Home of the Prophet

Just a blog for my writing and the things that inspire me to do so.

[cadavae]

How to get Out of the Forest

So you wanted to see some little secrets for yourself and now you're lost, huh? Haha, do not worry! I am here to help :)

First of all take a look around if you can recognize anything from your surroundings. Do you see any paths? Yes? Great! Don't use them

Go between the trees and orientate yourself o n the position of the sun

but be careful not to step into a mushroom circle! those little fellas have a strong grasp, haha!

Listen for any noises, but only follow voices y ou do n't know

Don't take anythi n g you found in the forest with you! the̶̡͉̤̜͊̐͛̃y̸̛̘̣͕͙̟͠ will come to retrieve it, and we don't want that!

If you are lost in hilly terrain, your best choice is almost always to travel downhill!

Don't follow any orb s, t̸̟̝͙̩͈͙̟̯̩̥̓͝h̸̺̹̝̉̀͗͌͛ẻ̶̪̦̀̈͊̉̍̂̃͆y̸̧̻͔̖̗̰̓ ̴̧͙͔̞̟̗̲̲̳̻̏ẅ̴̩̝̳̘i̴̩̳̼͇̟̻̽̋͗̋͘ļ̶̰͈̥̆͋̈́͑̾̑̿͘l̶̨̯̬̠̜̳̱̑̆͊͌̿̂̋͘ͅ ̷̧̮̻͉̈͊̓̓͝o̵͉͉͂͌̆̏͆͘ͅn̵͉̳̜̫͇̭͍̲̤̿͐̔̉̾̽͑̌͝͝ľ̶̛̜͖̣̥̽̍͆̅̇̎̚̚y̵̩͉̖̬̰̻̖͈͋͛̈́̊̃̀̾̽͝ ̵͇̺̫̱̖̘́͛̓ͅb̶̥̮͇̗̹̰̉̌̀̑͗͊̆̇ŗ̴͔̟̰̎͌̉̉̋͆͗̀͌̚͜ḭ̴̣͔̯͇͖̯̟͐̄n̵̥̎̀͗̂͛̈̊͊͝g̶̢̨̪̉̓͌̽̈́̆̋ ̸͇̼͐̀̇͊m̵͉̰̘̳͗̀̆́̓̈́i̴̧̤̝̺̲̮͐̊͑̋͒̚͝s̴͔͇͇̟̞͙͝͝e̴̾͑̾͘͜ṟ̶̆̀͗̔̄̊͛́̋̂y̸͙̙̜̯͓͑̽̀̓̊͆̋

Some things don't want you to le av e the for est

aNd will d o anything̷̰̒͒̾̾̔̿̿͠͝ to keep you t here

▐on't talk to crows or f▄es, they w ill only▐▖ę̶̧͕͙̲̱͓̟͈̲̋̓͛́̒̎̎̒͒͒

t̷͓̬̲̉́͆̚h̵̨̘̣̼͉̝͉̩͆̉̃̓ę̴̨̼̪̝̘̽͑̂͋͋̿̋̚y̴̨̡̝̣̗͈͓̆͑̈́͊͛͌̍́̚ do nnnn't wan̵͖̗̺͙̹͙̖͔̜̯̍t̶̥̼̦͍͕̠̠̻̤̞̍ ̵̬͕̩̞̺͇̞̣͋̆́͌̀̈́̽̚͝͠y̴̗̐̐̐o̸̧̨̨͖͉̪̤̩̠͌͐͛̂̐̌̔͝u̷̻̪̾̑̆͗̊͒̈́̓͠ to kknow how t o get o ut▎, so y▄▄▐▅▅▄ ▐▐▖ ▐▃▃▅

R̸͚͇̼̟͇̝͎͚̮͔̈́͊̃▐N̴̠̻̈́ fast▅

Never l et ▆▅▅▆▐▃▃▅

Remem ber to̷̯̙̱̪̠̠͋͛̋͊͝ ̵͎͚̖̯̦̟͍̉ͅa̵̤͆̍̾́ļ̸̝̜̺̺̩̪̈͜w̴̲̤̮͈̓̈͐͊͑̾̐ǎ̶̛̪̯̼͔̰̠̈̎͆́y̶̨̐̇̈́̂̽͂̋̏͘͝s̴͎͓̹̭̠̎ ̶̗̫͙̩̬̒̄̏ç̴̧͎̼͕̺̬̉͛̽̐̿̏̃̚͝a̶̯̓̈̏̈́̎͘r̴̛̛̜̗͕̺̼̻͓̣̯͗͌̀̆ŗ̴̖͉͋ỳ̴̢̢̨̻̘͚͔̯̄͋̆̔̔͒͊̕̕ ̶̣͎͕͔̞͚̇̔̕ă̶̺̳̪̼̭̍̄͛̇̅̕▐▖▅▆▅

▅▖▅▅▅d̵̜͚̯͇̠͔͖̝̝̓͠o̷̠̳͉̼̣̟͊̃̆̉͒̀n̶͙̒͐͑̾̅'̶̛̱͙̦̰̓̎͂̓̚͝t̴̺̻͉̯̦̘̭̣́▅▆▅【ＳＴＡＹ】

▅▖【H】 【E】 【R】 【E】▐▅▅▐▎▆▅▎▅

ḑ̷̺͈̙̠̮̟͕̇ò̴̪n̴͎͙̜̗͍̙̳͛͂̇̋̔̈̈̓'̸̢̥̫̣̓̏́̂̍̔͜͝t̴͙̙̝̘͓̤̮̮̠̗͋̋̾̽͒́̈́ ̷̣͔̥̤͍͚̌͜ͅl̵̯̤̞̗̕ 【W】 ī̸̡̛̬̹̑̅͗ş̴͍̞̗̀͠t̷͔̃̈̓ẽ̵̤̣̃̀̚ǹ̴̨̢̪̘̘͍̫͌́̿̚̕ ̶̨̲͈̙͈̻̲̳̌͌̾̃̇́̑͗͠ͅt̵̮̗̙̞̣̪͈͌̀́̏̀͐̂̆̌̔o̶̟̳͓͓͎̐ 【E】 ̶͈͛̊́̾̈́͛ṭ̶̱̹̞̽̈́̾́̓͛͐̒̕h̷̰̹͊͗̃̓̇ͅȩ̴̑̚ 【L】 m̷̡̗̲̮͇̱̬̙͙͛̌̃̆ ̵̥̝̪̝̖̰͚̤͍̽̽d̵̢̢̧̮̰͓̝̲̾o̷̞̹̹̺̯̝̩͛̆͊̊͘͜͝͠n̴̙̈́̏̃̉̆͘͠'̷̢̢͔̬͍͇̯͉͓̲͊̉͆̓̔t̴̨̔͒͋ 【C】 ̶̹̞͕̂̽̈́̀͝l̴̺͙̥͇͈̺̊̾̀̀̑̐͜͜͠͝i̷̢͚̹̣̎͑̌̉ṡ̵̙̽͜t̷̥̮̣̠͚̲͚̤̳̭͂̽̇̕e̴͓̓̆́̋̂̾͋͛̚͠n̴̙̊͐͌͒̚ ̶̨̞̹͓̭̳͎̰̪͠ͅt̶̛͙̥̗̻̀̆̅̈́ò̸̦̩͍̲̥́͗̂̀͝͝͠ ̷͕̝̗͚̖͔͇̖͆̈́̐̉̀ͅt̷͚̪̗͉̺̱̮͌̇͌͒͒̈̾h̷̡͚͈̲͓̻̗̟͙͒̈́̅ͅȩ̶͖̳͗̒m̷͇͊̍̎̊̚͠͝ ̶̨̙͎͉̟̘͔͇̆͛̈̕̚d̶̝̩͕̼͍͚͍̿̉̆͝ǫ̷͇̗̞̮̹̠̈́̈́̾̕n̵̢͇̱͓̖̿̌̒͑͛͝'̷̧͇͚̲̃̌̏̇͛͛͂́͆t̶͉̙̫̣̰͍̅̓̈́͐̐͝͠ ̸̱̫͌͊̆͂͗̒̚͠l̵̛͚̼͓̭̦̝͈̾́̈͑̏̃i̵͖̱͇͕̱͕̾̐̉̓̽͆͗̍̿͠s̵̟̦̪͈̞͉̈́̈́̏̿̀̀̚̚ṭ̶̡̡́͠ͅe̷͇̙̬͙̳̓͊̓͗̊͝n̴̛̛͖͙̰͎͒̈̀͛̉̃͘͜ ̴̢̢̛͓̞̼̭̻̙̗̺͐̐͌̆t̸͚̂͌ơ̷̮̲̯͈͕̻͓̻͐ ̸̹͈̺̤̙̎̊̑̆̎̾͒t̷̨͚͚̯͙̙̣͉̿̅̂̃̒̕͠͝h̴̭͌͂ȩ̴̤͙̣̝̲͍͚̮̬̔͠m̵̟͚̰̬̲͓̦̰̭̿͆̇̾̇ ̴̦̠͉̩̐͝d̸̡̘̤̦̰̱̣̹̅̉̍̏͆̍̚ơ̶̧̡̻͈̹̱̥͌̐̾̍̓̕͜ͅň̶̛͚̖̯̃̊̈́͘͝'̶̨͎̫̤̞͓̄͊̋͛̕͝ͅț̷̡̞̳̳̈́̊̈́̇̊̂̈͘ ̷̤̺͇̱̅͆̏l̷̠͓͍̞͙̱̤̉̉i̷̬̿̎͐͑̂̚s̶̛̙̦̱͎̰̬̤̈̀t̴̼̕e̶̢͉͓̩̺̞̬̫̤͕͂́̿ṇ̶͋̓̋̄̋ ̷̟̳͚̘͕̬̉̂̀̂͋͠͝t̴̲̗̱͙͖͔̐͜ö̶̢̻̞̟͈͙̪̺͍͓́͝ ̴̗͙̞̫́́͠͝ṱ̵̢̭̫͔̯̮̖̊̄̊̇͜͜h̸̹͈̦̳͓͓͈̙̾̑͌͜ 【O】 e̸̢̬͓̫̖̻̻̩̳͒m̷̛̳̺ ̸͚̠̣̪̀̾̋͋͛͠͠͠͝d̶̺̩͈̺̲̲͔͇̗̪̑͊ơ̵̲̟͓͍̟̦͓̯̽̈̀̾̆͆͆̉̿ͅn̴̟̈́̅'̷̬̐͆̔̕t̷̨̤͍͚̀̒̀ ̶͕͕͖̤̺̃l̷̘͍̲͊͌̌̾̈͗̾̓͒͝ì̵̛̘̟̞̟͇͔̗͓̾̈́̌̏̀ 【M】 s̶̨̹̱͖̝̘̗̮̱̭̑́t̸̹͇̰̣̿̈́̓͘͜e̴̡̡̤̫͉̪̯͛͆̋̈́͌̈́͝͝n̷̹̮͓̍̈͛̀̄̇̃͘͘͝ ̴͖̽̊̇͂͆͗͠t̶̛̪̰͈͈͍̱̿o̸̜͎̞̺͆̿͊̓͐̀̀͝ ̶͈̙́̍̎t̴̹̭̲̐̈̀̾͊̀̊̕ḩ̴̢͍̼̙͔̓͛͊̍́͝é̶̡͉̲͍̬̝͈̩̗̞̍͂̉̽̉͒̍̓m̶̘͙̠̝̹̪͇̘̫̆̀̇̿ ̵̼̙̱̯͕̎̊͝d̸̥̟̖̙̜̮͕̅̈́́̐͆̅ơ̵̡̲͈̘͍̰̩͆͛̉͗͊̆̔n̴̡̨͍̝͎̲̮̝̩͑̒̚'̶̥̙̭̟͈͎̇ṱ̶̨̳̱̯̉͂̈̐̋̌͌̚͜͝ ̵̢̧̢̪̮͖̣̣͙̤͒̅̊̅̅͂̋̚͠l̸̛͉̺̰̺͖͊͋̈̃̈́͊̂͛i̸̫̰̯̯̘̫̬̹̿͠s̸̛̻̮̜̤͖̭̬͈̬̼̀̉ 【E】 t̵͔̠͈͖̣̓͑́͑̑̽͘͜e̵͉̥̎̊n̷̢͎̳̝̣̈̆͒̑ ̸̙̞̪͔̠͒͒ţ̷͚̙̊͑̓̽̾̕̕o̴͔͍̫͚͚̺̟͙̣͓͋̍͝ ̶̛̘͇̊͌̊̌͘͜t̸̯͎̖̩́́̀͜ͅḧ̵̪̯̱́̋̊̈́͑̄͠e̵̠̥̪͍̺̳͒͛́̽͊̍͘͝͝͝m̷̘͍̮̝̦̑̕ ̸͇̭̃d̸̗̗̤̲͚̙͉̈̐͊̐̈͘̚ȯ̶͖͈̝̮̲̮̘͗̐̎̂͌̀̕n̸̖͓͑̈́̑́̈́̀̏̊͘'̴͍̯̲̘͖̱͖̻͚̿́͆̊͌̉̌̕ͅt̷̼̝͓͎̗̫͊̉̚͠ͅ ̴̱͐͊̾̾̍͗l̵̩͛̀͗̅̕͜ͅi̸̢̜̯̳̐̓̀̽̀š̸̡̥̰̻̤̞̤̲͒̂̾͋͒̕ͅţ̵̮̪̖͔͚̃̓̾́̈́̊̚͠ẹ̵̋̀n̶̨̢̺̗̭̤̳̹̰̄͌̈́͐̉̿͑̀͊͒ ̷̘̞͙̩̹̱͎͎̈̍̀̌͑t̷̡̞̰̱͍̍̓̈́̓͛̄̾̽͐o̵͓͙͗̽̍̊̀̊͗ ̴͉̬͓̻̳͕̌͊̈́͠t̷͎̹̹̗̞̫̤̅͊̓͜h̷͙̫̙͖͍̦̔͐̈̑̀̆͘ẽ̷̛̛̲̙̙͑̈́̓̈́̀̀̕m̴̳̐͌͌̀͑͘͝͝ ̸͍̳̾̋́̀͋̆͐̍̕͝ḑ̸͚̮̥̫͙͋͌̓͋͊̽͂̃̌̀ǫ̸̬̩̙̜͇͔͍̝̊̉͋̇̌̚͜͝n̶̢̜͕͔͗́̋̐̄͊̑͝'̸̲̝͖͍̙̠̑̆̂̃̉̓̀̉̍ͅt̴̞̪͓̠̭̭͔͒̊͗͑̈́͗͠ ̷͉̻͙̮̣͔͙̓͒͑̈́̔̂̒̋͠l̴̼̺̲͐̈́̆ī̸̛̗͗̽̍͝s̵̘̓̓̐̇̓͊̆́̎t̵̢̟̠͔̖͖̿̑͆͗̈́̎̚͝e̷̤̤̟̯̿n̸͇̞͔̻̭͕͗ ̸̱͕̭͚̮̞͕̺̞̅̈́̍̈́̔̒̃̈́̕̚ţ̷̛͕͍̪̻̖̤͖̞͗̀o̸̝̹̹͆́̈́̌͝ ̶̻̟̞͖̼̞̪͚̀͜t̷̬̣̿̾̊̆̀̈́͝ḩ̴̨̢̜̺̅̇̀̉e̴̻̹͚̞͌m̷̢̪̣͎̰̞͓͚̤͂͋̓͊̇̌̅̀͌ͅ

If you follow all the steps above, this will be your guide to successfully finding your way home! Good luck! :)

[kurlyfryz]

Quick question, what if I'm vaguely good friends with the crows?

[qusm]

The formatting of this post becomes very ominous. You ok, OP?

[wywrds]

@baltothart​

[samhorine]

foggy nights - october 2018

[geopsych]

Hot day along the river.

[therestlesswitch]

God I miss summer

[spider-hands-mannos-deactivated]

There is a specific and terrifying difference between “never were” monsters and “are not anymore” monsters

“The thing that was not a deer” implies a creature which mimics a deer but imperfectly and the details which are wrong are what makes it terrifying

“The thing that was not a deer anymore” on the other hand implies a thing that USED to be a deer before it was somehow mutated, possessed, parasitically controlled or reanimated improperly and what makes THAT terrifying is the details that are still right and recognizable poking out of all the wrong and horrible malformations.

[spider-hands-mannos-deactivated]

hey I totally fucked up and forgot the 3rd type, which is “Is Not Anymore And Maybe Never Was” monsters “The thing which was no longer a deer and maybe never was” implies a creature that, at first glance, completely appears to be a deer, but over time degrades very slowly until you realize (probably too late) that it is not a deer anymore, and had you seen it in this state first, you wouldn’t have recognized it as a deer at all, and there’s a decent chance that it was never actually a deer to begin with but only a very good mimic, and what makes this one scary is the slow change from everything being right to everything being wrong, happening slowly enough that you don’t even notice it until its too late, as well as the fact that something now so clearly not a deer could have fooled you to begin with.

[endreal]

No idea if this commentary adds anything or not but since monsters are generally couched in terms of danger and threat, and therefore fear, in my mind these posts broke themselves down kinda like this:

The “was not a deer” monster speaks to fear born of deception, dangers that approach under the guise of familiarity, with varying levels of success to infiltrate the familiar before lashing out

The “not a deer anymore” monster speaks to fear born of coercion. Whatever it is was once familiar and perhaps even comforting but through the action of another agent the familiar has become grotesque and dangerous.

The “…and maybe never was a deer” monster speaks to fear born of self-doubt. Most people spend most of the time in a sense of vague assurance that they’re doing the right thing, or at least a right thing, in the situation they find themselves in. This fear lies in the danger of *thinking* you understood, only to be eviscerated by the cruelty of “no…you were never correct, and this is your consequence.”

[hamenthotep]

[tlbodine]

Yes this. Good analysis. 

[supreme-leader-stoat]

Actually, in light of this I’d like to propose yet one more type of monster to this list. The monster is a deer. But you realize you were very, very wrong about what deer are like.

The deer itself has not changed, you were just wrong about deer from the very start.

[normal-horoscopes]

I would like to add a fifth here.

The “Thing That Was Almost A Deer” something that, despite it’s best efforts, was never able to truly attain deerhood, and now spends it’s days being something wholly different.

Something that wanted to be a deer so very badly, but was turned away from the gates of deerhood, condemned to lurk in lonely the wilderness of liminality.

Monsters are monsters because they can’t be classified. The fear stems from our inability to understand what we are seeing. They are, by their very nature, unable to be understood. Which is why this is the most tragic kind of monster to me.

Something that, maybe now or in the past, didn’t want to be a monster.

[gaiabamman]

Using the appropriate vocabulary in your novel

It is very important that the language in your novel reflects the time and place in which the story is set.

For example, my story is set in Italy. My characters would never “ride shotgun”, a term coined in US in the early 1900s referring to riding alongside the driver with a shotgun to gun bandits. 

Do your research! A free tool that I found to be very useful is Ngram Viewer. 

You can type any word and see when it started appearing in books. For example…one of my characters was going to say “gazillion” (I write YA) in 1994. Was “gazillion” used back then?

And the answer is…YES! It started trending in 1988 and was quite popular in 1994.

Enjoy ^_^

[storiesintheashes]

This is really important, especially because language can change in very unexpected ways. 

For example, did you know that before 1986 people never said “I need to”?Instead, they were far more likely to say “I ought to”, “I have to”, “I must”, or “I should”.

Don’t believe me?

Anyway, most people won’t notice subtle changes like that. But your reader will notice and be confused when characters in your medieval world use metaphors involving railroads and rockets.

One of the things you can do besides use Google Ngrams is to read books or watch movies written in the time period you want to set your story. The key here is that they can’t just be set in that time period, they have to have been made in that time period.

Also, there’s a Lexicon Valley episode on this very topic which I highly recommend. It’s called Capturing the Past. 

[still-intrepid]

SEE ALSO Etymonline.  Word origins and when they’re first recorded. So, say I wanted to find out when a “coffee break” became a thing – around the 1950s, as seen in magazine adverts – or characters might talk about more genrallly “taking a break” from the 1860s…

[villainous-queer-deactivated202]

reblogging for etymonline. I can’t tell you how much I use it for period-appropriate erotic language….

[ms-mazarin]

Words to replace said, except this actually helps

I got pretty fed up with looking for words to replace said because they weren’t sorted in a way I could easily use/find them for the right time. So I did some myself.

IN RESPONSE TO Acknowledged Answered Protested

INPUT/JOIN CONVERSATION/ASK Added Implored Inquired Insisted Proposed Queried Questioned Recommended Testified

GUILTY/RELUCTANCE/SORRY Admitted Apologized Conceded Confessed Professed

FOR SOMEONE ELSE Advised Criticized Suggested

JUST CHECKING Affirmed Agreed Alleged Confirmed

LOUD Announced Chanted Crowed

LEWD/CUTE/SECRET SPY FEEL Appealed Disclosed Moaned

ANGRY FUCK OFF MATE WANNA FIGHT Argued Barked Challenged Cursed Fumed Growled Hissed Roared Swore

SMARTASS Articulated Asserted Assured Avowed Claimed Commanded Cross-examined Demanded Digressed Directed Foretold Instructed Interrupted Predicted Proclaimed Quoted Theorized

ASSHOLE Bellowed Boasted Bragged

NERVOUS TRAINWRECK Babbled Bawled Mumbled Sputtered Stammered Stuttered

SUAVE MOTHERFUCKER Bargained Divulged Disclosed Exhorted

FIRST OFF Began

LASTLY Concluded Concurred

WEAK PUSY Begged Blurted Complained Cried Faltered Fretted

HAPPY/LOL Cajoled Exclaimed Gushed Jested Joked Laughed

WEIRDLY HAPPY/EXCITED Extolled Jabbered Raved

BRUH, CHILL Cautioned Warned

ACTUALLY, YOU’RE WRONG Chided Contended Corrected Countered Debated Elaborated Objected Ranted Retorted

CHILL SAVAGE Commented Continued Observed Surmised

LISTEN BUDDY Enunciated Explained Elaborated Hinted Implied Lectured Reiterated Recited Reminded Stressed

BRUH I NEED U AND U NEED ME Confided Offered Urged

FINE Consented Decided

TOO EMO FULL OF EMOTIONS Croaked Lamented Pledged Sobbed Sympathized Wailed Whimpered

JUST SAYING Declared Decreed Mentioned Noted Pointed out Postulated Speculated Stated Told Vouched

WASN’T ME Denied Lied

EVIL SMARTASS Dictated Equivocated Ordered Reprimanded Threatened

BORED Droned Sighed

SHHHH IT’S QUIET TIME Echoed Mumbled Murmured Muttered Uttered Whispered

DRAMA QUEEN Exaggerated Panted Pleaded Prayed Preached

OH SHIT Gasped Marveled Screamed Screeched Shouted Shrieked Yelped Yelled

ANNOYED Grumbled Grunted Jeered Quipped Scolded Snapped Snarled Sneered

ANNOYING Nagged

I DON’T REALLY CARE BUT WHATEVER Guessed Ventured

I’M DRUNK OR JUST BEING WEIRDLY EXPRESSIVE FOR A POINT/SARCASM Hooted Howled Yowled

I WONDER Pondered Voiced Wondered

OH, YEAH, WHOOPS Recalled Recited Remembered

SURPRISE BITCH Revealed

IT SEEMS FAKE BUT OKAY/HA ACTUALLY FUNNY BUT I DON’T WANT TO LAUGH OUT LOUD Scoffed Snickered Snorted

BITCHY Tattled Taunted Teased

[writing-reigns-deactivated20200]

reblog to save a writer 

[whispersandwhiskerburn]

Reblog because the titles for each category are comedy gold.

[birbwaifu]

Some super cool MCs from @3150dahliast who are all super cool like teach me your ways on how to design a cool MC

Celeste belongs to @hexenwerks-reblogs, Mandy to @artfuldreams, Charani to @theawkwardvillain, Briar to @cardamines, and Ivy to @weremoogle 💖

[hexenschrift]

Aaaaahhh!!!!!

I love this so much omg

Look at my pretty boy!!

That you so much!!!!!

[danaglover]

[weirdlandtv]

A garden sculpture by Australian artist, Bruno Torfs.

I grew up in a kind of paradise. A wild, lush garden, with strange noises of creatures you heard but never saw. One particular trunk—located at my secret thinking spot—looked like an eagle. I wish I had a photograph of it. I wish I knew then what I know now.

[pietmuis1]

@disgustingplants

[disgustingplants]

Please don’t make me talk smack about the old Gods…

(I just got me a *new* sea-hag curse the other day, when my roommate Stephanie offered me some seaweed snacks and I told her ALL the seaweeds can go f*ck themselves.)

[eyes-of-the-seraph]

Whoooop! Look at this thing I made for my darling MC Mateo! I couldn’t resist putting the cat there. He’s from @3150dahliast !  Template 

[hexenschrift]

The End of Everything

And angst thing I wrote after reading over @3150dahliast and thinking about how Mateo would feel after the events of 3150 Dahlia Street are over. Careful please, there’s mention of death and just a lot of feels in general. I love this, and I think I might write some more angst in the future. And if you wanna read more about him A story: Chapter 1, Chapter 2 Fluff Backstory

The day is cold when he arrives, it's been quite a while. Mateo feels bad. Worse than usual, if that's even possible. He has a reason now. He couldn't do it before, or at least that's what he keeps telling himself. Mateo has to tell him. He must tell him about the decisions he made, the changes that happened and what he did. Breathing gets harder the closer he gets and he has to stop and compose himself more than once. He fishes for a cigarette in his coat pockets, lighting one with trembling fingers. The aroma isn't as comforting as he wishes it was but it's something he can hold on to in this absolute chaos of emotions and ambiguity. He finally comes to a halt. He stands there smoke pouring from his mouth. He wants to say something so desperately, but he just can't find his voice, he can't even look. For a few minutes, there's nothing but quiet and shuddering breaths, until he finally, finally feels like he can speak without everything falling apart. "Hey, Freddie." now that wasn't so bad. It's a start, maybe he can do this after all, or that's what Mateo thinks. He opens his eyes and reads the name on the headstone and nothing is fine all of a sudden. The world spins and his breath hitches in his throat. He almost falls into the dirt but manages to steady himself in the last second; staring at the grave. It's his name and he knows, he knows that it's here and it has been for so long but this time... This time there are no bitter sarcastic comments. No eye-rolling. There's nothing. Because Freddie is gone and Mateo is, for the second time in his life, truly, utterly alone. The realization crashes down on him as if the sky itself is falling. He's alone. Freddie - his home, his heart, his everything - is gone. For good this time. There's no coming back. He will never see him again, never touch him, never- He stumbles again, gripping onto the headstone for support but falls onto his knees. He feels sick to his stomach as he kneels in the cold graveyard dirt, one hand barely supporting him, the other still on the gravestone. Dry heaving, tears prick at the corner of his eyes. Swallowing hard, he finally manages to calm down and sits up; leaning against the cold stone. Mateo tilts his head back and sighs deeply. Pathetic. Really, really pathetic. It’s been months now and he still can’t do this. When did doing anything become so hard? He doesn’t remember anymore. All he knows now is that he’s actually missing the constant sarcasm and insult. The way he could use them as a shield against everything that threatened to throw him off balance. He draws a shuddering breath. He must get it together. He as to do this now. There’s no use in delaying it anymore or insanity is inevitable. “Even when you’re actually dead...you’re still capable of making me fall for you.” There’s a dry, humorless chuckle making its way past Mateo’s lips and he’s quiet again for a while. “I’m sorry I’m so late.” His voice is barely a whisper as he wraps his arms around his knees, resting his chin on them. “But I just, I couldn’t…” he stops, shaking his head to clear out his thoughts. “I didn’t know what to say. I just, I wasn’t ready. I don’t think I am ready now, either, but I have some things to tell you.” Mateo starts fidgeting with the sleeves of his jacket, nervously licking his lips and suddenly, he just feels very tired. “I got a tattoo. To, you know, remind me of you. It might be a bit stupid because I highly doubt I’ll ever forget you but still. It felt like the right thing to do.” There’s a small, bitter smile spreading on his lips. “I think you would like it. It’s a cat. A ghost cat, right between my shoulder blades. Felt like the most appropriate place.” He can’t help but chuckle after ending his sentence, despite being on the verge of tears. “To be honest, you’d probably be annoyed.” He’s full-on grinning now, with tears streaming down his face. “But I’ve always enjoyed driving you insane, haven’t I?” his voice breaks on the last few words and Mateo presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying not to sob, but failing. There’s no more talking for a while until he finally stops shaking and has his voice back under control. “I never thought it would be so hard to keep living in that room without you. I don’t think I can do that anymore, Freddie. I don’t think I can stand being in that house. Everything feels dead and empty and I have never been lonelier in my entire fucking life.” He draws another shuddering breath, calming himself down so he won’t break down again but it’s so hard, so godforsaken hard to not cry, thinking about everything they had together, everything they’ve been through. “That fucking office. I just, I can’t be close to that anymore. So I’m gonna leave. I already packed everything I need but I just can’t stay in that house with these people anymore. It reminds me too much of what I have lost. It reminds me too much of you.” Standing up and dusting off his clothes, he finally turns to look at the headstone again. “I just gotta be on the road again for a while, y’know. I’ll be back, I promise. I could never leave you. Not even now.” Mateo puts a hand on the gravestone and smiles bitterly. “Even in death you still got a hold on me, you possessive bastard.” Stuffing his hands in his pockets he takes a few steps backward. “I guess I’ll talk to you when I’m in town the next time. I’ll come back at some point.” Mateo turns to leave, feeling slightly relieved but even more alone than he did before. There’s nothing actually keeping him from leaving anymore. He’s been telling himself that talking to Freddie and saying goodbye is something to get done before he could actually hit the road again. So, this was it. He’d be back though. At some point.

It’s five months later when police discover his abandoned car along a street in the middle of a forest. Nobody has heard from Mateo in at least two months, which isn’t unusual, normally, but for some reason, people close to him have a bad feeling. The search for him goes on for two months in total before many give up. Even after searching the entirety of the Forest, however, there’s no body to be found. It’s as if Mateo has simply vanished from the face of the earth. Slowly, rumors start to develop about something stalking the forest, looking for someone it lost. There’s grief-stricken wailing heard at night and people swear they have seen what looks like a young man with long black hair, crying eyes that seem too wide, calling...waiting for someone.

Mateo never returns to the cemetery.

[wywrds]

character igs   ⇒ mateo espinoza for @hexenschrift

want one?

bonus; alt. username & bio

Weiterlesen

[hexenschrift]

LOOK AT THIS! AMAZING! Man, this is so perfect, thank you so much! I love it!

Honestly, Mateo would absolutely change his username and bio after he actually gets with Freddie. Definitely.

[hexenschrift]

SomethingsomethingFluff

I don’t know. I legitimately do not know. Inspired by this. So I put all the blame on @3150dahliast Just silly Mateo/Freddie fluff. No excuse. Might be bad.  Hope y’all enjoy it anyways.

“Freddie! FreddieFreddieFreddieFreddie!“ he’s practically screaming and fully aware that it’s going to piss Frederick off, probably. Not that Mateo really cares right now. “I am right here; will you stop screaming?” he’s definitely annoyed, judging by the scowl. Then again, he always scowls, so it’s hardly any different from how he usually is. Mateo just replies with a grin and runs over to him. “I have something super important to show you!” there’s a look of suspicion on Freddie’s face and he raises an eyebrow. “Nothing you’re this excited about can be good for me.” “Oh, don’t be so dramatic, we both know you love me.” Mateo’s practically bouncing on his heels “But anyways, I bet I can fit the whole World in my hands.” There’s a scoff and the suspicion on Freddie’s face changes to slightly mocking amusement. “Sure you can. I don’t-“ he halts the exact moment that Mateo raises his hands to put them on Freddie’s cheeks, smiling up at him sweetly, which causes Freddie’s facial expression to change first to confused and then settle on resigned. He takes Mateo’s hands and pushes them off his face. “Stop being ridiculous, Mateo.” Before he can say more, however, he gets pulled down by Mateo, who’s holding onto his hands and kisses him. It’s soft and light and it’s over before Freddie has fully registered what’s happening. There’s a confused look on his face and he blinks a few times, causing Mateo to giggle. “Sorry about that, I’ll let you get back to whatever you’re doing.” And with that, he walks towards the door, leaving a still stunned Freddie behind. Mateo turns around at the door and flashes him another brilliant smile “Love you lots, Freddie.”

[hexenschrift]

WHO’S HERE FOR THE CHAOS?!?!

Look at this. Backstory for Mateo. you might say “But Hex, aren’t you already writing that other thing with Mateo?”  To which I will say “Yes, yes I am. I’m writing both now. Which is definitely not a bad idea. at all.”

"Jesus Christ, Jack, keep your shit together. Your fidgeting makes me wanna punch you." He's pretty sure that Roman is going to make good on that threat, so he stops playing with the already frayed seams of his shirt and scowls. "Well, where the fuck are they then? We've been waiting for-" this time he gets smacked in the back of his head, so hard that he nearly falls over. Jack turns around to scowl at Roman, rubbing the back of his head. He's always thought she'd fit better into one of those Viking series, with her long, dirty blond, braided hair and imposing stature. All she needed was a sword or a spear. Or maybe both. "Our boyfriend is in town, so it's no wonder they're a bit late." Roman says with a sneer. Jack blinks in confusion "Both your boyfriend? I mean, yours and Pallas'?" "Sometimes, yes. Depends on his mood." She flashes him a wide, almost predatory grin. "He has a lot of… special people. Guess that comes with travelling a lot." Roman shrugs and jerks her head towards the end of the road. "There they are." The comment makes Jack turn on his heel and he almost bumps into Pallas. Though it's not them he focuses on immediately, but the much smaller guy currently clinging to their arm. He's cute, cherry red, worn out Doc Martens, thigh high socks and hot pants, coupled with a crop top and an over-sized jacket, sliding off one shoulder. He's smiling at Jack, bright green eyes and freckles, his long, black hair in a braid over his shoulder. "You're Jack, right? I don't think we've met yet" "No, I don't think we have." he smiles back and shakes the kid’s hand “I don’t know your name, though.” He says, raising an eyebrow. “So, I’m at a bit of a disadvantage here, you know.” There’s a chuckle from Pallas who runs their free hand through their hair. “He tends to get a bit too excited sometimes, sorry about that.” They grin down at their boyfriend “This is-“ they get interrupted rather harshly by an elbow to their guts, followed by a pointed stare. “I am not that bad, and I am perfectly capable of introducing myself, thank you very much.” He turns back to Jack, smiling again. “My name’s Mateo, nice to meet you.”

[sixpenceee]

Kilian Schönberger is a photographer from Germany, but his childhood was full of those misty landscapes which later inspired him to make a Brothers Grimm’s Homeland series. In this series, he captures all the spooky ambient of the time. 

Moreover, his capturing of Grimm fairytale-landscapes brings to life the general spooky, sinister, dark ambient of the time, showing that not just children, but the adults too experience shivers and goosebumps when seeing the homeland of the Brothers. So, it’s not really surprising that they wrote such terrifying tales. (Source)

[norris-the-undying-deactivated2]

@jidashia

[hexenschrift]

More Mateo

Here's some stuff about Mateo even if I’ve already written something to @3150dahliast but there was talk about the Gremlin on discord today and it made me sad, so.

Mateo is usually a ridiculously cheerful guy, pretty much constantly happy and is capable of adapting to new situations quickly. He’s an oddly innocent kind of reckless, less doing things because he knows they’re dangerous and more because he’s very curious and a bit unaware of how dangerous some things actually are. His adventures led to him having to run from the police more than a few times. Mateo started to practice parkour specifically for that reason and while he’s not very muscular, he’s small, quick and agile enough to get out of most, uh, dodgy circumstances. Sadly, the whole thing in the house has been taking a larger toll on him than he’d like to admit, making him far more paranoid and jumpier than he’d usually be. He tries to keep his happy disposition throughout the whole thing, but it’s not always easy when you have no idea what exactly is happening. And on top of meeting dead men and dreamwalkers and the rest of the shebang he’s being inexplicably drawn to a very rude ghost. Mateo doesn’t have any problem with Freddie’s insults most of the time and is able to brush them of or just plain ignore them. He’s strangely forgiving about most things the Gremlin does or says, attributing it to being imprisoned with a blob of evil spirits for gods know how long which probably didn’t do his psyche any good. That and now he must deal with someone who has no idea what to do and is generally a little bit clueless about the whole thing, so Mateo can understand that Freddie’s frustrated. The more stressed and anxious he gets however, the more likely he is to snap and throw around very colorful insults (see Mateo, Chapter 2: “Go fuck a goat, Frederick.”). Mateo’s whole motivation for romancing Freddie is a mixture of “Gods dammit you will love me, whether you want to or not” and “I just want him to be happy, please.” with the latter being much harder for him to accept. He’s probably gonna cry a lot about it. Alone. At night. Not that he’d ever tell anyone but he’s a soft guy whose most interesting talent is divination and he’s honestly not sure how useful he can really be to anyone in this scenario.  There’s also a Pinterest board for him, that is full of possibly dead women lying in ponds, for some reason. Wonder what that is about.

[thehairsonthebackofyourneck]