream. She ducks into the half of the tool shed that isn’t collapsed around the now-burning truck they tried to escape in in the first place.

She puts Daughter on the floor near the front door and hefts the Hunter’s rifle, peering through the wooden walls for sight of their pursuer. Daughter suddenly starts doing that high pitched scream-weeping-talking kids do, telling Mom not to hurt Daddy, it’s heartbreaking, but Mom shushes her and looks around for a hiding place—too late.

The werewolf is right outside. She can see it through the slats in the remaining walls of the toolshed, which face the woods. It’s looks like a werewolf—just a tad more beastly than the original, classic-looking Wolf Man. It’s lit in the glow of the fire, so the audience can see the weird, fever-seizure way that it moves, and it’s predator eyes. She looks back at Daughter and tells her that on the count of three she needs to run for the house. Daughter is just crying.

Mom counts to three, but before she can get to the last number, BAM the werewolf cannons through the wall and lands on the tool bench opposite mom. She whirls and fires; it’s hit and falls off the other side. But it stands back up and leers menacingly over the tool bench at Mom. It’s got one huge gouge along its shoulder, like a chunk was taken out of it. It’s not bleeding, it’s not a fresh wound—she remembers what her husband said about the animal “getting a piece taken out by the truck.” Daughter screams.

At the same time, one of those uncontrolled-tone animal noises comes from the other side of the tool shed, by the ruined wall. Daughter scoots to one side to get a better look. The camera pans a little to join her in peering around the bulk of the first ruined wall—it’s Dad. He’s pinned all along his left leg and arm, between the burning truck and the wall.

Mom looks back at the menacing werewolf she’s aiming her gun at. Dad never left the yard; the hunters were all taken out by this thing, which caused the moving van to wreck and did this to her husband in the first place. She screams at Daughter to run, and Daughter does get up and stumble a few feet toward the house, staring over one shoulder at her trapped dad—but the werewolf sees the movement. While its attention is momentarily diverted and before it can pursue, Mom fires again.

It’s hit, but it’s a werewolf, so that doesn’t matter; it leaps at her, knocking them both into the 1-and-a-half-walls still holding up the toolshed roof.

As she’s going down underneath its weight, she kicks both legs out and launches it a few feet away from her.

Then she turns and crawls half-under the tool bench for cover, aiming to get herself back between it and the vague direction of her daughter.

But then the toolshed collapses.

It falls in such a way that mom’s lower half is trapped under rubble when she comes to. The rifle is stuck lengthwise along her right side. She blurrily sees that Daughter is still lying stretched, stunned, in the lawn of the backyard. A few inches away is her stuffed Dragon, but you can tell she’s too shocked to move because she won’t even reach for it or crawl far enough to latch on for comfort. And beyond that, about a yard away, stalking toward her in a predatory arc, is the werewolf.

Mom strains to reach for the rifle and screams at Daughter to run, tries to get the creature’s attention. She can’t. She’s been so focused on the stuck-rifle to her left and the prone-daughter straight ahead and to the distance that, for a moment she doesn’t see that she can reach a perpendicular piece of wood under the one pinning her. She grabs at it, with no real plan in mind except to get something in her hands to change the impending fate of her daughter.

But when she does it moves, just a bit, and she realizes it can be used to leverage the beam off of herself. Instantly she’s trying to make this happen as the werewolf looms nearer and nearer to the easy prey of her daughter. But when she gets the beam to move a little, another sound makes her realized she’s not trapped alone.

Dad, still disfigured and snarling, is now pinned more under the same beam that she is than he was by the truck. (I don’t know exactly how; I think with some quick camera work we could show that as the shed collapsed completely he had enough time to get unstuck from his first position before getting trapped this new way.) As soon as she notices this she freezes in ear. If she lifts the beam, it is at an angle where he will be free first.

She stares at him and time slows down. He looks like a slavering monster. His mouth is yawning open hungrily, his face is a mass of darkening wrinkles. There’s fire from the truck right above him, but in its light there’s no human emotion—he doesn’t look afraid of getting burned alive, nor does he look in pain. His clawed fingers have turned black at the ends; he’s carving deep scars in everything he can reach, including the fender of the truck. But his black eyes, and in fact, whole face, are pointed at the same thing she is straining toward: their daughter.

If she lifts the beam, the monster that used to be her husband will be free before she will. She won’t be fast enough to stop anything he does. But if she doesn’t, nothing about the present scene will change, and she’ll have to watch her daughter mauled to death by the first werewolf.

She grabs the perpendicular piece of wood and hangs all her body weight on it. She heaves and screams and the beam lifts, just enough. Dad scrambles free, churning up the dirt floor of the toolshed. His dilated pupils reflect firelight and Mom. He stares down at her, then leers over her, clawed fingers reaching.

Then we cut abruptly to the action in the backyard, to a shot where Daughter is furthest from the camera with the burning toolshed as her backdrop. Dragon the stuffed animal lays in the grass in the midground, and in the foreground are the pacing limbs of the first werewolf. The clawed feet turn toward the prone, terrified child. There’s a scream, not from Daughter, but from Mom, somewhere back in the toolshed. Then silence. And then Dad comes up behind Daughter, bloody claw-hands reaching. Werewolves are moving toward her from both sides.

And then in a rush of motion Dad keeps going PAST Daughter; he pushes off the ground right alongside Dragon and launches out of frame in that single bound—when he comes back into frame, it’s to barrel into the charging first-werewolf. Bowling it straight off it’s feet, knocking it backward, away from Daughter.

Normally I don’t like werewolf-fights in a werewolf-movie. But he’s protecting the princess with his scariness. So I’m good with it. About a minute later, Mom crawls out of the wreckage of the toolshed, carrying the rifle. She shoots the first werewolf in the head, through the eye, right after Dad shoves it into the fire of the burning truck, and that finally does it in. It’s like, crawling out of the flames, on fire, and that’s when mom shoots it. It’s corpse transforms back into the distant-grandpa figure who probably owned the house they’ve been hiding in all along.

There’s like, a beat, where Mom is standing over Daughter with the rifle at the ready. Dad is bristling over the corpse. And then, horribly, Dad immediately starts eating the corpse. (You don’t see it, you see his back, a-la Demogorgon or National Geographic.) You just hear some snarling noises.

Mom hides the Daughter’s eyes by bending, picking up Dragon, and pressing the stuffed animal insistently into the kid’s face. After turning her around and telling her to stay there, Mom approaches Dad. She touches his shoulder while he devours. He doesn’t react. She reaches to do it again and THEN he whips around, bristling, nasty. She freezes, but you can tell (because we got a good actress) that she is forcing herself not to flinch. We flinched, though. We, the audience, we flinched.

She freezes, and he stands—tries to stand, and this time his shaky-bent legs actually straighten out. He’s almost his normal height. She looks at the blood dripping off his face and the freakshow-black eyes and says his name, it’s all very werewolf-cliche, and she tells him she loves him.

And maybe this time we go back into his perspective, like we haven’t since he first started transforming. The words he hears from her are very garbled, he still can’t understand her, and on the edges of the scene he’s seeing, a fever-blur of their old home, or his ex-office, or the road before they wrecked, keeps fading in and out.

The Mom takes his wounded arm, the one that first got the werewolf-scratch. With monster-force he jerks his arm back, as usual—but Mom does not let him slip out of her grip, so as a result, Dad yanks her forward right into him. She just has to go with it because that’s what happens when you choose not to lose tug of war with a werewolf, and embraces him. So, that should be curtains. But instead, of course, he just freezes and doesn’t seem to know what to do. Back to his perspective. He still can’t understand what she’s saying, but the emotion of the moment doesn’t change to confusion; she’s hugging him, you don’t need words with a hug.

From there, Mom slowly pulls away—which results in a snarl—but she doesn’t let go of that rigid arm. She leads him into the forest. They go to the site of the moving truck wreck (she takes him from a different direction, so they go around the hunter-massacre scene I guess)

She leads him into the moving van. All their stuff is laying in wreckage inside, toppled over on top of itself. But she sits down on the back of an overturned couch and shows him a shattered photo, plus the one on her cracked phone case, and just keeps telling him that she loves him.

When the cops show up, carrying Daughter safely from where they found her and closing in on them with guns, and Dad gets all bristly and animalistic-again, Mom doesn’t let go of his arm. She says she’s staying with him, says it to the cops, and says it to him. And he turns back to normal. It’s slow—enough. He’s been turning back to normal incrementally since she let him out of the toolshed. Standing up straighter, not eating her when she touched him, his eyes have been clearing up, etc.

Anyway, that’s how we end it. The police see the photo Mom is holding of their family, so they don’t immediately want to shoot the parents of the kid they rescued (they’re still the police and people are still dead on this scene) especially when one just went through mysterious seizures right in front of them. But when the camera goes dark, the family is still standing together.

I got a little carried away. so. so what, I had time

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narzissenkreuz-ordo · 5 months ago

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i guess i need some. advice? encouragement? about some stuff thats been happening recently so suicide/violence cw under the cut

i won't go into detail but i had. a very huge emotional/physical/mental breakdown today. where i was just. basically screaming and howling about how suicidal ive been lately. I haven't said anything out loud/via text on the internet abt it because i know saying i want to kms so often is bad for my own well being and ultimately makes other uncomfortable as well

so yeah i've just been. holding all that in. i knew the thoughts were coming in and out the past few months but was just shrugging it off as just being stressed abt the nightmare year i had. but i really was just. lying to myself and others because i didnt want to worry anyone/didn't want to admit how horrible i was doing after a couple years of good progress. but as it stands things are heading into a really bad direction for me rn. its not normal to go to sleep suicidal and immediately be suicidal upon waking up.

I don't really know what i can really do harm reduction wise. i'm unable to have regular visits with a psychiatrist/therapist bc of availability issues + i tend to just. lie. because its easier to say im fine than it is to advocate for myself and get actual help. and even then medication will not save me and coping skills can only go so far if im so deep in it im unable to take care of myself/feed myself/clean myself/eat/etc so none of it is effective enough in the moment. i know it CAN be effective and some of the skills ive learned can help during situational issues but this is really deep rooted improperly treated mental illness and i need a stronger foundation to be able to use any of the skills

i use a means of self isolation to punish myself, because i'm so upset with myself for not being able to pick myself up on my own. people can say im not a burden over and over but theres always gonna be a catch in the end. i freak out because what if this is one of my last meltdowns before they decide enoughs enough and i just get abandoned. again.

I feel like maybe being so Online is making things worse?? but i don't know??? my concentration is completely gone even when trying to use dnd/closing discord completely and im just constantly refreshing social media every 10 seconds and just stew in the bad feelings.

I don't know if just. leaving the internet cold turkey for a bit would do more harm than good.....i dont want to be alone and caught up in my thoughts. but i have a hard time doing things in 'moderation' and don't know how to even begin to roll back my internet/screen time usage

fandom is fun and great. but i dont think i should be using video games as pure escapism or playing them 24/7. im already getting bored and unenthusiastic about the things i like because its ALL i do.... I want to have at least SOME time away from screens. i hate having the impulse the check social media or refresh even 30 seconds (im even doing it NOW) but i just dont know where to begin in cultivating non-screentime hobbies and have the ability to focus on things more long term without having than doing 1000 things all at once to keep myself busy. i play video games muted most of the time, have a yt video playing, sometimes i'll stop mid video game and pull out my ipad while still having the games open, and im always on discord

there's books i still want to read, i eventually want to pick up sewing again. im considering getting a craft set for making those beaded bracelets (my brother gets them from concerts all the time and thinks it would be fun to make them too) but that all requires money

and i just. idk where im going with this rn but. any advice or suggestions or just. words of encouragement would be. really nice rn

#yappin

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aughby · 4 months ago

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Lines We Can't Cross

I still remember the first time I noticed Yuki in a different light. It wasn't during one of his many jokes, or when he was laughing with the rest of our classmates, carefree and easygoing as always. It was during one of those moments when the world felt like it had stopped spinning for me.

We were practicing for a chorale contest at school when I received the news—my close relative had passed away. My chest tightened, and I felt a wave of guilt wash over me for not being with my family, for missing practice, for everything. I didn’t know what to do, but for some reason, I messaged Yuki about it. I don’t even know why I chose him out of all people, but in that moment of vulnerability, I just typed out my grief and sent it to him.

Yuki responded almost immediately. His words, though simple, were sincere. "Hey, don’t beat yourself up. Your family understands. And you know what? It's okay to feel sad, but don’t carry the guilt. We’re here for you." There was something about the way he made me feel heard and understood that struck me deeply. From that day, I found myself sharing more with him—not just the surface-level stuff, but the real, raw things I couldn't share with anyone else. He became more than just the class clown; he became my confidant, my source of comfort.

Before I knew it, I had fallen for him.

It wasn’t planned, of course. I mean, how could it be? Yuki, with his lighthearted teasing and jokes about how "no one should fall for him," made it seem impossible. I laughed along with him, but secretly, I was sinking deeper into my feelings. The pandemic hit, and suddenly, we weren’t seeing each other every day. At first, I thought that the distance would help me forget about him, that being away from him would allow these feelings to fade.

But the opposite happened.

Late-night chats became our norm. We shared everything—our frustrations with online classes, the emptiness of not seeing friends, the isolation. It was during these moments, behind the screen, where I realized my feelings for Yuki were more than just a crush. I was in love with him. But I never told him, not then. How could I? He was Yuki—my friend who joked about not wanting anyone to fall for him. It seemed too risky, so I kept my feelings locked away, hoping that maybe, just maybe, things would eventually sort themselves out.

Then came the end of senior year. I landed a job, one that would take me far from home. I told Yuki, expecting the same warmth in his response that I had grown used to. He congratulated me, of course, but something felt off. He was distant, not like the Yuki I had shared everything with. I tried to organize a farewell dinner, but he told me he was too busy. I even planned an outing for our whole group, but when my trip got pushed up, I had to leave without saying a proper goodbye.

I still remember the hollow feeling in my chest when I left. I hoped we would stay close, that we would keep in touch like we always had. But as the weeks turned into months, the late-night chats grew sparse. Our conversations faded, and with them, my hope of keeping that closeness alive.

Graduation day arrived, and I came home. After months of being apart, I saw Yuki again. But something was different. There was a stiffness between us, a wall I couldn’t quite place. We didn’t talk that day, not really. My best friend managed to take a few pictures of us, standing side by side, but we didn’t say a word. I congratulated him later, and he did the same. That was the last time I saw him in person.

When I heard from a friend that Yuki was moving to Italy for work, something inside me shifted. I realized this was it. If I didn’t say something now, I might never get the chance. I spent hours drafting a message, pouring out every unsaid feeling, every hope, and every fear. I hesitated to send it, but in the end, I did. I posted it in a blog, protected by a password only he could read, and messaged him right as his plane took off.

He said he’d read it once he arrived.

Days passed. Then weeks. Then months.

I never got a response. The silence stretched on, and with each passing day, I felt more foolish for confessing. Maybe he didn’t read it. Or maybe he did, and my worst fear was true—he didn’t feel the same. Eventually, I accepted that what we had was gone, the connection we built now only a memory.

Then, on Independence Day, months after I had given up hope, his reply came.

He apologized. He thanked me for sharing my feelings. But in the end, he didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t that he didn’t care about me—he did. But not in the way I had hoped. His rejection was gentle, kind, but it didn’t change the fact that my heart broke. The friendship we had once cherished now felt tainted by the weight of my unspoken love.

I couldn’t blame him. He had always been genuine with me, always honest. But in trying to express my heart, I had crossed a line that couldn’t be undone. I told myself we could still be friends, that we would move past this, but deep down, I knew things would never be the same.

Two years have passed since that message, and we haven’t seen each other since. We’ve stayed in touch, barely, but the closeness we once had is gone. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the courage to face him again. Part of me wonders if I did the right thing, risking everything for the chance to love him. Another part of me knows that, even if it didn’t end the way I wanted, I had to let him know.

But now, all I’m left with are the memories of what we once had, and the understanding that sometimes, love isn't enough to save a friendship.

Some lines, once crossed, can never be redrawn.

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Yuki's POV:

People always say I'm the funny guy. The one who can make everyone laugh, turn awkward moments into jokes, and lighten the mood no matter how heavy the situation is. That’s just who I’ve always been—the joker, the guy people don’t take too seriously, and I’m okay with that. But what most don’t know is that when someone comes to me with something real, something serious, I drop the act. I listen, I care, and I try to be there for them, even if it’s just with words.

That’s how it started with her.

I didn’t think much of it at first. She was just a classmate, someone I saw around school, someone I would joke with like everyone else. But that changed when she messaged me one day, telling me that someone close to her had passed away. I could tell she was hurting. The usual jokes weren’t going to help this time. So, I said what I thought she needed to hear—something real. I told her not to carry the guilt, that her family would understand, that it was okay to feel the sadness.

What I didn’t expect was how that one conversation would change things between us.

After that, she started talking to me more, sharing things that were deeper, more personal. And honestly, I liked being that person for her. I liked that she trusted me. We became close, closer than I had ever expected. We messaged each other every day, and I found myself looking forward to our late-night talks. She was someone I could be serious with when I needed to be, but also someone I could laugh with. It was... easy.

But there was always this underlying thing. I could feel it—how she sometimes looked at me, how she would hesitate when we talked about relationships or love. I could sense that she might be starting to feel something more, but I never addressed it. I didn’t want to ruin what we had. And to be honest, I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that, if I could give her more than what we already had. So I kept things light, made jokes, even teased her about not falling for me. It was my way of keeping distance, of protecting whatever we had.

Then the pandemic hit, and everything changed.

We couldn’t see each other in person, but we still talked—about school, life, frustrations. It became a routine, something that kept us both grounded during all the chaos. And then, before I knew it, senior year was almost over. She told me she got hired at a company and would be moving away. I congratulated her, of course, but there was this sinking feeling in my chest that I didn’t want to acknowledge. I should’ve done more. I should’ve made more time for her before she left, but I didn’t. I made excuses, said I was busy, and when she planned that farewell outing, I thought I’d catch her later. Only, she left before I got the chance.

Months passed. She was gone, and we still messaged each other sometimes, but things felt different. Graduation day came, and when I saw her again after so long, I could feel the awkwardness between us. It was like we didn’t know how to talk to each other anymore, like something had shifted, but neither of us wanted to acknowledge it. We didn’t even really talk that day, just a few words exchanged, and then she was gone again.

Then came the news—she found out I was moving to Italy for work. I didn’t tell her myself; she heard it through a friend. I wasn’t sure why I didn’t reach out to her first. Maybe because I knew things had already changed, and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. That’s when she sent me the link to her blog, said she had written something for me.

I told her I’d read it once I got to Manila. But I didn’t.

Days turned into weeks, and I kept putting it off. I don’t even know why. Maybe I was scared of what she might’ve written, scared that it would confirm what I already knew—that she had feelings for me, and I wasn’t ready to face it. Months went by, and the guilt of not responding started eating at me. I wanted to, but I didn’t know what to say. How could I? I didn’t want to hurt her, but I knew I couldn’t give her what she wanted.

Then, one day, on Independence Day, I finally read it.

She had confessed her feelings—feelings she had been holding onto for so long. I could feel the weight of every word she wrote, the care, the hope. And I felt terrible for making her wait so long for a response. But I had to be honest with her. I couldn’t pretend. I couldn’t lead her on.

So I replied, months late. I told her how much I valued our friendship, how much she meant to me, but that I didn’t feel the same. It was hard to write those words, knowing that they would hurt her, but it was the truth. I couldn’t be the person she wanted me to be, and I didn’t want to give her false hope.

After I hit send, I didn’t know what to expect. I figured that was it. Our friendship was over, ruined by feelings we couldn’t control. Part of me felt relieved, like I had finally addressed the elephant in the room, but another part of me felt like I had lost something important. Something irreplaceable.

It’s been two years now since I last saw her. We don’t talk like we used to. The late-night chats have stopped, and the easygoing friendship we had has faded into something... distant. I know she’s probably moved on, and I’ve tried to do the same. But sometimes, I think back to those days when things were simpler, when we could talk for hours without the weight of unspoken feelings hanging between us.

I don’t regret being honest with her, but I do regret that things had to change. I wonder if we could have stayed friends, if there was a way to keep what we had without crossing that line. But now, it’s too late.

Sometimes, the hardest part isn’t the confession. It’s realizing that once you cross that line, you can’t go back.

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Years had passed, and life had moved on, or so she thought. The memories of Yuki were tucked away somewhere deep in her heart, only surfacing in quiet moments when she allowed herself to remember the time they had spent together—the late-night conversations, the friendship that had once been so easy. It wasn’t until tonight, at a concert she hadn’t even planned on attending, that all those buried feelings came rushing back.

As the music boomed around her and the crowd swayed to the beat, she scanned the sea of faces absentmindedly. Then she froze. There he was. Yuki. Laughing with a group of friends not too far away, looking almost the same as he had in school—except more mature, more... distant. Her heart raced, and a wave of panic hit her. She wasn’t ready for this. She wasn’t ready to face him.

Without thinking, she turned and ran.

Yuki had been enjoying the concert, trying to lose himself in the music, when he saw a flash of movement in the crowd. It took him a second to register the familiar face—her face. His heart skipped a beat. She was here. After all these years, here she was, just a few feet away. But before he could even process what he was feeling, she was running. Running away.

“Wait!” Yuki called out instinctively, his feet already moving to chase her.

She wove through the crowd, her heart pounding louder than the music. She didn’t know why she was running. Maybe it was the shock, or maybe it was the fear of facing everything she had tried to bury for so long. But she couldn’t face him—not after all this time, not after everything that had happened between them.

Yuki wasn’t about to let her disappear again. He pushed through the crowd, calling her name. The sound of his voice sent a shiver down her spine, but she kept moving. Finally, she reached the exit, breathless and shaken, but before she could make it out, a hand gently grabbed her wrist.

“Please, wait,” Yuki’s voice was soft but urgent.

She stopped, frozen in place. Slowly, she turned to face him. The years had changed him—there was a seriousness in his eyes now, something different from the carefree boy she once knew. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The noise of the concert faded into the background, leaving only the two of them in the moment.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” he said, his voice low but steady.

She swallowed, her heart still racing. “I... I didn’t mean to run.”

Yuki smiled gently. “I know. But... we can’t keep running forever, can we?”

The weight of unspoken words hung between them.

The moment felt like it stretched forever, yet it passed too quickly. She stared at Yuki, his familiar face now so different in the dim light of the street outside the concert venue. Time had changed him—broadened his shoulders, deepened the lines around his eyes—but there was something else. Distance.

“Yuki…” she began, but her voice faltered. What could she say to bridge the years of silence and the painful words left unspoken?

Yuki’s smile faded, replaced with a somber expression that mirrored the weight in her chest. “I’ve thought about you a lot,” he said quietly, his eyes not meeting hers. “About what happened between us, how we just… drifted apart.”

She felt her heart twist at his words. The memories came flooding back: late-night chats, stolen glances, the warmth of their friendship turning into something she had kept hidden for so long. The confession she had finally sent him, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d feel the same. Only for it to be met with silence.

“You never responded,” she whispered, the hurt she had buried for so long rising to the surface. “I waited, Yuki. For months, I waited.”

He winced, the guilt clear in his eyes. “I know. And I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to reply. I didn’t want to hurt you… but I didn’t realize how much I already had by saying nothing.”

She felt the sting of tears, but she blinked them back. “You broke me,” she said, her voice trembling. “I put everything I felt into that message, and you just… left me hanging. I thought we meant something to each other. I thought I meant something to you.”

Yuki took a deep breath, the regret etched into his features. “You did. You do. But when I got your message, I… I was scared. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and I didn’t know if I could give you what you were asking for. I wasn’t ready.”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. All this time, she had held onto the hope that maybe, deep down, he had felt the same way but was too afraid to admit it. But hearing him now, she realized how wrong she had been.

“I loved you, Yuki,” she said, her voice breaking. “I really loved you. And you just… let me go.”

The silence between them was suffocating. Yuki looked at her, his eyes filled with sorrow. “I know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m sorry. But I couldn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved.”

Her heart shattered at his words, the final confirmation of what she had feared all along. There was no ‘what if.’ There was no going back. Everything they had was truly lost.

She looked down, biting her lip to keep from crying. She had promised herself she wouldn’t cry in front of him, not now, not after everything. “So that’s it, huh?” she said bitterly. “We’re just strangers now, after everything?”

Yuki’s silence was answer enough.

She felt the tears start to slip down her cheeks, but she quickly wiped them away. She couldn’t do this anymore—couldn’t keep holding onto something that was never going to happen.

“I thought seeing you again would change things,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But now… I realize it doesn’t. We’re not the same people we were, Yuki. And I can’t keep pretending that we are.”

He reached out as if to comfort her, but she took a step back. She couldn’t bear his touch. Not now. Not when it was all too late.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice cracking with emotion. But it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

She looked at him one last time, memorizing the face of the boy she had loved, the boy who had broken her heart without even knowing it. “Goodbye, Yuki.”

Before he could say anything, she turned and walked away. This time, she didn’t run. She didn’t need to. Because she knew—deep down—that this was the real goodbye. Not just to Yuki, but to the hope she had carried for so long.

And as she disappeared into the crowd, Yuki stood there, watching her go, knowing that he had lost something he would never be able to get back.

#yuki ishikawa #ryujin nippon #volleyball #fanfic #ishikawa #japan volleyball team #au

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moonsaver · 5 months ago

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Good day, I just wanted to share with you some of my personal headcannons on the Care Package series (I’m too shy to post it myself). I’ll start with the first five stars we got in the Game:

Seele:

•The package is dark purple with a bright hot pink stripe, the most interesting feature is the purple butterfly clip on the side of the box.

•Seele doesn’t wait for anyone to open her box, she gladly explores on her own. She doesn’t like being held but she does love to clim on

•Beginner stage seele is rowdy and very wild, so she’s intended for extroverted and energetic caretakers. In the Beginning stage she has her [Hunt] skill which urges her to scavenge and look for things to bring back to her box, don’t be surprised if she brings back a dead mouse or cockroach. She’ll protect her treasures but with a little nudging she can, albeit reluctantly, throw away her things. She’ll also develop a little later in this stage the [Camp] skill to further improve not just her box but decorate at least a 15 cm meter area around it with any things she collects.

•Caretakers are heavily advised to strategically place small buttons or [Props] that come with the box in the Room where Seele is in to prevent her from going to far or bring any strange objects. After a week or two hunting she’ll go through her next stage

•Middle stage seele goes through her more scavenger era, she isn’t as wild anymore but is more incline to hunt with her skill evolving to [Hunt II] granting her a more stealthy approach, she’ll also develop the [Hide] skill making her more elusive. In addition she also want to train with the [Scythe Prop]. In this stage she’ll become and insist on being independent and will be more isolating than usual with her being inflicted with the [Lone Wolf] status so it’s recommended to spend time with her through make shift treasure hunts to prevent her from feeling lonely. Another advice if the caretaker is too busy is givee Seele a Bronya Companion which will not only speed up her stage advancement but will also prevent her from being afflicted with the [Lone Wolf] status. However be warned that Beginner Stage Seele amd Beginner Stage Bronya will fight and constantly bicker so its best to have both me Middle or Advanced Stage. Other companions that can achieve similar results include Silver Wolf and Trailblazer.

• If you ever have a hard time locating a hiding seele then just gently tap the butterfly on her box, this will cause the butterfly to glow signaling Seele to go back. Once Seele has return within close proximity of the box, the butterfly will stop glowing. Its best for the Caretaker to give Seele some food such as crab to increase affection levels as this moment is where Seele is at her most vulnerable.

•Once Seele enters the advanced stage her personality becomes more calm but still has that wild edge. She is more likely to stick around her shelter but will accompany her caretaker if she needed. She will also obtain her signature skills [Amidst the Sea of Butterflies] allowing her to enter stealth mode for a few seconds. In the advanced stage she can help caretakers locate and track things with her skills. In this advanced stage she can break up fights between other care packages and keep genera peace in the house. She can also be great puppy sitter as she can keep up with dogs energy. She also love’s outdoors and camping so its very helpful to bring her along during walks and camping trips as she can also set up using her [Camp II] skill.

•Overall Seele is a great companion to have but she is targeted to either to energetic kids or Outdoorsy adults. She can be a good beginner companion due to her independent nature.

Notes: What do you think? I hope I did well, your care package series has been running around my mind all week and I am eagerly anticipating the next the installment. I still have some ideas about other characters but this is my first one. I just love Seele cause she was actually my second five star DPS and carrier my butt through the mid game

Hi winter!! So sorry it took me a long time to answer this request. I love the headcannons so far!!

Seele is pretty great! I love her headstrong and rough-edged personality that doesn't pity but rather pushes people on instead. I think this care package headcannon pretty much rounds it up for her! I might aswell just tag your writing under her if i ever decide to write for belobog! Haha.

Nothing much else to say other than the writing is great! I appreciate these works in my inbox. I hope you can continue posting such works without growing shy in the future! I think it's neat!

#moonink #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr seele #honkai star rail seele

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btspeedfreaxx · 5 months ago

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youtube

I realize it’s been a while. I sincerely apologize. Life has just been so busy… and I think I speak on behalf of all my BT/DZ brethren, sisteren and non-binary friends when I say that it truly hasn’t been the same without either Acchan and Issay in this world.

How has it already been a year-?! Today especially has been very very rough. However much I have healed since perhaps one of the 2 worst days of my life… here today it feels like all that grief, loss and regret came flooding back to me. Like it just happened. Yet in the blink of an eye, it’s now been a full year since we lost Issay.💔 just the mere thought of that makes me want to cry… yet I’ve out poured so many tears over him… that it’s to the point where it psychically hurts today. Nothing comes out, And yet they don’t stop. Ever since that day, I’ve never stopped thinking about him. Or Acchan. Both are forever my eternal heroes.♾️🥹

It’s thanks to Atsushi that Issay saved my life. I’d known about his existence for quite some time, but never payed much attention to him. Until the last stretch of 2021, stretched into the start of 2022.

**Trigger warning folks- I want to tell my story… but this gets dark. So if you want to skip ahead, I completely understand. But in short form… I’d somehow managed to crawl out of the abyss from a 4 year battle with addiction that almost k!lled me. I don’t want to go into details- but during that time I did many awful things. To my family who were just trying to help; to the few friends from highschool that I managed to keep with me, who I then pushed away. When I realized what I had done, I found myself in an abyss, even darker than the last. It was extremely lonely- I felt so numb, isolated, and distant from the world. Like I was floating. I almost didn’t make it.

But within this abyss, I got to know Issay. And I fell head over heels in love with this endlessly fascinating and charismatic man, who was so Unapologetic about who he was, and seemed to share so much in common with my own self. So much of our views on life were the same. Reading about his story… about how he came to write Matsu Uta. It’s amazing how an artist who doesn’t even know you exist can strike you where you feel it most- for somehow his lyrics for Matsu Uta spoke exactly to how I felt in that time. I’d found a new saviour. Which is why I chose to sing Matsu Uta above.⏫ it made me realize that I wasn’t alone. That I wasn’t a burden to my parents or anyone.

“I’ve been here since some time ago

Staying here, sleeping in a standstill

People pass me by

The wind passes me by too

Dreams?　Despair?　Or is it hope?

I wait for you…

I’m just waiting for you

A plethora of times pass me by

A plethora of dreams pass me by

Flickering shadows keep dancing

While I simply stand defenseless

I just want to stand here and wait

I wait for you…

I’m just waiting for you”

(*lyrics translated by Yoshiyuki and taken from their site ;p),

It’s because of that song, because of Issay that I saw a light. And it kept me going, bit by bit. One small baby step at a time. And even when I stumbled back- I now had both he and Acchan’s bodies of art and music to catch my fall, and to comfort my wounds whenever I needed solace. Had it not been for either of these bands, especially Der Zibet at that time, I would not be here today.

Acchan and Issay didn’t just save my life, through them they changed my life, and transformed me into a far better person than I was back then. even after their psychical passings- I feel I still continue to learn more and transcend my inner self, through their legacies of which I swore to carry out, and through every single fan/person who knew them personally. Who continue to do nothing but outpour in love and praise for the 2 of them. For how genuinely compassionate and caring about the world they were. Their “love story” truly opened my eyes towards my own views on life, love and what it could mean.

So Acchan, Issay… if you are somehow reading this. From the bottom of my heart- since I’ll never have the chance sadly to say this to you both in real life. Thank you, so much. 🥹🌸🖤🦇🥀✨♾️ I hope and pray wherever it is you 2 are. You’re at peace. And you are where music and love are up there.

In the meantime, with whatever time I may have left here on earth- I vow that I will never ever shut up. About either of you. 🖤 I love and miss you both so much.♾️🥹 forever and always.

🌈✨ see you over the rainbow someday. Thank you all for reading. Please take care… cherish all that you love. And live life to the fullest that you can.

🦇🥀 rest in power my beloved count. A forever legend to me. Always. https://youtu.be/DY0rVs3pT9A?si=ccO-KWJ-rLJsvZUV

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#der zibet #derzibet #issay #in loving memory #buck tick #vkei #rip king #i miss him #😞💔#sakurai atsushi #atsushi sakurai #visual kei #Youtube

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bluegekk0 · 5 months ago

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question 18 for anyone (or even everyone)

18. Who/what comforts your character?

Vyrm - I think the answer for "who" is obvious. The two are extremely close and depend on each other for comfort and just about anything (to the point it can be considered unhealthy). Vyrm has always had the tendency to shut himself off and hide whenever he feels terrible, and after getting together with Grimm, a lot of that instinct turned into him crawling towards Grimm for comfort. Which means that, whenever Grimm is unavailable for whatever reason, Vyrm certainly struggles. For the first few years of their relationship it was a big problem, he would hide from everyone and feel even more stressed that Grimm wasn't there to comfort him. But over time he found other ways to cope. The cloak Grimm gave him for his birthday is a big comfort item for him, so hugging it like it's a blanket is a good way for him to deal with his emotions and relax. And if he feels a bit stronger and simply just needs to distract himself from negative emotions, he goes to his workshop and spends his time there listening to quiet tunes, having a tasty snack from time to time.

Grimm - mirroring what I said above, Vyrm is the person he goes to if he needs comforting. Generally, it's more often thay he's the one offering comfort, but sometimes his emotions get the better of him, or he's simply just exhausted after a long day, and in those moments he appreciates Vyrm's embrace and a reminder that he's doing well. Otherwise, just like Vyrm, he seeks comfort in his work. Performance rehearsals, supervising preparations within the Troupe, checking on Divine and her crew to see the new costumes she's working on, basically anything that can keep his mind busy while he's dealing with his emotions. Back in the day, during Vyrm's absence, he was in a terrible mental state and would frequently isolate himself and reach for alcohol as a way to cope, but it's something he quickly sorted out as soon as Vyrm returned. He does still enjoy some wine or mead from time to time, but only during celebrations or casually, not as a form of distraction or coping.

Hornet - I probably won't go too in as much detail about the others but I thought I'd still mention something. Hornet doesn't immediately seek affection as a form of comfort, so she tends to disappear in her room. Instead of finding comfort in others, she focuses on something mundane to keep her mind off of things, like maintaining her needle and tools.

Holly - they find the attention of others to be very comforting, so whenever they need a hug or soothing words, they seek Vyrm or Grimm (or even Hornet, though she's not the best at comforting). It's not rare that either of them wakes up from a nap only to see Holly resting their head next to them, as they didn't want to wake them up. If that's not possible, then they try to find comfort in drawing, sewing or taking care of plants. They have a small garden behind the house that they like to tend to, so if you can't find them anywhere, that's usually the best place to check.

Zote - he claims he doesn't need comforting and that hugs are for babies, but in reality he very much needs it. He's obviously never going to ask for advice, let alone comforting words, so instead he just hangs out with Holly as a form of distraction. They're not very interesting to watch, but their calm presence helps a lot. Plus I think it's very heartwarming that they have such a positive effect on him.

Lewk, Asta and Milo - mentioning them all at once cause I would just be repeating myself otherwise. Their parents are their biggest source of comfort, whenever they're sad they cling to Vyrm or Grimm for hugs and soothing words. In Milo's case, as he's particularly sensitive, his Tiktik plushie offers him a lot of comfort whenever his dads are absent. On top of that, the kids also comfort one another - for example, if Lewk notices that the twins need hugs, he will cuddle next to them to offer them warmth, which they find very comforting. Consequently, Asta does the same with Milo, and he tries to return it, albeit in a very awkward manner.

#ask stuff #feral pk au #fpk #vyrm #grimm #hornet #holly #zote #lewk #asta #milo #ask game

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brokenmusicboxwolfe · 7 months ago

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The other day I wanted to show someone a photo of something on my camera. This involved clicking through a LOT of pics.

On seeing some of my sculpted faces… “What do you DO with them?” Well, I sculpt them like doodles, take pics to post on Tumblr (and have a record if they break) during breakfast, and then wrap them in tissue before throwing them into a storage container. When the storage container is full I start another, but they never come out again….

I mean, what could I do? Little faces sculpted with little care, no work space or money to buy materials for casting or adding them to anything, and too fragile for a lot of handling.

I sculpt them because my fingers need to sculpt. I sculpt because it’s a quick and easy way to have made something at the end of the day. I sculpt to hold the hollowness of my existence at bay. The act of sculpting and having sculpted is all that matters. Turning them, reducing them really, into a product never crosses my mind!

On seeing my photos of the woods… “You need to make Tik Tok videos of them! People make a LOT of money on there and your photos are so good!”

Well, first, most people on Tik Tok probably don’t make any money at all. And the ones that get rich are the equivalent of community theater actors becoming movie stars. They are rare.

Secondly, TikTok means videos. I don’t even make video things I want to record (ex. those otters chatting and playing) because my very old tech is so rickety and out of memory. I can’t fit a video on my computer, and I can’t edit it. Plus my internet is so poor I doubt I can upload videos if I wanted to.

Thirdly, as far as I can tell without being on TikTok, it involves a lot of people filming themselves. I can NOT put my ugly face and hideous voice online as it might be considered a crime against humanity!

Look, there isn’t enough me for MORE social media. Just posting on Tumblr is getting to be almost too much for me. It has been YEARS since I posted on Facebook (hate it! That place does my brain in). I keep meaning to do something with my Ko-Fi, but I can’t even get around to adding more pics. I’d never have the time or energy for TikTok!

I get it though. I have heard it before. Someone once said there was “No excuse” for someone so “talented” (HA! That’s a joke!) not making money. They think it’s just a matter of throwing things out there and the world will flock to you.

It isn’t like that. Even if I were as talented as they assume, it would take at the very least a huge investment of time and energy I don’t have. I got soooo envious of a sculptor at a comic con who told me how her husband takes care of the business so she can make art. Not everyone has someone to help them. Mostly though, success is simply a matter of luck!

But there people go, letting you know that anything you do that doesn’t make money is a waste. It’s proof you aren’t trying hard enough.

There are people creating masterpieces out there that will die in poverty, but their making things is NOT a waste of time! It’s not a waste of time to make things that make you happy, even if you never make a damn penny! If your life is better for it, that’s enough!

And here I am, working my ass off to survive, living in isolation and wearing myself away, even cutting back on my own food to save money (grocery shopping once a month now…oh, joy!), and yet I am made to feel guilty for spending a couple hours at night sculpting or taking pictures during my increasingly rare and short walks in the woods. How dare I make myself smile instead of falling down dead chasing hypothetical dollars???

I’m barely sculpting anymore. I’m struggling to get to the woods at all. I’m so worn out I’m having trouble even finding these things fun anymore, and now I’m supposed to add guilt and shame because I’m not making a profit?

It’s like if you live in a desert but have a spring on your property. The stream is drying out, but you need it to survive. And someone rolls up saying, “Hey! You need food, so why haven’t you sold your water rights?? I’m being helpful here, but you just aren’t trying!”

People always assume I’m sitting on a gold mine I’m just too lazy or stupid to exploit. It makes me angry. And tired.

#my day #rambles #venting #creating #making #making art #poverty

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unicornachos · 9 hours ago

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Just some life updates & long ass random journalling

Saw multiple posts across social media over the break about ppl who need their routine and I'm the complete opposite. Truly thrive without routine. Never get bored. A++ marks in chilling skills. Could chill for the rest of my life and never need to go back to a routine

There's so much to do in life that's not work... I don't even think about work when I'm on leave bc I instantly enter my little world of food and books and art and films and fandom and watching video game playthroughs and nature appreciation (what I can get these days anyway given my severe mobility limitations bc of chronic pain). It's so easy to drift away from the real world and coming back is jarring and hard and a bit depressing :(

My therapy to better manage unhelpful thoughts over the past 2 years seems to be working tho bc I pulled myself out of my spiral today by journalling about it 🤙🏻 That was easier than usual bc I was in contract hell for the past 1.5 yrs, but last month I had to go through a deeply horrendous & stressful process of re-applying & re-interviewing for my own job to be made permanent (govt job bullshittery) that I had no guarantee of getting. But I got it and now I'll get a pay rise! It's scary bc more responsibility and more work which is not great for my attempts at recovery. But at the same time permanent job means I can have some sense of financial security, which is HUGE for me given all my health troubles and my uncertain future. I have no idea if I'll ever get better and so any sense of certainty I can have in anything in my life feels like a lifeline.

Oh speaking of therapy. I'm gonna try working with a new lady this year (in addition to reg psych) who is not a psych or medical professional but does pain reprocessing therapy. It doesn't sound very legit but I had a quick meeting with her a few weeks ago and we bonded over the uselessness of the medical system and she seems calm and someone who will listen to me and adjust based on what she thinks might work best for me. Idk if it will work or whether I'll be disciplined enough or capable of forging any new neural pathways away from the pain ones, seeing we still think I could have nerve damage or some other weird shit going on that we don't understand causing the pain, but I'm gonna give it a go 💪🏻 I'm gonna book regular appointments with her (while still trying to work a busy full-time job sighs) for a few months and just see what she's like to work with. I have nothing to lose by trying!

Other than that... What else. I made art last year despite it being a really hard year of stress and stagnation with my health. I got obsessed with JayVik. I started reading Realm of the Elderlings and I'm even More obsessed with that and 11 books in and liveblogging it all over at @unicornachos2. I made a Bluesky for my personal acct (unicornachos as usual) and one for my art (lesovyart also as usual).

I made a spoonie group chat which gives me a lot of support but also gives me the satisfaction of being able to support others, too. I stopped trying to reach out to a lot of people in my old city who don't reach out to me nor seem to care about keeping me safe. I celebrated my 30th birthday in October with people who respect my need to protect mine (and each other's) health, who were willing to isolate before visiting or mask during.

I made new work friends and even though some of them are leaving bc of the upheaval with our roles I think I'll still stay in contact with them a lot. And they all respect my need to keep safe from covid and other stuff too. Some of them came to visit me in winter for an outdoor picnic in my suburb and they brought me vegan pastries :')

I have really sad days where the loss of my mobility and personal freedom makes me cry in honestly bottomless grief. I get a horrible aching in my chest if I think about it all too much. They don't come as often as they used to bc I have a lot going on in my life and I have good things to distract me, but the grief and uncertainty for my future is still there.

I think the grief has made me weirdly less susceptible to other forms of it. Or things that would usually trigger stronger sadness in me now don't. Before I'd tear up at the slightest sad thing- in life, in a tv show, movie, whatever. We lost a family friend this year and I didn't shed a tear, and I know I usually would have. I've always fully felt my emotions, processed them, let them move through me and out. But it's like... The pain of what I've lost is so monumental that other losses or sadnesses don't feel as... close to me. I feel a slight distance from them. I don't know if I like that because it doesn't feel like me and who I've always been, and been proud of being. But I think my brain is trying to protect me and so I feel... neutral about it I think. It's doing what it has to, to help me get through.

OH and finally, we're switching gears completely LOL, I've decided that I'm gonna buy myself a switch when the new one comes out (supposedly) in March. I can't play PC games anymore bc I have to be horizontal 95% of the time, and there's no comfy way to arrange my setup at home to accommodate this. So I've been watching playthroughs of stuff instead. But I think I deserve a reward for getting through last year and getting a permanent job! So I'm gonna get a switch and then I'm gonna play the fuck out of tales of the shire as soon as it comes out and run around foraging mushrooms and baking pies and growing plants etc.

Finally, ig I'll spill everything here bc why not. I've been thinking lately I'd like to try and date but I have NO idea how to make that happen. I feel like my life is so busy and chaotic and uncertain and I can't get anywhere myself and can't travel very far for very long. And my emotional availability is questionable, lol. But I just kinda wish I had A Person™ or A Partner™ to rely on and be interested in and to have a crush on someone again. I miss flirting!!!!! I miss dating!!!!!! I miss going out for drinks in the city and going on walks and going to gigs and queer events... I can't do any of that now. It's been a rly long time since I've had that bc the last few years have been so hard. And my life is so full of... Full-time work and enjoying my hobbies while I can and trying to take care of myself and do my meditations and manage my pain and mental health with zero medications and my completely fucked sleep. And I think about where my symptoms are at and I have no idea if they'll ever get better. At the start of 2024 I got even worse and then just plateaued. But I'd like for things to improve, even slightly, if possible, before I would even feel ok and not guilty with trying to make something like that happen. I've always just felt like I know there's a person out there who's perfect for me and I have a very clear picture of the kind of person that would be, but I have to go out and find them somehow. And I know it'll be hard probably bc I'm so weird and particular. And I wonder if an able-bodied person would become frustrated with how little options I have for where I can go and what I can do, but I don't see how I could go on dates unless I did date someone who can physically do all those things. It also doesn't help that I'm extremely picky lmfao. So ig I'll just keep it in the back of my mind for now and see how the next few months go.

That's my brain dump into the ether of Tumblr for the night!!!!!!!! I have my first day back at work tmrw but I don't regret staying up and writing all this out tbh

#personal #chronic pain #chronic illness

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kquil · 8 days ago

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Hey pookie kquil, I hope you had a great time during the holidays! How’s your health been? I’ve been quite busy during the holidays myself, so I didn’t get the time to send a review on chapter 7 of DOB but I finally got the chance woohoo! (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

here it is:

Remus will always be grateful for their efforts and unwavering love for him but the situation is bleak. It’s hard to escape the nasty whispers and unsavoury gossip that go around about his kind — not that he wanted to be a werewolf in the first place…

Remus, I shall avenge you <(ꐦㅍ _ㅍ)> *creates a portal and pretends to be a deity that specifically punishes those who speak awfully of lycanthropes by associating the victims with predators like greyback. MATTER OF FACT GREYBACK IS GON GET THROWN INTO AN ISOLATED, SENSORY-DEPRIVED CELL IN FULL MANACLED FASHION THAT HERMIONE ENDURED (just in case you don’t know it’s a fanfic on ao3—going to be removed soon)*

He’s lucky enough to be accepted into the greatest wizarding school in Britain by Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore is full of surprises that could vary on the scale of positivity. This is a 10/10 ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

Everything was taken care of and Remus, in his relief, was free to feel the excitement of every other student invited to attend Hogwarts.

I hope anyone with a disability or chronic illness or a similar situation is able to enjoy free education like Remus could with the care and encouragement they need.

Their friendship was fairly new but there was already a brotherhood there that was undeniable and hard to suppress.

I love friendships AHHHHHHHHHHH

He wonders why their ‘private’ conversation was being done in the eyes of so many other people, when she first approached him for a quick but discreet talk, he expected her to take him someplace private too but that wasn’t the case.

This made me laugh so hard. Why is it that adults often make this mistake like?! "( – ⌓ – )

“…I don’t feel good. I never feel good,” he bites his lip in an attempt to keep his shaky voice steady and looks to the ground to disguise his watery eyes.

The laughter disappeared and nowy eyes are clouded with teary, only tiktok has ever made me both laugh and cry within a few seconds (and maybe a few other books…)

James and Sirius were strong protestors, blocking his way when he tried to swiftly slip away……Remus continued to hear his friend’s protests even through the door he softly closed shut behind him and began his search for the school matron.

James listening to Peter and holding back Sirius after the both of them were protesting is so funny. Sirius probably protested harder and furiously glared at the both of them as James held him back.

Meeting Madam Pomfrey for the first time was nerve-wracking. Remus had made a point of seeking her out on their first-day tour of Hogwarts…….He will remember that day, her acceptance, forever; he believed only his parents had the capacity to care for a monster like him but she refuted that without a single word.

Baby Remus realising there’s someone else who accepts him as he is and treating him so gently makes me wanna bawl my eyes out. THATS A CHILD HOW CAN ONE HATE ON A CHILD SUFFERING WITH LYCANTHROPY??

“I apologise for its sorry state, Remus” Pomfrey sighs in disappointment, her frown remaining despite his words of assurance.

Thank you for including the awful state of the shack Remus had to face alone at the beginning of Hogwarts. We often overlook how scary it must have been.

“It’s okay, really,” Remus musters a small smile and assures her again, unaware of how he makes her heart clench painfully…..Lyall Lupin will regret that fateful day until his last breath. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t blame himself for his son’s mistreatment and lycanthropy.

I absolutely love how you treat the side characters in your series. Usually they’re overlooked or not much is said about them, BUT I AM ABSOLUTELY LOVING THE WAY YOU WRITE THEM! I love Madame Pomfrey’s nature, and Lyall blaming himself for his son’s condition is heartbreaking. Remus thoughts of himself are just as heartbreaking AHH (╥﹏╥)

“Are you sure I won’t be able to hurt anyone in here?” Remus asks before Pomfrey can say much else. And, again, the matron is astounded at the child’s strong character……Outside the willow comes to life again, swaying against the push of the wind and sensitive to the presence of unwanted strangers.

We listen and we don’t judge:

I’m going to imagine myself as Madame Pomfrey too 🧍‍♀️

…..Like some sort of haunted picture, the full moon hangs suspended in the night sky, laying claim to its dominance over the vast expanse of space, outshining the stars and ousting all clouds that still linger. It glowed like the many poltergeists that roam Hogwarts’ halls but the moon’s presence was incomparably menacing.

idk how to explain it but the way you described the night sky was hauntingly beautiful and built a sense of dread at the same time

��I like your thinking, James old chap!” Sirius jests and slips beneath the invisibility cloak with him.

This type of lingo used by kids is so funny to me

He enjoys having friends of the same age and not being weighed down by responsibilities or a pressing urge to protect them

perfectly described an older sibling’s life

“Damn it, I think it was left after all,” James curses and steers all three of them back the way they came…“Yeah but, next time, we should go where I say first,” Sirius cheekily comments, getting a light shove from Peter and chuckles lightly.

Love this dialogue shared between them

“Making sure I don’t get behind on work and doing them in the hospital wing,” their jaws drop at his level of studiousness, “yeah, I asked Madam Pomfrey to get the assigned work from classes so I can do them without getting behind,”

I think I just got convicted by a child. Time to turn into an academic weapon or whatever it was called

Your baby flushed a soft pink and immediately moved the topic forward, making you giggle. He’s such an upright gentleman, trying to keep the subject off unsavoury matters, especially over the dinner table. Conversation flows naturally and there are brief pauses where you both focus on your plates, providing the perfect opportunity for your mind to wander.

I laughed so hard and regulus is such a cutie stop, I want to shower him in love and pinch his cheeks!

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

…The relationship between you was much better now, brighter and warmer, it hurts too much to think of the past and it would be best to only look forward from here.

AHH WALBURGA NEEDS TO GET BONKED ⁽⁽(੭ꐦ •̀Д•́ )੭*⁾⁾ also Regulus’ little heart

Later that night, you ask Kreacher for more information. The topic clearly made Regulus uncomfortable and you didn’t want him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, which is why you didn’t ask any further questions, especially at the dinner table where the atmosphere should be lighter. Hopefully, you can fully dismiss all tensions from dinner when you tuck him into bed later on.

I love it when adults are considerate of children’s feelings, even though it’s the bare minimum—you just don’t see it often you know? (∗˃̶ ᵕ ˂̶∗)

“Yes, I was wondering if the house had any secret rooms, perhaps down the hall from the library,” Kreacher gives you a sceptical look, one that was doused with suspicions you immediately set about diffusing,…Kreacher takes a moment to catch his breath and flush away his anxiety before answering, “Ladies of the noble and most ancient house of Black were the only ones, Mistress, they be the only ones allowed into the parlour,”

I’m glad to see Kreacher’s character development. Besides him being loyal to the Black Matriarch, his attitude seems to be better towards both of the black sons and not just regulus. That says a lot about how much the reader has had an impact in their home. Over the past few chapters he has really grown!! His anxious personality still remains, but he seems to have been doing better due to Reader’s care. It also seems like Walburga trusted him quite a lot since he’s aware of such a secret.

‘YOU WORTHLESS, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING MUGGLE!’ Walburga shrieks in her offence, triggering yet another skull-fracturing migraine, ‘YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO GO SEARCHING FOR THE PARLOUR! SOMEONE LIKE YOU IS NOT ALLOWED! I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE YOU WERE ABLE TO SEE THE INK! NOBODY SEES THE INK BUT ME!’

I wonder what you’re cooking pookie ( ≖‿ ≖ )

…When you finally look down to see the source, your face blooms into a warm smile and you have to keep yourself from cooing aloud. Cuddled up into your side was Regulus. He lay atop the blankets with another blanket to keep him warm….

STOP IM COOING AWW (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

“Mistress must drink her healing potion, now,” Kreacher urges in a slightly shaking voice. You hesitate, “for Kreacher? Please?” at that, you finally drink the potion you hate so much, muttering a vow to never drink something so disgusting again…He was taught this alongside the two young masters after your great fainting spell and change in demeanour. Kreacher learns a lot of new things from his Mistress every day and he finds that he enjoys it a lot. Unlike his Master Orion…

PLEASE I LOVE THEIR RELATIONSHIP SO MUCH. Their relationship is so sweet!! The way reader handles Kreacher’s panicking and outbursts is so AHSISKDJDJ (๑'ᵕ'๑)⸝*♡

Pink in the cheeks, Regulus shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s okay…everyone deserves kindness, right Mother?” his words were from one of the last lessons you had given the brothers before Sirius had to leave for his first year and now, although Orion is the least deserving person, you’re still so proud of your baby for remembering your wisdom.

the way both Sirius and regulus seem to remember her wisdom and lessons ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡

Opening the letter, you begin to read dismissively but your eagerness spikes when your wandering eyes glimpse the signed name at the bottom: Alphard Black.

OOOOOOOOOOO ( • ̀ω•́ )✧

It was a comforting thought, somewhat, that there was a sisterhood amongst the family. It makes you wonder how long the tradition has been taking place. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely for ill-intentioned meetings for dark magic. The optimistic part of you imagines the women of the Black family aching for a private room away from the men in their lives just to share a cup of tea and relax. Maybe meetings were held in contented silence, relishing in the calm and savouring the safety of the cliquish room.

love this thought (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

…It all ends with an image of a heavy truck barrelling straight towards you and then you’re consumed by darkness.

ma’am I—did I just get hit by a truck AGAIN? Okay so clearly you’re cooking something and we are barely able to identify the smell.

Did Walburga accidentally opened some multiverse portal and reader dropped in? And if that’s the case…why is she stuck in her head? Are there two souls in one body or one soul and two minds? Or smth like that— WHAAAAA

ALSO we love your over 10k chapters (at least I do 🙂‍↕️)

YOUVE LEFT ME WITH MORE QUESTIONS NOW MISS KQUIL HAHAHA

-🌸

My love! Thank you so much, I had a wonderful time this holiday season, and I hope you did too ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ and health-wise, I’m doing good! No seasonal cold here~ I hope you’re also doing well — you’re such a sweetheart for doing that despite the busy holiday season, thank you so much, my love, your messages always make me so happy ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

Much avenging will be happening for Remus in this series, my love, there's no need to worry (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝) I will make sure our Reader/MC will take care of everything — this will also include Greyback! ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ

Yes, yes he can and I’m taking full advantage of that — I just don’t appreciate his switch-up when it comes to prophecies (¬⤙¬ )

Very true, I honestly cannot fathom that that isn’t the norm ( ,,⩌'︿'⩌,,)

FRIENDSHIPS FOR THE WIN!!! ✧。٩(ˊᗜˋ)و✧*。

RIGHT?! I swear they have no awareness when it comes to those sorts of things; yeah, for sure, let’s air out my ‘private’ business in front of everyone ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა

I will take that as a compliment, though I am sorry I made you teary-eyed, my darling, you don’t deserve to get upset — the fact that you got upset for Remus though only shows how big your heart is, and it makes me appreciate you more (づ> v <)づ♡

Lol James’ switch-up was only because he knew he could sneak out to find Remus with his secret weapon: the invisibility cloak (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑)

Baby Remus needed to have that realisation and I’m making sure Madam Pomfrey and the Marauders make sure he never forgets it! ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)

God! If it was up to me, that dilapidated Shack would become a cosy-ass cottage/boy den for the Marauders!… (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵) Oh Yeah! It IS up to me hehe~

Awww~ Thank you so much for the appreciation, my darling! I promise to continue doing my best at doing these minor characters justice! Madam Pomfrey, Lyall and Hope Lupin, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know, will soon become as prominent as Damocles and Ruth Belby ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻) (Fleamont and Euphemia too~ \(^ω^\ )) God, I’m so excited to write for so many other minor characters too!

You are so valid for that, my love! ( ≧ᗜ≦) Feel free to imagine yourself as anyone you want! No judgement here!

Good good, that’s exactly how I wanted you to feel about the full moon, I’m making sure Remus’ screams are going pull everyone else into the same horror and dread he feels every full moon! (っ˃̣̣̥ -˂̣̣̥ς)

I find it hilarious too! I just HAD to make Sirius talk like that hehe~

Older siblings deserve more credit, and I say this as a younger sibling

Dialogue is something I’m always very nervous about but I’m so happy you enjoy what I end up writing, it’s such a relief! (ㅅ´ ˘ `) ♡

Lol Remus has that effect on all of us — And I believe in you wholeheartedly, my love! You’ve got this! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ You’ll be the most powerful academic weapon ever!

And THIS is why I love writing Regulus getting the childhood love and care he deserves! He’s such a cutie and deserves to be appreciated as such! I love cold, stoic Regulus but I love him like this too! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)

Walburga will get her comeuppance soon enough, my love! I promise!

I appreciate that too! I really want to be a mother one day, so writing good adult characters is my way of getting a little practice in (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

Kreacher’s character development is something I didn’t know I would enjoy writing so much so I’m happy you’re rooting for him too — I love him as a grumpy elf but he can do without the bigotry and deserves to be treasured the way Regulus treasured him by more people

hehe~ I’m cooking a lot of things, my love, and I promise it will taste delicious when things eventually come out! (๑>؂•̀๑)

Baby Reggie is too precious! Even I’m cooing as I write for him!

Yes! I love Reader and Kreacher’s relationship too! I really didn’t know I would enjoy writing about their development so much but I’m so happy it flourished the way it did!

Reader/MC is just an amazing mother, what can I say? She’s the mother they deserve, naturally, they heed her words! (๑>◡<๑)

NEW CHARACTER UNLOCKED! I can’t wait to write him too! ヾ(｡✪ω✪｡)ｼ

I love writing about sisterhoods and all sorts of unities like this, even for a bigoted family like the Black Family

I’m cooking multiple things at once and all will be served/revealed in due time and all your questions will be answered! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ And thanks for letting me know, I’ll see if I can make that a benchmark for chapters

Thank you so much, once again, for taking the time to give such a fun and thoughtful review! I will never get tired of reading your comments and thoughts on the happenings! Mwah mwah mwah! I adore you! ( ˶˘ ³˘(ˊᗜˋ*)!♡

#☁︎ : kquil talks #dob series : review #DOB chapter 7 #🌸 : anon #my darling!#thank you once again!#I appreciate you so much!

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