Womb

Sometimes I see a woman in baggy high waisted jeans & a fedora and just, holy crap women ya know? can just be so wow ya know? dont know how they do it sheer magic ahsjdjajsjjs

“Are you lost, child?”

A small clenched hand wiped at a dirty cheek. Sniffled, stifled cries filled the large and dark throne room.  “I can’t find my Mama,” the child hiccuped out. Her hands clutch at the filthy rag she wore. “I want my Mama.” The King, The God, The Ruler slowly rose off his throne. Dark robes silently swayed with his movement. His footsteps echoed, sending chills and tremors that sunk deep into her bones. The King stopped directly ahead of her. The Child swallowed, her airway painfully tightening around itself. The King knelt. Rich dark eyes met her gaze. To some, they might find the intensity unsettling - yet The Child only felt a rush of warmth flow through her veins. Her sniffling slowly stopped. Though her tears still streamed down her cheeks, The Child found her breathing deeper. The King tilted his head at her. “Where is she from?” he asked. The Child shifted her feet, about to answer before- “Pompeii, my lord,” an unseen voice said somewhere behind her. “One of the many.” The King bowed his head at that. Sorrowful. Disappointed. The child shifted her feet again. Her hands wrung themselves anxiously. “I’m sorry-” she started. The King abruptly lifted his head. Met her gaze again - cut off her apology. “It wasn’t your fault,” he reminded her. Then, he smiled - a sight that filled her with giddy, buzzy energy. The King straightened to his full height. One of his hands lowered themselves to her eye-level; an invitation. “Come,” he said. “Let’s go find your Mama.” The Child took the offered hand. For every step The King took, she had to take three. Nonetheless, she was happy to be by his side. “What’s your name, child?” The King asked her. “Agata,” she replied. Her head tilted back in an attempt to meet those eyes again. “My name’s Agata.” The King hummed then. He glanced down at her - a smile in his eyes. “I am Hades.”

Writing Prompt #3

‘You have 10 days to live.’

Mortality is a dark subject to dwell on.

We don’t often think about what happens when we die, after it, about the death itself. Often times, we go through our daily lives without even being reminded that we are such fragile things.

I lived that kind of life; a life where I went by the days with a kind of reckless, careless freedom.

Perhaps you could call me ignorant, or oblivious. All living creatures die, but with the way I had lived you would’ve guessed I was chasing death.

I wasn’t. I had no intention of dying. I wanted to live. To live without regret, to look back and to say ‘I’m happy with the way I lived’.

That sentence ran through my head when I learned I had 10 days to live. A measly 10 days - barely more than a week - was all that my goodwill had earned.

Yet amidst the raging thoughts one would usually experience when faced with their own mortality, there was one clear sentence. Found beneath the piles of fear, of anger, of ‘why me?’, there it was, clear as day.

‘I’m happy with the way I lived.’

And I was.

Truly, genuinely happy.

After I realised it, it was easier for me to accept my fate. At least, as easy as it can be.

Those around me took longer; longer nights spent holding them while they cried, longer hours spent pounding away at locked doors because I cannot stand not seeing them again before I left.

I didn’t even tell most people. Those who had been with me for years and years, defended me from all sorts of monsters, and yet I kept this secret from them.

I wished I had enough time to tell them, to be able to tell them and be there to reassure them. But I barely had time to comfort the ones closest to me, and to convince them to accompany me on my plan.

My last journey.

I only had a few days left, after spending them on clearing all my extra affairs. It was then that I realised I had been lucky, in a sick and twisted way.

At the very least, I knew enough to plan for it.

After all affairs had been settled, we packed our bags into our car and went on a road trip. We called out buildings, sighs, horses, cows, fields, mountains, lakes, parks, people. We stopped and ate at the most questionable diner I had ever stepped into - and that was truly saying something, as I’d walked into multiple questionable diners.

We traveled and slept and talked. After a while on the road, I’d noticed that the others had began to relax slightly, to enjoy this final journey I’d planned, to live in the moment with someone without many moments left.

I was glad they did. It made the journey easier for me.

After all that traveling, we’d finally arrive at our destination. 

A long bridge, suspended high above a river valley. From the centre, a single piece of cord.

It had been unanimous that I were to go first. The man in charge fixed a harness around my torso, gave the cord a few more experimental tugs, then nodded an affirmative in my direction.

I took in a deep breath, then I jumped.

After it, my friends had applauded me on my bravery. They called me reckless, as always. I smiled cheekily in return, as I’ve always done.

And then we went home.

Bungee jumping had been the last thing on my bucket list. My last hurrah to the life I’d lived before I learned the news.

I was happy, but oh I wished I’d lived longer. Of course I would. I had plans that went on for years, dreams that plummeted like a deflated balloon.

But I dealt with the hand I was given, and while it was truly a shit hand, I was satisfied enough.

9 and 3/4 days after the news, I climbed to the roof of my apartment. The stars still peeked out beneath the ever-brightening sunrise sky, and I had wanted to see them one more time.

One last time.

Despite how dark the subject of mortality can be, Death always came on time.

And I was ready for it.

cats.

reblog.

dont agree? too bad.

when u scratch a cat’s chin and they lift their head up reblog if u agree

it fits so perfectly im-

chad

PLS HELP

IM GONNAN CRY THIS IS SO FUCKIBG FUNNY TO ME

There’s a lot of accidental anti-semitism in the world , but sometimes I come across the deliberate and malicious anti-semitism im DND and I’m just reminded that no matter how much I love this game it does not love me back and the original creators never wanted me to play it.

Today’s example is: Phylactery

In d&d:

In real life

That’s right. they named the evil artifact that the evil undead spellcaster hides their soul in after a Jewish ceremonial object.

sometimes I forget Tumblr exists and that I have a space in this void for me to scream in. 

Anyway,

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28909794/chapters/71047512#workskin

‘what he would’ve wanted,’ has been updated! That’s right, I asked myself, “what should I give out to the world today” and my answer was “pain”

“No one?” Master Skywalker’s fragile hope was shattered, and the shards were there in his voice.

Yes Mister Skywalker, not even your holy Jedi-ness is exempt from the angst I have for you. Now open wide-

bold of you to assume my charger works properly

Your bed is a wireless charger that takes about 7-10 hours to fully charge a specific type of human