#somewhat long

Lup smiles as she lays on Barry's bedroom floor, the ceiling was covered in glow in the dark stars and the room was painted a deep blue giving the illusion that it was darker than it was. She remembers making fun of them just a few months ago but here she was, falling in love with the glowing specks. The room is nearly silent except for the soft rain hitting the window and the random song that was playing on the dollar store radio, propped up on books that cuts out every few seconds plunging the room in static, and then came back to music right after.

Barry was laying next to her, so close that their face's almost touched but it wasn't like either of them even had the strength to do so, to move, or to even breathe properly. The silence wasn't awkward, it hadn't been awkward between the two for who knows how long, it was comforting and suffocating in a good way. In a way that reminded you that someone else was in the room, the kind that made you feel safe and protected.

Now and then one of them would break the silence for just a second to say something about the current song or comment on how the rain seemed to be letting up a little bit before the room got plunged back into a song-filled silence. Eventually, though the Radio stopped working completely and plunged the room into a soft static, neither of them even noticed, too lost in their own heads to tune back into reality.

It's raining harder now, so hard that the sky outside is pitch black despite it only being 2 pm. Lup makes a soft comment about how she should head home but doesn't even make an attempt to get up, knowing that it would be a stupid idea and that Taako would have her head if she came home soaked. So instead, she moves in closer to barry to the point that the small gap they used to have is gone. She looks over at him and playfully flicks his nose before going back to looking up at the fake sky with interest. 

Forgetting was the consequence he sought, but the ode of emotions that came before caused the strengthening of his character.

That was the lie he told himself every night.

Nights that were spent awake, roaming the sleeping streets of the city, searching for whatever he had found but lost before.

When he was finally found, almost dead in the docks of the city, the Father took him by the hand and forced him to cry his sins out before the statue of Jesus Christ, their Lord.

The Lord’s salvation would not be able to erase his past. No, not even the mighty hand of God would be able to raise him from the grave he had dug for himself and the woman he once loved.

It wasn’t the case anymore, but old habits die hard.

The drink called for him every night. The solution, simple, clear and crystalline, was more than simple alcohol. T’was the Devil, claimed the Father. T’was the problem, claimed the Mother. It was death, believed the wife.

Every night he still escaped, but now with the care of not drowning in the pier. Sometimes he’d take the boat out to sea, distancing himself, but never enough to lose the city lights.

Until the torrential rains and the undertow dragged him to where he’d lose the city’s light.

First, there was fear. Then, shame. He felt he’d not die, but he’d be seen either at sea, adrift, or returning from the pier as the sun rose. He knew he’d take too long to return.

He knew not he would not return.

If the Hand O’ God was too weak to save him, and the Devil’s Hand too busy to take him, then the ocean would bring him an answer.

The Sailor’s moon tears a hole in the storm, and the stars behind shone not with radiance, but with radioactive nausea. The pitch and yaw of the ship catapults the man from bow to stern, from port to starboard, and the lone and solitary mast shatters under the force of the wind on the sail.

The moon and the tempest vanish beneath a wave of colossal proportions, a mountain of salt and water that approaches.

But never breaks.

The face that emerges from within the ocean is as big as the unseen city left behind. The eyes, sunken abysses where lost souls would fall for evermore. The skin, green, scaly, fetid.

The presence of that before the alcoholic paranoia silences the world. The moon, now again in the sky but in the wrong place, and smaller, watches as a mother who mourns her son’s death. The land, now unfathomably distant, had abandoned him like a violent father.

The man looks up. He becomes aware, then and now, of the amount of lies the priest had spoken.

God couldn’t save him. Not before, not now.

The creature opens its mouth, wings unfurling like volcanic explosions, and as it rises, the sea level drops a few meters.

– What do you want with me? –The man thinks.

He does not speak. Fear forbids it.

But the creature understands him anyway. His gaze twists like with curiosity. Maybe the question has not reached it, maybe the answer is obvious.

But it replies anyway. The voice sounds not like a voice, but like a comet ripping through the atmosphere and colliding with the Earth.

– Life sustains itself through life.

When the creature punctuates its sentence, the sound it makes as it stretches an arm the size of the world and a hand the size of the moon amplifies the nausea. The man holds, with some magical bravery, the alcohol inside him, and thinks:

– But… Why us? We are so small. You eat stars.

The sound of rushing water first dazes him, then brings him hope. Could it be God, sending forth a strong current that would drag his boat away, far away from that creature that, in size alone, already bested the Devil to his title of Enemy?

The man looks overboard, and understands again, this time finally. The sound was not of rescue, but from the waterfall that ran from the lunar hand that lifted the boat, like a drowned ant, from the surface of the ocean and towards the creature’s eyes.

Soooooooooo I’ve been watching Criminal minds over for like the trillionth time and I can’t seem to be finding all the Aaron Hotchner and of course my baby Spencer Reid smut and fluff and shit so I’ve decided to write some of my own.

Leave request or whatever

So not 100% sure how I got onto this thought but... you know how people reblog those things where it shows a writer makes a muse or has a favorite char... and then basically goes “I want to break them and see them suffer.” Yah... I have never understood that, now if you are like that I am not saying your weird or wrong for thinking that or anything just... I don’t get it. I have never once felt that way, if anything I feel the opposite and want more fluff and stuff and for my muse to be happy because I feel they have enough sadness innate to them. But I see people almost... addicted? obsessed? with angst and making stuff that I don’t know... I get turned off because its everywhere. Fluff seems to be more rare (and I fallow and hold everyone who does it as close as I can as a fan) and angst/toxic stuff, stuff that can make you ether worried about a muse or down right just horrified about what is happening to them is prevalent it seems.

Which leads into another thought about myself... I am starting to wonder just what is the line between angst... and Toxic? because I see many toxic situations (ether in a ship or just in general) and everyone is just like “oooh yes that angst” and I am sitting here like “OMG if this was real I would be calling the cops and getting someone a therapist because omg wtf?” and I just think something is lost to me. Now this is on me, I don’t understand, its my failing and I want to understand but I am scared asking questions about ships or situations like that to the mun/s would be taken as... hating on what happens. Which is not my intent at all but to try and understand, but that fear causes me to play scenarios in my head and then my anxiety increases and I feel sick and here we are.

Okay so ever since the Toby Turner thing I’ve been thinking about this, lemme share my thoughts about the Depp and Toby Turner thing (and Chris Brown and Kesha), all this is my personal opinion:

I personally side with the victim (the woman) because, let’s be real, women are really hated on the media. Like, you see a bunch of hate in general, you’ll see hate about men, but a lot more about women (at least from what I see) and really, if all of the cases turned out to be false, there would be even more hate. These women are already bashed and told they’re lying and get hate, can you imagine if it came out that they were lying? They wouldn’t be able to show their faces without somebody saying something, they couldn’t make a sign on social media or people would go down, anything they did would be bashed and there would be hate comments EVERYWHERE. The media would cover it, also bashing the person and really, they wouldn’t be able to have careers because they’d be recognized as the person who lied about abuse (a serious thing) to get attention. Their lives would be ruined. Everyone, not just men and the media, the women too, would hate on them and they’d only get negative attention. The consequences about lying about something so serious would be gigantic. And I’m pretty sure all these people knew it. They wouldn’t speak out about their experiences if they knew that there was even a slight chance that it would be unmasked as a lie, the Internet would dissect them. So that’s why I side with them. Also, there was proof about the Amber Heard thing, pictures and everything.

“We’re doing wonderful!~” he grinned, lifting the clock up to reveal a small photo album. “So many adventures, so many dates...” He opened it up, showing him various photos that they’ve taken. “It’s been a wild ride, really.. heh.” He held the book close to his chest. “I was thinking about asking him something, but it seems too soon...” He blushed. “I’d tell you but for all I know he’s hiding in his chair again.”

An arm poked out of the chair. “Alo!” he waved, his head poking out of the cushions. “Vhat’s up?”

“Ah, nothing. Just speaking with... er...” He tilted his head, trying to remember the name. “Ah, yes! I was speaking with Slappy here...” he gestured to the wooden cat on his head. “Showing him some of our memories.”

“And zhe question?”

“Nothing of your concern, dear~” he smiled sweetly. “You’ll learn in time.”

“Jes.” Professor Professor replied with a grin. “Also, learn to hide your secrets better.” he grinned, throwing a little box. It hit Fish on the temple, and he caught it.

“How’d you-?!” He shot Professor Professor a look. “How’d you find it?!”

“It vas in zhe clock.”

“You couldn’t wait??”

“Vanted to surprise you vith your own game.” He lept up, kissing Fish on the arm. “Any idea vhen?”