#dark years

[weirdsciencecamp]

Someone write a clown David fic please...

[churchofruneaism]

Runes first act of bringing the world into the dark years is upon us!

In California, the sun is appearing to be orange! Some of our California Runes have sent in photos. Hail Rune!

[promptistrashqueen]

Noise and the Hereafter

Prompto just...doesn’t give a fuck these days. He wants to, Gods, does he want to care about something again, but...Noctis is gone. He reads their texts when he should be sleeping, he does what he can to forget, but more often then not he ends up here.

There’s a place in Lestallum now, just on the edge of the growing place, for those who’s hearts vanished with the sun. It’s got loud music and backrooms, sticky floors and air that smells like desperation and the need for something that makes reaching fingers bleed. 

Prompto hates how often he ends up here, between hunts. The other hunters started avoiding him early, his heritage and recklessness drove them away and those who still agreed to go with him eyed his bruised hips when his shirt rode up with pity. 

His skin fit like the shell of rotten fruit, too large around his shriveled innards and he tried harder still to bury his loss under unfamiliar hands and noise.

The beat of music leftover from the time before, full of basslines and loud voices, lyrics he tried not to here over the frantic sprint of his heart. 

He knows that someday, Noctis will come back. The King will arrive, will ascend to his throne and Prompto will lose him before he can rebuild himself. He’s just glad that Ignis and Gladio don’t know, that Noctis won’t have time to realize, to learn.

His body is barely his own anymore and the bruise where his heart should be grows by the day. It doesn’t matter though, as he reaches for the sliver of light at the edges of his memory, the one that the music calls to, and takes the dive on the dancefloor. 

[writing-about-things]

My last decade - II

2018 finished really well, constantly amazed by our newborn son, and not sleeping much 😅.

2019 was undoubtedly the best year. Took our son to meet my family in my homeland, my dad, in between chemos came to visit twice, we even travelled with him. The best memories. They'll last forever. Christmas at home, the last one with my dad, was the best possible ending. A few days later I would hug and kiss him for the last time, right before he was flew back home to never come back.

We were supposed to go again in March but COVID. We were trapped at home with our son and supposed to work full time. I almost broke down after just one month. I kept going to the lab once or twice weekly. Dystopic landscapes everywhere. No one on the bus, no one on the streets. Wild pigs on the streets, our balconies would fill up with birds, and so on. Daily Skype calls with the family to keep in contact and to entertain our son. And to keep my dad connected. He was a very social man, and he found himself alone at home, coping with solitude and the chemo treatments. By July he started feeling bad and passed away not to cancer but to the solitude and depression. I couldn't fly to him this time, I couldn't leave my family at home during a pandemic. Only my sister made it on time. She got to see him on his last few days. When she called me a few days after, I knew why it was. My world collapsed. I'll probably write about it later, I cannot now.

2020 marked the lowest, darkest place I could've possibly been. I lost two dear aunts as well. My homeland world was slowly starting to vanish.

[o3o-aya]

i can hear my 12 year old self raging in my head rn

cause i’m hella gay and 12 year me didn’t want to be gay cause she’s a homophobic bitch

ihjgf like bitch stfu you’re obsessed with Sans from Undertale