#but something about the new year i started journaling but in my own way

[multifandom--mess]

Hannigram Fic Recs! pt.3

part 1 | part 2

here's some fic recs for youuu (⁠◠⁠‿⁠・⁠)⁠—⁠☆ definitely took me way too long to add a part 3 to this but whatever, enjoy a variety of fics in no particular order that i've read the last few months that deserve to be shared and enjoyed ♡

old-fashioned divinity candy [series, ongoing]

Explicit, 115k+ | the relationship between old money, med student hannibal lecter and his newly rich sugar daddy, will graham

Like a Lucid Dream

Explicit, 75k | In the days following Will's fateful fall from the bluff, Molly Graham begins to understand the extent of her ignorance regarding Hannibal and Will's relationship. The discovery of her husband's deceit leads her to seek refuge and escape in their cottage in the mountains. There's only one problem: she's not the only one who is looking for a place to hide.

you swallow my heart and flee (but i want it back now)

Explicit, 65k | After they killed Francis Dolarhyde, Will was certain he pulled Hannibal off the cliff with him, but when he wakes up, he’s still on the edge of the bluff, surrounded by FBI agents and paramedics. It’s apparent Hannibal got away safely, and Will is put on the job to help find him. When Will finds Hannibal’s journal in his old cell, filled with entries about, and drawings of, himself, he sneaks it into the waistband of his pants and takes it home. It forces Will into dealing with his own feelings, and figuring out what he wants. Will can only hope the journal gives him the answers he seeks.

And the Winter Sheds His Grief in Snow

Mature, 4.5k | On a car ride, Will spots something... abnormal. And it somehow breaks the normality of their relationship, in ways neither of them expected.

According to Winston

Mature, 7.9k | Winston this, Winston that — everyone in Will Graham’s life is now privy to his new stray, the lucky seven of his pack of dogs. It comes as a surprise when Winston isn’t what anyone expected, and this new light sets a backdrop to Hannibal’s carefully manipulated plans to make Will into his full and whole self.

Mundane Madness

Explicit, 104k | After a traumatizing experience, Will decides that maybe he deserves a shot at a normal, healthy life. It just might be nice to have Hannibal at his side too.

Leviathan

Mature, 24k | Three years after they fell into the Atlantic, Hannibal and Will have made a new life for themselves in the sun-soaked Douro Valley. But old hurts and unaddressed fears lurk beneath the idyllic pretense, threatening to consume all semblance of peace.

Between Black and White: Crimson

Explicit, 9.6k | After surviving the fall and undergoing a proper treatment, Will and Hannibal moved to a place from the past to start their future together. Till death knocked at their door...again.

Suffer A Sea Change

Mature, 29k | Hannibal meets Will, a fisherman with something oceanic lingering behind his eyes, one stormy summer in coastal France.

Omnipotence Paradox

General Audiences, 14k | The trap springs too quickly in Florence. Will and Hannibal adapt.

There's Something So Lonesome About You

Explicit, 90k | When will Graham is released from the BSHCI, he realizes that there is little left for him with the FBI. He packs up the essentials (and Winston, of course), and leaves. Hannibal has to deal with the sudden loss of Will, and he is not very happy about it.

Leila Isabella

Mature, 11k | Will has been utterly miserable in the long months since Hannibal turned himself in, but he gave Hannibal an unexpected gift in the last hours before everything fell apart.

Hidden Place

Not Rated, 5.5k | Two years after the fall, Will and Hannibal share a heated evening in Cuba.

More Myself Than I Am

Explicit, 9k | Everyone has a soulmate. Someone they will connect with on such an intimate level that they are like one mind in two bodies. It comes on the cusp of adulthood, a shared link between two minds. It will start with feelings, emotions shared across the connection. Some people claim senses; smell and sound. Those who are thoroughly, intensely intertwined can claim to send their very thoughts towards each other, although it’s generally considered bad luck to use the connection to find each other sooner than you are meant to. It is a wonderful thing, to know that no matter who you are or what you’ve done, somebody out there will understand you. Or at least, it’s supposed to be.

In the Darkest Recess

Mature, 12.7k | As a child, Hannibal has problems making friends. A therapist gives him a doll to practice social skills on. Hannibal calls him Will, and quickly becomes obsessed with his new best friend. He never leaves it, even when he begins to hear Will's voice in his head, promising that he will never leave Hannibal, as long as Hannibal is willing to give him 'life to live'. Great love, after all, requires great sacrifice.

[gayboober]

i always joked that journaling doesn’t solve all of your problems like therapists act but jesus christ it really does help when you’re so bottled up.

[ellecdc]

Hi!! Ok this is my first time doing an actual request so…I hope I do this right 😭.

Poly!marauders x transfer student reader: Reader comes from the US, where quodpot is the more popular wizarding sport (like quidditch is rugby and quodpot is football). Reader has always LOVED quidditch and is excited Hogwarts actually has a team. Maybe reader trying out for the team? Seeker would be cool bc the reader would be able to practice that by themself. Reader going to the pitch early every morning to practice leading up to tryouts, Sirius and James watching from the stands bc that’s normally THEIR time to practice. Remus sitting with a hot tea and bundled up…UGH I LOVE!

this was such a cute idea! this is actually the second fic I've ever written that involved 0 dialogue and I only realized that about either fic once I finished this one, so hopefully it's good! thanks for your request, love, I hope I did it justice!

poly!marauders x transfer student!reader who is obsessed with quidditch [900 words]

CW: .... I don't think any?? read is Gryffindor, written for a fem!reader (term that's used is witch) but could be read as gender neutral as they/them/their are used

If someone were to ask Remus why he could suddenly be spotted haunting the castle grounds before the sun rose most mornings now-a-days, he would quickly blame it on his sodding no good energetic and horribly devious boyfriends (who he loved very much). 

But the real answer was a far more selfish one.

You see, Remus (and Sirius and James) had developed a rather peculiar crush on a rather peculiar witch in their final year of Hogwarts. 

The rumour had been that a new student transferring from Ilvermory was going to be attending Hogwarts for their seventh year, and with Hogwarts (and the wizarding community in general) being as small as it was, it had created quite the buzz. 

The rumours were proven true when a witch far older than the many first years lined up for their turn at the sorting ceremony took their place below the hat only for it to shout GRYFFINDOR before their robes were decorated in red and gold.

You seemed utterly enchanted by it all; by the floating candles, by the stone walls, and by the feast itself. 

Watching you skip throughout the castle in the weeks following the Welcome Feast was nothing short of inspiring; it was as if watching a muggleborn first year see the castle and all of its secrets for the first time again. 

You seemed to be very skilled at finding the magic in, well, magic. 

Remus wondered then when magic stopped feeling so magical to the rest of the seventh year class; even children who were raised by magical parents were nothing short of ecstatic to begin honing their own skills at Hogwarts.

When did that stop feeling so exciting? When did throwing up silencing charms and summoning objects towards yourself become second nature instead of an exciting and exceptional learned skill? When did transfiguring buttons into butterflies become an arduous lesson instead of a wondrous adventure?

And that's not to say that you hadn’t seen or experienced magic before; on the contrary, you were a very talented witch. But you seemed to be awestruck by every single thing that you set your eyes on.

The fact that you were living in a castle had been particularly exciting for you, from what Remus had overheard, as was the game of quidditch. 

The popular and more commonly played sport in the magical United States was that of quodpot, and what little Remus actually understood about quidditch, he understood even less of quodpot, which is to say that he understood absolutely none of it. But even Remus had to admit there was something mesmerising about watching the way your tongue stuck out a little bit through your teeth as you drew out different drills and formations in your dedicated quidditch journal.

Though the quidditch season hadn’t started yet, every time there was a pickup game or a one-on-one, or even a few players feeling the familiar itch of flying through the air at record speeds and dodging other players and flying balls, one could be certain that you would be standing in the bleachers - often even hanging over the edge of the railing (in a way that made Remus very nervous, thank you very much) - with a wide smile on your face as you took it all in. 

And if Remus was really lucky, he’d even get a chance to watch as you balanced on the balls of your feet as if your body was just itching to join in on the fun. 

And if Sirius and James both took the piss for Remus finally enjoying ‘quidditch’ enough to put his sodding book down every once in a while, well, that was neither here nor there. 

So, the second that madame Hooch announced that tryouts for house teams would be starting in a few short weeks; you were hardly ever spotted around the common room anymore. 

Any time there was a free moment, one could bet you’d be down at the pitch - or even elsewhere on the grounds - with a broom underneath you and your eyes peeled for the wiley little snitch. And anytime you were found at the pitch? Well, one could bet James and Sirius would be too.

….

… As was Remus. 

James was all too happy to finally have (enthusiastic and consensual) company in the mornings to comment on the fact that it had been nothing short of painstaking torture to extricate Sirius from his bed for quidditch practices before you had transferred to Hogwarts, or to comment on the fact that it had been nothing short of painstaking torture to extricate Remus from his bed on any given day before you had transferred to Hogwarts.

Because it appeared that they were all in agreement that, even if it had to be at six in the bloody morning, watching you experience the unbridled joy that Hogwarts and quidditch and magic could give you was the best place to be.

Sirius leaned casually against the railing flashing you the odd wink or holler of encouragement when you happened to look over at your admirers in the stands whilst James shouted pointers and cheered you on, basically hanging over the railing in much the same way you would when the roles were reversed.

And Remus?

Well, Remus usually had about three layers on, a hot cup of tea, and a book that laid untouched as he got to enjoy the view.

[thatdeadaquarius]

Have some more language brainrot for your brainrot

Writer reader getting kind of insecure that even if they write something nobody will understand it, so when Al haithem askes you if he can keep a draft or two just for analyzing, there's hesitant agreement but ultimately you tell him to please burn the documents once he's done. They're too awkward to look at now...

Only he doesn't burn them, in fact he ends up recruiting several people close to the creator with knowledge of olden speak to analyze them. A funeral parlor consultant well known for his historical knowledge, a 500 year old shrine maiden who owns and runs her own publishing house, and a bard who somehow butted his way in on the project. None of them could resist the opportunity to witness the creator's sacred scriptures with their own eyes.

Needless to say, the papers ended up being fought over and have been making their rounds around your acolytes. It started with Ei, who insisted that as an archon she also should see the creator's work with her own eyes. Then once Ningguang found out, she ordered they be handed over to a team of literary analysts in order to be properly handled and deciphered. Things got really messy quick, but have luckily come to a halt as none of the acolytes want the creator to know their random writings are being fought over.

Especially when it comes to the creator's sullen additute. Their acolytes first have to convince their holiness that their inability to read and understand the creator's writing shouldn't prevent you from doing what you love. In fact... could they convince you to write some more?

WRITER OR READER WITH TALENTS HAS MY WHOLE HEART LIKE-

On one hand, same 💀 id be terrified for my all time fav skrunklies to see my bs

But at the same time i rlly wanna show them goddamit- THANK U FOR THE BRAIN FOOD IM RUNNING LAPS AROUND MY HOUSE THINKING ABT THIS-

Sun: Gender Neutral Reader (they/them), Writer!Reader

Planet: Language Shenanigans

Orbit: Scenario

Stars: Alhaitham mostly, some of Kaveh, mentions of other Sumeru characters

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Insecure about craft/writing, anxious first pov (not serious),

& Trigger Warnings: Mild Negative self-talk, insecure perspective/reader “you”, possible anxiety depiction.

You were not a very confident writer.

This had been an avoidable feeling ever since you picked up a pen for the first time and were asked to write a story for school.

You were always anxious turning in essays, letting friends proofread them, anything that would expose your writing to more eyes, because you’d learned the hard way early on that as you get older and better at something, the stuff from the beginning… starts to look a lot different than you remember.

things you used to be proud of after having completed them in the moment, were something you struggled not to rip to shreds a year or two after you re-found it.

If it weren’t for other writers advising holding onto old work so you can see your progress over time, you’d have probably literally nothing older than one year on your ao3, wattpad, etc…

So when you had the fortunate luck (no it is not unfortunately, you are very happy to be here tbh) to fall headfirst into your video game you’ve been obsessed with lately,

You were not planning on showing them any of your writing.

Why would you, after all? You’ve got the weapons, the artifacts, everything they need to be more powerful. Why would you show them a silly little story you wrote? Fanfic or otherwise, not that theyll recognize any characters besides themselves, but still.

Alhaitham, bc ofc it was alhaitham, cocky, deviously aware bastard he is, caught you writing in your spare time first.

You’d gotten your hands on an old journal (if made you feel better than something completely new, a nice worn leather journal, sold at a secondhand shop from an old adventurer) and had started to write what you could remember about some of your ideas you’d had drafts for in your old world

After initially walking in on you writing in the House of Daena (it was the closest you could get to lofi girl, god u missed her lmao), you nearly jumped a foot in the air bc Haitham’s a nosy bitch and leaned over your shoulder and scared the absolute shit out of you, mans goes from asking politely, to begging you to let him read some of your writing over the course of 3 weeks (a month really)

Finally, after this 6 ft (about 180cm) man leans down one day (you’re sitting writing again), and gives you the most insanely good?? puppy dog eyes??? you’ve ever seen on a man???

you give in, revise a draft about 5 times in a row, lose sleep bc ur having a breakdown about alhaitham judging ur writing the night before you give him his copy-

and hand over a small short story for him to read. you specifically leave a little note not to judge you so hard for Haitham bc u werent used to people reading ur work/let alone someone as highly academic as him, ESPECIALLY since your speech is already so much more archaic than his/all of Teyvats-

His stupid green eyes with diamonds look into your soul (are they sparkling??) and he braces your shoulders after you give him his copy,

“Mine Greatest Guide, you hath deemed this one worthy of thy trust of your creations personally, I would be a fool to gaze upon it in jest. To take this work as anything less than a masterpiece in its infant stages.”

…you just leave him to it, and are nearly running out of there (u managed to be calm enough to just speedwalk),

and you make a point to not ask what he thought about it, or even bring it up at all

you’re kind of hoping he forgot tbh… and so nothing happens!

◇

Nothing happens… for 2 weeks after you gave Haitham a copy of your short story.

You still don’t know Alhaitham’s opinion when you see the advertisement, a sign saying something about, a new book? By YOU???

You nearly start a mob because the shopkeeper insisted you sign some copies, but you only signed a few before too many people overwhelmed you, and seeing it was that same draft- !! Oh god, you’d been agonizing over the spelling errors you’d missed when you gave it to Alhaitham, and now it’s just out there???

(luckily it seems the reviews are positive, but dammit you’ve been rereading ur story u gave him for days, and now ur positive it’s shit-)

You make a break for it, and are literally running (more like speed-walking after a while, since u got further away) thru Sumeru City:

you pass by the open patio of a restaurant, the scholars are heatedly discussing ur characterization-

you pass by Dehya, Candace, and Dunyazard, the merc is waving around a copy of ur book, the other two women look excited abt the conversation-

oh my god-

Nahida is relaxing in one of the many little gazebos thruout Sumeru, while Wanderer seems to be reading your story to her-

You fucking track down Alhaitham’s house like a bloodhound.

You are banging the infamous gay roommates’ front door, panting til ur throat burns raw.

“Yes, yes, alright, greetings to you too! I was simply visiting the Acting Grand Sage Alhaitham, tis why I’m here- Greatest Lord?!”

Kaveh is nearly jumps a foot in the air at the sight of you, but recovers, (you’re still not tho lmao)

and invites you in bc apparently, Alhaitham’s been meaning to talk to you about your draft you gave him!

Oh yeah, you’ve got some words to give Haitham after giving him that damn draft privately-

But when he sees you, the fucker just- smiles??

Like he’s done nothing wrong???

You’re about to tear into him when he speaks first to tell you the good news!

He grabs your hands at the table and gets down on one knee, ohhhh no.

Alhaitham is giving you those damn begging puppy dog eyes again.

“My Greatest Lord, Giver of Power, and Guide to All, your exquisite story has entranced all of Teyvat, might I please insist you write a sequel? It is an excellent literary piece to analyze… or perhaps, even better, share other stories you’ve written??”

…

….Motherfucker.

☆

Hello I’m alive! I just took a longer-than-usual break between posts from those last 2 mammoth pieces about gifts,

1: bc they were a lot to write in between writing other stuff like fanfics im already working on lol 2: I got busy with holidays and trying to apply to jobs!

Not that I’m still not doing that.. but you get what I mean!

Safe Travels Anon,

That being said, as you’ve probably noticed, I’ve made a kofi! so if you ever liked my writing (hot mess it is) and want to show me some love, feel free to leave a tip! :]

Iced coffee?? :0

💀♒

☆

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche

[starkwlkr]

you’re so vain | jenson button

through the decades masterlist

California 1972

The day you met Jenson Button was the day you swore you would never fall in love with, but of course his charming smile had convinced you. But then came the worst part, he had become someone else. If you looked up the definition of vain in the dictionary, a picture of Jenson would be there. Ever since he became the world champion, it was all he could talk about.

“Hey, lovely, why don’t you put down the pen and paper and let’s go drive around? I know the perfect place for you and me. Remember how you used to love driving with me?” Jenson said over the phone one day.

“I would rather die than ever go on a date with you again, Jenson Button.” And you ended the call. You weren’t sure how he even got your number in the first place, but one thing was for sure, you would never go on a date with him.

After dismissing your call with Jenson, you walked back to your recording booth where your band was. You had a melody stuck in your head for the past couple of days and you desperately wanted to write down lyrics for it, but nothing came up.

“Hey, Y/n! Some Button guy keeps calling the landline, says he wants to take you out to dinner.” The drummer of your band said as he entered the room.

“For fucks sake.” You sighed. “Tell him I’m not here, that I left the country or something.”

“Okay . . . ” The drummer, Brad, said confused but went with it. He walked back to the phone.

“Button guy? What’s that about?” The guitarist, Dave, asked.

“He’s a formula one driver, but he’s so egotistical! This one time we went to a party and he walks in like he’s on a yacht! I can’t believe I even went out with him. . .” You sighed.

“Aren’t all formula one drivers a little bit egotistical? Or this Button guy worse?” Brad came back. “He asked if you were writing a song about him and I hung up. Can’t believe you dated him.”

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned. “What’s worse is that we’re supposed to perform at his boss’s birthday party this weekend. He’s definitely going to be there.”

When you were with Jenson, his boss had asked you to perform at his birthday party and you being the kind person, you said yes. Now there was no way of getting out of it.

Brad then spoke. “Well if he wants a song written about him. . . I say you write one and you perform it at the party.”

It didn’t take you long to grab your journal and pen and start writing down lyrics. You had your new song finished it about three hours and spent the rest of the afternoon coming up with a melody with the band. Soon, Jenson Button would hear his song in front of thousands of people.

—

Jenson had arrived to the party as if he owned the place. He had a pretty woman by his side and a beer in his hand. He spotted his friends and greeted them.

“This beauty right here is . . .” Jenson truly couldn’t remember the woman’s name. Sarah? Linda? “Tell them your name, love, it sounds better when you say it cause of your accent. Music to my ears!”

“Amara, nice to meet you.” The woman said with a lovely Italian accent.

“How’d you meet each other?” Jenson’s friend asked.

“Met her in Saratoga.” Jenson replied. In reality, that was all he remembered. What was he doing in Saratoga? Who knows. . .

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention.” The host of the party and Jenson’s boss announced on the microphone. He stood on the stage with a bright smile. “First off, thank you for joining me and my family this evening. We’ve had a very successful year, thanks to our world champion, Jenson Button!”

A bright light shined on Jenson, who waved to the crowd, clearly loving the attention. Soon enough, Jenson wouldn’t like it at all.

“Now, for the main event, miss y/n l/n!”

You walked to the stage with total confidence. You wore your best dress and heels, ready to sing your heart out. The crowd cheered for you and the band, all but one. Jenson.

“Isn’t that the chick you were dating?” A friend whispered to him.

“Her name is y/n.” Jenson corrected.

“Well hello! You all look very lovely tonight. We are very happy to be here and I hope we all have a great time. So our first song is a new one, but feel free to dance.” You smiled at the crowd as your band started playing.

You walked into the party like you were walking onto a yacht

Your hat strategically dipped below one eye Your scarf it was apricot

Jenson watched as you sang beautifully. He had seen you perform many times before but this one felt different. Even his date was loving the new song. Amara bopped her head as you sang.

It wasn’t until the chorus that Jenson started to realize what was going on.

“You're so vain! You probably think this song is about you!” You sang as you looked at Jenson.

Of course she would do this, thought Jenson. He looked around and saw the crowd living the song. How could they enjoy it?

“I bet you think this song is about you. Don't you, don't you?”

As you continue singing, Jenson remembered the phone call he made several days ago.

“Is she writing a song about me? Oh, poor lovesick y/n can’t get over me.”

This was his song. Fuck.

Suddenly, the confident Jenson was nowhere to be seen. You took that confidence and stomped on it with your pretty little heels. For once in his life, Jenson hated being your muse.

[writingpastmybedtime]

Cinderella AU

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x f!Reader

Summary: The classic Cinderella AU. It's heavily inspired by the Disney live-action remake, but with a few tweaks here and there.

Word Count: 8k, oops..?

Warnings: None, except for extra cute Prince Sebastian.

A/N: It’s my first time writing for Seb at this length & I'm kind of proud of how it turned out. Oh, and I gave Sebastian the nickname 'Bash'. Hope you love it as much as I do!<3

Once upon a time, or however the story begins, there lived a girl named Y/N. She was the most beautiful thing in her parents’ eyes and held the kindest heart. They lived happily in a secluded small mansion. They weren’t the richest per se, but they could keep up with the house and even had a few workers in the kitchen and garden. 

As time went by, the girl discovered a passion for music and playing the piano. Her sweet melodies often graced the halls of the house, and whenever she wasn’t behind the piano, she had her face buried deep in a journal, writing down every last thought that had occurred to her that day.

Alas, the time that had passed had also come bearing sombre news. The little girl’s mother had fallen ill with a disease so rare, there was nothing left to do but wait. Those three months spent waiting were the hardest for the girl, as she was always staying beside her mother’s bed, reading to her, brushing her hair, and playing lovely tunes on the piano to soothe her mother’s mind. 

It wasn’t until one night, that the clock in the writing room, which her mother so deeply loved, stopped working and the house suddenly grew more quiet.

Years passed, and Y/N grew even more beautiful. She was always happy and kind, helping out everyone around the house and being there for her father. Y/N’s father was a merchant, so it was not uncommon that he had many trips abroad and many foreign friends. He had a certain way with him, his friends even called him a man of many words. He always found a way to insert an inspirational quote into whatever conversation was going on. His personal favourite, however, was a quote about courage. 

Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.

“Darling, would you accompany me to the garden?” Her father asked her. Of course, she followed him with a smile on her face. He began to tell her of a widowed woman, with two daughters just a few years older than Y/N. He explained that he’d known the woman's late husband, having met him many times on his travels. 

“They need a place to stay and they need a sense of security,” he began shyly, before continuing. “I think I can offer them that, I think we can offer them that.”

Y/N smiled as she took her father's hands in hers. “Father, if it’s something that would make you happy, it would make me even happier.” He smiled at her and pulled her into a hug.

Madam Deveraux was a widowed noblewoman with two daughters, Arabella and Isadora. The Madam herself was mostly reserved and you could never tell what she was thinking just by looking at her. Her gaze always remained strong, even when the death of her dear husband crushed her spirit. As months passed after the tragic death, the demeanour of Madam Deveraux changed. Once just a composed and modest lady, was now hardened at heart, with only one true goal. To see her two daughters succeed and be wed off to rich husbands, no matter the cost.

Arabella, the eldest daughter was certainly pretty on the eyes, however, she had a mouth to her that diminished her beauty to a certain degree. Never afraid to speak her mind and even once in a while throw in a more vulgar term here or there. She was fascinated with all kinds of different adult romance books - that’s where she probably learned those indecent phrases. She also loved to draw, but truth be told, she wasn’t really any good at it.

Isadora, like her sister, was also beautiful in her own way. She certainly wasn’t as crude as her sister, but still had a peculiar sense of self. Her ego was probably the biggest between the three of them. Every reflective surface she saw made her gaze at herself longingly, always fixing her hair or makeup. Always whispering sweet affirmations to herself. She knew she was the prettiest person, whenever she walked into a crowded room. Even if the snobby personality sometimes made her mother’s eyes roll.

After a few weeks, it was time again for Y/N’s father to take his leave. Y/N felt crushed, and a sense of dread filled her heart, making her father promise that he’d return.

Unfortunately, on his travels back from overseas, Y/N’s father fell ill and was never able to return to her. It saddened her deeply, but due to her chores, given to her by her step-mother, she didn’t have time to dwell on her grief. 

Months passed, with her chores growing bigger and bigger. She had given up her bedroom because Arabella and Isadora were too cramped up in their own smaller one. Unfortunately for Y/N, instead of getting the smaller room for herself, she had to stay in a storage room right next to the kitchen. It wasn’t the most tedious place to be, for someone somewhere must’ve had to have even worse living conditions. That thought kept her appreciating her commodities and trying to tidy up the tiny storage room as best as she could.

“Y/N, could you be a dear and help your sisters with their dresses?” Madam Deveraux’s cold voice could be heard from upstairs, as Y/N was just finishing up setting the table in the kitchen. Sighing, but still with a smile on her face, the girl walked upstairs to assist her step-sisters. Arabella was tugging Isadora’s corset, to make it more tight, as Isadora was standing near the mirror letting out gasps of air. 

“A little bit of help, please?” Isadora asked in her saccharine voice, looking at Y/N through her mirror. Y/N nodded and took over from Arabella, pulling and pulling until the corset was perfectly on Isadora’s body. 

“Hmm, I look good, don’t you think so?” Isadora spun around, now in her huge pink sparkling dress, which did not do her beauty any justice. Y/N, however, was not one to judge. She just smiled lightly and nodded. 

“Pfft, as if you had any sense of style,” Isadora went to grab her rings, before putting them on her dainty fingers. Her brown hair was curled in an updo and she had put on a plethora of perfume, that was way too sweet, but ironically, fit her perfectly.

“Hah, you’re right sissy, this wench does not know anything about fashion. I mean look at how she’s dressed right now.” Arabella looked at Y/N from head to toe, her face grimacing. Y/N lowered her head to look at her grey dress. Yes, it wasn’t as fancy as the gowns on her step-sisters, but it had belonged to her mother. The grey dress made her feel some kind of sanity, running around doing chores for the Deverauxs’. Picking invisible lint from the pocket of her skirt, the step-sisters just laughed at how humiliated Y/N looked.

“Yes, you do look absolutely atrocious as of late,” Isadora smirked as Arabella grinned, taking joy in embarrassing Y/N. “You’re just plain ugly,” the eldest sister managed to get out before laughing.

“Here, take this, go buy yourself something prettier,” Isadora scoffed as she handed Y/N three silver pieces. You could not get anything fairly pretty with that kind of sum. Y/N had given up on pretty dresses a while ago, being content with the ones her mother had left her. She shook her head at the silver coins, not accepting the pity donation. 

“Fine have it your way, I was just trying to be nice,” Isadora threw the silver pieces on the floor as Arabella snorted in an unladylike manner. “Now leave, as I remember correctly Mama wanted you to go down to the forest to pick up some flowers for the gathering tonight.”

Y/N nodded to the girls, before hastily leaving the room, blinking back tears. She had grown accustomed to their derogatory comments, but that didn’t mean a part of her always ached at their remarks. Never had she been anything, but good and friendly towards the girls and their mother. She shook her head, as if to shake it clear from the depressing thoughts and picked up a dark-brown wooden basket from the kitchen table.

The walk from the house to the forest was always Y/N’s favourite. As soon as the house with the hectic people inside of it disappeared from her field of view, a certain kind of calmness filled Y/N. It was as if she could finally breathe without restrictions. Even the world around her seemed a little bit more saturated. Birds were flying around, singing their beautiful songs; it was spring after all. Y/N started to hum a melody she used to love to play the most on her piano.

Y/N twirled around and smiled, suddenly feeling joyous and elated. She closed her eyes, still twirling, liking the feel of the afternoon sun on her face. A total bliss. Suddenly, when taking her last twirl, she felt her foot get stuck on a tree root and braced herself for a fall.

However, the fall did not come. 

Instead, strong hands had grasped her waist, holding her a few centimetres off the ground. Y/N finally opened her eyes, the sun making her squint a little before finally her vision was back in focus. She was looking into blue eyes. Into the most gorgeous blue eyes she’d ever seen. Serene, deep blue eyes, that she could get lost in. That she did get lost in.

“Miss, are you alright?” Y/N blinked, before realising the man was still holding her. She stumbled to get out of his grasp, before wiping her dress from invisible dirt. Her cheeks flushed pink, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you..?” Y/N said, waiting for the person’s name to finish her sentence. To thank him personally. She now had time to look at the man that had so gracefully caught her. He had brown medium-length hair, which seemed abnormally soft and Y/N wished she could tread her fingers through it. The man smiled, no grinned rather, and Y/N was taken aback by how handsome this stranger looked.

“You really don’t know who I am?” The man chuckled and Y/N shook her head quizzically. Was she supposed to know him? She browsed through her brain, wondering who this man could be; maybe she’d met him before. But no, she’d remember him. She could never forget those eyes.

Y/N saw a peculiar look in his gaze before his grin grew even bigger and he introduced himself. “My name’s Bash,” he said, and Y/N furrowed her brows, but smiling nonetheless. 

“That’s a peculiar name,” she spoke, before realising her comment was nowhere near acceptable nor did it come off as friendly. The man, Bash, as she’d learned, let out a genuine laugh at the comment. Y/N felt embarrassed and was about to apologise before he stopped her.

“I like your candour,” he smirked. “It’s actually a nickname. A name that my father calls me whenever I haven’t done anything to upset him.” Y/N smiled, no longer feeling embarrassed, but just a little bit of something else. A strange warm feeling was creeping up in her chest. 

“Well, thank you, Bash, for catching me. And I’m sorry you even had to, I’m not normally so clumsy.”

“It’s no problem, besides, what even is a beautiful girl like you doing out in these woods anyway?” Bash asked, not being able to take his eyes off Y/N. He’d never seen a girl so beautiful before. And ‘beautiful’ was not even enough to describe her. 

“Oh, I’m just on my way to get flowers for a party later on. Which does remind me, that I should be on my way,” Y/N looked down at her basket, which she hadn’t fortunately dropped, when she had stumbled. Realisation hit her then, that he’d called her beautiful, but she couldn’t believe it. Perhaps she’d heard wrong?

“Do you work nearby?” Bash asked, his eyes still admiring her own. He did not want to leave her this soon after just meeting. But her duty called and truth be told, so did his. He wasn’t even supposed to be out here. He was out riding with his horse when suddenly he heard the most beautiful voice humming somewhere nearby. Having left his horse a few metres behind, was when he finally saw her. She was twirling and twirling and completely not noticing the tree root that was about to make her fall on the next twirl. Thankfully, he was fast and had caught her on time. 

“Yes, I do. Are you from around here as well?” Y/N asked politely. Knowing that she should be going now, but his eyes were just too mesmerising, to not look away from, that she stayed grounded.

“I actually work at the castle,” he said, his eyes turning pink as if he was embarrassed about the notion. Y/N smiled at that. “Must be nice,” she thought out loud, as Bash just shook his head at her comment.

“Depending on the day, it can be a little bit too much sometimes.” Y/N nodded at that, trying to understand what it must be like working amidst hundreds of people. Working for royalty.

“Well, it’s like my father always taught me,” she began as she gave him the sweetest smile. “Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen.” Bash raised his eyebrow at that. “And do you feel like that?” 

“Huh?”

“Do you feel seen?” He inquired, and Y/N shrugged. The question was raw - she hadn’t expected that. Did she feel seen? No, not as of late. But she couldn’t tell him that, now could she? She noticed the sun had turned just a tiny bit more golden and felt fear rush through her. She was supposed to be making supper for the Deverauxs and their guests.

“Look, it’s been wonderful having this chat with you, but I really must take my leave,” she nodded to him, taking her basket and turning around, completely forgetting about the flowers. 

Bash felt a tinge of sadness in him, before nodding and giving her a final smile. “Well, it was wonderful making your acquaintance. I hope to see you again someday.” Y/N turned around at his voice. She nodded, grinning at him.

“So do I.”

“Soon,” Bash said and saw Y/N blush, before finally taking her leave. 

She found some wild poppies just behind the house and hoped they’d do. Fortunately, Madam Deveraux only gave her a quizzical look, before dismissing her. She took a breath, thanking the gods that her step-mother did not freak out over the flower arrangement. All evening as she was making supper for everyone, her thoughts went back to the kind stranger she’d met. 

Bash.

Y/N was browsing through the city fair, currently looking at new books she wished she could buy when suddenly a horn was heard above in the upper city. She glanced up from the booth towards the sound, seeing everyone gathering around.

“Hear ye, hear ye,” a man in a formal outfit began. Behind him stood many other men, dressed the same.

These were men from the castle, she concluded. Her thoughts went to Bash for a second, before focusing back on the man giving out the information.

“As requested by His Royal Highness, Prince Sebastian, there is to be a ball, for two weeks hence, in honour of him choosing a bride. As per his wishes, the ball is open to everyone in the country.”

Squeals and cheers were coming from every corner of the city at the news. Y/N suddenly felt very happy. Maybe this was her chance to see Bash again in the castle, after all, he did say he worked there.

Having made her way back home, she rushed to Madam Deveraux, who was sitting in the living room with Arabella and Isadora. The latter was playing the piano. Correction, trying to play, for Y/N, did not know it was possible to make that kind of noise on the delicate instrument.

“What has gotten you in a rush? Your dress is all dirty again,” Arabella scrunched her face, clearly disgusted by Y/N’s clothing once again.

“I was just in the city when they announced there is to be a ball in two weeks as the Prince is to finally choose a bride. It’s open to everyone.” She smiled as she saw Madam Deveraux jump up from the couch, her daughters following her. Suddenly they screamed and the two girls jumped around.

“I’m going to be the new princess,” Isadora squealed before Arabella nudged her on the shoulder.

“No, I am!” Arabella insisted before Madam Deveraux made them quiet down.

“Y/N, you have to go into town and get three beautiful dresses,” Madam Deveraux smiled at her, a new prosperous future in mind for her daughters. She knew they had to look their best to catch the eye of the Prince.

“Yes, yes I will. Thank you for letting me come with you.” Y/N said as she was about to leave back to the city, her mind joyous and excited. Madam Deveraux had finally accepted her as part of the family and she got to go to the ball as well.

“Come with us?” Madam Deveraux scoffed and raised her eyebrow. “Why in the seven hells do you think you’re coming with us?”

Y/N started to say something before she was rudely cut off.

“Nuh, uh-uh.” Madam Deveraux pointed her finger at Y/N. “You do not belong at events like these. You will not go, I forbid you.” 

Y/N felt tears in her eyes, not understanding why she was being so mean to her. 

“Oh, Mama, look. You’ve made the duckling cry.” Arabella snickered and Isadora laughed.

“But why? All I’ve ever done is be nice to you. I do all these chores, you ask of me, and more.” Y/N started shaking but was reluctant to let out real tears. They cannot see me cry, she thought to herself.

“Have you ever considered that you’re maybe just not enough? Not enough pretty, not enough smart,” Madam Deveraux took steps toward Y/N, placing a finger under her jaw, pulling Y/N to look at her. “You’re no one.” Madam Deveraux turned away, before muttering instructions that Y/N was to buy dresses for the three of them the following day.

TWO WEEKS LATER

After helping the Deveraux sisters into their beautiful ball gowns and doing their hair, Y/N watched them leave in a big beige carriage. Letting her shoulders shrug, she finally let out the tears she’d been holding in. Y/N had hoped to visit the ball as well, hoping to see the blue-eyed man who had taken over her thoughts.

Y/N heard footsteps behind her and her name being called, before turning around and seeing Anastasia, an older lady that she’d known all of her life. Anastasia was a neighbour, a lovely woman, who always took care of Y/N whenever it was needed. Anastasia did not like the way Madam Deveraux had started treating Y/N after her father died and even offered to let Y/N move in with her. However, Y/N always passed the opportunity down, saying that she made a promise to her mother and father to look after the house.

“My dear,” Anastasia came closer, taking Y/N’s hand and seeing the tear trails on her face. “Why are you not at the ball? Everyone’s invited.” 

Y/N shook her head, before explaining that Madam Deveraux had forbidden her to attend the event. Anastasia pursed her lips, before muttering, more to herself than to Y/N.

“This will not do,” then louder, “this will not do at all.” She grabbed Y/N’s arm and started pulling her towards her house which was just a few minutes further away. “You will go to the ball, end of story.”

“But how? I have no horse to take me, let alone a carriage. Nor do I have a dress that is suitable for this kind of event.” Y/N saw Anastasia grin, before ushering her faster towards her house.

“Have courage, dear one. I will make sure you get everything.”

And just as Anastasia said, Y/N had it all. Anastasia was a well-endowed lady, who did not have the joy of getting to raise a daughter of her own. No, she was instead blessed with three sons. So it was mere luck, and perhaps a little bit of something else, that Anastasia had a beautiful periwinkle blue dress in her closet waiting to be worn. It fit Y/N perfectly as if it was made only for her to wear.

Anastasia did Y/N’s hair next, whilst explaining that she’d already talked with her personal chauffeur, who was to take Y/N to the ball. 

“I cannot begin to thank you enough, Lady Anastasia,” Y/N had tears in her eyes, although this time they were there for another reason. Gratitude.

“Oh, stop it, dear. I’ve told you a thousand times to not call me that, it makes me feel old,” she grimaced, before helping Y/N into the carriage. As Y/N took a step, Anastasia saw her shoes, which looked worn out and definitely didn't go along with the dress. She muttered something under her breath, before looking at Y/N again.

“There’s something in a box inside the carriage. Make use of them. And make sure to dance.” Y/N furrowed her brows, trying to understand, before she took her seat and felt the carriage take off slowly. “But wait, what about Madam Deveraux and the step-sisters? Won’t they recognize me?” Y/N asked worriedly, looking back at the kind woman.

“Oh, don’t worry about something so trivial, my dear, it’s already been taken care of,” Anastasia winked, before remembering, “and before I forget, try to return at midnight. I cannot explain why, but it’s imperative that you do so. You have to be back when the clock strikes twelve.” With a smile, Anastasia stayed behind, waving at Y/N. 

Y/N was a bit confused, even more so when she opened the box that was on the seat in front of her. Beautiful shoes, made out of iridescent glass, were inside the box. She gasped when she took one in her hand, not even feeling the weight of it, expecting it to be heavier. She slipped off her slippers, before trying on the glass shoes. 

They fit perfectly. As if these shoes, just like the dress, were made just for her. Maybe Anastasia was a witch? No, that sounds too evil. Maybe she was her Fairy Godmother. Y/N chuckled at the silly idea of magic but still felt curious about the predicament she was in.

Y/N didn’t have enough time to dwell on the whereabouts of her dress and shoes before she saw the castle in front of her. Only a few minutes separated her from the majestic building.

“Courage starts with showing up and letting ourselves be seen,” she whispered to herself, looking longingly at the castle ahead.

The castle itself was beautiful. Y/N had never seen a building so marvellous in her life. Taking slow steps through the garden in front of the castle, she was in awe. Twirling around and trying to take it all in. The castle inside was just about the same. Mesmerising to the point of Y/N being left speechless. She imagined what it’d be like to live here. So in contrast to her current living conditions.

Before she knew it, she was standing behind a huge door, with two guards standing on each side of it. This must be the ballroom, she figured. She gave a nod and a curtsy to the guards before they nodded in return and opened the doors.

She heard the buzz of the voices first, before walking towards the balcony that was connected to the ground floor of the ballroom. About a hundred and fifty other people were mingling downstairs, not counting the guards and other workers. 

She began to make her descent down the marvellous staircase, walking slowly, as if not to ruin the dress and not to stumble on her feet. She felt anxious, before reminding herself of her father's wise words again.

It was then that Bash saw her, from across the room. He’d been waiting for her for hours now. Hoping that she’d grace the castle with her beauty. And what a beauty she was, indeed. He was left bewildered when he saw her. She looked otherworldly.

She looked ethereal.

As if they were magnets, he felt an invisible string pull him towards her. He apologised to the princess currently in front of him and nodded to his father, before taking his leave and stepping onto the dance floor. 

Y/N had just reached the last step when she noticed the crowd parting and giving her way. At the end of the tunnel of people, she saw him.

It was him, it was truly him.

Bash.

And oh, the way he looked at Y/N. As if she’d hung the stars in the sky. 

He grinned when he was finally near enough to notice the sparkling eyeshadow on her eyelids and the pink tone of her lips. 

“Wow, just wow,” Bash let out, scratching the back of his head. A habit of his, whenever he was nervous. “I’m speechless, really.” Bash said, before taking Y/N’s hand and placing a delicate kiss on her knuckles. 

“You look breathtaking,” he said, looking up. Y/N blushed heavily, still not having noticed the ballroom growing quiet. All she saw was him. He was wearing a dark blue suit, with small gold intricate details, that made him look regal. It was then, Y/N realised, he was probably not just a mere worker in a castle.

“Would you allow me this dance?” He said as he stood up straight again. Y/N nodded, not trusting her words at the moment. He took her hand gently on his, placing his other on her waist. The pull between them only grew, the magnetic feel forcing them to be as close as possible.

And then they danced. He was a wonderful leader, and fortunately for Y/N, she was not so bad herself on a dancefloor, having taken dance lessons in her youth. The pair only had eyes for each other, completely ignoring the looks they were getting all over the ballroom. Some were jealous, some were elated, and some were more than angry with the outcome happening right now.

Y/N grinned as Bash twirled her not once, but twice, and then made her fall into his arms. The song ended and they were both out of breath. Y/N felt Bash put a strand of hair behind her ear, looking longingly into her eyes. He leaned in, before closing his eyes and stopping himself.

“Come with me, I want to show you something,” Y/N nodded as he led her away from the dancefloor to the confines of a secluded room filled with high bookshelves. There were rows and rows of books. Y/N twirled around, taking it all in. She’d never seen bookshelves this high before.

They were in a library. 

Sebastian noticed how Y/N smiled in awe as she took it all in. He just had a feeling she would like it.

“You didn’t tell me you were a prince, Prince Sebastian,” Y/N said when she turned around from admiring the thousands of books gracing the shelves. Bash chuckled.

“I told you I worked at the castle. Which is true,” Y/N narrowed her eyes before smiling. 

“I just didn’t specify,” Bash said, a finality in his tone. Y/N then saw him truly as he was, as a future king. 

A kind future king, she acknowledged. 

“True,” she took another longing look at the bookshelves before something else caught her eye on the other side of the room.

There was a black grand piano, waiting to be played. Almost calling her name as she took steps towards it. Bash saw what her eyes had fixed on, a grin growing on his face.

“Do you play?” He asked as Y/N let her fingers slide tenderly across the black-and-white keys. 

“I used to,” Y/N said honestly, still gazing longingly at the beautiful instrument in front of her. “I haven’t in a while, not since my father passed.” Bash looked at her sorrowfully, before whispering his condolences.

Sebastian took a seat in front of the piano, patting the place next to him. Y/N blushed before she obliged. 

She watched Sebastian place his hands on the piano, pressing a few keys, which made the sweetest tune. She closed her eyes and hummed to herself when she heard him continue. Suddenly the sound stopped and she opened her eyes to come face to face with Bash.

“Your turn,” he whispered, his face was so close to hers, that she could feel his breath on her face. She blushed but shook her head.

“I shouldn’t.”

“You should.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“You should.”

“I shouldn’t, really.”

“You should, really.”

“I will.” She said finally, seeing Sebastian grin before she placed her trembling hands on the keys.

She took a breath before letting her hands take over, the notes she played were familiar to her, never forgotten. Even if she hadn’t played them in so long. She let herself be carried by the tune, until at some point, there was a dialogue.

Sebastian had accompanied her on the piano, he was playing on his side, giving supporting yet beautiful notes to the ones she played. Y/N was enthralled and totally mesmerised by the music. 

So was he. Before today, Sebastian was sure Y/N could not surprise him anymore. She was already perfect enough. But here she was, letting out a precious and delicate part of herself that not many could see. She trusted him. And he appreciated it more than Y/N could ever imagine.

Later on in their life, Bash would tell Y/N that this was the moment he fell in love with her.

As with all good things in life, the song came to an end, and Y/N removed her hands from the keyboard to her lap. Fidgeting with her fingers, as if suddenly ashamed of letting someone see her so bare.

Sebastian placed two fingers underneath her jaw, making Y/N look at him. Her eyes were so vulnerable, that he wanted to fix everything in her life. Not knowing anything about her, but vowing to himself that he’d do anything and everything in his power to make sure she was happy at all times.

Their faces were close again, just one small nudge, and he could feel her lips on his. Y/N saw as Bash’s gaze moved from her eyes to her lips, hers following the action. They were so–so close. Sebastian nudged Y/N’s nose with his own as if asking for permission. Y/N closed her eyes and grinned, him doing the same, and just as their lips were about to meet, Y/N heard the clock strike. 

Her eyes flew wide open and she pulled away. Looking at the clock behind them, she realised she was running out of time.

“I’m so sorry, but I have to go,” Y/N said apologetically, coming to stand. Bash followed immediately, wanting to grasp her arm, but not wanting to overstep.

“You’ve been absolutely wonderful and I’ve had the time of my life, truly.” She started walking away, fast. Sebastian was bewildered, not understanding what went wrong.

“Why are you in a hurry?” He asked, giving her a smile to try to ease the sudden tension in the room.

“It’s hard to explain, I don’t even understand it myself. But I made a promise,” she said, looking over her shoulder at him. Bash was trailing behind her; they still weren’t out of the confines of the library. “I don’t break my promises.”

“Then promise me, we will meet again,” Sebastian told her, as he saw her quicken the pace. She was at the door now. The door that connected to the ballroom. The door that would bring them back to reality. She gave him one last look over her shoulder, grinning at him the way she’d never before when she finally whispered so only he could hear.

“Goodbye, Prince Sebastian.”

She took off and Sebastian followed. He felt his pulse quicken in his chest, for he had been so close to telling her that he’d chosen her as his bride. 

And she’d used his full name. Not the nickname he’d given her.

Bash felt dread creep up on him. This wasn’t supposed to end like this.

And that’s when he realised he didn’t know her name. All this time together, and he had forgotten to ask the simplest of questions. 

She had passed the ballroom now and Sebastian tried his hardest to catch up. With his luck, though, what with being the prince and all, he wasn’t so quick. Girls touched him and pulled him into them, everyone trying to score a chance at a dance with the Prince Sebastian. 

Sebastian muttered countless apologies, before finally getting free of the wandering hands and quickening his pace towards her.

Y/N tried to run as fast as she could. Suddenly she stumbled and one of her glass shoes had fallen off. She looked behind herself and saw Bash following her, even if he was a bit farther behind. She did not have time to go back for the shoe, trying to get the other one off her foot, while still running.

She finally made her way to her carriage, letting it drive away. In her last glance towards the castle, she saw Bash picking up her glass shoe, holding it to his chest, and looking longingly towards the carriage. She blinked and felt moisture on her cheeks. She was devastated by leaving him, but he was a prince. He was the Prince Sebastian and she was just a commoner. A maid, if she could be called even that as of late. However, the feeling was bittersweet, as she’d have memories of this night to remind herself for the years to come.

The way his hands had felt, the way he had looked at her, the way his breath had made goosebumps on her skin when his nose brushed against hers.

The carriage dropped her off at her house, and she hastily made her way into her small room. As she changed into her other dress, the grey one that was her mother's, she noticed that her periwinkle dress was gone. She had just hung it up in her closet, but it was nowhere. She looked again and again, pulling out every other dress in her closet, but nothing.

It was as if it was never even there.

All that remained, which reminded her of the evening spent with the Prince, were her memories and the small glass shoe on the ground in her closet. Reminders, that she hadn’t imagined her time in the castle and that it had been real.

It was quiet until she heard voices coming from the hallway. Annoyed voices.

“I cannot believe, we didn’t get to dance with the Prince,” Isadora said grumpily, sitting down at the dining room table with a disappointed look. “All because of that stupid girl in that pretty dress.”

“At least I touched him,” Arabella closed her eyes, trying to remember the feel of his shoulder beneath her fingers. “He was so firm,” Arabella continued to daydream and took a seat next to her sister. Madam Deveraux was the last to arrive in the room, taking note of Y/N and how bubbly she suddenly looked.

She had a certain spring in her step, when she finally brought the food on the table, for them to eat. Madam Deveraux raised her eyebrow, eyeing Y/N thoroughly, but not saying a word. She thought Y/N would be more devastated at not having had the opportunity to attend the ball.

Something was going on. And she did not like it one bit.

Y/N spent the rest of her evening writing everything down in her diary. She wrote of every minute spent in the castle and her time with the Prince. Mostly, she wrote of the Prince.

It was a month after the ball when Y/N went to her room to check her closet. She had a peculiar feeling in her chest as if something were amiss. Her diary had been exactly where she’d left it, but to her surprise the glass shoe was missing. Y/N looked around her closet, but it was nowhere in sight.

“Are you looking for this?” She heard the cold voice of Madam Deveraux from the doorstep, before looking at her quizzically. “It’s a wonderful little thing, isn’t it.” Madam Deveraux said, looking at the shoe in her hand and then at Y/N. “Do you even know that there’s a countrywide search for whoever wore these shoes to the ball?”

Y/N was surprised, for she did not know the Prince was looking for her. Mostly because she hadn’t even been out of the house these previous weeks. Madam Deveraux had been giving her more chores than she could manage and now she figured out why.

“I won’t even begin to ask where you acquired such a thing, for I simply do not care.” Madam Deveraux hit the glass shoe on the wall next to her, making Y/N gasp and let out a weak ‘no’.

Madam Deveraux smirked, taking pleasure in Y/N’s sorrowful state. “It’s only a matter of time before they knock on our door. And you will not be a part of this household when they ask. It’s only me, Arabella and Isadora.” She grinned darkly, looking at Y/N sitting on the floor, tears in her eyes. 

“Do you understand? Do you now, finally, understand that sometimes a person of your stature is just not enough?” Y/N whimpered as Madam Deveraux closed the door of her room, locking it behind her.

Y/N looked around herself, she had approximately enough food in her room to last her a few days, but she had finally accepted her fate. She would never see Bash again.

It was the afternoon of the next day when Madam Deveraux heard knocking on her door. She placed on her most pleasant smile and opened the door wide, to be met with the new King’s chancellor. 

“Hello, we are here on behalf of His Majesty the King, to try to find his beloved. Are there any ladies in your household, to whom this shoe might belong?” The man in a dark blue suit asked, showing Madam Deveraux the glass shoe she was all familiar with.

Madam Deveraux was thrilled. She had ordered her daughters to lotion their feet daily and to try to squish them into smaller shoes, for she had to be sure that one of them would find their place near the King. 

Arabella was first, as was expected of the eldest daughter. She let out a bunch of profanities while trying on the shoe, pushing and pulling the glass to try to fit into it. “One more time,” she said, her face completely red from the puffing and huffing.

“Oh, give up already,” Isaroda said, whilst nudging her sister, making her fall and catching the shoe in her hand.

As expected, it didn’t fit her either.

Madam Deveraux was absolutely annoyed with her daughters, completely disappointed in their incompetence.

“I am sorry for wasting your time, Madam Deveraux,” the chancellor said, as he was stepping out of the house. Just as he was about to get back on his horse, there was humming to be heard.

The loveliest voice was humming a tune somewhere in the house. Madam Deveraux’s eyes shot up, trying to close the door behind her.

The chancellor raised an eyebrow. “Is there someone else in the house with you?” 

Madam Deveraux smiled smugly, however slightly shaken with the idea of the kingsmen hearing Y/N’s humming. She shook her head.

“No, there is no one, but me and my two daughters.”

“You’re lying,” said a strong voice, as a man jumped off his horse. He removed his hood, and everyone gasped.

It was Prince Sebastian. No, he was King Sebastian now. His father had fallen ill and given Sebastian the throne early.

Madam Deveraux was flabbergasted and immediately curtsied. “M-my prin-King, My King, I had no idea, you’d be here.” 

Sebastian took a few steps forward, still hearing the tune of Y/N’s humming. He knew it was her. It was the same song they’d played on the piano together. 

Sebastian looked at his chancellor, nodding towards the house. “Want to check it out, or should I?”

His chancellor, his best friend, smirked when he saw the glint in Sebastian’s eye. “Go ahead, Your Majesty.” Sebastian grinned before fastening his pace and entering the house. He followed the humming to the small door near the kitchen.

Sebastian saw that the door was locked, so with one, really-really strong pull he tore the lock off the door and exhaled before opening the door.

Y/N had no idea what was going on. She had been trying to calm herself ever since Madam Deveraux had locked her in this room. So when she heard noises coming behind the door, she had expected the worst. 

What she didn’t expect, however, were the kind eyes of Bash.

Sebastian faltered, his steps coming to a stop. There she stood. His beloved. His Queen. He furrowed his brows as he took in her commodities. The way she was dressed. The way her eyes were red-rimmed - an indication that she had been crying. 

She had been locked up.

Everything suddenly made sense to him and he wasted no time in hurrying towards Y/N and pulling her to him. Hugging her so close to him, finally, finally, feeling her in his arms.

“Bash,” She let out weakly and Sebastian just shushed her, placing his head on hers. “It’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Y/N tried to push herself away from him, afraid to get even more hurt. She had felt enough disappointment and grief in her life to experience it again. And grief she would feel if she lost Bash too. So it was easier to push him away before her feelings got too strong. Although, deep down, she knew there was already no turning back. She had fallen for him. Deeply.

But Sebastian wouldn’t budge, he was only grinning more widely when he realised that Y/N, the one he was looking for, was safely in his arms.

“Do you know that I have a countrywide search put out for you?” He asked casually, not even minding that she was trying to break free of his hold. Letting his fingers run through her hair, silently comforting her.

“Bash, have you even realised who I am?” Y/N looked at him through tear-filled eyes. “I'm a nobody. A maid at best. I have no prospects, no dowry. I am not someone you want next to you to rule a kingdom.”

Sebastian laughed at that, pulling the smaller one closer to his chest, letting his head fall on her own again. “That’s where you’re wrong, darling,” He inhaled her scent before placing a kiss on her head.

“You’re strong, you’re honest. Your heart is made of gold. You’re the only person I want to share the throne with.”

She finally looked up into his eyes, to see the most sincere gaze ever directed towards her.

“Well, aren’t you supposed to give me a shoe to try on then? Or have I heard wrong?” She finally retaliated and he chuckled at that.

“Fair enough,” he said before slowly kneeling in front of Y/N.

She looked at him, Prince Sebastian, no, King Sebastian now, on one knee, holding up a glass shoe.

Her glass shoe.

“May I?” Bash cheekily said, before Y/N blushed, and pulled up her skirt just a bit to give Sebastian her leg.

Bash placed her foot in the shoe, and as a surprise to neither of them, it fit her perfectly. His eyes found hers instantly, a strong, confident look in his gaze.

“Can I now, finally, know your name?”

She laughed at that, a tear escaping her eye as she finally began to realise that her old life was coming to an end.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she said as Sebastian’s eyes glossed over as well.

“Y/N,” Bash tried the name out on his tongue, and he liked how it sounded. He closed his eyes and shook his head, before looking at Y/N again with a new determination in his face.

“Y/N, would you please do me the honour of marrying me and making me the happiest man to ever walk this Earth? I promise to give everything in me to make you happy. To keep you safe. Please, just please, end my misery and come back to the castle with me. As my equal. As my Queen.”

Y/N fell on her knees in front of Bash, her tears falling on her cheeks, although she did not care for them at that moment. All she saw was Sebastian’s face near her as she started to nod and laugh.

“Yes?” Bash looked at Y/N with a hopeful gaze, placing his hands on either side of her face, and pulling her towards him.

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling Bash’s forehead on her own.

“Yes.” 

Time stopped then.

Sebastian pulled Y/N closer to himself and finally connected their lips. Magical was not even the word to begin to describe how it felt like. They were made for each other, of that, were they both certain. Y/N had never experienced anything like this before. His lips were so smooth and soft on her own that she let out a whimper. Bash smiled at that and Y/N followed. 

They both pulled away, grinning at each other.

“I love you,” Bash said, caressing Y/N’s face with his right hand.

“I love you,” Y/N said before Bash connected their lips again.

It was no surprise that the wedding of Y/N and Sebastian happened only a week after their first kiss. Y/N had moved into the castle immediately after Sebastian had caught her locked up in the storage room. Madam Deveraux was put to trial, for treating Y/N the way she had. Arabella and Isadora, although crude in their temper, were pardoned, but made to leave the country, effective immediately. 

As for Y/N and Sebastian?

Well, their story is just at the beginning, filled with sweet kisses and even sweeter memories.

“Do you have any idea how happy you’ve made me?” Bash asked as he held Y/N, his wife now, close to himself.

“Hmm, I can begin to imagine it’s something close to the way I feel,” Y/N chuckled and Sebastian laughed, finally taking a look at her.

Ethereal, he thought. She stood in front of him in their shared bedroom, still in her white gorgeous wedding gown.

Sebastian just shook his head, still in disbelief that his happily ever after was in his arms at last. He pulled Y/N closer and placed his lips on hers. The one of many kisses shared that night.

[jesncin]

The Potential of Asian Lois Lane. Pt 1: Girl Taking Over and American Alien, a comparative analysis

Lois Lane has had many iterations over the years. But specifically in the last decade, Lois has been reimagined as an Asian American woman in both the comics and recently in the animated show My Adventures with Superman.

I believe making Lois Asian is a very inspired choice for the Superman mythos! I would like to take a moment to analyze these versions of Lois from an Asian perspective, seeing what works, what doesn't, and what I'd like to see more of. We'll start with the comics first, as MAWS is going to need its own post.

Usual disclaimers: I'm just one Asian perspective, I do not and never will claim to cover every Asian person's opinion on a thing ever. We're not a monolith, we come from a variety of backgrounds and experiences. I'm simply a fan who enjoys media analysis and believes it's valuable to have my perspective in this topic. Secondly, this discussion covers the comic run American Alien, which is written by Max Landis. He's an ultra creep and while I think the comic is worth a read for what it is, I leave it up to you whether you'd like to buy the comic. You can always arg-arg-ahoy otherwise.

I'd like to start with Girl Taking Over: A Lois Lane Story written by Sarah Kuhn with art by Arielle Jovellanos. This is a self contained YA graphic novel about a young Japanese American Lois dealing with the ups and downs of breaking into journalism as a career in National City. When her dream internship at Catco gets a corporate take over, Lois seizes an opportunity to write an exposé on a shady art director. But when her story is turned down, Lois does some out of the box things to get the story of marginalized performers shared with the world.

Girl Taking Over is a fantastic story and I happily recommend it to anyone looking for how an Asian American Lois could be reimagined (with fabulous art by Arielle! The fashion especially is on-point). This story isn't just a diverse coat of paint on a Lois Lane story, being Asian informs Lois' experiences and choices. Both she and her frenemy roommate Miki, are ambitious Asian women yet have hidden insecurities where they still made themselves small to their respective white male bosses. They played into model minority in different ways, and it's only by working together that they're able to foster a community for their stories to be told.

Lois and Miki don't just "have a diverse friend group", that friend group is actively being taken advantage of and suppressed by white gatekeepers. By extension, Lois' friends from work find solidarity in each other. Lois looks up to Cat Grant, a Filipina-American journalist, because seeing Cat succeed made Lois feel like her dream as a journalist is possible. I love how Lois' mom (a character so rarely expanded on in DC canon) acts as a voice of comfort for Lois in the story. All these characters feel holistic and whole, going through their own unique struggles.

It's clear from interviews with both the writer and artist that they care for the history of Lois, and saw an opportunity to reimagine her in a way that aligns with her character but also revitalizes her for new readers of color who aren't used to seeing themselves reflected in media. It's taking Lois' ambition and fearlessness and channeling them into the need to be a model minority, and the insecurities that can come from the desire to succeed constantly. It's taking a character historically frustrated by sexism and disrespected by her male peers- including Clark Kent (who got better treatment than her as a man), and expanding her to be a Lois that has to deal with both sexism and racism in the workplace. It's humanizing Lois' excellence into something painfully specific and relatable for many Asian women.

The only thing I feel I want from this version of Lois is... honestly more of her! I want to see what Japanese Lois does when she moves to Metropolis and works at the Daily Planet. I want to see how her experiences in National City informs her adulthood. Girl Taking Over sets up an incredible groundwork for stories to be told in the Superman mythos. How would Lois react to Superman, a fellow immigrant? Would Superman see himself in Lois? Since she's someone who, in the American context, is perceived as the perpetual foreigner? What would their relationship be like? Out of all the Asian Lois' in media we have so far, this Asian Lois' story has the most rich potential in my opinion.

Up next, we have American Alien written by Max Landis. This 7 issue series swaps artists for each issue, as a means of reflecting different milestones in Clark's life. I will be focusing on issues #4, 5, and 7 since those have the most prominent Lois appearances. With that, I'd like to celebrate the artists for those issues: Jae Lee (issue 4), Francis Manapul (issue 5), and Jock (issue 7). All these artists did a fantastic job, their art styles are energetic and fun to look at. Lee and Manapul are both Asian artists (Korean and Filipino respectively) and I love how they draw Lois- who looks undeniably Asian in their art styles.

American Alien is a modern take on the Superman tale. It expands Clark's story to be connected to Batman, Green Lanterns, Green Arrow, and more. We see Clark grow from his days in Smallville to a city boy in Metropolis, coming into his own as Superman. It's a bold and pretty divisive take with some standout story moments. From what I know, this is likely the first time Lois has been reimagined as Asian- and continues to influence Superman media like MAWS (the producer specifically calls out this comic as inspiration).

In issue #4, Clark moves in to his Metropolis apartment and talks on the phone to his mom about "some bigshot guy named Louis Lane". The reader, likely familiar with the Superman mythos, knows Clark is coming in with biases and a preconceived notion of who he considers a promising student reporter. Once we meet Lois Lane however, the comic turns the reader's expectations on their head:

Lois Lane is an Asian American woman (it's not specified what her exact ethnicity is)! This is a fun moment where the comic metatextually challenged the reader's own biases, showing it's not just Clark who had a different idea of who Lois Lane could be.

Lois' introductory panel is my personal favorite part of her characterization in American Alien. Lois proudly stands as a wall of text behind her recounts how she was considered as a winner for the Daily Planet's Charlton Memorial Laureate Program. When asked why she deserves a place on the program, Lois snaps back that the very question itself is loaded. She's listed her credentials and looks professional- so she's either already been rejected and is just being made to "at least had my say" or she's been accepted and is "meant to garnish my success with eloquent affirmation" to which Lois refuses to do either.

This is a great defiant introduction to Lois, showcasing how jaded she is with the way the world perceives her- but is very confident in her self worth as a journalist. By the end of the issue she reaches out to Clark to combine their exclusive interviews into one story to make a big impression on the news. Her words inspire Clark to seize an opportunity to make a big change in the world as Superman.

Afterwards, the comic plays the classic Superman and Lois dynamic straight. Lois is initially suspicious of Superman, but eventually comes around and is inspired to hope through him. There's a great back and forth between the two where Lois' words initially inspire Clark to be Superman, then Clark assures Lois that Superman is probably just a good guy, and when Clark loses hope from a bad day of heroism, Lois gives him hope again. In the end, Lois realizes her love for Clark Kent over Superman and they share a passionate ending kiss.

Overall American Alien nails the Clark and Lois dynamic and understands their relationship. I consider this Asian Lois "just okay". I like that we get to see an adult jaded Asian Lois meet Clark Kent and Superman, and see them get together. Similarly to Girl Taking Over, I'd like to see how this Lois and Clark would play out. My only issue with American Alien's Lois is a sense of missed opportunities.

The writing overall leaves room for plausible deniability over Lois' Asian identity. The artists (particularly Lee and Manapul) are doing the heavy lifting delivering Asian Lois. If she was drawn as a white woman, none of the writing would need adjustment. Sure her introductory panel implies that people judge her based on her appearance- but that could be just sexism instead of the intersectional experience of Asian Lois going through racism and sexism. Clark did assume she was a man after all- it's never specified if he assumed she was a white man. The only thing you'd lose is the metatextual shock value of Lois Being Asian This Time. That's really what this Lois boils down to, initial shock value with no specific writing to follow through. Her marginalization and identity is written broadly enough that it could be attributed to general sexism and womanhood. It's not specific to being an Asian American woman.

However, because of its broadness, there's room for Lois' Asian identity to be built on in the world of American Alien. The story centers Clark's experiences, but I can easily imagine a continuation of the story expanding on Lois'. The basic groundwork is there. I think it's telling that in a comic called American Alien, we get a more diverse Superman cast system. Jimmy Olsen is Black, Lois Lane is Asian- when Clark moves to the city it feels expansive compared to Smallville. It's a world that feels ready to tackle themes of racism if it was ever to continue (and probably in the hands of a writer with that kind of life experience!). In the end, there's room for this Asian Lois to be something special. Clark isn't the only American Alien in American Alien, if you catch my drift.

You can see how Girl Taking Over has a huge piece of what American Alien is missing. The characters aren't just diverse for shock value, they're not an aesthetic change over historically white characters. They have a story to tell that is inseparable from their identities. Whereas in American Alien, the art is doing the heavy lifting with the reimagined diverse characters- Girl Taking Over has both the writing and art carry the representation. Lois can't be changed into being white in Girl Taking Over.

Both of these stories have potential- but if I had the choice to pick which story should continue, it would easily be Girl Taking Over. This graphic novel works for what it is: it makes sense that this is a younger and idealistic Lois that hasn't met Clark or Superman yet. It's a YA book and Lois can absolutely carry a story on her own. What I want as an Asian fan, is for the potential of Asian Lois Lane to be seen through to the point it's considered the definitive version. As of right now, Girl Taking Over is a fun twist on the Lois Lane story. Not something that is seen as inseparable from the Superman mythos. However! If those themes of marginalization and immigrant identity are tapped into for both Superman and Lois Lane? I feel that has the potential to radically strengthen the overall themes of Superman. It's certainly been touched on before.

(TW/CW: racial slur mention in below image)

Superman Smashes the Klan by Gene Yang with art by Gurihiru is a retelling of the Clan of the Fiery Cross arc in the classic radio show The Adventures of Superman where Superman faces off with the Klan who had been terrorizing a Chinese American family. The graphic novel adapts the story to center the Chinese American characters, and makes it a point to show that Superman relates to them. If that dynamic was applied to Asian Lois, that feels like a definitive love story waiting to happen.

The classic two person love triangle with Clark and Lois is that Lois loves Superman and is indifferent to Clark Kent. She thinks Superman is this ideal macho man and Clark is a cowardly fumbling guy at work who rivals her. What happens when you take that dynamic and made it so Lois identified with Superman- the more othering identity? How complicated would that make Clark Kent feel? How would he navigate that when his marginalization isn't always visible? That's a whole new depth to the love triangle we're not used to seeing. I feel so far, none of these versions of Lois have touched upon this potential dynamic. The perpetual foreigner, Lois Lane and the ultimate alien foreigner that is Superman. The jaded city girl meets the alien farm boy who gives her hope. They inspire each other to be more of themselves in a world not ready to accept either of them.

Up next, we'll be discussing My Adventures with Superman's Korean Lois Lane in pt 2. It's well. You can probably guess how I feel about it from what I wrote here but welp. We'll talk about it.

[sanzaibian]

April 7th

Hey journal !

This is going to be hard to write… but I’ve decided to write down my experiences in this little journal I just bought for like, $7 at the local thrift shop, so here I go.

So, I’m Jay Callaghan, a 25 year old student in STAPS, hoping to become a physiotherapist (hope when I read that in 10 years I won’t be embarrassed !), and I’m gay. Like, very gay, nothing in me for girls. But… let’s just say than in sports studies, being gay isn’t well seen. So I keep my hookups on the down low, and avoid talking about that part of myself to anybody else.

And to be honest, it really drives me mad. I’m always double-checking that I’m not too faggy for their eyes, I’m always fidgety when discussions shift towards recent “conquests”, and I feel like I just miss out on so many things. I mean, it has only been, like, a year and a half since I fully accepted that I’m gay ? But still, the impostor syndrome has never faded, and by now, I just want it to stop.

By the way, here’s a photo of what I look like :

Dare I say I look pretty hot ? Well, this just makes things worse, actually. Because then the guys are always like “Yeah, look at Jay, he must be pounding so much pussy” or something… I just want to scream to them that no ! I’m very much very pounded ! And that’s not to say there aren’t people drooling over me ! There are ! But they all hail from the wrong gender !

However, recently I heard about the brand new Conversion Powder by Eamora Co., some kind of drug made by that unknown pharmaceutical company. What’s special about this powder is that it advertises itself as actually being able to change sexuality, so to make someone straight. Now, don’t get me wrong, I wholly support LGBT rights and want for any kind of conversion to be willful – so, like, not conversion therapy. Plus, both the instructions manual and the few reviews I found said that the powder must be taken once a day for the effect to persist. So it’s not as if it was an effective conversion therapy. But… I feel like things would be so much easier if I was straight. I wouldn’t be in constant fear, I would feel included with the other guys, and I would just be normal for once.

So yeah. I just want to end this by giving out my opinions on men and women :

Men are so fucking hot, well-built muscles, with big juicy pecs and a great six-pack invites licking, the hose downstairs is the work of god, and I just want to rub myself against it, accept it in my mouth and in my ass. Women… are just women. I guess they do have pec-like stuff, but they’re just so stuffy, and big and all. Plus, they just aren’t interesting in terms of attractiveness ? Not to shit on them, but just not my thing.

Yeah, let’s see how well it ages. I’m taking the Conversion Powder right now.

The evening

Okay, so I think from now on I should write on the evenings, because this way I can recap the events of the day while they’re still fresh in my mind. Plus, when class starts again tomorrow, it’s going to be a pain to write in the mornings.

So let’s start with when I took the powder. As the instructions asked, I put it in a glass and mixed it with water, to drink. At first, nothing happened, but then I started getting a headache, and felt quite dizzy for a while. I don’t know how long, because I didn’t record myself, and I know that my sense of time probably got warped, but it did feel long. And then, it just cleared, like magic.

To be honest, it was very underwhelming. I thought that something would happen to signal if it worked or not, but I decided to still test out if it actually worked. So I opened straight porn, and there the magic occurred.

By instinct, I started by watching the guy, but honestly, he just felt boring at first. I tried to see how hot he was, because I could tell he was attractive indeed, but it just felt… wrong to think of him as attractive. Which was unsettling in its own right. But then came the woman, and let me just say that : she was heavenly. She had tanned skin that ran along her beautiful curves, skimpy black leather pants and bra that espoused her big hips and breasts, and long black hair flowing over her back, waving in such a tasteful manner ! My dick was immediately woken up in quite the surreal moment, and I couldn’t help my self.

I beat myself off furiously at her being railed.

And I don’t even feel bad about that. I even printed out one of her photos to remind myself of her… God, my dick is awake once again by once again seeing her !

After that, I must admit that I spent a lot of time gooning myself on all the stuff I missed out on when I didn’t like women. I even almost forgot to eat lunch !

The afternoon, I decided to go on a walk outside, to see if anything different happened, and honestly… once again, it was quite underwhelming. I really don’t know what I expected, taking this powder for me to be this underwhelmed ! It only advertised that it would turn people straight, and this is what it did ! On a technical sense. Because I may be, in fact, straight at the minute, but I don’t feel straight. I… don’t know how to articulate that, I think I’ll have a better answer to that question when I’ve spent more time on the powder.

So yeah, what I wanted to write is that, when I was walking in the neighborhood, I did have the same experiences as watching the porn : I felt it was weird to conceive of men as a subject of attraction, and I paid more attention to women, but nothing more, really.

Well, nothing much more to say, I guess ! I’ll continue taking it, because it doesn’t seem dangerous, and since I’m closeted it shouldn’t change much.

April 8th

This morning I took again a Conversion Powder, and although I did feel quite dizzy taking it, it was nowhere as much as last time. That does comfort me since if I do decide to stick with this, it won’t be that annoying after a while. I read up on how it works to see if these headaches are normal, but aside from the few internet theoreticians, I haven’t found anything tangible… Nobody really knows anything about it, plus Eamora Co. is basically a completely unknown entity, so I can’t really get to the bottom of this. I guess this here diary may be the current best source for how the Conversion Powder works ?

But the most important thing today was getting back to school. And honestly, there I found that the changes were more substantial. I don’t know if it’s because I have also been on it yesterday, but it felt much easier to get into the skin of the typical straight guy. I didn’t have to worry about seeming too gay, because I technically am not, meaning that the school experience was a lot more peaceful. I also felt more included during the locker room talks. It’s crazy, because when they started to talk about boobs, my dick just hardened ! They mocked me, of course, I felt quite ashamed, but a good kind of ashamed. Like I’m actually having a normal reaction !

God, here I am writing about that kind of stuff… Well, to whoever might read that (me included), I have a duty to present everything of note ! So you’re going to have to bear with the stuff I already know I’ll find cringey in a few months’ time.

So yeah. On that, I’ll go to sleep.

April 9th

Man, I want to cross out the whole section about the powder on the web I wrote yesterday. And also the “I’ll go to sleep”. I’m not talking to anyone !

But yeah, today, the Conversion Powder made the media rounds.

And the rounds it made, in barely a day ! We got LGBT associations speaking out for its immediate discontinuing, far-right think tanks asking for it to be included in all school and high school meals, and politicians scrambling to state their opinion. It kinda feels bad for me to be technically not aligned with the LGBT associations, since I’m taking it, but this was my choice. I’m deciding to become straight, and my current experiences point that it was a good one. I’m feeling more and more connected with my bros (yes ! I can actually call them that, now !), and everyone who I knew before taking the powder say that I’ve recently been in a better mood than usual.

However, I won’t tell others that I’ve been taking it. I was closeted, and I don’t want people to think that I’m self-hating or something… I guess I kinda was, but that’s not the point I was getting at. The point I’m getting at is that I don’t fit the new stereotype of Conversion Powder-takers that is forming, and I don’t want people to think I do.

Also, even if more attention has been shed on Eamora Co. and the powder, there still is no good answer to the questions I wrote down yesterday.

Better news, though : today when taking the Conversion Powder, I almost didn’t feel dizzy at all ! It’s almost as if my body has fully acclimated to the Conversion Powder. If it’s how it works, honestly. However… I feel like I don’t have anything much to say about that ? I know, I know, such an earth-shattering change occurred in me, and two days in I don’t have anything to say about it ? I guess reality do be like that…

April 10th

Yes, I didn’t write much cringey yesterday !

But yeah, nothing much happened today, as do Wednesdays usually do. Though I guess I must mention that on the bus there was a really hot woman, I couldn’t get my eyes out of her. After a while of me basically staring at her though, I noticed that she knew I was looking at her, so I looked elsewhere. I guess, now, I understand the straight male experience, since I indulged in the same kind of creepy behavior… that is something I’ll need to fix.

About Eamora Co., they put out a statement saying that their product is ethical, and does not constitute a danger for the LGBT community. Although I’m technically on their side, let me say I’m calling bullshit on that. Seeing how potent this powder is, it’s easy for bad actors to drug gay and bi people without their consent, and even though they can fight against this kind of drugging, this kind of practice could very well lead into them assuming they were actually straight all along.

Here you go, let me step out of my soapbox.

April 11th

Okay, so, you know, Abby… No, I guess you don’t know, checking back I didn’t talk about her at all in this diary.

So, Abby was (and still is) a good friend in my university. She doesn’t study the same stuff as I do, but we got to know each other in business management class. We hit it off quite well, even though I wouldn’t call her my best friend by any stretch (I had much closer friends back in high school), she went along well with my way of being.

But here comes the catch.

Now that I’m straight, I’ve noticed that she… is actually quite well-endowed. Plus, over the last few days I would even dare say that she’s actually… cute. I mean, look at her and dare not tell me that she’s not cute !

Okay, I do realize that no one is gonna answer me here… but still ! Diary ! Or anything ! Agree with me !

I think this means that I may be having my first straight crush… on who was basically my only true friend in this university… not the best look. But at least it proves that the powder converts both sexual and romantic attraction ! It’s a good observation to include in this diary.

So yeah… gonna see how it evolves…

April 13th

Oops, I forgot to write, yesterday !

So I just hung out more with the bros, it’s been so fun to just… chit-chat with them ! I feel like we have a real connection, like they get me, like I get them. That’s something I could never have had when I was gay, I was forced to just stay out of the loop with everyone. I’m glad I’ve decided to start going on the conversion powder, because now I can finally get to live a normal life ! … not to insult my former comrades, of course.

But with Abby… I must admit I’m not proud of myself, because I basically avoided her for the past few days… I’m getting so flustered when I’m with her, it’s really embarrassing, but now I fear she thinks I’m abandoning her… I’m also being so obvious ! Like, this morning Abby walked in front of me when I was hanging out with my bros, going to some kind of economy class, and I just blushed to hell ! The bros all clocked that I have a crush on her, and I fear she might too ! God, so embarrassing !

Tomorrow, since it’s Sunday, I don’t have class, so the bros asked me to go to the gym with them, and I’m 95% sure they’re gonna cook me alive for having that damn crush…

Help !

April 15th

I forgot to write yesterday again… I was so tired from the very intensive sesh that we had that I just went straight to dine and sleep, so give me a break, diary.

So, as I predicted… Saturday, the guys cooked me, and cooked me hard. They were like “why don’t you talk to her”, “you’ve seen her look”, “do the first move” and all, it was quite overwhelming while we were working out… But they were basically saying that I shouldn’t hesitate to ask her out, as even if it doesn’t work out there’s other girls to find…

God, this is the kind of advice that I would never have had if I was having a gay crush. Nobody would be there to be excited for me, they would all be uninterested to disgusted, and none could give me advice for how to do… because the only people who could would be the very kind I may want to woo !

So yeah. Out of my soapbox, today I talked to Abby… and I couldn’t do it. I chickened out, I didn’t ask her out… Like, I was just about to ! But then somebody let their coat drop, and Abby, kind soul she is, picked it up for them… and after that, my courage just disappeared, and I just brought up the topic of the Conversion Powder and the whole drama.

Yeah. About the Conversion Powder drama.

So, let’s just say that it got heated, and it became the controversy that everyone was talking about. I don’t know what my country will choose as a way forward, but some have already chosen to outlaw it… and the usual suspects have made it official “prescription” to “cure” gayness. I’m against both options, and although I think none will be taken by our government, they currently haven’t chosen a stance… I’ll keep a close eye on it, because I’d hate for my experiment to be cut short just because of them deciding for me…

April 16th

This time, I didn’t miss a day ! Yay !

So… I asked Abby out.

It was as if the stars aligned. Today she dressed in very hot clothes, and we had class together both before and after lunch. So I took the opportunity to ask her to meet with me at the park. But then, at the afternoon, it started raining… I was afraid that our meet-up would have to be canceled, but just before it was time to end the classes, the sky cleared up ! So we went to the park, and my favorite bench in front of the pond was free ! We sat together, and there, I asked her if she wanted to go out with me.

And she said yes !

God, it feels so good ! My first ever date, and not hookup !

I’m just buzzing with excitement, we’re gonna see each other this Saturday afternoon after class ! I’m already envisioning it : first we get together in a cafe, then we go to the park and visit its zoo at the same time ! It’s going to be perfect !

I’m so ready for it !

April 17th

So, I’ve told the bros the good news… and somehow, the conversation drifted on clothes, and we realized that I don’t really have any “date” clothes – or at least, not straight date clothes. They said that it wouldn’t go, and Terry and Joe took me this afternoon to the shops, as they said that, as “pussyhounds” they know what makes girls go apeshit. There, they encouraged me to buy a nice black dress shirt, dark blue jeans and a fancy belt, so now they’ve been added to my wardrobe. They also told me to prepare some cologne, a golden chain and a fancy watch, because they said that it’s the kind of details women always pay attention to, but I already have some of those, so I’m covered.

I guess I’m ready for my date ?

April 20th

Fuck, I forgot again twice to write in this diary. I guess I should only write in it when there’s something interesting happening, because I only seem to remember writing in it when something involving my newfound straightness happens…

So yeah. The date with Abby was magical. Never have I ever been more glad to have made the choice to become straight. When we met up, she was just fabulous. Dressed impeccably, in a way that, yes, made her boobs pop out wonderfully, but it also made her beautiful eyes twinkle, her luscious lips glow and her fluffy hair shine. And the way she walked, so agile, so dainty… Bro, there’s nothing that can capture how beautiful she is ! And she’s also so smart, and such good company ! We talked for hours, made cute poses in front of the animals, and even stayed together for dinner – although we went out to McDonald’s, not enough money nor organization to go to a fancier place.

Perfect ! Absolutely perfect !

This is the kind of experiences normal men have ! And they’re so much richer than anything these gay hookups ever gave me !

Taking the Conversion Powder was the best decision in my life !

May 4th

May the force be with you ! haha

It’s been two whole weeks since I last wrote in this diary, it was time for me to give you an update, diary.

The last two weeks have been hell, because it’s exam season. So between studying, working out and dates with Abby, I haven’t had time for anything ! Bro, even my dates were study dates ! But otherwise… Everything’s going swimmingly ! I’m pulling along with my bros, and my relationship with Abby is going wonderfully !

Really, I know I’m writing the same thing again and again, but ever since I became straight, everything has become better ! Like, I’m better as a straight guy than I would ever have been as a gay guy, I’m sure of that ! It’s… even becoming kinda weird to think of myself as ever being gay, honestly...

God, it’s so refreshing to be normal !

May 6th (the morning)

A bit of a weird update, this morning before my last exam, because… er… we had sex yesterday.

So here’s how it went. Yesterday, we had another study date, but this time at my place. It was boring, of course, but to get out of the boredom we decided to make some raunchy remarks in-between economics and anatomy. And it made us both quite horny… well, at least it made me quite horny, because my dick was just rock hard, ready to squirt by the end of the session… And then we continued the remarks, without interruption… I got closer to her, started touching her, she started touching me, and then the clothes started coming down…

And you kinda know how it goes, but for me it was special. Because I have a ton of sex experience, but none when it comes to shoving my dick in a hole. I did have quite a good time eating her pussy, wayyyyyy tastier tasty than dick mind you, and she did make me come by giving me a blowjob, but then came time to do the deed. I put my condom on, and then honestly… it was a blast. I came just naturally once I had my dick inside her pussy, I just thrusted, and thrusted and thrusted, a ton of times, as if I was plowing her. She was orgasming, I was orgasming, and when we finally came, we just laid there, cuddling, until we both began sleeping.

I’m writing that as she’s taking her shower, just after my Conversion Powder drink, so I won’t be able to write too much, but really… it was the best sex I ever had. Hands down. Really, it feels like straight sex has been designed to happen, unlike anal, blowjobs and all. God, I’m so glad to have taken the powder !

May 8th

Okay okay okay, BIG NEWS !

This afternoon, Abby and I went to a date in the park, and guess what – I mean, a diary isn’t gonna answer me, but yeah. Abby asked if I wanted to be her boyfriend !

It made me just so happy ! Like, finally for the first time ever I have an actual relationship ! I have a girlfriend !

I’ll announce it to everyone ! Well, I kinda already have, but I thought after that that I should write it down here. I’m becoming the model straight guy, and I couldn’t be more up for that !

May 19th

Everything is going for the best, a month and a half in ! (about)

I think I’m gonna stop writing in this book, because I think there’s nothing I can write in it that’s new ! I’m a normal straight guy with a steady relationship with my beautiful girlfriend, Abby, and I hope – and think – that we’re going endgame. Like she’s so beautiful and she goes along with me so well, you can’t understand !

I’m also bulking thanks to all the workout I get with the bros, here, look at that photo :

Oh yeah, I did decide to cut down my hair. It was so long, it was bothersome, and I already have Abby, so I don’t need to look attractive to anybody, just to her. Plus, it made me look faggy, even though I’m straight.

So yeah, you can guess I’m a living example of why the Conversion Powder is a good thing for people who want it ! I’m so happy, and I have found the love of my life ! It almost feels like it was meant for me to be straight !

So… goodbye, I guess ? Or to next time something worth writing about happens ?

June 1st

I thought I wouldn’t ever touch this diary again, but today I saw a ton of pictures on the internet saying happy Pride Month, and… it made me feel empty inside.

I remember last year when I went to local Pride, it made me feel so… not alone ? Like I was part of something bigger, of a community of people who suffer the same kind of things as I do. But when I see all those pictures, I just feel like it’s not talking to me. I don’t feel like I’m part of the LGBT community anymore, because I’m just a normal straight guy, and I guess it’s the first time I somewhat feel some regrets ?

Now, I looked at my local Pride, and apparently this year’s prominent topic is the Conversion Powder, trying to ban it, so even if I wanted to go in as an ally, I would be the embodiment of what they’re avoiding…

I dunno, I’m feeling very conflicted. And it’s not the kind of things I can really talk about with Abby, considering to her I was always a normal straight guy. So I guess I’ll write about it here when I feel like venting.

June 3rd

This whole Pride Month thing is really going to my head, I cannot help but think about it… I look away each time I see rainbows, I avoid LGBT news and I feel awkward each time I see someone being visibly LGBT…

But really, I think I’m being so obsessed by it that I’m triggering old memories of when I was gay, I almost caught myself checking out a guy… If I didn’t know I was on the Conversion Powder, I would have said I was living through a gay awakening…

June 5th

OKAY OKAY CODE RED IT’S CONFIRMED I’M SOMEHOW REGAINING MY ATTRACTION TO MEN !

It’s too much to only be Pride Month behind that. I’m actively being turned on by men… even though I’m taking the powder everyday… each time it happens I switch to a mental image of a woman, but it doesn’t seem to really do anything…. I’m straight, that’s for sure, but why is my body suddenly not wanting to respond correctly ?

Fuck, why am I writing this, it has to be a fluke, I’m sure… I must be quite horny, since Abby has been quite busy with her internship.

I’ll call her up, have some good straight sex like I should, and see if this fluke happens again tomorrow (hint : it won’t).

June 6th

It did.

If I could sigh on paper, I would. Trust me.

The sex was a bit forced, I’ll admit, but today when I went for a morning jog, I saw one of the most drop-dead gorgeous guy I had ever seen… He was quite muscular, but not too much, was tall, handsome, had great hair and a light dusting of body hair where it mattered. Plus, his pecs were quite prominent, it felt as if I could squeeze them and sleep on them, they were so juicy… Fuck, reading back I’m describing that guy like I used to describe guys when I was gay, even though I’m straight…

Tomorrow I’ll up the dose of Conversion Powder, I’ll see what will happen.

June 7th

Do NOT take more than one dose of Conversion Powder at once, learn from my experience.

When I took those two drinks, I had the worst headache I’ve ever had… and then I was hyper-horny for a good 6 to 8 hours, wanting to fuck women, fuck women and fuck women… I’m really happy I had nowhere to go today, since I just gooned myself to straight porn for hours on end, even forgot to eat. It was actual madness.

But then, suddenly, my horniness stopped. I was just… spent, sitting inside a mess of cumstains that were hell to wash out, not really understanding what happened to me.

I’m afraid.

June 9th

The situation did not improve, my attraction to men just kept coming back, to the point I can basically now call myself thoroughly bisexual. But I’m not under any illusion : my attraction to women is very likely going to fade at some point.

And it’s going to make me lose Abby.

I’ve also looked around on the web, and found that I’m not actually the only one to be “reverted”, as people seem to refer to it as. Apparently, it’s due to people being used to the drug : since it cannot actually change attraction, it only overwrites attraction. So it acts like a drug, the more you take it the less effective it becomes…

So yeah, I’m becoming gay whether I want it or not…

June 12th

It’s beginning. The end is beginning.

I feel it, how women are starting to interest me less and less. I’d rather be dealing with dicks than with pussies… I had sex with Abby yesterday, and I just wasn’t into it. It just didn’t feel as exciting, as wonderful as it used to be when I first had sex with her…

Even she noticed it, and asked if everything was alright with me. I lied about being tired because of training, but it will only get me so far… I need to tell her at some point, before it’s too late. But I just don’t have the heart to break hers, it would also break my heart to have to leave her… I really wish I could stay straight…

So much for being “normal”, eh ?

June 14th

This afternoon, we met for our usual Wednesday dates. And I gathered the courage to tell her everything.

I told her how I was gay, how I used the Conversion Powder, how I then had a crush on her, and how I’m slowly becoming gay again. I was so afraid telling her that. Because I absolutely was in the wrong, I kept her in the dark about an important part of myself, and I was afraid of her reaction… heh, it’s kind of my first coming-out, in a way.

However, Abby, blessed be her heart, took it in strides, and the only thing she became angry over was the fact that I decided to take the Conversion Powder… Turns out she’s bisexual, and is really against it, and I guess I became another example for her to latch onto to deem it unacceptable… We had a goodbye kiss, and I told her that I still had a few days of liking women, so we should do whatever last thing together as a couple as we can.

I’ll see what she has in store for me.

June 15th

Okay, today was wild.

Abby basically took a whole day off just for me, and invited me to her place. And I was barely inside her bedroom that she just came in with tons of sex toys. I’m not even sure where she found half of those… And so, we just spent the remainder of the day having sex in many a kinky setup… the last of my straight sex would be kinky sex…

It was great, I hadn’t had so much fun in a long while, especially worrying this much about the end of the Conversion Powder… and I feel that from now on I’ll know her body way too much for someone who will soon become her Gay Best Friend.

So yeah, a great way to close the straight chapter of my life. We’ve decided, with Abby, that tomorrow I’ll get off the Conversion Powder, and that will be our official break up.

June 16th

First day without Conversion Powder, and I’ve been in bed fighting the inevitable headache that such an action accompanies.

Abby was kind enough to come look after me, and it honestly felt really weird to look at her and feel basically not much happening in my dick. Only remained aesthetic attraction.

While she was here, I made her read this diary. It was quite a humbling experience, as she was basically reading through my heart. Her reactions ranged from laughter to concern, including a few realizations about our history together. I mean, I didn’t know she remembered the time I almost confessed to her but was interrupted by someone else !

She also told me that it was weird how I didn’t mention being afraid about the bros, and honestly… I find it also weird now that she mentions it. I dunno, when I decided to take the powder, fitting in with the bros was such a priority for me, yet today, I feel like I have such a good relationship that I wouldn’t trust them to care either way. But I did make a coming out message in our group chat, basically explaining the same stuff as I did with Abby. I’ll see how it goes, but currently Terry eagerly responded with a “I support you!!!!!!1!!!”.

June 18th

My headache was very strong, and I stayed in bed again yesterday, but by now I think it has passed. I didn’t expect the aftereffects of the Conversion Powder to be this severe...

I don’t think I’ll have much to say in this diary in the future, especially as I seem to be going back to the normal me. I mean, normal gay me. But since I’ve had a lot of time to think about this whole situation the past few days, I’ll write about my experiences here.

So, first of all, I’m glad to have made this experience of what straight life looks like. However, I also think that it was a mistake.

Basically, I think that when I did it, I took the easy way out. Pointing to an inalienable part of myself as being the cause of all my woes and then trying to remove it, it just shows a laziness from me. Like I can’t try and imagine what an actual solution looks like, I have to change myself before being able to fix stuff. However, I feel that this experience made me learn that I was actually able to do all the things I felt were lacking. Talking to Abby she made me notice that, aside from being straight, nothing really changed after taking the Conversion Powder, so all the things I blamed myself for making me look faggy just… didn’t. It was only me being afraid, and letting it talk rather than the rational mind. So all the good things I had when I was straight, I can just have them if I get out of the mindset that gay is bad.

So… yeah ! Although it still feels a bit weird to say, I’m gay, and I’m proud ! All my woes weren’t due to me being gay, they were due to me being afraid, so now I decide to not be afraid anymore ! I hope that whoever reads this diary (including me) will understand that they don’t need to take out a part of themselves to find happiness. They need to get over their fears, and only this way will the road to happiness will be opened !

Well said, love from the past ! -T

[kanmom51]

Like Crazy - new insights

*This is a reposting of my latest reblog due to issues with that specific post.

***This has been sitting in my drafts since April 2023!!!

This is the post I reblogged and the basis to my own post.

Yep. I had some of a post written way back in April 2023, but the pieces just didn't come all together for me.

After Muse's release and specifically after the BTB yesterday where JM discussed Who, Muse and the lyrics, we also saw the change made to Who's lyrics from "you" to "she" things started to clear up for me. But then, a friend also shared a picture of the original lyrics of Like Crazy, which were subsequently altered before recording. We discussed these changes and I now feel that this is it! This is the missing piece to my post.

I mostly left what I wrote over a year ago in tact, adding the missing pieces to this puzzle that makes this post with what I feel is a little more insight into Like crazy.

Needless to say, these are my opinions, how I see the lyrics, the ones that made the cut and the ones that stayed in JM's lyrics journal.

So, let's get started:

Here I was thinking I'm the only one who was seeing this...

I do hope I'm reading this right, before going off motormouth about something that maybe isn't what is being said, but to hell with it, this is something I've been thinking too and I'm just gonna come out and say it.

We're all over 18 here right?

This is a subject we can talk about?

The more I listen to this song, the more I think it to be true too.

First of all, before starting off, I want to link this ask:

**Shock and awe... "she" wasn't part of the original lyrics for Like Crazy . Colour me surprised to learn the same is true with Who (even though JM didn't actually write the song himself). Oh, and if we are on that subject already, how not surprising to see the process of writing the song with John Billion, who happens to be one of the writers of SNTY as well (me sitting here thinking of several words and references that could have been somehow suggested and inserted into the song. No idea who (nah, I'm telling lies, I know exactly who). How shocking (NOT) to see that the artist actually had input with the song lyrics of which he is not credited in writing.

Again, the depth of the song, the layers to the song and the multiple interpretations too.

JM told us this song is about him struggling. He told us he was going through a period where he was drinking too much. He was finding fulfillment in ways other than performing, as performing is part of him, he is a performer, someone who needs the stage to express himself. The stage is where he is at peace, the stage being a piece of him that he was missing.

We saw his outburst of emotions in the first day of MOTS ON:E (that was my first experience of BTS and he literally broke my heart - and later seeing him being mocked for it infuriated me).

This was October 2020, around 6 months into the pandemic. The uncertainty. This is their first online performance and from there until Muster another 9 months go by. We know from Festa 2022 that the pandemic screwed up all of their plans. The uncertainty, working on and releasing BE and then Butter and PTD everything leading up to the PTD online concert, a year after MOTS ON:E. For those that performing is their life, standing in front of an audience and giving it their all, it's a hard pill to swallow. The unknown, if they will ever get back to perform on stage in front of a live audience, when this is who they are, their essence, it can be unbearable. JM wasn't the only performer to go through this. It's just that he shared this with us. He showed us his pain and vulnerability and was mocked for it by many. Shame on them!!!

So, again, JM told us with Like Crazy, that he was filling in that hole. Alcohol was mentioned by him specifically. But listening to the song, I think it's quite clear that sex was a very big part of it as well. Looking for that rush, that high. It's clear as day, for me anyway, in the lyrics.

(I think we could last forever I'm afraid that everything will disappear Just trust me)

[Verse 1] She's saying Baby, don't think about it There's not a bad thing here tonight Baby, you can leave it Stay with me until today

[Verse 2] Watch me go Wet me all night (Away) And morning too Don't come if you're drunk

In this loud music It fades me It's a drama-like story I'm get used to it Have you come far to find me that you used to know? Yeah, I know You know, I know (Ooh)

[Chorus] I'd rather be Lost in the lights Lost in the lights I'm outta my mind It holds to the end of this night Every night You spin me up high The moon that embraces you Let me have a taste

[Post-Chorus] Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') It's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever you and I

[Interlude] Mmm-hmm Yeah, hey Mmm-hmm Ooh-woah Mmm-hmm Mmm-hmm (Forever, you and I)

[Verse 3] Me reflects in the mirror I'm going crazy without hesitation I'm feelin' so alive, wasting time

I'd rather be Lost in the lights Lost in the lights I'm outta my mind It holds to the end of this night Every night You spin me up high The moon that embraces you Let me have a taste

[Post-Chorus] Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') It's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever you and I

[Outro] This will break me This is gonna break me (Break me) No, don’t you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on)

Those are the lyrics he recorded.

But you see, there were changes made to the lyrics he was working on originally, and we got to see some of them.

This specifically:

Reading this draft and the final ones there are a few things that just fall into place for me (and I'd think for anyone that reads them), loud and clear:

First of all, obviously JM is singing about drinking too much alcohol. If the final lyrics hinted to losing himself in alcohol, the draft lyrics are ever so clear regarding that point.

Second of all, the sex. I think JM was pretty straight forward using the wording he was using. "Give me a good ride" can be other things, if you twist it around to try and explain it away, but bottom line, those lines within the context of the lines in the draft, like "just go turn off the light, you and me..." not to mention the whole chorus, to me the reference is obvious.

Next, I talked about the many references to JK in this song in this post:

This is all also relevant when it comes to my next point being the fact that to me it's clear that JM wrote this song referencing a special someone with whom he shares a high level of intimacy. A special someone that was there by his side when JM was struggling. A special someone that was struggling seeing JM going through everything he was.

To that person JM wrote (in the draft): "oh baby don't you cry, just wanna see your smile..."

These lines, they were too much. Too obvious. Too intimate. And they were left out probably because of just that.

So JM went with other lines. A little less obvious perhaps, and yet still very telling. The finale of the song:

No, don’t you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on)

Now, you could claim that the song is about an inner struggle. JM struggling with himself, talking to himself, and yes, that could very much be part of the message JM, the king of layering, is going for. But see, that's exactly the point. JM is the king of layering, of having several meanings and messages within his lyrics and creations. And this is not different. There is no mistaking the reference to another person, not JM himself, in the lyrics. The way he uses the "you" in the lyrics, at times could pass as you being the alcohol, at times the you being himself in the mirror, but at times it's clearly a third party he is talking to. Especially in that finale to the song, that someone that wants to lift him out of that stupor he is in, to wake him up, to save him, when he is unwilling, not ready to accept that help just yet (same person he asks not to cry, knowing that he is making them sad). There are also the clear JK references in this song. The "you are me I am you" being the loudest of them all.

But JM being JM, he showed us in his own way what this song was about, opening up and allowing us to see his drafts.

And then he gave us Letter. Hidden, and private and intimate. Addressed not to us, but to that person that was always there by his side, that person he addresses in Like Crazy telling him "forever you and I". Now, in Letter, being in a better, healthier place, he can repeat the sentiment of them together forever. A sentiment JK had mentioned in the past (omg, that was so very awkward).

And now using lines like : "I sincerely hope we are forever" and "But don’t forget that we’re always together"...

The lyrics, the sentiments, the drafted lyrics that never made it, like the use of "Dangshin", I have talked about it all. Letter was for JK. Period.

When seeing Like Crazy again, the lyrics, the struggle, the person by his side, the intimacy, and Letter, I'm kind of thinking that not only is Letter a love ode to JK. That is stating the obvious. But it's also JM's acknowledgement and thank you to that person that stood by his side in his most difficult of times.

JK.

Bottom line:

Like crazy is about JM struggling and self medicating with alcohol and sex.

It's personal about himself, his struggles, but also includes a person that is there by his side, one he is highly intimate with, one who is there with him together. That person is there, spending the nights with him, in that escape world JM created for himself. Sad seeing JM struggle, trying to find a way to help JM out of that pit but being unable to do so, staying by JM's side all the same.

We know who that person is.

Same person he addresses Letter to.

[beegalactica]

How I journaled every day in 2023, and you can too in 2024

I heard someone wants to become "that girl" in 2024...

Well, let me tell you, "that girl" is the type of babe who embodies consistency; consistency in her thoughts, feelings, words and actions. Now one of the ways I have personified this aura of consistency is through frequent inward reflection through journaling.

I know, we've heard it a million times now. And with the new year approaching, it's so easy to set the intention to journal every day and do it well. News flash, my love, you must do much more than just set the intention. Let me tell you how I did it so you can do the same ~

Equipment

Believe me, I've tried it all: countless notebooks, diaries, bullet journals, apps, all of it, but this past year, only one app *stuck* for me, and that is Notion. Whether you prefer to journal with a good old pen and paper, or even if you prefer to make a big Google document, go for it!

The reason I settled on Notion was its table view/ calendar view database features. I liked being able to add properties like what rating out of 5 I would give my day or being able to label whether I was on my period, or any major milestones. I found that these labels made it really fun to look back and laugh at all the crazy things that I came up with, and reminisce over those 5/5 star days when I really felt like that girl. (see example below)

What the hell do you write about?

"You can write about whatever you feel like!" is the usual response, and while that's great if you're anything like me, you'll need more detail than that. I opted for some classic prompts that I would simply respond to at the end of every day, but if you want to freestyle it, try some shadow work prompts, or even just sum up your day in one sentence, you are more than welcome to.

My prompts were:

1. Three wins of the day: 2. One thing I learned today: 3. One thing I will do tomorrow: 4. Am I worried about anything? 5. Favourite thing of my day: 6. Song of the day: 7. A story from today: 8. An affirmation for my mind to sleep on:

You don't have to write paragraphs upon paragraphs if you don't want to, and some days, it might be hard to even think of three wins, but an it girl can be present and celebrate the endless blessings in life, even when it seems like there are none.

How to be consistent?

Going back to the central theme of this post, consistency, it is important to acknowledge that no matter how pretty you make your journal, or how thought-provoking your prompts are, the most important thing is to actually do it.

Life is fluid, it's never going to be linear. Some days you'll feel amazing, gorgeous and ready to take on anything, but other days you'll just wish you were a flower instead that doesn't have to deal with anything. That's just life. Some days, the last thing on my mind was my silly little journal, but I knew it was something I needed to do for myself, so I took 2 minutes to write a few sentences down, even when I'd rather be doing other things.

How to maintain your consistency:

Set reminders - at the start of the year, I had 2 reminders every day to journal; after the first few months, I cut it down to just one at 9pm, and by the end of the year, I was just doing it because it had become a routine for me.

Reward yourself - at first, you'll just be able to say you journaled for 1 day, then it will be 2 days, then slowly up to 1 week, 1 month, and soon you'll be like me, bragging about how you did it for a whole year! It's an accomplishment! Never lose sight of that.

Be kind to yourself - ultimately, this should be something you do for you and you only, so if you miss a day, it's not the end of the world. Every now and then, I didn't journal for a day - maybe I was too busy, or just exhausted by the time my day was over - so I accepted it and caught up first thing the next day. You make your own rules.

JUST START!!!!!!! - do it! Even if you mess up, start again and again and again! Nothing changes if nothing changes.

What's the point?

You've read this far, and you may be wondering, what's the point of journaling?

Well, I can confidently say that journaling changed my outlook on life immensely. 2023 was the best year I've had so far. Yes, there were setbacks: I lost friends that I thought would have forever, I struggled with my mental and physical health, and I reached points where I thought I was too low to get back up. But recording little bits about my day every day showed me, with actual tangible proof, that I will always get back up. I also had some amazing moments this year: I started a whole new school and era of my life, I made amazing friends, I fell in love with myself again and I found my voice.

Journaling has helped me to see the little positives in everyday life. Even when a situation seemed absolutely awful and I thought that I could never recover from it, I developed the mindset that not only could I recover, but I would absolutely recover. This new mindset helped me to laugh at myself in moments when a previous version of me would've shrivelled up into a ball and disappeared from the outside world.

Looking back over my life these past 365 days has helped me cultivate a new outlook on life, where I don't see setbacks as obstacles or barriers to my success, but as little stories to journal and laugh about when I inevitably overcome them. If that isn't the most it girl attitude to have, then I don't know what else is!

Journaling changed my life, and I hope that it can change yours too! Happy 2024! 🎀

[breelandwalker]

Witchcraft Exercise - Annual Review

The end of the old calendar year and the beginning of a new one are excellent times for reflection and recalibration. We do this in our mundane lives by making resolutions, setting new goals, starting new projects, and sketching out our schedule for the coming year. So why not do the same with your witchcraft!

As a journaling exercise, sit down and record how your journey has progressed over the past year. You can include things like spells you’ve cast, rituals you’ve performed, holidays you’ve celebrated, gatherings you attended, new ideas you’ve encountered or incorporated, important lessons learned, and any significant milestones you’ve achieved. It doesn’t have to be fully comprehensive or bite-by-bite - the level of detail is entirely up to you.

(If you’ve already performed the exercise Quantifying Your Craft, then you already have a place to start. If you haven’t, I do suggest doing that first to give yourself a clear set of data and pre-determined information to reference.)

Once you’ve recorded your progress, decide where you want to go next. What new goals will you set? What new subjects do you want to explore? What habits do you want to alter or adopt? Are there any new books you want to read? Places you want to visit? New methods or techniques you want to try? Dream big and then sketch out a path to get you there, or just decide where you want to go next. And don’t worry about accomplishing everything on the list in the span of a year. Whatever doesn’t get done in the short term can always become the seed of something you grow into over time.

Of course, this doesn’t necessarily have to be an exercise that happens exclusively at the beginning or end of a calendar year. You can (and should) review and recalibrate periodically throughout the year whenever you incorporate new information or new ideas or new processes into your practice. This can be done as frequently or infrequently as you feel the need, whether that be monthly or quarterly or annually or just once every few years. Pausing for reflection is a necessary part of any long-term path or project, and it is a good way to both measure your progress so far and decide how best to move forward.

One more thing - Don’t be too hard on yourself or feel like you haven’t accomplished enough or learned enough or progressed enough to be a “proper” witch. Don’t compare your craft to anyone else’s or measure your viability by another's rod. Your journey is your own and will proceed at its’ own pace. Periods of rest or recovery or low motivation or preoccupation with other concerns are going to be part of that. As long as you’re making an effort, you’re doing just fine.

Happy Witching!

Image Credit - Witch Workspace, by Mylène Richard

Want more witchcraft exercises? Check out the masterpost here.

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, tune in to my monthly show Hex Positive on your favorite podcast app, or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[studentbyday]

week 1. a stuttering start.

i can't believe autumn is already approaching. i feel like i haven't done much to truly live on my own terms this year... (the majority of my time was spent either chained to my desk, living the studying hermit life as usual, or...and this is a new one for this era of my life, feeling like a child following the real adults around on my travels which @zzzzzestforlife documents way better tbh. the travels, that is...)

in addition i've been feeling very unmotivated and numb this school year. even more so than usual. i've never been as zesty as...well, Zesty when it comes to new school years, but it has slowly been getting worse since i started uni and i think i'm getting dangerously close to falling off some cliff i'll later realize was an important cliff to not fall off of. do you get what i mean? i'm only speaking vaguely because i myself do not quite know.

i oscillate between wanting to be extraordinary and extra ordinary. i have fallen back into bad habits, which do not set a good precedent. and overall i feel lost. so so lost that i started reading designing your life. and dulled by the isolation of school i can hardly focus. it's not a new problem, i've just finally been able to put words to it after all these years. engaging and/or cathartic verbal conversation brings me back to life, whether i'm listening or speaking, but i don't get enough of that in my daily life...this is just a very weird mundane state to be in. don't get me wrong, i was relieved to get back to this life with a very predictable pattern after the hectic-ness of travel, but something about it always felt off and i almost can't believe that only now i've realized why.

anyway, feelings pass. and i have overcome the jet lag, so i am that much more energized (and perhaps a little more desperate) to bulldoze through this problem.

Study:

Read/skimmed all the syllabi for anything new (much of it is the same year-to-year as they're all courses in the same faculty and i am resigned to the fact that there will be weighty group work in at least one course out of every year)

Caught up on course announcements

Finished microbiology module for this week (hmmm i read like half of this module last year when i attempted and then dropped this course so it wasn't the most interesting the second time around but i think it'll get better as i get to the new stuff and the nitty-gritty details 🔬 mwahahaha 🦠 i also decided last minute to make flashcards for these and had to transfer my notes to anki. i wish there weren't so many isolated facts or similar but distinct processes i need to remember.)

Made flashcards for half of this week's immunology content (seems to be a memorization-heavy course and i think i really need the active recall since i barely remember the pre-req info 😅 luckily they review it in the module... 🤭)

Reviewed some of the flashcards made this week

Worked on (but didn't finish) global health slides for this week (i'm...not entirely sure what i should be taking notes on or how because...this all seems either very common sense or kind of..."woo-woo" based on my way of understanding the world...but ig that's my own biases talking? i hope they'll just test us on the common sense stuff. that will be easier for my brain 🥴)

Around half of pathology slides are left from this week (probably the most work intensive course i'm taking rn based on the timeline 😵 but also it's shaping up to be my favorite subject this semester because the modules are so well designed AND it's large processes or, even if it's smaller concepts, they're all connected to each other so i don't need flashcards!...i think! i can just pull on the thread of memory and it all unspools (...ideally...)!)

Wrote down due dates for all assessments this semester

Other life things: (yeah idk what to call this section)

I became a 6AM girlie!!! 🥰🥰🥰

Unpacked

Washed my water bottle

Caught up with a friend 💗

Health:

Yoga x2

Journalled x2

Early morning walk in nature x1 (the air smelled so so fresh i was so glad i went out...and even gladder that i went out when i did because after that the air quality got super bad from wildfire smoke 🥺)

Pilates x1 (i made it! in 2 split sessions, but still! and i feel great!!! 😃 i'm so glad i found this channel because she explains the moves in a way that i can get it even with my bad coordination 😅 she also goes slowly and there is no annoying workout music so i can completely focus on the movements and how they feel, it's perfect. 😊)

Music in My Head:

Blue Danube Waltz (OG piano version)

Treat People With Kindness

On the Sunny Side of the Street

Hikaru Nara (the perfect song for my current ambivalent mood because the whole theme of the anime, which is reflected in the sound of this arrangement, is the need to reignite your spark for the things that mean something to you and make the absolute most of it because life is short)

a few dark academia playlists that i put on loop to study to (links under the cut) (somehow the ones with new age music are the only ones i can listen to...light/quiet enough that it doesn't interrupt my thoughts but intense and melodic enough that it puts me in the mood to focus 😅)

[josphitia]

Josie's Cow HRT Journey Part 5 - Groceries and Friendship

*BeepBeep* *BeepBeep* *BeepBeep*

“Alright alright, I'm up…” *Yawn* “Ugh, my hair’s a mess…” I said groggily, reaching for the cheap comb I kept in the drawer by my mirror. “How is my hair so tangled and what is with this headache…” As I began to sift my hair, suddenly-

*Snap* was the sound as the teeth of the comb broke off, spiraling to the ground. They struck something hard, something unexpected, something that were-

“H-horns? *My* horns?” I muttered as I investigated the source of where the comb struggled and lost. I started to tear up as I parted my hair with my fingers. There they were, two small buds that had emerged from my skull. The first official start of my transition into the boviness I really was. Crying was the beginning of my morning that day, but it was a release of pure joy. I just kept staring at the two small glints of keratin that were stubbornly pushing their way through my scalp.

From there the changes came quickly one after the other over the coming days. I could see, I could feel, my body gratefully and ecstatically accepting the new hormones coursing through my body. Every day I found new developments to investigate: My ears began to taper into a point. My nails were taking on a dark, cloudy tint; as well as hardening themselves into stronger material. My canines were slowly becoming duller. There was a small nub at the bottom of my spine, a tail waiting for the right encouragement to spring forth. I felt a constant warmness radiating from inside me, with a growing hunger rising each day reminding me of the fuel I needed for my advancements.

Small, rounded, lattice-work hairs started to sprout over the whole of my body. It was like a thousand small needle pricks. A subtle stinging that I felt constantly over every inch of my skin, but focused primarily on my arms, legs, and face at these early stages. The Endo theorized that I can expect my fur to be the same color as the hair on my head, if a few degrees lighter in shade. My fur is going to be a beautiful shade of creamy brown, she said.

But the most prominent mutation was with my face itself. The pain was a numbing fire as I could feel my face elongating, my muzzle slowly growing to a flattened point. As if to fill any empty space created from my changes, my tongue was also growing suit. If my canines were still sharp I would be worried about the relentless stabbings they would inflict. Instead my body was in harmony, each change benefitting the way my body was transforming.

It is an odd sensation to feel euphoria from the growing of fur in places you had previously endured painful hair removal procedures on. It’s hard not to feel pangs of loss at the years I spent moving my body towards a direction that ultimately wasn’t for me. Pangs of jealousy at the people who have started their journeys before me. Pangs of resentment towards myself at not realizing what I needed to do, *what I could have done,* sooner. But I am on this journey now and more and more the only feeling filling my heart was *pride.* I look in the mirror and I'm finally starting to see *me.*

----------------------------------------------------

I had been spending the first transformative week in my own home, journaling my changes like some amateur documentarian. But, I was beginning to run low on the essentials. Fresh greens and produce had begun to be the only things I could reliably eat, and unfortunately, those are products you must purchase with regularity. With horror, I knew what I had to do: Make a trip to the grocery.

While I felt happiness and pride at my current state, one thought clouded the back of my mind: You're not there *yet.* You don't *pass.* That concept can be toxic, and it has led to many persons to focus on their own appearances to an unhealthy degree. But it is predicated on one simple notion: It's not safe for me to simply *exist.* This society is one built upon conformity in all aspects. To be different is a threat. It signals to the establishment that they have not done enough to control you. To your fellow citizens, it raises feelings of contempt. *They* were following the expectations laid before them, why can't you? It is sadly easier for many to lambast and degrade another rather than to focus their energies inward to self-discovery.

And so I donned an outfit similar to the ones I wore early in my first transition. A baggy hoodie, a pair of loose jeans, and old shoes. All articles of clothing chosen for one primary purpose; to conceal as much of my body as possible. However, these clothes did not obfuscate my appearance as well as they did in the past. For starters, my tail had finally emerged from its dormancy. I had hoped I could simply squirrel it away inside my pants' leg, but that proved too uncomfortable. I simply had to let my new limb be free, even if it was a signal to those behind me that I was of a different sort than them. But, the biggest identifier of my otherness was the wide muzzle that my face had been contoured into. No matter how I wore my hood, my flat nose poked through. I relented, the rumbling in my stomach rising with every minute I fuddled with my appearance. This was simply the best I could do, the beginnings of a cow wearing clothes too big for her, with a small tail above her jeans and a pink snout leaning out from her hood.

The mUver driver gave me many side glances, before simply asking me “Is there one o' dem furry conventions in town?” I lied, to protect myself, and said “Yeah. A small one.” The answer proved enough to satiate his curiosity and the rest of the ride we both partook in an alliance of silence. He dropped me off in front of the store. 5 stars, I instinctively input, not wanting to somehow offend the man who provided me passage. I held my empty bags close and walked through the store.

“Most people are just trying to live their own lives. They won't notice you” I chanted to myself, a mantra to get me through this obstacle called shopping. I made a straight line for the produce and began to stockpile, doing the math in my head between how much I *could* buy, how much I *could* eat, and how much *would* spoil were my math wrong. While comparing between two particularly small heads of cabbage, I heard the first comments regarding my appearance.

“Mommy, what's wrong with her face?”

It alarmed me, as anyone talking about you but not to you would, but it didn't frighten me. This little girl was simply curious about the world around her. There *was* something different about my face, something she had never witnessed before. There *was* something wrong with my face, it hadn't grown to its full splendor yet. But the next thing I heard killed any confidence I had been building during this excursion.

“Don't look at him, sweety” the mother sniped as she yanked her child in the opposite direction of myself.

Him. *Him.* The pronoun I had been able to avoid being labeled was back. The anxiety built within me. Was it simply that the mother did not give herself a proper look at me, using the first pronoun that came to her? Did the clothes I wear obscure my appearance so much that I presented male? But the thought that pushed all others out, rising to the forefront of my consciousness was one I had never considered: Was being bovine a trait seen as inherently male to the greater public? It was a notion so at odds with my own perception of reality. Being a cow was the greatest expression of my femininity. How could that be seen as masculine, of all things?

I deduced I had picked up enough food for at least a few days. I headed to the registers, I needed to leave. But, of course, the bored cashiers were now replaced with ones frantic as their lines were packed with irritable customers. I searched but to no avail for the self-checkout lanes. I always avoided interaction as a standard practice, but at this moment such an exercise felt paramount to my own safety. And thus I relented, slipping myself to the back of a line.

I put my face into my phone, trying my best to ignore my material reality. To my shock I had a notification I had never seen before: “You have 1 new follower.” I had begun to post about my transition online like so many others had done, but I never imagined someone would actually be interested in *mine.* I didn't know what to do except look at the profile of this person who had taken an interest in my own. She was a stunning tiger my own age who was following all sorts of other Therians. But before I knew it, my self-induced bubble was popped by the reality around me.

“Ew what the fuck is wrong with their face?”

The first of many whispers to come. At least this time they gendered me somewhat correctly. But I wasn't prepared for the insults to come.

“Ugh, another ugly bitch thinking she's a dragon”

W-what? Why did that hurt so much? I was gendered correctly, albeit rudely… But why did not being recognized as a cow hurt so bad? Dragons are cool, so many people I look up to are dragons… Shouldn't I be honored to be considered one?

“Dude what are you talking about?” said another voice.

“That girl over there. Look at her face and she's obviously hiding horns underneath her hoodie. It's all the rage nowadays amongst people like *them.* Thinking that being a dragon will fix all their problems.”

“Whaaa?? Dude that's just crazy”

More talking behind my back that felt like daggers into my shoulders.

“Wait, she's a dragon??”

“I don't think people like that should be allowed in public”

“Yeah what happens if she just up and snaps? I've seen videos about it”

I try to ignore them. They're gendering me correctly. They don't know. But now I can feel everyone's eyes on me. I feel like I'm on a stage. Try as I might their words penetrate any barriers I try to erect. One word keeps permeating the air:

“Dragon”

“Dragon”

“Dragon”

Everything goes white. My ears are ringing. The blood rushes to my face. I can't contain it anymore. I close my eyes and shout “I'M NOT A DRAGON! I'M A COW!”

Silence except for hushed whispers and laughing. I feel a sudden drop in every aspect of myself as my adrenaline plummets. I approach a cashier who does their best to showcase their contempt for me, but I have no strength to defend against their attitude. I pay for my goods and wait outside for my mUver. One thought permeates my mind through the ride: I need to find people like me to talk to.

------------------------------------------

I reached out to the tigress who had followed me earlier. We began talking and I was just happy to have someone who understood my trials. Someone I was finding camaraderie with. After a few days of talking, she presented me with an opportunity: “Hey, so there's a Therian meetup happening in a few days. If you're able to, would you like to attend?”

How could I not?

---------------------------------

I arrived at the place. It was an average looking community center. I walked through to the lobby and with one glance the receptionist gestured me to the hallway to my left. I guess I looked the part. I had decided to forgo my previous attire of baggy clothes and wore something more true to me: A tank top emblazoned with a skull & flowers and some jean shorts.

I walked trepidatiously down the hall. I knew I would be meeting people (animals?) that were traveling the same road of self discovery and expression that I was. I would be meeting the nice tigress whom I had already talked to and formed a rapport. So why was I anxious? I guess it was because, if I alienated even these people, it meant I would truly be alone on this journey.

I found a door with the simple words “Therian Meetup” taped haphazardly to the door. If it wasn't evident by the sign, the noises inside would be a telltale indicator. I opened the door to a cacophony of sights and sounds, yet somehow all pleasing. Animals of all sorts were each having a myriad of conversations amongst themselves and others in makeshift groups.

A lamia was at the far side of the room in a wheelchair. Her scales were a shade of deep blue and shined like sapphires in the light. Her eyes were slit yellow pupils with almost pitch black sclera. “People, pleasssse sssstay on topic” she said in a distressed tone, clearly caught off guard by her own newfound speech pattern. But soon enough she was smiling, joining in with her own insights and interests with one of the ongoing discussions.

To her right was a king cobra looking man, with green hair and brilliant black scales. He was in deep conversation with a horned goat girl. She had white and black fur across the whole of her body and she already had her hooves. Her horns were like mine, visible but clearly still growing in.

On the opposite side of the room was a kind looking man with primarily dark hair, red and blond highlights, black/red striped armbands that ran up to his elbows, and many rose tattoos scattered throughout. He was holding hands with a *very* buff werewolf girl with sharp teeth and hairy forearms. She was enraptured, hanging onto his every word with vigorous nodding and smiling. They were both speaking to a towering snake woman using a walker. She had black scales and green hands, green eyes with gray sclera and rows of sharp teeth. She had a long tongue that lent her to the same speech pattern I heard previously of elongatting her S’s.

Closer to me was a slime girl and an androgynous snake, wearing glasses and using a wheelchair, engaging in banter and laughing fits. The girl had an orange amber tone to both the patches of skin still remaining on her and to her slime. She had bones floating about in her, vestiges of her previous form. She was holding her phone and, her slime unconducive to a touch screen, used a stylus to navigate. She showed the snake something else that caused them to laugh with a hissing sound. Their chuckling was punctuated with the same speech pattern of multiple S’s that I quickly learned was a telltale quirk of the snakes and lamias among the group. Their clawed hands were completely covered in shimmering purple scales that extended, in a patchwork pattern, the length of their arms.

Everyone was having a fun time. Did I really belong with such a group of eclectic happiness? But before I could give such notions a chance to take root, a white furred tigress with faded purple hair started waving to me. It was the same woman who had invited me to this group in the first place. She beckoned me to an open seat between her and… another cow?? And it was the same girl I saw eating a bowl of grass way back when! She had come along so well in her transition. She was a different kind of cow than I was, highland to my jersey. Her hair, a shade of brown with streaks of red, had grown thick over her eyes and her horns were growing magnificently.

I sat between them and the three of us just… simply talked. About memes. About life. About anything. Eventually we all drifted to other conversations to mingle in. I talked to all sorts of animals that day. It was one of the most relaxing yet exciting experiences of my life. I felt comfortable. I felt wanted. I felt like, for the first time in my life, I had found my people.

I had found friends.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Josie's Cow HRT Journey

First|Previous|Next

This was the longest one yet! I never thought that this AnimalHRT thing would connect me with so many wonderful people! Thank you to everyone who has become a part of my life's journey, both in this story and irl.

In no particular order, the people appearing in this story are:

@ariathelamia

@home-sweet-hive

@queenofwerewolves

@starwaycereal

@kontonord

@tigergirltail

@pennymations

@robins-warudo

@sandyca5tle

@thecrystalmountainsystem

[writingonleaves]

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future. 

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior. 

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise. 

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it. 

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly? 

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us. 

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right? 

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days,  I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when. 

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag. 

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck) 

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other. 

Yet we still hurt each other. 

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did. 

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional. 

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down. 

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better. 

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured. 

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for? 

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always. 

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to. 

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you. 

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you. 

I do. 

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too. 

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend. 

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen. 

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to. 

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now. 

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too. 

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday. 

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago. 

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered. 

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this. 

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed. 

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore. 

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween. 

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there. 

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me. 

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond. 

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known. 

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd. 

I looked for you in every crowd for years. 

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me? 

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months. 

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then. 

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that. 

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me. 

Or maybe not. 

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized. 

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. 

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack 

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best. 

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important. 

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome. 

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on. 

I hope you're moving on. 

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight. 

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met. 

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up. 

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day. 

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door. 

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that. 

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles. 

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t. 

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city. 

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster. 

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city. 

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too. 

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee. 

Jeremy walks into the book store. 

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red. 

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her. 

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything. 

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways. 

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with. 

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same. 

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out. 

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all. 

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence. 

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.��

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does. 

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.” 

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..” 

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?” 

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan, 

i still love you too. 

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours, 

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused. 

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.

[petriwriting]

Memories - Sirius Black X Reader

Summary: Harry finds an old notebook that belonged to Sirius during his Hogwarts days. In his scruffy handwriting, in an old dusty journal found in Sirius's bedroom is the story of Sirius' first real love.

A/N: Fluff, nostalgia, a little bit of angst if you look too hard. The reader is feminine, using she/her pronouns. Oneshot - blurb is very short but very sweet.

I made a friend today on the train to Hogwarts. She is very sweet and seems very nice. She had a ribbon in her hair, I thought that she looked nice. we talked and she said that she liked my hair too. I also made some new friends. I got sorted into Gryffindor house, it's crazy since my family is all from Slytherin house. I'm sure Mother will be so upset. She is always upset about something.

Harry read aloud to his curious friends, Hermione leaned over his shoulder curiously to look at the small dark grey journal, it was tatted beaten-down bound with leather, covered in dust, but well used.

"Keep reading, Harry," Hermione said gently, knowing that he wasn't reading it with malicious intent, but instead in an attempt to feel closer to his godfather. he turned a few pages until a page caught his eye, and began reading once more.

Reg and I got into a quarrel over some things that didn't really matter. he says I should be more concerned with our family. Reg and I used to be close, but after my third year, he became cold. I love my brother, but I hate to see him hanging around those gits. Malfoy in particular, but I know he is happy now as he has joined the Slytherin team. he's their seeker, but he's no match for Gryffindor this year.

This entry made Harry smile slightly, and chuckle. he continued to flip pages, it was heartwarming. He turned the pages, looking through some messy potions class notes and annotations, and an entry about the marauders map, and how he saw Peter Pettigrew (Wormtail.) sneaking out every night to sneak food from the kitchens. One page, in particular, caught his eye.

I Love Her.

I have loved her every day I've known her. She is brilliant, her eyes sparkle when she speaks, her smile is so bright it lights up the room as if you'd cast Lumos. She's incredibly intelligent, but kind. She's always been gentle with me. I've never met another like her.

I wish that I could make this all go away. All the secrets, the war, the hatred. I wish we could start a family one day, live in a little cottage, and raise children far away from here. We'd visit James and Lily every Christmas, and Remus on halloween. I could give her my mother's ring. I doubt Regulus would mind. We could be so happy. I remember the first day we met. I think i knew then that she was special. She has been unconditionally devoted to me. The night my mother burned my name off our family tree she held me in her arms as i cried and i finally felt what home is supposed to feel like. I wrote her a letter, expressing my yearning for her. I plan to give it to her very soon, along with a locket I picked out. Lily insisted on the dainty silver chain with a locket of our picture from our first year together, she even helped me enchant to image to capture y/n's smile as she sat next to me. she say's it's sentimental, and that girls like this sort of thing.

I never had a home, truly. just four walls surrounding me. My own mother disgraced my name, Regulus has been absent in my life. I'm thankful for my friends but my love for y/n is like no other. i just wish want her to feel the way i do, i hope she does. With everything, she can not get involved it's too dangerous. But I will love her anyway. The kind of love that could break the most heinous curse.

Harry stood for a moment, looking over his godfather's handwriting. it was sentimental. "I wonder if we could find her," Harry offered hopefully. "There's no mention of a last name." Ron pointed out. "I'm sure we could ask someone, if she knew the black family she can't be too terribly hard to find," Hermione said, offering a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. "I think Sirius would love that."

[theshiftingwitch]

You're not doing anything wrong!

Whether you're manifesting, or shifting, or simply living, I think you have to be reminded that you're not doing it wrong.

You're going through your days, wondering why nothing is working, why your reality isn't conforming, why everyone else is getting everything they wanted and you're stuck in the same place with no forward movement, and you end up blaming yourself.

I mean, who else are you going to blame?

No one. The answer is no one.

You're not doing anything wrong, nor did you do anything wrong as a child either. This is what that's about, isn't it? That mean voice in your head calling you stupid and lazy and unworthy, that poor self esteem that's keeping you stuck in a constant loop of self hatred, those people pleasing tendencies that make you put everyone else above you.

Those are not your fault either. You see, most likely, those things are a result of childhood trauma. Somewhere along the line, someone put you down and called you names so they can feel more powerful. Someone accused you of something you didn't do and didn't give you the chance to defend yourself. Someone guilted you into doing something you didn't want to do for their own benefit over and over and now you don't know how to say no. Someone made you think everything going wrong in life was your fault.

It wasn't.

You were just a kid.

You deserved better.

All those things you carry with you today, and you look around and wonder why your life is a landmine of terrible events and missed opportunities, not knowing that those events shaped your beliefs and how you see the world. You take them with you everywhere, and now you're trying to manifest a new reality, and your brain is resisting every step of the way.

It's not your brain's fault. It's only trying to keep you safe.

But in order to change the story, you have to rewrite the old beliefs, you have to rewire your brain.

Aren't you tired of carrying all of that shit with you? Aren't you tired of all that self sabotage, self hatred, and cruel inner monologue?

If you've been trying to manifest for a while, and nothing seems to work and you falter every two business days, you need to address your subconscious beliefs. Do your shadow work, figure out your triggers, and rewrite the story so that you don't have to carry that burden with you for the rest of your life.

You deserve better!

And if you have no idea where to start, there are a lot of free shadow work prompts on Pinterest! Give those a try, and then check out my journals. I've been at this for 6 years, and it kicked my ass, but it made me a better version of myself, and it will do the same for you.

I hope you love yourself enough to expel that cruel voice out of your head ❤️