#sometimes i feel like my mom will bring up reminders until she finds something she can correct me on

[plounce]

everyone shut UPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[tartarusknight]

Steve had this habit, a habit which most of the party were annoyed by. They understood it, God did they understand. But after everything was over and the Upside Down was gone for good, it kept happening. Months and months of daily calls. Just Steve checking in and asking them about their day.

Mike hadn't understood why he was on the list of names Steve would call, but if he didn't pick up the phone, there would be a knock on the door within the hour. And Steve, sometimes followed by Robin, would stop by like he was that important to them. Once, it had been on their way to work, and Steve had only locked eyes with him and raised an eyebrow. Mike just flipped him off and continued reading his comic.

Dustin had told him it was Steve's way of coping, and Lucas had turned the calls into workouts with the older teen. Will had just gone a little red and nodded along. El smiled and told Mike about the tips for hair care she got. Max just rolled her eyes and said that Steve had taken to stopping by with food most days.

Steve would be there. He was always there. It was annoying, but it was a constant. Maybe that's why Mike laid awake as the clock ticked closer and closer to midnight. Normally, he could fall asleep within minutes, a habit he had inherited from his dad. But he could bring himself to sleep as his phone didn't ring. As the walkie stayed silent. As the door remained untouched, no knock to be heard.

And it was stupid. Because Mike didn't want Steve to call him every day just to ask him if he was okay. It made him feel like a kid. It reminded Mike of his mom, but even his mom wasn't that bad. No, no one really did that for Mike. No one checked in day after day even as he remained uncaring towards them. No one but Steve.

Until now...

Mike watched the clock as it passed midnight, and his stomach twisted into knots. Fear bubbled up, and he pictured Steve getting into a fight he couldn't walk away from. He pictured a car crash so great that Steve was unable to reach for the walkie he carried with him everywhere. He pictured the worst- the Upside Down still around. The demogorgon coming up and dragging Steve into that hellpit.

Mike was up and pulling on a warm sweatshirt before those images were fully formed. He crawled out his window and down the roof, not too unlike the way Steve had done to visit Nancy. It left him already out of breath by the time he climbed on his bike. But that didn't stop him. He pushed off the ground, biking as fast as he could towards Loch Nora.

The cold air hot his face, and the road seemed to go on forever, but Mike didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Not until Steve's place was in view.

Mike tossed his bike uncarringly onto the pavement before slamming his fist into the Harrington's nice door. He didn't let up. He couldn't as an image of Steve dead in his own pool floated in his mind.

However, then the door was opening. Steve stood there, looking like he hadn't been asleep either. A smear of white powder on his cheek and a hollowness in his eyes. But still, something eased in Mike the same time Steve lost some of that weight in his shoulders as well. "You- you didn't-" Mike started, still out of breath. "Call. Why didn't you- call?" He gasped and Steve looked at him with a weird expression.

"You- What?" Steve questioned, sounding lost.

Mike crossed his arms, "I- you can't just stop!" He gasped out, and Steve's brow furrowed.

"But you don't like it when I do? I annoy you," he tries to point out, and Mike huffs.

"God, of course you annoy me! You track our days more intensly than my mom, and you always make dumb jokes, and I hate that I find them funny! You always call when I'm in the middle of something, and you make it easy to stay on the phone! You are always there like some weird older brother that I never asked for!" Mike shouts and Steve's eyes are wide.

"You don't have to stay around or call, but you do! You do, and you actually care. Like when you call and ask me if I'm okay, it feels like you care, and I don't understand why! I don't get you! I didn't ask you to care about me, but even when you were dating Nancy, you cared! You took Holly and me to get ice cream even though Nancy had to study! You give me and my friends rides everywhere! You care!" Mike throws his hands up in the air.

He glares at the older teen, "You care so much that I stupidly care about you! I care enough to come and check on you because when you didn't call, all I could think was that you were like dead or something," Mike snaps and takes a step back. "But you're obviously fine so-" and he wants to run suddenly. To run from the way Steve's eyes are filled with tears or the stupid words he just told the older teen.

Steve runs a hand through his hair, tugging slightly. "Mike, I stopped because I didn't think you wanted me to. You always acted like I was your least favorite person in the world and I guess I just- I didn't feel like it was fair to force you to put up with me just because I can't handle not knowing if you were okay." Steve said, and it didn't sound like the normal Steve. He sounded tired and nervous. He sounded like someone had finally beaten him

Mike bites his lip and tastes salt like he had been crying. Or maybe he still was. He crosses his arms like he can shield himself from this conversation. "But now you don't care enough to keep calling?"

Steve rubbed his face, a sigh shaking his whole body as he did. "I still care, kid."

Mike scoffs, "You didn't call."

Steve drops his hands to his sides. "Just come inside. It's too late for you to bike home. I'll call your place and leave a message." Steve says, his voice sounding close to tears. Mike is stiff when he lets Steve pull him inside.

They are quiet as Steve guides him towards the kitchen. The kitchen that has music playing softly and smelling like a bake sale. He blinks as he steps into the room and spots cookies cooling on a rack and a pie stilling uncooked on the counter. The top crust is sitting on the counter next to it. There's a smell of something in the oven, and Mike states at all of it in confusion.

"I bake when I can't relax," Steve admits, and Mike glances over at him. "I still care, and I was trying to give you space. I was trying not to crowd you, so I just," and he waves his hand around the mess everywhere. The smear of white on his cheek now makes sense.

Mike hugged himself, "I don't- I don't mind the calls." He whispered, and it got a snort from Steve.

He looked over at Mike, "I kinda got that from your speech."

They stood there in silence for another moment before Steve moved to finish putting his pie together. "I know that we aren't close or anything. But I care, it's not just the Upside Down making me anxious, it's just that-" and Steve went quiet. "I went overboard, I get it. But now I just- I can't stop." He admits, and Mike hates how upset Steve sounds. How guilty he sounds.

"I fall asleep easier knowing that if someone wasn't okay, we'd know because of you. It's like you take all the stress from me just by being around." He says, and Steve's eyes are wide. "Maybe we just do a sound off every night so you don't have to play phone tag all day." He shrugs, and Steve wrinkles his nose.

"I don't really get how to use the walkie. Like Dustin tried to show me, but he got distracted and started talking about radio waves and well..." Steve mimed it going over his head.

Mike snorted to hide how much that terrified him. The thought of something bad happening and Steve not being able to respond. But he pushed it away as Steve looked at him as if waiting for Mike to tease him. "That's fair. We did modify them, so they worked better. It's not as simple as your average walkie. I can show you," he offered, and Steve's face split into a grin.

"Cool, want to help me finish this so I can put it in the fridge until tomorrow? Then you can teach me the ways," Steve says, going all dramatic, proving to Mike he'd been spending too much time with Eddie. Mike groaned but came over only for Steve to shove him to the sink to wash his hands.

Steve showed him what to do, and Mike was glad to have Steve around. Because sure Steve's habit was annoying, and sometimes it interfered with Mike's plans, but it was nice too. Steve was nice. And that was something Mike ever believed would happen. But as Steve joked that Mike should not become a baker, he was nice. Like the way Mike was nice to Holly or how Nancy was nice to him. He was part of the family, annoyingly nice habits and all.

[luthienne]

there's just something about the fact that sometimes we are genuinely given too much to bear and we think i cannot do this anymore i cannot bear this for even another minute for even another second and then we do. until either the circumstances change or we change how we react to them. and then we have to find the courage to do it again and again and again. and everyone you've ever met has had to experience this in some form because that's just living.

and the knowing that we can never go back to how it was before feels too heavy sometimes. like i can't swallow that sometimes. we drove to my dad's last fall because i couldn't bear my life. we went to go spend the day with him and then just didn't leave because i couldn't bear the thought of coming home and living my life; i couldn't bear the thought of facing the grief that slept there and kept me from sleeping, i couldn't bear the thought of starving in my kitchen and sobbing in my shower and watching my ceiling spin above me from where i wept on my couch.

over the next few weeks we accumulated belongings in my brother's childhood bedroom. mine has since been turned into the room where boxes of stuff live. so i cried myself to sleep in his bed. i sobbed in our childhood shower. i forced myself to eat in my dad's kitchen. i forced myself to practice in his living room. i wept on his couch. i stayed up all night staring at the dark sky through his windows.

i sat in the dark and wished i could go back countless times and i grieved for myself and i grieved for my mom and i grieved for the life i thought i was going to have that was gone now. and i started a gratitude journal like my therapist told me to because sometimes in very difficult moments i couldn't remember anything that made my life worth living anymore. i found no joy in anything. and i felt like time was running out on me and i was powerless in every way.

and it felt so unfair, like no matter what i did i just couldn't catch a break. like it didn't matter what i did.

my therapist asked me if i could remember the first time i ever had that terrible thought: what if this lasts forever, what if this feeling lasts forever. i was seventeen. trapped in my own body in someone else's bedroom, staring up at someone else’s ceiling painted blue with white clouds. wishing i could go back to before, when my body did the things i told it to do and didn't exist as a traitorous, useless creature separate from me and my wants. i'm still wishing that.

i know she wants me to challenge this terrible thought with the hard-won knowledge that that moment didn't last forever, and so this one won't either. and i try. i develop a routine and i try to follow it, to give myself a sense of normalcy and purpose: wake up, meditate, make a smoothie, journal, practice, go to work. my dad tells me the names of trees on our walks and points out his favorite leaves on the sidewalk. we wrap my mom in scarves and take her to the foothills. my beloved sits with me and holds my hands when i fall apart, and in the dark i sit with my body and remind myself that nothing lasts forever.

i am eating again, and sleeping. i am singing again. i am noticing how beautiful it is when the light catches on wings of birds in the sky and remembering how much i love the smell of the desert in the rain. i am reading, and watching old comfort shows that bring me comfort again.

i finally moved back home. and the grief is still there and i still can't bear the unbearable sadness sometimes. but also sometimes right before dusk the sun turns the mountains pale pink and the sky is soft slate above them and the light that comes through the windows feels impossibly warm and close like a physical presence. like i can almost touch it back. and then the air turns impossibly blue. like i am living inside of dusk and breathing dusk, inhaling blue and exhaling blue.

[cheruv-ii]

LuciBen/LoveBug HCs/Facts:Pt.3-Sillies

(Last part! This one won't be as lore based as the others and will mainly just be silly lil hcs/cute stuff-thank y'all for sticking around for my shenanigans 🙏)

-Ben's the lil spoon

-Ben isn't much of a hugger but he will always cling to Lucien when possible, whenever anyone questions him about it he just tells them Lucien's just "comfortable" to hold onto (not a lie tbh)

-Lucien has a service dog named Latte that absolutely adores Ben, like if she's "off work" then the second she senses Ben, she's BOOKING IT to him. S1 Ben would've been a little icked out (and scared) by a full-size Malamute coming at him, but Big Ben is always happy to give the big pup all his love

-Ben was nervous to come to Lucien's place at first since he lives on the sanctuary he works at, which means theres a lot more of a chance of running into dinos, but he does quickly learn the ones that he will run into are very chill and used to humans so now he can come over without being spooked

-Mia(Lucien's lil sister) is a mechanic and has done an ungodly amount of repairs on the Van, at this point, she's the only one Ben will let touch it

-Lucien and Ben share a pretty similar music taste, mostly because they're constantly introducing each other to new music, so long roadtrips are pretty chill when it comes to who gets the aux

-Whenever they go out and have to look at least somewhat put together, Lucien will put a tiny bit of eyeliner/mascara and lipgloss on Ben, at first Ben was iffy about it but he very quickly got used to it, and even carries around his own little pouch with chapstick, gloss, mascara and eyeliner in his dork pouch

-They absolutely do the little dorky couples' trends you'll see on tiktok (like the nail polish to match each other's eyes, those hug shirts where they paint each other's arms then hug, matching pjs, etc.)

-Neither will admit it, but they are hopeless romantics. Even small romantic gestures from the other will have them giggling n kicking their feet for days

-Lucien's main love language is acts of service, if Ben says he's been stressing about doing something Lucien will do it for him, if Lucien notices the trash/dishes are building up in Ben's dorm he'll take it out/do them for him. Sometimes, Ben won't notice until Lucien's already done it and left, but it always makes him smile.

-On the other hand, Ben's main love language is gift giving, little trinkets he finds that reminds him of Lucien, post it note doodles, plushies (Lucien adores plushies and will always love getting them), you name it. Lucien doesn't really buy many nice things for himself unless they're necessities, so it always feels nice to have someone that does love him enough to think he's worth the money/time spent on gifts.

-Ben does most of the cooking, Lucien knows how to cook but unless it's certain dishes or he's in a certain mood it just stresses him out, whereas Ben grew up cooking with his mom a lot since she was at work a lot and therefore dinner was most of the time they got to spend together, so he finds it actually helps with stress. The boot slop was a low point in his life that we do not talk about.

-Lucien will compliment Ben at whatever chance he can. His hair looks good that day? Compliment. He's cooking, and it smells good? Compliment. The sun hits him in a way that makes his eyes shine and his freckles pop? 100 compliments. Lucien just loves Ben and thinks he's perfect in everything he does, and he's going to let him know that. Ben always gets flustered no matter how many compliments he's gotten.

-If Ben has an essay or exam coming up, Lucien will always stop by to bring him food, make sure he's resting, etc.

-Ben is a notorious clothing thief, I feel like I've mentioned this before, but I am mentioning it again because of how much he does it, someone help Lucien he's running out of clothes.

-They'll spend hours cuddling and talking, nothing else, just taking in each other's presence. They've both "lost" each other at some point in their lives, so they know not to take these things for granted.

-They have inside jokes in ASL, the other camp fam know if they're signing at each other and trying to hide their giggles, then the joke is probably at their expense. Especially Kenji.

-Lucien gets "Love Zoomies" as Sammy calls it, where sometimes Ben will do something or just like- exist- that has Lucien doing laps in his head, stimming, just a huge burst of energy that usually contains him going on about how much he loves Ben while trying not to do a backflip

-Lucien looks like he'd be the scary dog but he is like- the biggest dork, literally and figuratively- especially when it comes to Ben, like I know I've stated it fifteen goddamn times but I genuinely do not think there are enough words for me to properly describe just how madly, insanely, hesd over heels in love with Ben Lucien is, like that is his soulmate, he would take the trauma of Jurassic World an infinite amount of times if it meant he got to love Ben every time.

-Ben has Lucien wrapped around his finger, if he wants something he doesn't even have to say it, Lucien knows and he's already doing it

-Lucien is a biker, and while Ben does very much find it hot, he is also terrified by the way that man drives. He will be a backpack if absolutely necessary, but he will nearly break Lucien's ribs every time with how hard he holds onto him

-Ben was never really a concert enjoyer, hurts his ears and theres just too many people, but after seeing how excited Lucien gets at concerts and how much fun he has, suddenly Ben is a huge concert person, as long as he's with Lucien.

-Lucien's favourite sound in the world is Ben's laugh, the way he squeaks at the end of it, or how if he's laughing hard enough he'll cover his mouth and just go silent, and you can only tell he's laughing because he's shaking and has tears in his eyes- it's just the greatest thing in the world to Lucien. There has been so many time Lucien has completely embarrassed himself, and if it was anyone else laughing he'd curl into a ball and die, but the fact that it was Ben laughing just made everything so worth it.

-Ben thinks Lucien somehow hates pteranodons more than he does, which is crazy, Lucien's whole shtick is that dinosaurs are just doing what they have to do to survive and they shouldn't be punished for it, but pteranodons are a completely different story, they are the wasps of the dino world, they are hell spawns and will be treated as such if they dare come near him. Man, wonder why he hates them sm 🤔

-Lucien is the type of bf to send Ben pictures/videos etc. Of two random things and just caption it "us"

[burst-of-brilliance]

Sitcom AU

Sort of thought of some things for how @sadsoftserve ocs would fit into the Sitcom AU along with some other thoughts. Keep in mind that stuff I'm about to say about Sadsoft's OCs only applies to this AU unless she says otherwise. Also she has full permission to end my life in the event I say something she doesn't like.

Sabrina is like Mera in the sense that her epithet negatively affects her in a much more purely comedic sense than trauma. A running gag would be Sabrina mentioning very bizarre nightmares that she has. Sylvie and Sabrina are both working on getting into good colleges and are sort of competing on who gets their acceptance letter first. Bonnie's mom is not in a coma, hooray! But Bonnie will still not hesitate to throw hands. Bonnie's dad is still in jail and is still a terrible person. I know I first said that sitcom AU kinda waters stuff down but even in sitcoms nothing is perfect. Parker lives with her parents but they still have a hard time handling her ADHD and often drop her off at Percy's house without warning. Percy doesn't mind, Ramsey does sometimes. Oh right, Ramsey and Percy are married. Yup 100% married and they kiss and stuff. Parker realizes this makes her and Bonnie cousins and is super excited about it. Bonnie is fine with it and accepts it in stride. Sabrina pretends that she doesn't feel sort of left out by this. Parker would randomly blurt stuff out like"You're better than my parents, you guys should have kids." and Sabrina and Bonnie would remind her that she can't just stay stuff like that. Eventually, Percy and Ramsey do end up having twin boys. The doctor somehow missed the second baby until Percy started popping him out. Their names are Booker and Patrick. Booker has red hair and blue eyes while Patrick is blonde with yellow eyes. Sadsoftserve has made art of the babies.

SadSoftServe has confirmed 

Ramsey has to deal with Parker AND Diane trying to take his babies. Diane spoils her great nephews excessively and has bought them many expensive gifts. "Oh, I have already paid for their college." "What do you mean you paid for their college, they are babies!?" Diane's bar would be a common location visited in the Sitcom AU. Diane would find Rick in a dumpster in the back, and bring him inside Then when she isn't looking Martin walks in, looks at Rick, and thinks "He could work at the toy store" Then when Diane turns around Rick is gone. The sitcom AU is the result of Zora using all of her stamina all at once and she permanently distorted the time-space continuum. Just joking! Zora is still the number one bounty hunter but she's not a terrorist at least. She's worked with Percy before. She still harasses Ramsey and has joked about practicing juggling using his babies. Ramsey and Percy do not find the joke funny.

[mommyofkittens]

A Court of Fallen Heroes: Chapter 6 - Decisions. Part I.

          An arabic quote I read months ago that stick with me so far said: " Some say its painful to forget someone, other say it's painful to wait for someone. But I say, the worst pain comes when you don't know wheather to wait or forget. "

          It made my body tremble with an unsettling feeling of chaos. My life was an untamed, catastrophic tornado since my parents threw me out of their house and suddenly, the situation went from bad to deadly when I got thrown here. It felt like I had a personal vendetta with life and the universal powers that controled us.

          I've been here, with Niven's family, for almost two weeks now, working and trying to be useful. Half of what i promised myself to wait before I find the courage to kill myself. Not much changed, I just grew used to the wound I had in my sould. I had no new horizon, no signs from the deity that brought me here, no shooting star to make a wish upon. Nothing. Only my pathetic body to count on.

          My old lifestyle was just a reminder of what I never cherished when I had the time.

          So I took what I had at this moment, considered the time I had left as well, and made the best of it so far.

          Every morning I woke up around 5 a.m., disturbed by my dreams. The potion Nimue gave me helped me grab with force some shattered pieces of my previous mind. I can remember faces better, my old university and one single name: Nadia. The girl I talked lastly on the phone before I got pushed here.

          Altough the medicine had some good parts, it had repercusions as well. While I gained more knowledge about my past, I forgot other dear to my heart details: my father's eyes, my mother's voice, the smell of my cat's hair.

          There were moments of clearence, when I watched the crystal empire of the skies and a fugitive image of my dad's irises runned through my head. Other times, I listened to Cynthia's soft voice while she hummed a sad rythm, and tears stung my eyes as I recalled my mom. When Misty was around and climbed on my dress to find her spot next to my chest, underneath my clothes so she could get warm, I used to sniff her furr and close my eyes so I can picture Icarus's joyful personality. I grabbed with my nails whatever small detail mended my bloodied heart. 

          But those where passing moments, fast as time itself and they were rare and prone to be forgotten easily.

          Sometimes I even had this feeling that maybe I can't go back because my life there was finished. I had no purpose anymore, nothing to give and nothing to receive. Other times, I hopped I was more useful here, working for money, feeding the animals, helping the people from Thaibar as best as I could.

          But feeding the pigs and cleaning Nimue's desk wasn't something I felt blessed about, either. I wanted more. It was hard to believe that everything was a damn coincidence. I fell into a book, for god's sake, one full of magic, of adventure, of wars and a little romance. I had to do something for this universe.

          I bought some other clothes as well, at Nimue's request to stop looking like a homeless cowgirl, and learned to style my hair in braided buns, so I could hide its colour better from curious eyes. Everyone warned me about my looks several times, and I grew a little conscious about my complexion. Not to mention the three rosy digits, forever imprinted on my cheek. A parting gift from the sly deity that sent me here. Even with several hours of working under the sun, my pale skin refused to get darker and I received only red spots of sunburn. Nimue offered me a potion to darken my wine tinted hair, so I could go unnoticed by the palace servants and mythical creatures who roamed the forests.

          To no avail. The red dye was hardly getting replaced by the jet black one. The change would last until the next time I washed, when my hair would reject the color, bringing back its shiny burgundy. It was like he had a mind of himself. Not to mention the fact that it seemed to grow with the same color, not my natural chocolate brown. So we all grew use to it and I learned to put a handkerchief around it.

          I started to help Cynthia around the farm every morning. Sometimes I cleaned the kitchen, other times we washed clothes by the river and chatted, like mother and daughter. I started to deeply care for her. I felt like she filled a part of my mother's empty space with her peacefull presence. She wasn't her, but it helped me ease my pain, little by little. She taught me some of their traditional dishes: fried venison, lamb soup, pork sauce with mushrooms, bread.

          I even got the courage once and described her the person I was in love with. Of course, masculinizing her, and she laughed at me and advised me on how I shouldn't jump at every flower he brings me. That I should have my nose high and let myself be chased, to test his patience.

          " A man who desires you should leave everything behind and follow you like the light of his eyes. He should kneel only to you, pray to you like you were his saint, his goddess. Never settle for less, or you will have a miserable life ahead. "

          I would listen carefully to her words. I was still a newborn in this world, basically, and I craved every piece of instruction so I can learn to manage. I wasn't going to tell her that I knew everything she told me. I learned enough from my mother's miserable marriage.

          We got along good, but from time to time, a dark cloud covered her eyes and she would watch me and ugly cry, without saying another word. Her face would distort in a silent plea and she would shiver violently, like the cold claws of death sank under her skin, dragging her to the Underworld.

          We were alone when that happened, and I didn't know how to react so I hugged her through her episode and whispered that I will be by her side, no matter what. Cynthia would sob heavily, making my body tremble as well, and she would clutch my arms like she was about to drown in her sorrow. It worked, rarely, but when her mind was too absorbed by her thoughts she whimpered like a baby:

          " I won't be here anymore... You'll have to carry yourself without me. I am so sorry... I beg you... Please give me your forgiveness... "

          " I trust him... That man tied to you by the tongue of Death... Trust him... I promise you... Don't run from him anymore... He is your fire, that man surrounded by darkness... "

          Then her vision would clear and ask me what happened, with no memory of what she said. I never told her either. She seemed quite unstable and I was afraid I'll make her sadder than she already was. So, I always resumed in only cleaning her face from tears with my blouse, smiling as sweetly as I could. I lied to her multiple times, but she disturbed me with her words and I always tried to forget so I could move on with my task: searching for a way home.

          Only I knew what lied in my heart every time I heard that. It made me wonder if my crashing here was actually meant to be. If I had a role. Nobody told me anything, but I never had the courage to ask, either.

          The worst part was that I started to love them, slowly, surely. They all were dear to me and I tried my best to thank their kindness by sharing my hardly earned golden coins, buying dresses and shoes, flowers for Cynthia and even cheap jewelery, like an iron sun I gifted Niven a few days ago.

          Even Shum and I got along. Some days better than others. We wouldn't talk much, but every small conversation was polite and innofensive. He let me take care of the mare, and it was more than enough to burry the hatcher of war. But even with his nice behaviour, I felt him off.

          I was always super sensitive to people's energy, I could feel their emotions, I could read them fast. Back home I used this gift to learn and read tarot cards for me and for my closest people. I felt like my intuition was helping me guide the reading session. It seemed to work.

          Instead, here, my higher self was always alert every time Shum made a move. He seemed to focus all of his attention on me, as if he tried to combust me with his gaze. I often felt his presence close behind me when I went to work. I didn't know what he planned, but I knew it wasn't pretty.

          The horse felt better and better. She could stand on her own and ate more than any other from the stall. Her black hair was always shinny and her growing muscles were visible under her dark skin. I treated her eczema and her external and internal parasites with several creams and herbal remedies. I washed her properly from time to time to keep any mosquitos away from her other healing wounds on her hooves.

          The stallion became sweeter, playful even and when Shum gave me his permission, I went with her on walks around the fields, holding tightly her ropes. She loved to be kissed by the sun, she loved to feel the grass and smell the sprouting linden trees. As time passed, I started to love her like she was my adoptive child. I could always hear her gretting when she saw me opening the door every morning, with a bucket of food for her. The mare would let her massive head down, waiting for me to kiss her nose and brush her long hair. Misty would follow us like a faithful guardian, jumping on the horse's back when mud stained her silver furr on our walks or watching me as I cleaned the mare.

          I usually kept long conversations with them, and when we were alone, several miles away from the farm, I told them all the stories I remembered from my past life. Sometimes I would cry, as I felt the stallion's merciful brown eyes on me, like she could understand me and pitied me for my suffering. The cat would climb onto my lap and catch my tears from my face, silently acknowledging my fears.

          Niven became my sister quite fast. She would gossip about everyone in town, about whatever her family did that annoyed her, about her past boyfriends and how they had no idea to please her. I would cringe and laugh, telling her about the memories I had, adapting them to this world. She was gracious, pure-hearted and such a good soul. Sometimes, her desire to help every lost spirit made me worry for her safety. I became attached to her more than anyone else, loving her like she was my family. I was around her equally as much as I was in Nimue's shop, preparing medicine.

          Once, when I hugged her, I remembered she resembled one of my dearest cousins from my old world. I knew her name on an instant, Claudia. They had the same dark looks and pale skin. I clutched her to my heart even tighter, fealing a piece of relief in my chest.

          I wondered why I still didn't have the courage to ask her about a library, to tell her my story, how I got here. I wanted to know more about the world beyond the ocean, about Prythian, about the seasonal courts and their High Lords. Maybe that way I could figure out the time inside the plot I fell into. But it was never the right moment and I was always so afraid of being rejected.

          Aoife was like the younger sister of Niven and I. We would always meet in Thaibar when I got myself a pause from Nimue and visited her store. We would talk about her family, about how her mother's situation was getting worse. I asked her to bring me to her once, so I can consult her, see if I can give her any medicine without making Aoife pay for anything.

          I knew she lived in a less than modest inn and that she was the only provider. Their living space was tidy and smelled like fresh dandelions, but it could trigger claustrophobia for the ones faint of heart. Even so, there was enough space for a chamber with two beds, the main room was also the kitchen and the place where they would bath. I laid my bag on the rusty table next to the simple clay vase filled with fresh flowers. There were three chairs, covered with a brown sheet so it could cover the cracks. Her windows where half painted with something that looked like glue, a pair of worn out red curtains covering them.

          Her mother's illness, Lydia, was quite advanced. She would be delusional most of the time, talking nonsens and walking naked around the house. When she first saw me, she bowed deeply, her forehead touching the ground and chanted a prayer like an obedient nun.

          It took me by surprise, even if Aoife warned me about what I was about to encounter. I blinked a couple of time, shaking the surprised figure off of my face and I smiled swiftly.

          " Like mother, like daughter. " I complimented, searching her blonde locks and deep blue eyes.

          The girl was a devoted image of her mother. Both small, with a slender figure and elegant features.

          Aoife approved with a tiny gesture, her heart-shaped face holding a sad mine as she watched her mother's sanity drifting between her fingers. After I asked a couple of questions and examined the woman myself, I had a strong feeling she dealt with what I used to call in my old world: schizophrenia.

          I would have said that maybe dementia or alzheimer could be involved as well, but it was not only a short term memory loss. Her odd way of acting, how she saw things, how she spoke to someone who was not in the room, all of these were more common for this type of mentall illness rather than anything else.

          Her mother was not with us anymore. She was lost in her own world and only a miracole could help her.

          " I'm afraid her mentallity is trapped inside it's own. " I explain, taking an elegant shaped bottle from my brown bag, " Pulling her outside of the dimension she made to protect herself might be dangerous for more than one reason. "

          " Can you be more specific? " Aoife pleased, placing her small and slim fingers on the table. " I know she's crazy, if your words are just a sophisticated way of saying it. I need to know if there's something I can do to either ease her pain or heal her. "

          She had been working at her flower shop and cleaned in a hurry when I came. Her wrists and nails were stained with mud and bits of grass and she radiated earthly tones of perfume, mixed with chrysanthemum.

          " I'm afraid she has no sense of pain anymore. " Speaking, I sting her mother's bare foot in several places, watching as her lost expresion never falters. " Her illness might be a protective mechanism against a traumatic event. Did she experince something like that? Do you remember? "

          The woman smiled at us, wide, crystal blue eyes piercing us both, like she saw something floating around. " There is so much gold! I want that in my pockets! Oh and those tongues of Death!... " Lydia rocked her thin body from side to side, laughing like a naughty teenager. Her clothes were disheveled and a few sizes too big for her sudden lost of weight.

          " I have no idea... " Aoife frowned, examining her mother causciously. " She was like this before my father left us. The only people that know are probably Niven's father or Nimue, as she was the one to tend to her. "

          Ah, great, so no one I could ask.

          " Alright, I'll see what I can find out and depending on that... Maybe we can find a way to help her. "

          The blonde laughed soflty, brushing a tear that escaped from her peacefull eyes and embraced me. " That will be wonderfull. Even if you don't find a solution, only the fact that you were willing to help means so much to me. "

          I smiled, holding her shoulders in my hands. A sudden thought passed my mind: I used to hold my lover like this before.

          I broke the hug, like her skin burned my hands and rushed to give her the bottle. " When she starts having her episodes, pour a few drops in a glass, enough to fill the bottom, then water. It will calm her and she'll sleep soundly. "

          " Thank you, again! "

          Something caught our attention outside and we stilled in the position. The noise made by a large crowd seemed to grow bigger and louder as they aproached the door to Aoife's place. It seemed like a revolution started on the streets and they wanted to burn all the houses.

          A few expresions passed our faces as we tried to decide what to do.

          In my humble opinion, I had no idea what a noisy crowd could mean here. In my dimension, this was either a protest or a wedding. Here, maybe someone sold his daughter and was throwing golden coins or someone was getting hanged publicly. Two different ideas I gathered from two different shows: Game of Thrones and Outlander. And francly, both of them had too much sexual assault for me to stomach.

          With a growing fear inside my bones, I tried to decide if I should be the one to check or let Aoife be the bait. I studied her for a few seconds, taking in her tiny silhouette and angelic features, just two of the reasons someone would jump her with no remorse.

          It wouldn't be fair to her. It was her world and I had a dying wish. And between the two of us, I was the one with a scar on my face. I was the one to check.

          I put my index on my lips, gesturing to remain silent and I moved closer to the window curtains.

          Lydia started to clap and laugh. " Mother, please. " Aoife asked, grabbing her from the bed and trying to hide her in another room.

          Peeking slowly over the glue paint, I only saw the streets swallowed by men and women, pleading and cheering. Colors of brown and black blocked my view, like a plague covering Thaibar. It seemed like a funeral. The image of that old man being beaten to death by the guards appeared before my eyes, the hollow and sick looks the people gave him as he drew his last breath before me.

          " I don't think it's safe. " I announce and must the courage to open the creaking door just  enough to throw an eye outside.

          Aoife comes to my side and studies the events from the town.

          " A royal parade? " She questiones, both in awe and horror, pushing past me.

          A royal what?

          Several dark knights walked proudly through the corridor made of people, sharp swords on their backs and the royal emblema shinning on their iron shoulders. They looked terrifying in their black costumes, with their face covered, spreading a smell of death and blood in the air. Some of them had arrows as weapons and I couldn't help but wonder if it was the famous ash wood that poisoned their edge. Their horses seemed as dangerous as they were, with red pupils and dressed in heavy armours. They seemed wild and aggressive, their galop loud and synchronised.

          " I don't think it's wise to get out. " I whisper, trying to grip her arm and pull her back inside

          The same hole digged between my lungs as my fingers roamed in the air, unable to find her in time.

          " Who's that? " Aoife asked again, standing on her toes to see over the peasant's head. " I have never seen him inside the palace. "

          As I stepped next to her, I locked our hands together. Alarmed, I studied the people passing, overwhelmed by the loud shouts and the amount of information coming my way. My intuition told me to run far away from that demonstration of power, but the blondie's feet were deeply rooted inside the earth.

          The first one I saw was the new king. Or at least, the one I suspected to be, thanks to the massive, golden crown engulfing his chestnut locks. His sharp face held a machiavelic expression, filled with victory and superiority. The man's trimmed beard and moustache was perfectly alligned with his high cheeckbones and black eyebrows. I felt like his beauty was speckled by harshly cut features: small eyes, straight eyebrows, angular mouth and a square chin. 

          He didn't wear any armour, only a fine tailored brown and gold suit that matched his tanned complexion. It looked like a cheap version of the High Fae's.

          " Is that the king? " I whisper in Aoife's ear and she approves, ducking her head so she wouldn't be seen by him. Her eyes remained locked on the stranger that followed close behind the crowned man.

          I raised my head and something inside me stirres. Red alarms rang inside my brain while I try to get a grip of my balls before I faint. It was like a deja-vu, eerie and unbelievable. I knew this man or... I felt like I knew him.

          The first thing I noticed over the sea of humans was red, a natural dark red, slightly auburn when the few sun rays hit his hair. It was kept at the back of his neck, leaving the long strands to carress his round shoulders. His face was long and arrogant, slightly ducked, so he could see every dirty peasant who asked for a few coins. Moving slowly, he dug his left hand inside his horse's bag and threw a fistfull of money in the air. His thin eyebrows frowned at the disgusting image of humans searching the mud.

          He was noble as well and the colours of his tailored jacket were more than enough to guess who he was. This, and the grey morality of the character visible even now, by visiting Hybern. Green and orange, embroided with heavy, shinny buttons. He must be Eris Vanserra, the heir of the Autumn Court.

          I swallowed and checked the dark handkerchief around my head. What should I do? He might be my ticket to Prythian, to my possible salvation. But how the fuck would I get close to him with so many guards and the high chances of getting fried by his powers. I wasn't even sure that going to the other continent would help me much, who would listen to me there? What was I even going to say?

          " Hi, I fell from the sky. Please help me get home. "

          It was a possibility though, even if it meant to start over...

          Of course, if I made it alive there, if I convinced Eris, the shadiest motherfucker from the series, with dark morals and high standards. Why wouldn't he make his way with me, trick me, then leave me like trash, nailed to a random tree? He was a Fae, after all, and I've heard enough not to trust him at all.

          But he did make it clear in the series that he tried to help Morrigan by breaking their engagement.

          I pressed a thumb to my temple, and focused on him. He was not a bad man... fae, whatever. Maybe...

          Pull yourself together, you're acting like a child!

          " Lower your heads!  " Nimue materialised from thin air, dragging me and Aoife away from the show.

          " What's the matter? " I asked, almost breaking my legs on the slippery streets.

          " You adore being the center of attention, little demon? " She snickered, pushing us inside her shop. " The man from the Autumn Court eyed you for minutes on end and you didn't even had the shame to avert yours. "

          " I was... No, I didn't realise... " I started to apologise, rubbind my hands.

          " Maybe he was watching me. " Aoife said, gathering her dress and peeking out the window again.

          " No, that gruesome king was watching you. That's even worse. For fuck's sake, stay away from the window! " Nimue screamed, grabbing the girl from her shoulders and pushing her aside. " You wouldn't want their attention drawn to you, trust me, these are fae creatures. They are aggressive and possessive, and really, really powerfull. What bussines do you have with him? "

          Aoife opened her mouth, but quicly closed it, ashamed.

          " Who are they? " I asked, trying to calm my breath.

          " The king's name is Draegan. He is a bastard who crowned himself and his mother after his father died during the war from Pryhtian. "

          " Who killed the last king? "

          This, this was the piece of information I needed to be sure of the timeline.

          " There are three sisters, the youngest one is the first High Lady in history. She reigns with her husband, Rhysand, over the Night Court. The first and second born sisters beheaded the King of Hybern. " Nimue confirmed my suspicions, giving me a solid point of where I was.

          So I fell in the fourth book, or somewhere right after the third.

          " And the redhead? " Aoife pursed her lips, swirling a blonde strand on her finger.

          " He is the oldest son of Beron, the High Lord of the Autumn Court. He is heir to the throne and is very, very unpredictable. " She wiped the concerned look from her face and shushed us.

          There was no doubt of what I had to do next. Risky or not, I had to talk to Niven.

          When the voices of the crowd slowly died, Nimue pulled two black cloacks from her drawers. " Both of you go back to your houses. Don't come outside untill tomorrow. Draegan is mad enough to put spies to follow Aoife if he caught his attention. "

          We circled the working table, filled as always with books and potions, and went to the back door.

          " This will help you leave unnoticed. Take Aoife to the farm. " Nimue commanded, her lilac dress swriling aroung her feet as she hurried us down the dusty path. " We'll meet after the weekend passes... Hopefully. "

          I stared back at the woman, noticing the concerned air surrounding her. A bad taste filled my mouth as grey clouds covered Thaibar, drowning the houses in a darker haze. A growing fear held my breath hostage between my rib cage as I studied the Countess's beautiful features. Deep down, I felt like it was the last time I would see her sour face.

           " Go! " She hissed again, throwing her hands in our direction.

          I bit back my anxiety and made a few steps behind. Our eyes met and in that weird moment, a cryptic thought passed between her mind to mine.

          The iminent sense of danger. 

          I took Aoife by the shoulders and put her head down, just as a shadow moved above the houses. Nimue's lips moved quickly, whispering, then blew the air upon us. I felt my skin tingly, like a thousand bugs crawled and nipped at it underneath my dress.

          " I feel so damn itchy. " Aoife started, scratching her face and neck, " The Countess has lices?! "

          I shake my head and push a finger between my lips, telling her to be quiet. As I moved my hand in front of my vision, I catch a glimpse of my aged, pale skin, covered with patches of darker spots.

          " She glamoured us... " I murmur towards the blonde, feeling the gravity of the world pulling me inside the magma center.

          " She really is a witch. "

          And the magic does exist.

          The child inside me danced with joy at the simple realization. Peeking again over my hood, I saw my master talking to two tall men. The third one was coming after us.

          " Aoife, someone is coming after us. Follow my lead. " I whisper, falsely tripping over the uneven road. " Oh... Haha, silly me, Gertrude... "

          The girl watched me skeptical and I nugged her with my elbow, " Your knees might be better, sister, but I took my father's vigorous genes. "

          Her laugh scratched my ears, sounding like a veritable crow.

          " Ladies. " A rough voice caught us from behind and we slowly turned, putting a hand over my hunched back.

          " Oh, look Gertrude, maybe you won't die an old lady after all. "

          Understanding shines in Aoife's blue eyes, and the satisfaction of the game crosses her now old face. " Shut up, you old hag, you know I've always liked blondes. "

          I could feel the knight's smoldering gaze even through the iron mask he wore over his face. The man was at least two heads taller than Aoife and I, and his oppressive energy was like a knife in the back of my neck. 

          " Ladies... " His voice was tinged with a hint of cunning and brute force, as if he had also trained his vocal cords to resemble his massive body.

          " Miss! " Aoife corrected him, brushing her now white locks with her bony fingers.

          The man looked back, as if he could barely contain his irritation, then turned to us, " Have you seen two young women walking around the village: a blonde, works at the palace and another wearing a blue headscarf? A few peasants said they came to these fields. "

         I can feel the muscles in her face tighten, squeezing my forearm tighter. Her eyebrow twitches, but she manages to keep her innocent appearance.

          " Sir, I can't see with my right eye and, obviously, the left one is crooked and suffers from glaucoma. I'm practically blind, I haven't seen anyone. " I laugh loudly, then suddenly stop, faking a backpain.

          " I can see... I won't keep you from your work, then. " The knight's dumb joke didn't pas unnoticed. As he left, he did not bid us farewell, nor did he look at us a second time and hurried to the witch's hut.

          From the distance, I catch Nimue's lilac eyes staring at me, and a slight warm breeze ruffles her brunette hair.

          We're fine. I try to tell her through telepathy, as if my magic  would just pop out of nowhere.

          " Actually, sir, I think I saw something. " Aoife finds herself speaking and I can barely keep myself from throwing her off the hill, " The blonde is preparing to bury her mother, it seems she died last night. She was going to the forest to collect flowers, but I have never seen the one with the headscarf, can you describe her better? "

          " Unfortunately, all we know is that she always covers her head and wanders around the village. The king thanks you for the information. "

          We both turn to our way and walk slowly to the forest where the parties were organized. When we are surrounded by pairs of tall trees, I pull down my hood and stop Aoife. I didn't even realized that spell had dissipated, so now I could look at the young version of the girl.

          " What was that? " I question, pulling my hand from her wrist, " What was with all those explanations? What if we got caught? "

          Aoife doesn't answer right away, instead she takes a deep breath and tugs a few strands of blonde hair from her head as she combs it with her fingers. She spins around a patch of grass, aggressively trampling over a handful of healthy marigolds, good enough for making tea.

          " Aoife, please stop... " I speak again, much calmer now, and put my hands on her shoulders, turning her face to mine. " I can help you. "

          The girl's physiognomy had completely changed: from hope to sadness, from ecstasy to agony. Tears stood on her lower eyelids, clinging to her blonde eyelashes.

          " I'm pregnant. " Her testimony hangs between the leaves, long enough for me to process the information.

          " With who? " I manage to keep my face solemn, trying hard not to make her go back into her shell.

          She doesn't answer me, but puts her hot hands over my palms and sobs jerkily. I remember our first conversation, in which she acknowledged that working at the palace was not all about cleaning and servitude. 

          " I asked about you because I wanted to know that being seen with me won't put you in any danger. If you change your handkerchief you will be fine, but I... I must either erase my own existence from the earth or someone else will erase it for me. " She puts her hands on her pelvis and falls slightly to her knees. "I'm so sorry, but I can't hold you, you're made with a monster..."

          I wipe a few drops of newly formed sweat and suddenly feel sick. Her child was made with Draegan, hence those languid looks, her searching, her desire to get into someone else's bed to hide whose child it really was.

         " If you're sure that's what you want, I can help you. " I admit as I sit on the ground next to her small body, then cup her face between my dusty fingers. " As long as the pregnancy is not far enough, I can help you get rid of it. "

          My mouth felt bitter talking about an unborn child like that. I didn't know which one was a more appropriate term for abortion: 'to kill him' or 'to get rid of him'. In either case, it sounded as if we were talking about a parasite, not a being in the process of becoming.

          But all these aspects were held by the age of the pregnancy: if it was less than a month or two, we couldn't talk about a life. It was very much an embryo, no heart, no lungs, no first breath, it would have been like any failed pregnancy. But if the child was much older, four, even five months, we were about to kill our first human.

          " A few weeks, three, maybe even four... "

          " Can I take a look? " I ask her cautiously and examine her abdomen as much as possible through the thin dress she was wearing, then feel her belly carefully.

          Everything was imperceptible. I couldn't tell just from a physical exam how advanced the pregnancy was. For a proper determination I had to separate her legs and look with a candle in her vagina in the middle of the forest. It wasn't medically ethical. But, again, nothing in this word was ethical.

        " I'm going to speak to Nimue as soon as possible to give you an abortion medicine. You must remain under her care for a day or two to make sure that the embryo is safely removed and that we can stop any bleeding that may follow. "

          " I can't pay you. All my money went to my mother's treatment. "

          " You don't have to, I have some money. I know Nimue. I'll solve it for you... "

          I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking about the bag of golden coins I'd painstakingly gathered during the weeks I'd worked for Nimue, waiting for me inside the nightstand that was now intended for the few clothes Nivy's mother made for me.

          I always had a little selfishness in me, I hated sharing my material goods and food with my younger cousins. Being the first niece in the family, I had to offer to others, without my will, much more often than I would have liked to. I was often left without the things that I enjoyed or with too little of them to satisfy me. That's how I ended up underappreciating myself and eating much less at our dinners, so that I could leave more to my parents. I thought about how they always worked to maintain our family and how they needed much more strength than me. The same thing occured with my younger cousins. If there were more of us at the table, I would take the wings, to leave the rest of the chicken to them.

          It was a small sacrifice for the things they gave me over the years.

          My father also taught me to save money and to avoid buying too many clothes, books or other things that in his eyes were useless. He gave me a small business from which I made enough money to be able to support myself and not rely on him anymore. It was not always prosperous, it mostly depended on the season, summer and autumn, when wine was made and people needed to preserve it over a longer period of time.

          Of course, other people appeared to whom I would have given my flesh in exchange, but they could only be counted on one hand: my mother, my girlfriend and my cousins from my mother's side. So no, I couldn't say that I would give my skin for my father, even though I knew deep down that he had done so much for me. The emotions that connected us had either rusted with age or dried up and petrified due to the many painful misunderstandings between us.

          " I'll find a way to pay you back. " Aoife sighed, wiping her eyes with the lining of her cloak, " You may think it's horrible that I have to give up the child, but I have no financial situation, nor a good mental state. I can't raise a poor, innocent soul to be happy. "

          " Don't think of me as an executioner. I am not putting a stigma on you and I don't see you differently. As an apprentice in medicine, I appreciate your rational side and I will try to help you as best as I can." I try to calm her down, while brushing her blonde strands that had stuck to her wet cheeks, " If it makes you feel any better, I would've made the same decision as you. You don't want to see your child barefoot like the ones in Thaibar. Let's just hope that he too will understand this when you both reach the skies. "

          From an early age I was taught, or whatever, I taught myself not to show my feelings: not to cry, because I would be weak and annoying, not to be happy, because in the next two seconds my father was going to crush my happiness, not to ask for bicycles, phones, laptops, because I would be constantly yelled at about the sacrifices he made for those money. All I had to do was wear the sickly smile, stuck with force in the middle of my face and a sterile dessert in my soul.

          However, my heart silently ached whenever I was hurt by those around me. Now, hearing such words even about an embryo that was going to be cut off from any chance of becoming a child, it shattered in my chest, throwing its sharp glass into my stomach.

          I place a hand on my own uterus, thinking about my words. I never wished for children. I wanted to live the life I didn't get until I was 23 years old, happy and without worries. I liked saving animals and taking care of them. I loved giving my hard earned money to adoption centers and volunteering there. I loved nature and theater, old music and opera. I could appreciate absolutely any kind of beautiful art and I could be cerebral at the same time. I always fought for what I loved, a living proof was my relationship from my old world.

          Would I be able to fight for a living for my child? Did I knew enough to teach him as well? Where would I get the money to dress him, to buy him something to eat? Could I offer him a roof to protect him from the cold and the rain?

         No. And I think that's what Aoife was thinking now.

          " Come on, get up, clean your face, we have to get to Niven and stay at the farm. " My words pass by her while I try to lift her from her mohammedan position.

          Sobs came uncontrollably from her already dry lips and her hands were shaking. She raises her eyes, now blue as the depths of the sea, and opens her mouth several times, trying to convey something to me.

          " Shh, shh, we'll be fine. I promise. "

          The girl places a hand on her sternum, burying her black fingernails in the white shirt she was wearing. I wrap my arms around her and rock her back and forth, like my mother used to do to calm me down.

          " After I kill my child, I'm going to sneak onto my uncle's ship and go to the continent. " Aoife explained, her voice barely rising through the broken sobs. I remain frozen, with my ears glued to her head. 

          I don't know what shocked me more: the words she chose, the frankness of it or the fact that she had a chance to leave.

          " Where do you want to go? "

          " Far from Prythian, on the northernmost continent, right near the shore where many immigrant ships anchor. There is a place where only women and a few children are allowed to stay. " She watched me with a spark of hope. " Not many people know about this place. It's a refuge for all species of creatures, protected by several layers of spells. Rosehall. "

          Rosehall. Rose-Hall. Another name I had heard of but being such an insignificant detail, I had forgotten about it.

          " You should run away with me. I can feel you don't belong here. "

          A second passes as I stare at her, with my mouth half opened, waiting for her to admit that she knows who I am and how I got here. I slowly roll my eyes around, waiting to see the farmers coming out with pitchforks and hammers from the trees. Not only was I an outsider, but I also had red hair. A flame for moths. And I also admitted that it was okay to want an abortion. Some people would torture you alive just for the last mentioned aspect.

          " What do you mean? " I ask cautiously, raising myself slightly in a more advantageous position for running away.

          " To be honest, I don't know what I wanted to say either. It's just that... " She looks at me carefully, with warmth, as if she knew me for a lifetime, as if she had seen in my soul something that no one has read before. " Don't mention this to anyone, but either I have a vision problem or I inherited it from my mother... I can see colors around people, my mother used to call it an 'aura' and yours is something I've never seen before : a dazzling gold, as if you were the daughter of the Sun incarnated in a mortal form. You are the first and only one so far. "

           I blinked a few times. A lot of compliments in one sentence. They were compliments, right? Golden aura, daughter of the Sun, the only one with such a color. Should I feel special? Because if the answer is yes, then I was definitely totally in the wrong direction. I wanted to make myself small and unimportant, as I was two seconds ago, before she told me what a strange color I have around me. 

          Thinking about it, Lydia did mention something today: enough gold to put in her pockets, tongues of Death. Was this all connected?

          I believed Aoife. I've always had an unbreakable faith in supernatural things, chakras, wicca stuff, crystals, tarot, aura, palm or coffee readings. How many times have I been with my mother to a weird old woman to make us reads in coffee beans. And above all of this: I fell through layers and layers of worlds, piled on top of each other. I could believe anything at this point.

          I was also very sensitive to the energy of the people around me. I could feel them from a kilometer away with what intentions they came towards me, who is bad or good, who is hidden or just introverted. I didn't take it as some superhuman quality, but only as a repercussion of the traumas at home when I learned to recognize the person by the steps and developed my peripheral view.

          " You'll say I'm crazy. " She stated, aware of every expression written on my face. Of course, my eyebrows had risen to the middle of my forehead, but I couldn't control myself. "My mother could see the Shadow People roaming around Thaibar late at night. You've probably heard that you shouldn't go near the forest unless you're in a very large group. It's good that Nimue and Niven's family warned you to cover your hair: these creatures have a weakness for stunning, red-haired women."

          " No, I'm sorry, I take your word for it. I've also seen enough in my life. Thank you for trusting me. " I smile at her and try to pick her up. " Before we leave, can you tell me if you see anything else? You know, in my aura? "

          Aoife seems caught on the wrong foot, but she quickly balances herself and frowns, as if she is trying to move an object with the power of her mind.

          " No. I've tried before, but I keep bumping into something when I want to dig deeper. It feels like you have a shield around you, sometimes they appear like sharp, shadow tongues. They intertwine in a thin thread  with your aura and they go somewhere, but the trail is cut, like it was severed. "

          I nod, half satisfied, half confused. I take her forearm in mine and gently lead her down the treaded path that led to Niven's family farm. The road through the woods was a very devious way to get to their house. It came through the back of the village and led to a large door, hollowed out in the surrounding walls.

          I glance at Aoife out of the corner of my eye, weighing on my tongue the question I've been dying to ask her ever since I heard that her uncle has a ship. This meant two things: if Aoife managed to filter herself in, either she could help me too or women were allowed on board as well. It was my ticket out of Thaibar.

          Of course, I had to think about several things if I wanted to run away with blondie. Well, if she ever let me come with her. Where I was going to go, money, how to reach the characters I knew from the book and how to persuade them into helping me. And all of this only if someone doesn't suddenly decide to kill me in all the other stages. I could get my hands on a map of Prythian. What I couldn't do was get to Velaris, where many of the Inner Circle spent their lives.

          Let's not talk about the fact that sexual assault here was something that occured often inside every court I had to cross to reach the night one. And not only that: it was the killing factor, as I said, thieves, creatures and faes and I had close to zero military training to deal with them. I didn't know how to handle a knife beyond chopping and cutting herbs and meat, I didn't know how to fight with someone. I only knew how to struggle and hope that I manage to do some damage. They had no guns here, just bows or swords or daggers. And on top of that: I had no powers to use.

          It was phenomenal how I had fallen into this universe, survived the crash and received no special power, no unique ability. Nothing. I was just a simple healer.

          The only thing I could use to my advantage, if I was going to travel, was to search through Nimue's manuals and get myself some poisons, sulfuric acid, something that could have resembled firecrackers or bombs, and all this had to be carried in a purse and in sufficiently resistant containers.

          Dear good. How complicated it was to get back to my own shitty life. If I must say one thing: I don't even know why I'm fighting so much to get back. No one was waiting for me except Icarus, and my life was as precarious as here. At least in this world I had something to eat.

          I raise a hand to massage my temples and sigh.

          I didn't know where to start the plan and where to end. My mind was broken. What I needed now was a second opinion: Niven. I was determined, today I have to talk to her, to convince her that I'm not crazy and that neither is she and that  I'm not from this world.

          " Something is bothering you. " Aoife observed, who now seemed a bit more relaxed, " Is it about our discussion earlier? "

          " Not at all. I promised that I would help you and I will do so. It's just..." I grimace, refusing to look at her, focusing my gaze on Niven's house from a few steps away. " If you were to leave, as you said, can I come with you? "

          Aoife measures me from head to toe. Someone calls us from afar.

          " I thought you were happy here. Why would you want to leave? "

          " You were right when you said I'm not from here. I have to find my way back home. " I confess as I stop on my tracks, my black cloak sweeping the ground around me. " I can't stay here forever, I need help and I think I can find it on the continent. "

          " You mean Prythian or the northern continent, right? " Aoife says cautiously, her blonde hair shining brightly in the light.

          I lightly nod my head and see her understanding passing in her eyes. "Something happened here... "

          " Girls, you're on time. Some of the workers from dad's church brought some bags with books they found there. " Niven speaks excitedly, moving her gaze from me to Aoife, who were staring at each other. " Um, since mom has work and Shum is away, I was thinking you could help me organize them and take them back when I'm ready. Did something happen? "

          " I think Cyan has something very important to tell us. "

          I finally look at the most important person in my life for the last few weeks. My savior, who was either going to think I was crazy or kick me out. Sweat was running down her temples and upper lip and the sleeves of her gray shirt were up to her elbows.

          " Niven, it's time to tell you the truth." 

          " You finally found the courage... I have been waiting for you to talk to me. "

P.S.: The chapter is not fully edited. Tomorrow part 2 is up. ❤️

[purgatorypartyyy]

An oil painting I made for my mom.

Originally, I knew I wanted to paint a landscape with a sunset. I was going to paint a depiction of a photo I took on the day I said goodbye to my friend. After two days of waiting in the hospital, and hoping for things to get better, they declared her time of death. There was nothing else for all of us, her friends and family to do, so we left. My parents and I were going to go back to our hotel room, but the thought of dwelling in that room was too much for me to handle. So we drove to the beach and watched the sunset, wrote her name in the sand, and had dinner at an Edgar Allan Poe themed restaurant. The night before I sobbed in my mom’s arms like I never had. My mother’s arms have become an uncomfortable and confusing place to seek shelter. But I needed to be held so badly in that moment, so I let her hold me. Before I arrived in town, I had some piece of hope left to hold onto, but after the first day in the hospital I knew what was coming. I’ve never experienced the degree of emotional pain that I did that night in my bed. I wept for what my life would become after all of it.

My life has become a lot of things, and most days I carry the grief so heavily. Most nights I can’t stop yearning to hug my friend and hear her voice. I decided I wanted to paint the scene of the beach outside of a class on my own time without input and observation. It’s something I want to fully feel and react to with my art. I didn’t really get the chance to process it all. The sunset was the only beautiful thing in life that day, and for many of the days that have since followed. I felt somewhat sorrowful as it set, but really utter shock. I felt disconnected from everything in my world. It’s a feeling I can’t put into words, and I would never want someone to feel what I did that evening.

Instead I painted a scene from the lakehouse my mom is fixing up. My mom will always be my first love and my final heartbreak. Our relationship is complicated, she is a complicated person. I get really anxious thinking about her and her mental health. Since my friend’s death, I’ve found myself fixating on my loved ones dying—my friends, my family, my pets, myself. I often have nightmares about losing my friend again, or those people in the same way. My mother’s life revolves around her work, and as a result she neglects a lot of her life. It makes me depressed. After she bought this house though, she has spent every weekend and day off there that she can.

Usually when I call her, she vents about work. I can feel the distress seeping out of the phone. Lately though, she talks about her projects she’s working at down there, and sends me pictures of her new yard decorations and the progress in the house. She talks about how still it is down there. It’s just a house, but I think it’s changing her. Maybe even saving her.

When I started painting I didn’t expect to be “good”. Over time I discovered I have a natural ability to paint. The time I spent in my studio space this semester brought me so much peace. I started feeling sad that I haven’t taken the time to create art. I miss writing and singing, and figured out I miss painting too.

So I made this peace as a love letter to my mom. I also made it for myself without really knowing the meaning until after. It’s worth it to take the time to appreciate a sunset, or to create art just for the sake of creating it. These acts allow me to have something beautiful on the days I can’t find beauty or life in anything else. It’s hard for me to express love to her in other ways. Sometimes I am filled with hate and resentment. I hope when I look at this painting it can remind me of how important it is to invest in the parts of my life who’s only purpose is to bring me joy, respite, and an outlet for expression. Those moments make me feel as though my life is worth living.

[dark-ink-drinker]

Almond was a random find on my Kindle Unlimited. I'd never heard of the book or the author before but the description I head got to me... "This story is, in short, about a monster meeting another monster. One of those monsters is me."

How could I pass that up?

Now that I've finished reading, I can say it's something outside of what I would normally read. It is based in Korea, with Korean references, but there were no problems with that. It was perfectly translated and didn't have any references and uncultured American like myself couldn't understand. It was beautifully written, heartfelt and rich in details. The characters were deep and well rounded. They were imperfect and real in the best of ways.

The main character Yunjae was born with a brain condition called Alexithymia, which means that he doesn't feel or recognize emotions like 'normal' people do... even in the face of great tragedy. As always, I don't want to give away any major plot lines but it's the type of tragedy that would bring the strongest person to their knees.

His mother and grandmother spend their time raising him with love and acceptance but also, always trying to teach him proper reactions to those around him so that he can live normally and not be bullied or teased at school. They are the only real people in his life. His grandmother is where he gets the idea to call himself a monster. "“Maybe it’s because you’re special. People just can’t stand it when something is different, eigoo, my adorable little monster.” Granny hugged me so tight my ribs hurt. She always called me a monster. To her, that wasn’t a bad thing."

In the aftermath of the tragedy, Yunjae finds a whole new circle of people in his life. With them, he learns new things about himself and about the world. For the first time, he makes friends outside of his mother and grandmother. In their own ways, they try to teach Yunjae about feelings and people. They become in circle.

Some of my favorite parts of the book are how Yunjae describes the books in his mother's used book store.

Books that were already drenched in the scent of time. Not new ones that would regularly flow into the bookstores, but ones that Mom could handpick volume by volume. Hence, used books.

To be more specific, I felt connected to the smell of old books. The first time I smelled them, it was as if I’d encountered something I already knew.

Books took me to places I could never go otherwise. They shared the confessions of people I’d never met and lives I’d never witnessed. The emotions I could never feel, and the events I hadn’t experienced could all be found in those volumes.

But books were different. They had lots of blanks. Blanks between words and even between lines. I could squeeze myself in there and sit, or walk, or scribble down my thoughts. It didn’t matter if I had no idea what the words meant. Turning the pages was half the battle.

But books are quiet. They remain dead silent until somebody flips open a page. Only then do they spill out their stories, calmly and thoroughly, just enough at a time for me to handle.

They way he sees himself in books, even if he doesn't relate to the emotions he reads in them is touching to me. Maybe because I've always found solace in books myself. They've always been a place of comfort. They have lots of blanks as he said... for me, spaces we fill in with our own experiences and interpretations. And maybe that's why they were special to Yunjae as well, because they held no expectations for him, they didn't care that he wasn't 'normal'.

Perhaps one of the most poignant ideas of the story was Yunjae saying that Noone can ever know whether a story is happy or tragic. He says it might be impossible to fit so neatly into one category or the other because "life takes on various flavors as it flows." It reminded me of something I'd read before that stated that people are not all good or all bad, and that sometimes the perception comes again from our own experiences. You can be a good person who had done bad things. A life can be happy even with moments of tragedy.

This is absolutely a book I would recommend.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ 1/2

[justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms]

hi! can i please have a matchup for attack on titan & bungou stray dogs? my name is nini, im bisexual, & i use she/her pronouns! my zodiac sign is cancer & mbti is esfj!

for my personality, id say im pretty bubbly and excitable. i try to look on the bright side and try to cheer up people when they’re sad. im very affectionate with the people im close to, and i kinda cling onto my friends arms and hug them a lot. i love anything soft or cute, especially animals!! im kinda scared of bugs though, but i still always try to take them outside, even if i have to go kicking and screaming. i get distracted pretty easily, and have pull my friends off the track they were on so we could all pet dogs (they were so cute!!). i also really like going for walks, shopping, yoga, baking, and reading. i really like to look after people, but sometimes that makes it so i kinda disregard my own needs. im a bit of people pleaser, and i tend to look for the best in others! though i can’t really tolerate it if somebody is overly cruel or rude to the people i care about.

for my appearance, im 5’1 & have fairly long light brown hair. my eyes are hazel, im fairly pale with a few freckles sitting across my face, & my cheeks are perpetually rosy andjfjjek. my style is usually pretty soft & girly, & i really like dressing up even if i’m not going anywhere. i also really like to do makeup, both on myself and others. like, i’ll be in pjs and putting on lip gloss and my mom makes fun of me for it. also since i’m on the shorter side, i like to wear platform shoes since being tall makes me feel cool!

please & thank you!! i hope you have a nice day <3

Hi Nini! Than you for your request! I hope you like your matchups!

In Attack on Titan, I match you with...

Jean will take care of the bugs for you! He's also not a huge fan but he'll try to be your hero and get rid of whatever's making you uncomfortable.

Loves your rosy cheeks. He thinks they're very cute and he's almost always fighting the urge to squish them (he doesn't want to make you uncomfortable though so he holds back).

Jean likes when you tug on his arm to pull him over to a dog to say hello. He likes animals as well so he'll never say no to giving a cute dog a pat!

Would try out yoga but he's bringing Connie and Sasha along as well. If he's going to fail miserably at the Warrior Pose, he needs to be able to laugh at Connie struggling with the Downward Dog.

Enjoys baking with you. It doesn't matter what your making, there's going to be a bit of a mess at the end but he's happy to help you clean it up.

Jean will always be looking after your mental and physical health. He knows you can forget to take care of yourself while looking after others, so he'll remind you to have drinks and snacks when you need them.

In Bungo Stray Dogs, I match you with...

Poe isn't super scared of bugs so he'll take care of them. He can't stand social interactions but taking bugs outside and letting them go? That's something he can do.

Likes the physical touch you give out so willingly. He's never been in a relationship where he's felt comfortable letting the other person give him hugs but he loves them from you.

Karl loves you! Please give him lots of love and affection as well. But if you give Karl a kiss on the head, make sure you give Poe one as well. Otherwise he'll be pouty until you give him one.

Doesn't cook a whole lot but loves eating your baking. He finds and snacks you make good inspiration for his writing. If he's ever got writers block, he just needs to have some of your baking and he's back on track.

Poe isn't the biggest fan of going out but if you want to go for a walk, he'll join you. Enjoys saying hello to all the animals you come across but don't expect him to interact with any people.

Loves reading with you! Especially when you're reading something he's written. He enjoys hearing his words come to life if you read to him out loud. This is exactly why he writes in his mind.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hi, this is partially vent but if you have any suggestions, I'll thankfully take them.

Tw emotional abuse

I am living with my abusive mom for 23 years now and she's been abusive all my life. At some point I discovered, that this was no normal behavior but abuse. That was a hard time for me because I was so angry. But for my own safety, I need to follow the rules, act how she likes it etc. At some point I caught myself again and swallowed my feeling and did what I needed to. And that worked till now. I can't exactly say why, but for the last months, it has become more and more difficult for me. I am so pissed, I am so close to saying something that might bring me in danger. (In the past I tried everything, talked to the CPS, ran away, psychiatry etc but nobody felt like helping).

I am doing everything I have to, I know my chores by now. But I skip the... additional part. Talking to her. Offering my help all the time. She can't yell at me because I did everything I had too, but now she's passive aggressive all the time. I had a flu the last days (which she didn't really notice) and am now on my period and when I am sick or menstruating I always seperate myself and want to be alone. But I don't want to tell her because she's always so happy when I menstruate because I am not pregnant and I am asexual due to sexual trauma, which I kept a secret from her, so, it is an uncomfortable topic for me. So I haven't talked to her properly in a week maybe and it shows. She's acting out on my dog, unloading the dishwasher for 40min with the volume of a truck and possibly broke half the plates, just to be as loud and noticeable as possible, doing a shitton of passive aggressive bs etc. And I am so done. I can't anymore, idk how I did this for 23 years without much issue but I can't anymore. But until I have my own appartment, I have to so... There's no way out. Idk, I'll have to spend time with her this weekend or she'll explode but I can't bring myself to leave my room and talk to her, I really really don't want to... Idk what I am supposed to do. How can I swallow my feelings again and shut up until I can move out?

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what you've been going through.

I don't necessarily feel right telling you how to "swallow your feelings and shut up" because your feelings about this and your voice are important, valid, and worth being heard. But I also understand that sometimes when we're in a situation like this, it can be much harder to exist openly, expressing your feelings and thoughts as you normally might.

This article has some tips on how to survive abuse when you're stuck at home. Know that you are right to feel the ways that you do about what's been going on. "This, too, shall pass. Remember that. Your life won’t always be like this. And this – growing up with abusive parents in a home you can’t leave – doesn’t have to define you. It is one part of your life, but it is not your whole life. Not only will this pass, you will heal."

It may also help to just take inventory of what kinds of things set her off and if there's anything to avoid that as much as possible. On top of documenting any triggers of hers, also just documenting the abuse in general can be helpful too. Whether that's pictures, videos, or simply writing about it, writing down everything that happened and happens to you may not only help keep track of everything that has unfolded but it could be useful when you are able to move out. "Write down the dates, times, activities, and places the abuse occurs. Write down who was involved, what happened, and how long it lasted. Hide your writing somewhere private. You might even mail it to your best friend, a relative, teacher, coach, youth leader or guidance counselor to keep it safe for you."

Another tip is to remind yourself of your strengths, talents, and skills. Also know that you're not alone. "Find other survivors of abusive parents. [...] Know that others have survived abusive parents even when they were trapped at home and couldn’t leave."

It also says to call for help especially if you're in immediate danger, remember how far you've come, and of course share your story.

I hope I could help. If anyone else has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

[jenuinelycurious]

It was strange, for only you could hear the soft words. Whispers of a voice that you never knew, but still struck a familiar cord would remind the teachings of your ailing mother and remind you that the tough love of your father was equal weight as it was counter to the protective love of your mother. Encouraging you to not only listen and learn, but try new things and mistakes. One of your favorite sayings from the rock in your primary years still rings true: "You came into the world messy on your first try, so why strive for perfection on your first try in anything else?"

Needless to say, you loved adventuring outdoors and never shied away from gross or unbecoming things and situations. Much to your mother's dismay and your father's amusement. But it was all forgiven and forgotten during bath time.

It wasn't until your pre-teen years did the whispering voice become louder, more talkative. Single reminders and anecdotal lines became full, conversive sentences. Paragraphs of instruction that would sometimes need to be followed to the capital T. And the one time you didn't follow the given instructions, you heard the rock choke on a cry.

"Why did you do that?" It whispered. The voice sounded strained and wet, though the rock was as dry as ever, nestled in your sweater pocket.

You coughed once to clear your own throat, "I thought it would be okay if..." But you couldn't finish. Even you had read on the red flags on what was transpiring, and you still ignored them. Ignored your rock's careful, instructed voice.

You stared down at your hand, the wrist swollen from a break and your thumb cold and numb. The ones of your jeans scraped and torn with a pebbles of blood dripping through, indents of gravel stick in your hands that you were carefully getting it with your one good hand.

You had done your best to catch your fall, listening to the frantic instruction from your rock to pivot forward and tuck into a roll, but you caught yourself late.

Still, it was better than a broken leg or neck when you had been shoved off the land bridge.

When you finally removed what you could of the gravel within your hands, you looked to the rock. It has fallen from your pocket at some point, and it looked just as sad as it sounded. With a wet huff, you gently, carefully leaned over and picked up into a cradle.

"I'm sorry I didn't listen." You whisper into it as you middle it close to your cheek, tears salting the surface.

After a decent bit of silence, the rock whispered: "The harshest lessons derive from heartbreak... But it's the healing that takes place afterwards that make the lessons worthwhile." Before you could process in full what it meant, the voice whispered even softer, "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you."

You blink. You stare. And you find it hard to think until you finally take in a sharp breathe, "why would you say that? You're my rock; my guide. If you think you failed in something, it's because I chose not to listen."

"No," it cut in quickly, voice clipped but meaningful, "I...I wasn't always your rock. At least, not like this."

All you could do was blink as you cradled your rock in your good hand. It wasn't until after a long silence did it speak again, this time saying you should rock back home and have your parents take you to the doctor. You nod, whisper an okay, and do just that.

Later that night, when you were tucked in bed the best you could be with a thoroughly wrapped and casted wrist and bandages, your mom decided to bring out a picture book. This one you had never seen before, and it looked more hand made than the others she had shared with you throughout the years.

There was one picture that struck you with hard feelings that you couldn't understand and pointed at it, "whose this, momma?"

She grew silent and you heard her swallow thickly. Hey arm around you tightened until you pressed against her so tightly, you thought you were either going to be crushed or end up in her lap. Finally, she whispered into the crown of your head, "That's ____, your older sibling. Even though you were nearly twelve years apart, they were so excited to learn you were being brought into this world..."

Get melancholy voice didn't go pass you, as well as the use of her chosen tense. Your small brows scrunched together in confusion with a mountain of questions, but you finally settled on one that you hope might get several answers at once.

"Were?" When you looked back up at your mother, she looked as though she was fighting back sobs. Without a second thought, you reached up and gave her a long hug around the neck and nuzzled her cheek as best you could. She still snuggled, and edges of your hair and cheek became wet for a moment before she sighed a wet chuckle and pulled back.

"Sorry, baby--" you shook your head, but she continued, "it's...a tough discussion, but... We agreed that you're ready."

Now you were doubly confused. Through that confusion, you sensed a story-time and curled back into your mother's side to listen, all the while staring at your older sibling in the picture.

The story was of your sibling; their birth, their childhood, and their near-cusp into their teenage life. From what you gathered, they were smart--clever, even, to where they had to learn to out-smart bullies from both kid and adult ages; funny, more so in snark and sarcasm that your father never got enough of; and their golden trait that even your mother admired, very caring. They always seemed to know what to say to help a person or situation. Especially during her pregnancy with you. He would often snuggle up to her swelling tummy after making sure she was doing okay and whisper all the things that you and them were going to do once you arrived in the world.

"My favorite thing they would say to you was 'it's going to be messy, but you'll arrive messy, so I think that'll be okay.'" She giggled through a small sniffle as another year edged her eye.

Your eyes widened a bit at the familiar words. You look over to your rock, sitting in it's perch on your windowsill with the starlight glowing on its exterior, and slowly asked, "Why aren't they here, now?"

A depressing sigh from your mother had her say fully into you until she had encompassed you fully into her arms. She bent down until her face was snuggling your cheek and keep you two there for a silent moment. You were confused, but didn't say anything; instead, you wiggled your good hand free and gently patted your mother's cheek until she smiled.

"I was breaching my third trimester with you, when I became sick. The doctors couldn't pin exactly what was wrong with me, and you quickly stopped gaining weight. So, I was sent home and had a live-in nurse for the next couple of weeks, practically force-feeding me disgusting gruel and powdered vitamins to ensure your health through the illness.

One night, your sibling came in with an old book, frayed edges and all, and showed me a page they believed was exactly what was wrong with me. And the antidote? A mushroom flower that only sprang up during the wet season. I had to admit, the symptoms listed and hand-drawn in diagram examples were striking in their similarities, but I reminded them it was late Autumn and our best bet might be too show the nurse so she could pass the information to the doctors. Maybe they might have a medicine in their holding made from that very plant?" She chuckled against your check with a find sigh, "Their put-out look was the cutest when they said they tried, but the nurse waved them off with nothing more than a condescending 'there's a good child.'"

Her smile quickly fell into a frown and she kissed your cheek for comfort, of which you suspect was more for her than you.

"They stated that even though it was late Autumn, we had a number of storms come through recently and that the mushroom flower might be growing that very evening in our backyard woods. I knew exactly where their mind was going and I vehemently told them to stay in the house; I'll set an appointment with the doctor in the morning to show what they found to see if it will help on anything. They seemed to agree and I thought that was the end of it."

Her choice of words coupled with her voice told you it hadn't been the end. You stared up at her as she stared into the picture that showed your sibling: kneeled next to your mother, who was sitting in a chair, and nuzzling her swelling tummy with a warm smile up at the person taking the picture.

You watched as the light in her eyes seemed to dim and another tear streamed down her cheek, followed by another that began to dampen your own. If she hadn't been snuggled so close against you, you wouldn't have heard her when she spoke, "They would have been twenty-four this year..."

You blink at that knowledge, but before you could ask, she continued: "It wasn't the doctor I ended up calling the next morning. When they weren't in their bed, which showed no sign of having been slept in that night, and their coats and boots were missing, alongside that book, a flashlight, and gathering gear..." She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes and cheek, "the search party lasted until you were almost six months, and still no trace of them was found."

You stared at the picture of your smiling sibling, trying your best to put the pieces together. You licked your lips in thought and finally said, "they went to go find the mushroom flower... For you."

"For us," she lovingly corrected. When you have her a confused glance, her smile was the saddest you had ever seen on a person, let alone your mother. "No trace of your sibling had been found, but three days after we reported them missing, a gathering basket was discovered on our stoop, filled with the mushroom flowers, a newly hand-written page in that old book on how to prepare and consume the antidote properly, and a curled note that had been wrapped around an item that simply read: Give to little sibling upon their fifth year."

You blinked up at your mother with wonder and leaned into her, "What was the item that the note was wrapped around?"

Her sad smile moved until it landed by your windowsill, and following her gaze, you see your rock practically glowing against the night. Your breath was caught in your throat as you unconsciously held your mother closer and you hear for your own ears in that familiar, faint whisper you've heard almost all your life: "A rock can be metaphorical...or sometimes physical. But, in the rare occasion, they are sometimes both."

you got a magic rock as a kid that was meant to teach you the “magic words” of please and thank you by reminding you whenever it’s appropriate. Now though it’s begun to recommend whole paragraphs whenever you’re in a sticky situation. The best part is following it’s advice always works out best

[monsterkong]

Gwen D’Mar’s Journey to Healing and Intuition

Hey Tumblr fam! 👋 I’m so excited to share today’s episode of the Wilder Possibilities Podcast with you! In this episode, I chat with my dear friend, Gwen D’Mar, about her incredible journey from an intuitive child to a coach who specializes in somatic medicine and energy healing. This convo was packed with so many gems that I had to bring it to you in blog form. 🌟

The Click Moment: A Childhood of Visions and Healing

Gwen’s journey began at a young age when she started having these wild visions. 👁️‍🗨️ Like, seriously, imagine being a kid and predicting future events. Gwen shared a story where, at just eight years old, she told her mom that their neighbor was having an affair. Six months later, the truth came out, and her intuition was confirmed! How crazy is that? But instead of feeling empowered, Gwen was told to keep it quiet. 🙅‍♀️

This struggle continued until high school when Gwen had a near-death experience. She remembers looking down at her body in an ambulance, seeing through her mom’s eyes, and making the decision to come back to help her family. It was such a powerful experience that it reshaped her life’s purpose.

Somatic Healing: It’s Like Therapy, But WAY More

Today, Gwen helps people heal through something called somatic medicine. Ever hear of it? It’s a type of healing that focuses on releasing stored emotions and trauma from the body. 🧘‍♀️ Gwen’s clients often say it’s like “therapy on steroids,” but way more accessible. Instead of spending hours in deep ceremonies, Gwen helps her clients heal quickly, sometimes in just one session.

A Blend of Science and Spirituality

One of the coolest things about Gwen is how she bridges two worlds—science and spirituality. For years, she worked in pharmaceutical research, running clinical trials and studying medical devices. 🧬 But she was also deeply invested in spiritual practices like energy healing and Buddhism. In 2017, she finally left the corporate world and made her full transition into coaching and somatic medicine. ✨

Wrapping Up: Finding Your Own Click Moment

Gwen’s story is a reminder that your click moments can happen at any time. Whether it’s through intuition, healing, or just a life-changing decision, these moments define who we become. If you want to dive deeper into Gwen’s work, check out her website at gwendmar.com or follow her on Instagram at @gwendmar. Who knows? You might just have your own click moment waiting to happen! 💡✨

[echoequinox]

my life story

at 18 i moved in with my girlfriend into a one bed apartment. i was going to college in the city until i messed that up and stopped going to school.

i pushed carts for a while. i tried to be good but sometimes i talked to people. i found out there was a name i liked better.

christmas eve i left, drove an hour and a half to some other girl's house, one who called me a name that felt good. one that said i was a good girl. i didnt go back to my girlfriend's apartment again.

i moved in with a friend from high school. he didnt get it but he loved me as a best friend. that was enough. a girl i used to date was at college in iowa or something, dating some guy from the military. it all made her want to die. i told her to leave. she did.

we lived in that spare bedroom with my rabbit for a while, and then into her mom's house. not for terribly long, only long enough for her to pick up drinking, finding a guy at the bar that she barely liked and wouldnt stay with but at least he "made her feel something". she misgendered me anyway.

so then i went home. to my mom and her abusive boyfriend. i was out a lot, with friends, running around, not wanting to be home.

i met a boy who worked at a taco shop. he'd work at a starbucks later, and when we lived in the halfway house he was in because he was kicked out by his parents for being trans, he'd bring me tea from work. my introduction into the wonderful world of tea.

that was the happiest i was for a while. sleeping at his place, playing games, fucking when he got home and drinking tea. we went to restaurants and pride rallies where i met my other boyfriend.

the three of us moved into a new place together where i lived in the basement. i got alcohol poisoning there after drinking 20 shots of whiskey in a row on an empty stomach. i was miserable then, too, i think. at least they both took care of me.

first boy got another bf. he told me once when he got me drunk to have sex with me (which failed, got me too drunk) that he had to find someone else because id stopped fucking him enough. that was what i was there for.

me and the second boyfriend left. we went back to my mother's. the second time i had returned. we were actively getting kicked out when he proposed to me. i said yes. we went to live in an abandoned motel that had electricity but no heat in the middle of one of the coldest missouri winters.

a girl id reconnected with offered me a place with her and her husband. told me my bf at the time was using me for comfort and affection, didnt actually like me. that made sense. i left.

alabama. it was better there. the housewife's live in girlfriend to a wealthy programmer. he was very sweet and kind and cute. she was very familiar with what she wanted.

it was a few years and a few houses in alabama, getting on new medications and starting to put out applications when she told me i couldn't stay there anymore. the third home i was forced out of.

a friend in florida had a job opportunity for me. i lived with their parents because id fallen in love with them. it was never reciprocated, not in the way i wanted. but we did become quickly codependent in ways that relationships usually never got to.

we moved out and into an apartment. we bought a cat. we decorated our home together. we made meals. the pandemic hit. non-essential workers meant stipends. we made art. we learned new skills. we started working out.

the pandemic ended and i got fired. no job, no income, i was once again a burden. i couldnt do the one thing required of me - previously sex, here rent - and so i was nothing. what we had ended in a matter of weeks. love crumbled to ash in my hands and I was cruelly reminded that unless you serve a purpose to others, you dont deserve to exist.

i got into school, got some loans, and lived off campus in florida. the dream school, the one id wanted since high school. THE programmer school!! THE place that would teach me to make games!!! finally!!!!!

it fell through. classes became harder and harder to attend, and the few i did i felt ostracized and discarded. i remembered why I hated being around people.

it ended too. not the school, thank god for covid for forcing online schooling to become the norm. one thanksgiving, visiting friends, i had them help cosign on a car. i would drive back to florida and doordash to keep myself afloat.

the car broke. stranded in illinois. i had to find somewhere to go. a friend helped me for a time, and then finally when my mom and her horrible husband separated, she let me back in. the third return.

we had to drive to florida to get my stuff, a 20 hour drive both ways while we both had covid, but i survived. everything i owned fit in the back of an suv. anything that didnt got thrown away.

and now im here. back in the house i grew up in. in a house ive come to hate. i hate it here. this is where i live, but it isnt home. i desperately want to go home, but i dont have one.

[shammyb]

My mama called me yesterday morning, telling me she had a mole on her face checked out and it is melanoma. They sent out a biopsy to find out what stage it’s at, and we’ll be talking soon, as she shoudl hopefully know within the next couple days tops. We had a really nice, long talk, but every time I think about what she said to me and that my literal creator may be dying (which ya we are always all dying technically but theres something different when you find its caused by cancer), I break into choking tears. Today I took the day off work, road my bike all the way out to the sandy river, wrote a lot about her and other little things, but bringing it back to her, while tears dripped on my pages, and birds flew over the water I was laying infront of, with joy.  I biked over to a target nearby after that, to try on a couple bathing suits, because i figured why not, and I was feeling extremely body dysmorphic, not liking how I look at the moment---then it all bringing me back to being a child in the dressing room with my mom, as she looked at herself in the mirror, crying at how she looked, though i always thought she looked so perfect; my creator, my god.  I’ll probably have to call out of work again tomorrow, which i’m not looking forward to, as I don’t have that much money these days since I quit dancing, and so much of my money went into fixing my car, literally only for my car to get a mold problem when we had terrible rainfall and make it undriveable (i found out i’m allergic to mold).  I also so a doctor the other day at Planned parenthood, after waiting for literally an hour after when my appointment was scheduled, and was referred to an ultrasound tech to check out my uterus, because sounds like I may have an ovarian cyst. I’ve known somethings going on in my body for a long time, and recently I’ve been having my period every 2 weeks. Being on OHP has been frustrating, as it’s already difficult to make doctor appointments for me, as last time I went to get an ultrasound, like in December or something, I never got a call back from the doctors who said they would call me back after my imaging was complete to follow up/make next steps. But this time its with planned parenthood, and they have a more thorough,  caring process when it comes to that stuff, so I’m hopeful that this time we’ll figure the fuck out what's going on inside my body. I’ve been wishing I could be held these last couple days. I don’t get to see my partner until Monday, and my parents literally live on the other side of the country, and I just want to curl up and be in safe, loving, arms. It’s difficult to picture life without my mom in it. She’s so sweet, so caring, and I will have to write an entire separate post sometimes about how big her heart is. I held so much resentment for things she wasn’t able to do out of fear in my past, but shes shown me for a while now (since my parents moved away) how shes been trying to be there, and send me post cards about things that reminded her of me, silly little gifts like a mug covered in bees (because I love bees), and just always calls and texts me that shes thinking of me and loves me these days. Shes been actively showing her love and she literally created me, and is just such a compassionate person...I dunno. I feel like I’m going through my 6-year breakup all over again lol, because of how headachy this is making me. For all I know, it could only be stage one and easily removed, but it also could be anywhere beyond, and time is just feeling extra extra valuable now. Lowell hasn’t said much and said he wont be available until monday and im trying not to think too much into that but I feel sad that I can’t be in his arms and that he isn’t willing to be more immediately available. We’ll see how all that works out and what he has to say/how he’ll be there on Monday.. Anyway, ya. scrambled but, after returning home from my bikeride, I decided to walk to the climbing gym, since I’ve not been making the time to go over the last couple months, frequently...But something in me told me I need to start being better at going again, for my mom. Because I love it, and she knows I love it too, and its def a form of self care for me. I’m glad I went, because I ran into a long time climbing pal, Sergey, and told him the news I just found out, and he started tearing up because it reminded him of how his mom passed and we hugged for a moment and it was very comforting and he wanted to give me some strength and yeah, i’m just glad I got to see a trusted community member who was able to give a supportive gesture. Anyway, I walked home after that with a big headache, got home almost an hour later (not a short walk lol), and made myself some ramen and had an apple w peanut butter for desert. My stomach has been in knots the last two days. I have always had bad IBS stuff, but I think its also related to both my maybe-cyst, and def my moms news.  Like I’ve said before, when it rains, it pours.  Feel free to send any kind words my way. Thanks for reading, if you took all that time to. Writing saves me. Goodnight, maybe.

[flawedconqueror]

Lack of maternal affection

I don’t have a desire to have kids, from my womb at the moment. I am open to adopting someone. Which is odd. This foreignness of childbearing I attribute to not having that maternal person. In fact I was treated as a nuisance and so I think I internalised those feelings. That doesn’t mean things can change, but this is where I’m at currently.

Not being wanted

Also to deal with the extremeness of the situation growing up I did numb my feelings, which could’ve been a way to cope with my emotions. 

Growing up I would describe my relationship with my mom as non-existent, strained. I resented her for not being there, although she couldn’t give me the affection I needed. Age has shown me it wasn’t her fault. It still sucked though. Naiveté and ignorance had me going to school with early developed breasts with my nipples showing through my shirts. It was my friend who got me a bra after I guess classmates noticed.

Another who showed me how to put on a pad. I really think a lot of anger stems from how I was treated like a rag doll. In heaven there will be no caste system. I was disturbed as a youth. Quite the paradox growing up: a bookish person, but with a penchant for getting in tussles.

Anyways, I did not try to have a relationship with my mom as a result. I just blocked her out and focused on school. Before that, I used to cry nightly for my mom and I think I disassociated in a way to manage with the anguish of not having a mom. 

I would try to find that mom in other people but once the school bell rings, or the sun dims, or the work shift ended they had to go back to their respective families and I was left horribly alone.

I was always out of the house, I would gravitate towards heat, love.

I have a few childhood friends who I’d visit before school, they gave me patties introduced me to their sibilings and they were extremely kind. Against the advice of my uncle, and at the time when kids my age were being kidnapped I would go to my friends’ homes afterschool. Get acquainted with their brothers. Watch the Simpsons. Some semblance of normalcy.

I would go home just before my uncle and aunt got home from work. My uncle would nag me that I shouldn’t go to my friend’s house but I never did listen.

At home it was quiet, lonely often ignored. My brother was there but then he’d go out with his friends. I would spend a lot of time on the computer which reminded me of summers with my friend getting to know Neopets.

Think Chuckie from Rugrats I could relate to his story although my mom wasn’t dead she wasn’t accessible.

There is something about a mom’s touch or doting care that I lacked and I think it can be awkward at times for me to give me affection.

I know my spiritual mum told me God is going to restore my emotions. Sometimes I can be abrupt, robotic and flat despite being an animated person. It’s an ongoing journey.

* My uncle is to not be held accountable for this this was unbeknownst to him

Family and community

It takes time to find the place God will have you to be rooted. Looking back God did not let me be establish in an area until it was His will.

I moved 2ish times since coming to London. I tried registering with the surgery (GP) in those places and I didn’t have that release until I came to the place where I’m currently in.

It took about a yearish to find the church I’m going to and when you’re in the place you need to be everything falls into place.

I was led to find a small group and couldn’t ask for a better group of girls. Even people who have similar issues that in some ways became my de facto support group. 

J is so kind and I just feel sad for her, I pray God brings a release in her life to get a husband, children etc. She lives near me and it was great having dinner with her. I showed her the clock tower I went to her. And she lives on the other side a line that seems to divide us but it feels like an entirely different world. There are eateries. 

 Or meeting a foster mom with daughter, who has become a defacto support group. Kendra shows me it is possible to accept someone and take them as their own. My dad did that too.

J mentioned it’s hard as London is indeed a transient city, people come for opportunity, studies and often go back to wherever they came from.

As we fellowship more our bond strengthens. 

The church and everything else followed

Getting in a small group, going to outings, and going to early Sunday morning prayer meetings. There is just a shared camaraderie and bond that is uncanny and God ordained.

The women I have to be refreshing so far: they’re frank, candid, transparent with their challenges and lives. Whether it be dealing with ailing parents, getting a will done (which is quite morbid if you think about it), career discontentment it makes me more willing to share my own struggles and be open. We shared some tears already.

Slow to speak

It’s only until recently that I learned to be cautious with what I say. I interrupt people and was brash, arrogant. 

Slow to speak, quick to listen.

I don’t show all my cards and I’m wisely cautious in what I share these days.

I want to enjoy the moment as much as God 

Not everyone deserves your vulnerability. A couple of years ago and even recently I would overshare. It was selfish, attention seeking, but as I’m learning to regulate my emotions, I’m cautious in what I share.

[let-me-simp-in-peace]

Haikyuu Dating Headcanons for Oikawa, Hinata, Kuroo, Bokuto, and Kenma:

Oikawa:

This guy loves you more than anything else, and he does everything he can to make sure you know it.

He can be clingy sometimes, especially when he’s having a bad day. When he’s struggling, you’re the first person he’s reaching for.

You’re his safe space. His home. There’s nowhere he would rather be than with you.

He totally goes all out for your dates. He spoils you constantly.

He also doesn’t mind having low key dates too. He loves just laying on the couch with you and watching movies.

When his knee gives him problems, you’re always there to help. Whether it’s giving him a shoulder to lean on, taking him to the doctor, or even helping him out at home, he knows he can always count on you.

You often have to drag him out of the gym, and he just holds your hand while you lecture him about overworking himself. Normally, he would be irritated by someone interrupting him, but he can’t bring himself to be mad when he sees your eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I just worry about you, Tooru.”

He just pulls you into his arms and shushes you gently. His heart feels so full knowing that you care.

Hinata:

This ball of sunshine loves you dearly.

Will randomly compliment you, and when you smile, his heart races at how cute you look.

Loves receiving and giving flowers. He cried when you brought him sunflowers with a note that said “For my Sunshine”.

He’s super shy. Blushes every time you kiss him. Gives you a little bashful smile whenever you compliment him.

He loves getting piggyback rides from you.

His friends love teasing him for how whipped he is, but he just laughs along with them because he knows it’s true.

Sulks whenever he has to ask you for help reaching the higher shelves of your kitchen. He always perks up again when you ruffle his hair and kiss the top of his head.

Texts you in the middle of the night just to send you funny memes or cute videos that he found that remind him of you.

He plays twice as hard when he knows you’re watching and grins every time he hears you cheering for him.

Kuroo:

This guy lives on chemistry jokes. He’ll send them to you throughout the day just to make you laugh.

When he tells them in person, he always laughs when you roll your eyes to try and hide that you’re smiling.

Every now and then, you’ll surprise him with one of your own, and your heart melts when his face lights up.

He loves flirting with you. He’ll do it anywhere at anytime, and he won’t stop until you or someone (usually Kenma) tells him to get a room.

Will randomly bring you breakfast in bed, saying he just felt like doing something for you.

Sends you two cards on Valentine’s Day. One is always unendingly sweet while the other is a joke card showcasing an awful pick up line.

He calls you randomly because he thought of a question he wanted to ask about you and your life.

Bokuto:

You’re his entire world, and he’s not afraid to tell you.

Will call up his mom when you get sick to ask for that one soup recipe that she always made for him when he was sick. Literally stocks cold medicine, painkillers, and cough syrup to be prepared if you need any.

Contrary to popular belief, he’s actually a pretty good cook. Loves trying new recipes, and you’re his designated taste tester. Never gets offended if you don’t like something he made. He just appreciates that you were willing to try it.

Once cried when he realized he had a game on the same day as your anniversary. He came home that night to find fairy lights strung around the house, a delicious smell coming from the kitchen, and you standing in front of him with a sweet smile.

He picked you up and spun you around before showering your face, neck, and shoulders in little kisses.

(For Female Readers) When you get your period, he’ll call his mother, his sisters, your mother, literally any woman he knows to ask what to do and how to help you.

Kenma:

He loves you so much. He’s not always the best at expressing it, but he tries.

Plays with your hair and listens quietly when you need to talk. He never judges you.

Likes to be the little spoon because he loves having your arms wrapped around his waist while he plays on his PSP.

Absolutely ✨lives✨ for the proud smile on your face after he finishes a stream.

Mustered up the courage and actually called your best friend to ask for date ideas for your birthday.

You guys have all out video game tournaments with each other. Kenma even has a scoreboard for the two of you in the cabinet with his games.

He loves playing Minecraft with you. The two of you spent two months building an entire town together, complete with custom houses, uniquely colored shops, a playground, library, and a fountain in the town square.

Loves when you cook for him and will eat it even if he doesn’t like it because it means so much that you went out of your way for him.