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Thank you yellow! I’m glad I didn’t die either!

Suddenly remembered this one dream I had when I was running a pretty bad fever.

Y’know that one Tom and Jerry episode where Tom dies and he goes to a train station in heaven? Yeah, I was there. And I was arguing with the train conductor. And I was going; “Let me in, you know who I am.”  But then the train conductor. They tipped their hat at me and shook their head. “I’m sorry, my friend, but it’s not your time.” And then I woke up.

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.

Reblog if you support asexuals and aren’t a COWARD

RB if your blog is a safe, accepting space for asexuals!

I didn’t plan on being a wanted fugitive.

Of course not. That’s not a thing you ever plan on doing. You don’t wake up on a fine Sunday morning, look up at your ceiling and say to yourself; ‘Today, I’m going to become a criminal.”

You don’t. You don’t do that. Please, don’t do that.

For the Official Record in case anyone is taking notes, I was not the mastermind behind the whole operation. I wasn’t the main character - I still am not, actually. I’m not even the love interest.

I’m just the guy who ended up being very, very unlucky. Enough to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

For me, that was eleven a.m. in the playground next to my apartment.

Oh, who was I kidding? I was practically inviting trouble on my doorstep, what with being up at such a godforsaken hour as that.

The morning air was crisp and cold against my skin. My dull grey and ratty jacket was like a teaspoon of sugar against a tablespoon of coffee - not enough to ward off the bitterness.

Goodness, I could so go for a coffee right about now. Not even with any cream or sugar - just the pure black bitterness to maybe send me back a day before this all even happened. Wouldn’t that be grand - I wonder if it were possible.

You might be wondering about now; “Hey, what’re you doing standing in the playground near your apartment at eleven a.m in the morning if you don’t like being awake that early? You don’t even have proper attire against the chill.”

Now that is an excellent question. I had no little kid to watch over - I didn’t have a partner, and I didn’t really plan on having for the next few years or so. I didn’t even have like, a pet or something that I had to take out for a walk. I lived alone.

Oh no, I wasn’t standing there because I had to watch over someone. I was standing there because I was looking for someone. Or rather, something.

I was looking for the magical arrowhead that I’d been forced to buy on the internet that morning.

I didn’t even know what an arrowhead was before that morning.

“I didn’t see a Mandalorian when I found you…” Master Skywalker drifted off.

Grogu didn’t fill the silence.

Yep, ‘what he would’ve wanted’ has been updated and more pain has been whipped out on a silver platter. Plot happens in this chapter. Feelings happen in this chapter. 

Lots of things happen in this chapter.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28909794/chapters/71283183

please stay safe

Hi, I know you’re a big account so if you don’t mind, can you boost this? Somebody said this has been confirmed and I want people to be aware and stay safe.

* I’m sending this to some of the big accounts that I know in the POC Bnha community, so sorry if this continues to pop up for some people*

yeaa I heard about this too and ik some people might think this is a fear tactic, and it might be, but even my school is telling us to stock up and try not to go outside for a bit. so no matter what happens tomorrow, y’all stay safe out there. please

i feel like tumblr would really benefit using tone indicators. a lot of people may use them, but i havent seen a lot of it! as a neurodivergent, it helps us understand the tone of what you're saying. sometimes it's hard to tell whether you're actually mad, or it's just lighthearted, or if you're being sarcastic!

here's a chart of tone indicators if you're interested in using them:

also: please do not use any of these as a joke. do not put /srs if you are not being serious. these tone indicators are supposed to be helping neurodivergents and neurotypicals alike.

EDIT:

I'm seeing a lot of people who are nd commenting which makes me super happy! Some notes I think are good to add to this post:

Some neurodivergents find these to be infantilizing. There is nothing wrong with adding these indicators to a public post- but when having a private text conversation it would be best to ask if the person is okay with tone indicators being used!

Please do not put tone indicators in tags! They dissappear when the post is reblogged.

And here's some notes added by myself:

I put these on here because I want to help; I don't intend to makes fools of the nd community at all.

Some people are saying that it would be too hard to remember all of them- you don't have to! I really do suggest saving the list and referring back to it when necessary. You can also just search it up or ask the person to clarify!

All tone indicators are useful. While yes, some neurodivergents don't think there needs to be so many, it can still be helpful. I find all of these indicators to be helpful to myself. Saying that the nd community only needs a select few is generalizing. There should be no problem with adding other tone indicators when they are more fitting!

No that’s Ginger. Gender is the machine with the spinning blades that you use to make smoothies

no that’s gengar. gender is a game of skill that involves balancing wooden blocks