You see a sentence
written in cyrillic. Some of the letters are familiar. You see the
meaning shimmering underneath the surface. You almost grasp it, but it slips away. The letters on the page mock you silently.
You know this Czech word. You’ve already learnt it in Polish. It is not the same word. It is a grave insult. Your slavic friends are shocked and embarassed for you when they hear you speak it.
There is a sentence in
Croatian. There is a sentence in Serbian. There is a sentence in
Bosnian. They are all the same sentence.
You have to write about your day in Slovak. You spend the night polishing the draft. You fail your assigment. It’s written in Czech. You don’t know Czech.
P is not what it seems. You have to remember that.
The Croatian sentence
does not mean what the Bosnian sentence means. They both mean the same in Serbian.
That word has a diminutive. The diminutive has its own diminutive. The diminutive of the diminutive also has a diminutive. Nobody knows what the final diminutive of a word is. Some say the knowledge had been lost in centuries past and matrioshkas are the echo, the tangible warning left for us to remember. No living creature should hold the means of diminishing something into nonexistence. Others say you may still find some of them in old soviet textbooks, if you dare to look in abandoned schools of Chernobyl.
Someone is speaking to you. Is that a he or a she? You aren’t sure. It’s an abstract concept. Why does it have gender.
You see a word in a
dictionary. It has seventeen letters and only one vowel. You close the dictionary very carefully not
looking at the phonetic transcription. The shape of it haunts you in
your sleep. You wake
up face damp with tears, a bitter taste on your tongue. The clock blinks 3:03AM. You do not dare look up that word again.
This word means the
same thing in the five slavic languages you’re familiar with. You use
it in the sixth one. That word does not exist in this language. It never
did. There is now a word-shaped void in the fabric of this language.
The natives look at you uneasily. There is a new quality to the silence and your palms start to sweat.
H is not H. H is not H. H is not H. H is not H.
One day you flip through your dictionary. A page is missing. What was the word? You can’t remember. There is pressure building at the back of your head. The clock blinks 3:03AM.
You write my name
is in cyrillic. There are shadows dancing on the walls. They grow
longer with each letter you write down. It is not cyrillic you’re
using. You keep writing my name is. The shadows now bleed from
the tip of your pen. It’s irrelevant. You need to remember the right
N is not N is not N is
not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N
is not… If only you could remember the letters. The letters are important. What was it, that wasn’t N?
There are nine different prefixes
you can add to a verb to change its meaning. There are fifty three different suffixes you have to add to a verb to make it
work. In the end the only thing left of the original is a vague shape
of one of its middle consonants.
You can feel the anguish radiating from the verb’s mutialted form. A desperate sob escapes through your clenched teeth.
You’re so, so sorry, you didn’t meant to. You didn’t. It doesn’t matter.
You now read a text in
Russian. You’ve never learnt Russian. Why are you reading that text? The words burn your eyes,
the meaning searing your mind.
There’s a shot of vodka in front of
you. You don’t drink alcohol. You don’t care. All existence is
meaningless, your soul’s in eternal pain. A broken matrioshka lays at your feet. There is no salvation, she says boring into your eyes. You open your mouth to answer, but there is only a burst of harsh rustle. It dies in whispering echoes a moment later. Your glass is empty again.
So yeah maybe I ran out of questions but you ran out of answers.
where the fuck were you when i was half drowned in a bottle of whiskey just asking for a text back?
where the fuck were you when life crawled under my skin and tore itself out from the inside?
where the fuck were you when I was going through it last November and you said looking at pain this close made you uncomfortable?
where do you get off with telling me I shouldn’t talk to him and that he’s bad and he only cares about one thing when the only goddamn time you were interested in me is when my clothes were off and yours were too
look at this game we played because it never was that to me but you only just now put your cards down so you could hold her fucking hand and
i can’t be mad about it I can’t feel it in my chest like a jolt of electricity i can’t beg for you to come back when you were never even here so
maybe i ran out of questions
but only when you stopped fucking answering them.
so block me again we’re not even friends– lily rain
Someone recently bought something from me and asked how long the item gonna reach their place and if I offer express shipping. I said no and it might take 1-2 weeks to reach their place.
They were shocked and asked where the hell I live. I told them the answer and that they should’ve known that if they check my store FAQ carefully. I ended up getting lectured that my reply was ‘curt’ and that they’re a busy person and have 5 children with a husband working for Disney and I’m just ??????
the signs according to ME, based on what I've absorbed from tumblr even though I don't pay attention to 75% of the zodiac and might not be able to even name them all from memory
PISSED OFF ANGRY FILLED WITH RAGE AND ANGER AND IS ALSO MAD
the impression I get is they're similar to aries in that they’re angry and stubborn? but the difference is that while aries will clock you in the jaw, taurus will hold a grudge for the rest of your born days. your born days, not theirs, because they’re going to outlive you out of spite
is what I think comes next? anyway apparently geminis are very social and bubbly and they're people persons (people people?), but also they’re supposed to be all two-faced and gossipy, because twins. which is very mean to say about twins.
no offense to anyone who is a cancer, but my Least Favorite Human that I've ever met is a cancer, so my perception is tainted. cancers cry a lot. all the time. about everything.
you know, I honestly don't know what is associated with leo, besides... lion. so therefore, leos are brave. you might belong in august, where dwell the brave of heart. their daring, nerve, and chivalry set leos apart. congrats you're gryffindor now
or is it libra comes first? I think it's virgo. um, anyway, virgo is my moon sign. I respect virgo. the general sense I get is that they're very... anal and particular and organized? their lists are color-coded and have subheadings?
or possibly virgo, depending on whether or not I switched the order. BUT YEAH SO, LIBRA, SCALES. ALL ABOUT THAT FAIRNESS AND JUSTICE. common room is next to the kitchen.
uuuuuuuGHHHHHHHHHHHH I'M SO FED UPPPPPPP I am a scorpio but I don't WANNA BE a scorpio I'm so TIRED of everything being nothing but femme fatale tropes and byronic hero nonsense I'M NOT MYSTERIOUS!!! are people even mysterious in real life? also please stop talking about how sexually charged and passionate I am. please don't do this. you're making this uncomfortable for everyone and I wanna exchange my sign for something else
the sense I get is that sagittarius is best personified by a weird kid at summer camp who hardcore believes in aliens and whose knees are full of band-aids
does capricorn come next? I don't honestly even know. I don't know anything about capricorns. they're represented by a goat though, so that automatically makes them better than every other sign. A MERMAID GOAT, NO LESS. listen, idk what capricorns are like, but I'm trading my star sign. I WANNA BE A MERMAID GOAT. I WANNA BE A MERMAID GOAT MORE THAN ANYTHING.
the only thing I know about aquarius is that song in Hair
fish. has lots of emotions, but is pretty chill and creative? bunks with sagittarius at summer camp, but personally prefers cryptids to aliens
the kanamari arc makes sense. just saying. i just think people tend to forget how being a fifteen year old makes you feel.
so kanan met mari when they were kids. kanan must have noticed the difference between them back then: mari had tons of money and she did not. but she probably didn’t care when she was still a kid and money and actual responsabilities and their futures were things that didn’t matter.
mari was offered the abroad thing and i bet that when kanan knew it, she thought this: i won’t ever leave this town. dia will also stay. mari is the only one that has a chance. she needs to take it and be shiny. so she decided that she would do ANYTHING and EVERYTHING for mari to leave the town and be succesful. she had to take the chances she was given (and maybe she was also lowkey jealous).
mari comes back. kanan treats her like that because she’s mad because mari is wasting her chance (a chance kanan could only dream of) and because she isn’t being thankful. kanan wonders why the heck mari is back at the town wasting a chance so many people would instantly take. maybe she also thinks she’s acting spoiled (and that doesn’t help her feel better).
mari slaps her. she waits for kanan to slap her as well. kanan wants to, but then she actually sees everything (mari, one of her best friends ever is waiting for her to slap her) and hugs her like when they were kids because there are some friendship things we won’t ever be able to explain but aren’t less credible or occurring.
no one is abusive. no one is a bad person. they’re just teens. and most of teens like to do what they want: mari wanted to stay and kanan wanted mari to be succesful and happy and didn’t realize mari was happy there. again: people tend to forget how being a teen feels, and how much one can love a friend.
Y’all if i can recommend a really good book series right now, please read When Women Were Warriors by Catherine M Wilson, its about women warriors who love women and they fight and lead armies and strive for peace and save their people and guess what THEY DON’T DIE. Its well written, there’s multiple love stories, 90% of the characters are women and of all character types.
Its really an amazing story, i love it a lot i’ve read it many times (its a 3 part series, i only linked to the first part) and i don’t think its spoilery to say it has a genuinely happy ending. We deserve to have happy endings.
I’m taking a break from tumblr. Like I’m completely logging off and everything for a few days. Maybe longer.
Im having some bad mental health days and with that comes the idea that my art is the worst. I’m not improving as quickly as I’d like. I need to go back to traditional art for awhile, read some books, center myself. I am getting short tempered, stressed, and feeling like a really unpleasant person and I don’t want that to be who I am.
It also means, even though I just started it, I’m putting my ask blog on hold.
If you need to get in touch with me, I do have a twitter. I don’t post a lot on there and mostly follow funny twitter accounts and other art “blogs” but I do check it regularly. You can find me @Lozeyjones on twitter.
I’ll reblog this once more for the day crowd but as of now I’m taking a vacation away from this site. I can’t handle much anymore.
Again, my twitter is @lozeyjones
I also check deviantart frequently (every day) so you can find me there as just Lozey.
I’m sorry I’ll be absent for awhile, but I do think that to feel better about myself and my art, I need to get off of this website to cool down and rethink things.
I hope everyone else is doing fine, however. I’ll just be on for the next 24 hours so if you need to let me know anything, tell me now or I won’t be able to get back to you for some time.
Usually, with shit like this happening, he’d want to
move. Stress clean, buy groceries, go for a drive. Instead, he sits, a
lead weight in his stomach keeping him in place. Guilt, but not. There’s
an edge of sadness to it that is making his throat hurt, that has him
try and find comfort in his room, his one and only safe space.
Disappointment, then. But worse.
He’s disappointed with himself.
Dean’s been trying not to feel that way. Really, fuck, all the way back home he’s been trying so hard—he had to forgive Ma-his mom,
she was right and he was. Was not. He shouldn’t feel disappointed with
himself that he’d apologized. She’s their mom and that’s more important
than how Dean’s stupid fragile feelings were hurt. Except, every time he
repeats that to himself the lead weight gets heavier.
He’d tried, all through dinner. Fuck, did he
try. They’re a family and families eat together. But the food just
didn’t wanna go down. As if there were still words locked in his throat,
words of hurt and accusation, and they were in the way. The more he
tried to get past them, the harder it got to talk. Like his insides were
torn between heaving it all up and keeping everything inside. He’d
played it off as just being tired, and Sam and their mom had shared that
look. Like they were bonding over their mutual exasperation
over Dean’s juvenile avoidance strategies. Plotting behind his back over
how they’re gonna work to make Dean more civilized, make him see reason.
Like planning to take out entire species is fucking civilized behavior.
And now he’s being unfair. But still. Or, hell, maybe
Dean’s just plain wrong about this and they’re right. Somehow. At least
that’d fit the pattern.
Dean puts his face in his hands. Rubs his temples, swallows his spit. His throat feels stuffed.
There’s light on in his room and his door is closed and
the sheets he’s sitting on are fresh and soft. Sometimes, concentrating
on these things helps a bit. Dean focuses on breathing slow and into his
stomach. He kind of wishes Cas were here. Talking doesn’t help shit
when you’re not heard.
Dean:You know what do you call a lost wolf? Random person on his way: Dean: a where-wolf! Baron [hiding from Dean]:*Tries to stop a hysterical laugh * Random person on his way:it’s not even fun- Baron:*fails* Dean:
“Rawr! I am Delirious, the most vicious monster in the whole wide world!” A scrawny man in a blue hoodie spoke. His face was nearly completely hidden by a hockey mask, and he had a machete strapped to one side of his waist. The normally solid forest ground was mushy under his dark blue boots, not that it bothered him nor his partner much.
“Oh yeah? That’s why you haven’t gotten one kill, huh?” Delirious’s “partner in crime”, so to speak, teased the shorter man. The partner, better known as Cartoonz, had skin the color of blood, a missing right eye, and short, dull horns. He had a pair of bat-like wings that currently kept him aloft, dark red claws instead of fingers or toes, and a thin, razor tipped tail that only ever drooped. His clothes were loose, often ripped and dirty.
Neither were good at what they were supposed to be, but neither truly wanted to be.
“Look ‘Toonz, I need a better introduction! The last people we found laughed at me.”
“Yeah, I know. They laughed at me, too- Wait, did you hear that?” Cartoonz’s question was directed at an odd noise. It sounded both familiar, yet very different than any sound they’d heard before.
“I heard that! It sounds human!” Delirious spoke quickly, looking at his best friend. Before the conversation could continue, the mysterious noise squeaked out of a nearby bush.
“It’s coming from here. Stand back, Delirious. I’ll check it out,” Cartoonz whispered as he approached the bush. Moving carefully, he pulled the leaves to the side, revealing two small cloth bundles. He picked the noisier bundle up gently, and cautiously pulled the blanket away from the source of the noise.
“Delirious… Look at this,” Cartoonz’s voice was quiet and shaky now. Delirious crept up to his friend, and confusedly took the small bundle forced into his arms. Cartoonz then picked up the other cloth wrapped thing, and lifted the cloth away from it.
“…What is this thing, ‘Toonz?” Delirious questioned before a happy giggle floated from the bundle.
“I think it’s a little human. What were they called… 'babies’?”
“Makes sense. Hey, this little guy’s pretty cute!” Delirious smiled at the baby in his arms, which stared back at him. The baby had light blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. The other baby in Cartoonz’s arms also had blonde hair, but crisp violet eyes, rather than azure.
“Yeah, they are. Maybe we should ask the Wraith about them. He knows a lot about humans, so he’ll be able to help us take care of them,” Cartoonz offered the idea hesitantly, almost as if he was unsure. The thought that the babies would be abandoned by them was discarded by the pair before they even realized it was an option.
“Or maybe we should ask the Nurse. She should know a lot about humans from taking care of them so long, right?” Delirious pointed out as he began to walk towards a cabin. He and Cartoonz had long ago repurposed the empty house into a comfortable living space, and they both lived there.
“Yeah. Wait, we can’t tell them! If we tell them we’re taking care of humans, they’ll kill them, or they’ll tell the Entity!” Cartoonz realized, panic rushing from his words. The small babe in his arms blinked up at him and smiled, while the other just giggled and grabbed Delirious’s pointer finger.
“Not gonna happen then. Look at these two. We can’t just let them die!” Delirious agreed, allowing the baby to play with his finger until they put it in their mouth. “Ah! No! that can’t be good for you!” He yelped, pulling his finger away as the babies clapped and laughed. Cartoonz couldn’t stop his guffaws at the sight of his best friend waving a finger in front of a happy little baby.
“Well, if we’re going to take care of these two, then we should give them names, right?” The winged man questioned the other. When they finally arrived at the somewhat small log cabin they called home, they pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The living room was comfortably warm, with a pair of couches, a few chairs, and a fireplace that contained a blazing fire. There was a fluffy carpet spread on the floor, meaning no shoes were ever worn about in this room. The kitchen had a tiled floor and a small table with four chairs surrounding it. The counters were clean and the fridge was stocked. Upstairs, there were two bedrooms and a pair of bathrooms.
Delirious kicked off his shoes before stepping into the living room, cradling the child like he had done it before. A broken memory tugged at the back of his mind, but the second he payed attention to it, it was gone. He shook his head to regain focus, then spoke.
“Yeah, they gotta have names. Let’s each name one,” Delirious determined, grinning behind the mask he never took off. He plopped himself down on one of the couches, while Toonz took a seat in an armchair.
“Well, you go first then.”
At Cartoonz’s words, Delirious looked at the blonde babe who had fallen asleep in his arms moments before. “Uh… how about, uh… Wildcat? 'Cause-, 'cause he’s so fierce! Is that a good name?”
“Sounds good enough as a nickname,” Cartoonz shrugged, before turning his attention to the child in his arms who stared up at him with innocent purple eyes. “Well… what do you think of 'Bryce’?”
“Bwyce!” The babe gurgled out, beaming as they tried to say their name. “Bwyce! Bwyce!” Cartoonz felt a flash of an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time. Pride. He lifted the baby off his lap and up so he could look them in the eyes.
“That’s right. Bryce,” Cartoonz affirmed. Bryce giggled and clapped his hands together, smiling tiredly, before he yawned and fell asleep. Delirious cooed at his partner, who’s face turned another shade darker. After a second of silence, Delirious sat up, seeming to come up with an idea.
“Alright, I’ve got it! How about 'Tyler’? 'Cause it sounds like tiger.”
“You will not let the cat thing go, huh?”
“Shush up! It’s a cool name.”
Cartoonz laughed at Delirious’s indignant response. Before they knew it, both humanoid monsters were yawning and falling asleep themselves.