THIS BLOG IS NOW ARCHIVED AND MOVED ! those who wish to remain mutuals can now find me at @winifrd . all ongoing threads with mutuals will be continued on @winifrd .
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he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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@winifrd-a
THIS BLOG IS NOW ARCHIVED AND MOVED ! those who wish to remain mutuals can now find me at @winifrd . all ongoing threads with mutuals will be continued on @winifrd .
trying to write a bio for wendy that’s more elaborate than “ her husband was a dick and a haunted hotel was also a dick ” and it’s not going well
nostlgic:
he hates feeling patronized, hates knowing that perhaps wendy was nearly done with him and his continuous failures. jack can take care of himself and his family, can’t he? he’s been doing it for some time, now. the question is — has he been doing it well enough? depends on who you ask ( the answer is no ). a deep but silent breath is taken, the man slowly folding the newspaper crease by crease, and setting it down on the kitchen table. ‘i already got a job offer, wendy,’ every word seems as if anger is being held back behind grinding teeth. ‘i was going to wait to tell you the… good news over dinner,’ icy stare moves up to her. ‘but since you — insist — on hearing it now… there it is. happy?’
no , she’s not happy . she’s not sure she’s been happy at any point in the past few years , let alone when husband seems to have a knack for nothing but the slow ruin of their small family . he’s agitated , irritated , pissed --- but then again , when is he not these days ? and , god , she’s grown tired of tip - toeing in circles around him , lest she ignite that flame of his temper . she’s tired of shouldering the responsibility of keeping him in check , so long a duty and a necessity .
and what does he expect , her applause ? fond cooing and pride , all for him having the sense to fulfill his end of marital obligations ? sure , relief courses through her , softening some of that frown that creases her brows , but she fails to ease completely , wiping hands on apron . “ alright . then yes , jack , i’m happy . what’s the job ? ”
i …………… think i’m gonna archive and move blogs this weekend
i ............... think i’m gonna archive and move blogs this weekend
watch the shining miniseries
wendy vs her codependency
if you’d like to support the author / feel free to change pronouns as needed
* potential warnings for : mild allusions to abuse / trauma
“ the shadows were always taller than you when you walked ” “ our horoscopes say we make great friends ” “ now you’re nothing more than a ghost who haunts me ” “ i thought he was a god ” “ i thought he would love me if i became his puppet ” “ beings like him don’t know what the fuck love is ” “ did your parents not love you enough ? ” “ you can’t make up excuses for an asshole ” “ i , the ragdoll in your collection of toys ” “ you take up a space that i do not want you to have ” “ you blamed me for the wreckage ” “ your blood type is toxic ” “ the dead and i now raise hell ” “ the congregation screams holy to your voice , not to your anointing ” “ here lies your pride ” “ this time though , i stitched myself up ” “ i refused to be the next victim that laid at their altar to sacrifice ” “ i fucking hate roses ” “ did your dream come true ? ” “ you tried burning me down not knowing you were fucking with a goddess ” “ i’m not scared of the monster anymore ” “ fathers shouldn’t kill their daughters ” “ yet a monster is still a monster ” “ karma has a way of working and doing its due diligence ” “ with your death , i found my peace ” “ your holy ground burns my feet ” “ i’m still walking through the fire ” “ she wanted everyone to pay for her pain ” “ somehow it doesn’t run through my veins to better understand your actions ” “ i guess i had too much hope ” “ you tried killing me ” “ i’d miss death’s visitation again ” “ you decided it was my turn to be ruined by everyone ” “ it didn’t take long for me to figure out i was an easy target ” “ he was preaching about me on his holy , untouched altar ” “ she’s still alive , in case you’re wondering ” “ the demons have found souls to rest ” “ somehow it’s not god who comes to my rescue ” “ your eyes will always remind me of the ocean ” “ paranoia now has a place in this body i call home ” “ here’s to all the events we’ll never attend together ” “ the seven deadly sins have nothing on you ” “ you’re scared ” “ i hope no one recognizes me ” “ if hell is real then there’s a home for you ”
fauxcette:
i don’t know. four little words that are far too familiar, muscle memory in the form of a sentence. the relief that comes with knowing she’s not alone deflates just as soon as it builds itself up –– what good is knowing that this dissatisfaction is a symptom if they can’t figure out the cause, or the treatment?
❝ that could be it. ❞ there’s bitterness weaved within her response, though karen isn’t sure if she agrees. she isn’t sure if she disagrees, either. empty statements, that’s what so much of her life seems to be made up lately. her voice trembles some, hands fumbling as they wring themselves. ❝ i don’t, i don’t know if . . . do you ever feel like you’re not you? ❞
another ‘ i don’t know ’ sits poised on the tip of her tongue , but she feels guilty at the thought of offering forth yet another ambivalent answer , and bites her tongue . does she feel like herself ? no one’s ever asked , so the query has never crossed her mind , but now that it has , it gnaws . her sense of self has always been complicated , always vague , always too tightly tied to her relationships . she’s the product of a damaged self - esteem , perhaps . easier to fit the pre - established mould of a cliché ( the mother , the wife ) than to present the self that mother dearest has spent decades persuading her was unlikable and undesirable . is feeling like oneself really so worthwhile if one’s self falls so terribly short ?
“ i . . . well , yes . and . . . no . the things is , i don’t know that i was much more . . . well . . . myself , even before i married or had a child . or that i would have been any more myself without marriage and motherhood --- but that’s more of a . . . a personal flaw . what about you ? ”
spent a year thinking jack torrance was an edgy , dramatic college bitch with the whole “ the shadow knows ” thing but he was actually just a pop culture college bitch
nice
shinedied:
“ false face, ” dan said, his voice low but getting louder – higher. eyes were closed, brow furrowed. “ false face. ” he repeated, but it was danny’s voice now. the high, frail, chanting voice of a child. “ false face, not there, not real. ”
wendy , @winifrd··· – p.
the nightmares have been a constant for years now . less often than they had been that first year , but they still slip their way into their nighttime routine with more regularity than wendy would like . heart sinks as she wakes from her ever - thin sleep , hearing the shrillness , the fear in son’s tone : false face . the same dream as always , she suspects , memory keeping a firm grip on the most traumatic of lived experiences . another night , another nightmare .
and routine begins as she shrugs on housecoat , slipping quietly down the hall towards son’s bedroom . door is eased open , and she approaches carefully , kneeling at bedside with a tired frown . oh , danny . how easily heart breaks ( and who would have thought heart could shatter any further , broken as it already is ) , as he tosses and turns beneath covers . and what can she do , besides press a gentle hand to his forehead , smoothing back hair from sweat - drenched forehead . “ doc ? hey , doc . wake up , sweetheart . ”
i simply think that wendy should get a cat or something
In light of the horrific discovery of 215 children's bodies found in a Canadian Residential School, here are some links for non-Indigenous allies to read and share. We need to help educate, take action, and nurture:
Settlers Take Action by On Canada Project-- includes infographics and further reading and links
Residential School Survivors Society mental health resource you can donate to that offers counseling (among other services) for indigenous peoples
PDF for Trauma Response Resources by the National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition
If you have any more, please add to the list
oh non , c’est 4am , and i can’t fall back asleep
THEN FULL CONSCIOUSNESS CAME BACK , TERROR AND PAIN WITH IT / wendy torrance of stephen king’s ‘ the shining ’ ( novel - based ) . indie & highly selective . written by cae .
fallenmind:
“𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚐𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝.“ jack said behind wendy, as he held onto a dust - covered cardboard box that had the years 1954 - 1956 written on the side of it by a board, black - felt marker. jack himself had looked somewhat ghoulish in appearance, with the markings of dust along the shoulders and sleeves of his plaid, and a stroke of dust along his cheek as well. “you okay?” @winifrd·
ever since the first snowfall , the hotel’s basement has unnerved her . and why ? besides the boiler , it served as little more than storage , a cluttered series of this - and - that from decades past : old furniture , accounting archives , some handyman tools packed away in a corner . perhaps it was a sort of claustrophobia that had taken hold , heavy in the chest : standing below ground , with the snow piled up , tall as a wall outside . . . there was a dreadful feeling of no escape , swallowed whole by the great overlook hotel .
at his voice , she startles , whirling around to face him . “ thought i saw a rat . ” it’s a lie , but it’s a less shameful confession than being needlessly on edge , and a thin smile is offered forth , arms folding across her chest . “ what have you been up to down here ? haven’t seen you since lunch . ”