#i am simultaneously so proud yet so sad about that

[stardink]

Waiting for stardust to get killed by the king again! There is no way he'll ever beat him-

[strawberrystepmom]

a trick, a treat, a few tweaks later and i am proud to present...angel choso kamo for @antique-remains! happy halloween and thank you for participating!

contains: NSFW, MDNI. angel!choso x afab!reader. cw dubcon, cw sacrilege. dacryphilia (reader is turned on by crying), public sex, handjob, cum eating, choso has a big dick and his wings are sensitive enough to get sexual gratification.

Nighttime in the city is hardly your favorite time to be out and about, traversing the streets alone despite how bright or dimly lit they may be, yet here you are. Your heavy boots smack against the sidewalk with each step you take, puddles leftover from the torrential autumn downpour that made it impossible to find a taxi splashing and making you mutter in further frustration now that the hems of your pants are wet.

Sirens and the bells indicating that doors are opening and closing mingle into a song that drives your irritation even higher as you trudge toward the bus stop, the rain finally letting up enough that you can slow down and make your way toward the covered bench slowly but a groan catches your attention.

Looking around, you immediately grow suspicious it’s another man following you and making noises in hopes of getting your attention but you see no one. Another pained moan infiltrates your mind, quiet enough that it’s barely audible but loud enough you wonder how far away the source of it is. You search around the bus stop, your eyes darting to a tiny alley between two high rise buildings. It’s hardly wide enough for one person but you wonder, walking toward the alley.

Your suspicions are confirmed when you hear another groan and what sounds like sniffling, your brow raising. It would be the best idea to ignore the sad sounds you keep hearing and mind your own business, city life making everyone a little rough around the edges but whoever this is just sounds so sad that you can’t ignore it.

Stepping quietly into the alley, the sniffling grows louder as you step deeper into the darkness and you fish your phone out of your jacket pocket to turn on the flashlight, squinting to make out what appears to be a shaking mass of a…fully grown man. 

Dumped amongst black trash bags and loose litter, you wonder how he ended up on the cold hard street but it could not have been good. You wonder if you shouldn’t just walk away, there’s obviously trouble afoot, but he catches the gleam of your flashlight and whimpers, looking up at you with the biggest, brownest eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Can you help me? I’m lost.”

His brows bunch together and tears spill from those pretty eyes. Your flashlight illuminates his face as each one leaves a track down his cheeks and the slope of his nose. Simultaneously, empathy blooms between your ribs and heat rises in your cheeks because you are caught off guard by the sheer beauty of this man with a black scar across his nose. Maybe it’s a tattoo, actually? You don’t know but you sigh, deep and exhausted, and hold your hand out to help him up. 

Gazing at your hand as if he’s fearful of it, still crying, you decide to come down to his level and squat in front of him. The flashlight on your phone shines in his direction and you spot what appears to be feathers on the ground around him, your jaw dropping as you angle your light a little further to the left and you realize the feathers are from wings attached to him. Reaching out, you pinch one of the fallen feathers between your fingers. It’s dingy thanks to the puddles below the two of you, wet and matted together, but it’s as white as a cloud otherwise. 

“Who are you?” 

He sniffles again, shaking his head. The crying has subsided but his eyes still shine with additional unshed tears and you hate that he looks so pretty just like this, eyes red and puffy. Again, you groan. It’s a frustrated sound although he doesn’t seem all that affected by it.

“Okay, let’s try a different question and see if you can answer this one. How did you end up here?”

“I don’t know!”

He shouts, arms thrown above his head in exasperation. The light shines over his body and you can vaguely make out the robes he wears, your eyes traveling from his wings to his chest to his face and his hair and the way it sticks up in twin tails on top of his head. You have no idea who this man is and apparently he doesn’t know either and immediately you rush to start planning your next move because you clearly cannot leave him unattended.

It’s close enough to Halloween that it’s unlikely anyone would question a man with wings taking the bus so you stand up and hold out your hand.

“Grab it, I’m trying to help you up.”

The man, if you can even call him that, sniffles and reaches up for your hand. You heave, groaning in surprise at how strong he is despite his current state of being strewn amongst litter and wet city sidewalks. He rises to his feet and you bounce back from him, appraising his full height.

He’s larger than you expected, tall with broad shoulders. Another sniffle pierces the noisy night air and you frown, hoping he’d be done with the hysterics by this point. Shining your flashlight toward his face, you catch the puffy red rimming his eyes and your own face heats.

Why is now the time your mind has decided to find the shimmer of his tears alluring? You grunt in frustration again, folding your arms over your chest. 

“Do you have a name?”

He nods.

“Choso.”

You hum sarcastically but you’re sure it’s lost on him.

“At least we know that much now.” Another sigh and you lift your hand to your face, scrubbing it over your nose and mouth. “I can’t just leave you here so follow me, we’re going back to my place.”

Choso takes a few steps forward and you reach out for his hand like a bad child and drag him out of the alleyway with you. The two of you stomp toward the bus stop, taking shelter from the rain on the dry bench beneath the metal awning.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

Despite the October chill and the soggy hems of your pants, you warm at the trace of humility in his voice. Nothing that has happened up until this point is his fault and perhaps you’ve been a bit harsh to someone who is clearly scared and in an unfamiliar place.

“It’s okay, let’s just get you somewhere dry so we can figure out what to do next.”

As if you summoned it, the next bus to your part of the city arrives mere moments later. It’s off schedule but you don’t think much of it, assuming the rain is causing drivers to shift their schedules. You look to Choso before rising to make sure he’s alright and he appears to be, eyes still rimmed with red but no more sniffling.

Stepping onto the bus, you’re shocked to find it empty. Two sets of boots squeak down the aisle as the two of you settle into a seat at the back, wide enough to accommodate his wings and you by his side. The bright overhead light hurts your eyes but it allows you a gracious and better look at the man and you’re stricken by how handsome he is.

The dim light of your phone did nothing to highlight him and you’re honestly a little grateful for it, knowing you probably would’ve just ignored this very handsome man otherwise. You press your thighs together and settle into your seat, still looking at him as if you’re trying to make sense of the entire situation.

“Do you really not know how you ended up here?”

The man next to you shakes his head and his white wings that are covered in the grime he was laying in flutter slightly with the motion. You giggle, watching his body react and his cheeks redden and you shift until your thigh presses against his robes.

The attraction you felt in the alleyway listening to him sniffle has become undeniable, your wetness seeping through your underwear, your pussy as wet as the rest of you. Perhaps you should be ashamed of your own desires, embarrassed that seeing a pretty boy cry is enough to turn you into someone so shameless, but you just can’t find the will to care as the city passes by in a blur outside of the windows.

Placing your hand on his thigh, he gasps and his dark eyes flick down toward where it lies. His muscles tense beneath your palm and you eye him curiously, letting your fingers rest in the soft robes covering him. 

Your mind wanders to what could possibly be beneath the white fabric pooling between his slightly spread thighs and you bite your lip, drawing your hand back and making ready to put it in your lap. Choso stops you though, grabbing your wrist and placing your palm back on his thigh.

“Your touch is comforting.” 

His voice quivers a bit and you nod, trying to bite back the satisfied smirk crawling across your face. Maybe he feels the tension between the two of you, less naive then he’s putting on, and your hand travels from the flat of his thigh inward. Your fingers brush along his inner thigh and you gasp feeling a lump beneath the robes covering him, certain it’s his slowly hardening cock.

“I can make you feel even better.”

He lucks his lip between his teeth and looks at you with uncertainty but spreads his legs wider, the bulge you just felt thickening substantially as your fingers drag across it. You make a show of looking around the empty bus to ensure you’re truly alone and when you’re satisfied with your inspection, you lift your hand from his thigh long enough to make him gasp.

Choso watches you raptly, eyes still rimmed with red, and gasps when you lift your palm to your mouth and spit into it. He has never witnessed something so lewd but he enjoys it, his cock jumping and dragging through the fabric covering it enough that it makes him hiss. You reach back down toward his thigh, lifting the fabric away from his hips and gasp when you are met with his leaking cock.

He’s thicker than any you’ve ever seen and you feel greedy, licking your lips and keeping your eyes fixed on his drooling head. Your spit lubricated palm reaches for the engorged tip and his precum feels like silk in your hands, mixing with your spit and giving you all the lubrication you need to close your fist around his length. Your fingers and thumb do not touch and you press your thighs together again.

With one fluid flick of your wrist, his eyes fill with tears again. Biting your lip, you make another pass, your thumb brushing over his leaking slit and he moans in his throat. You glance around the bus again but continue flicking your wrist, the steady slick noise of your motions filling the space where the two of you sit.

“That feels…” he trails off, sniffling and another tear trails down his cheek. He doesn’t have to finish because you can tell by every noise that echoes in his throat that he’s enjoying himself, his wings fluttering and flicking with each pass of your hand over his length. 

At first you believed his wings were for show, perhaps an elaborate costume, but the way they flutter at your back and around your legs tells you otherwise. You wonder if you haven’t stumbled upon an angel - lost and away from home, one you’re happily corrupting in the back of a dirty city bus.

May God have mercy on my soul, you reason while increasing the speed of your wrist and making his entire body tense in response. Choso shudders, his wings flexing again, and you bite your lip while watching every sticky pass of your hand, the persistent schlick, and his falling tears making you almost believe you could cum yourself.

“How does it feel?”

He meets your eyes and you see them glisten with unshed tears, the vision making you increase your pace wordlessly. His thighs tense again and you know immediately that he’s about to cum, his hand coming to your wrist to still you while he spills his hot release all over your fingers. You groan alongside him, bottom lip jutting out while he sniffles and rushes to cover himself. 

Letting go of your grip on his cock, you bring your fingers to your mouth and stick them between your lips. Your eyes roll back into your head at the salty taste of him and your neglected cunt clenches, the bus slowing down at the stop nearest your apartment. 

“Come on,” you stand up and offer your still sticky hand to the man who takes it gingerly. He waits by your side while the bus comes to a stop and you drag him behind you, nodding politely to the bus driver that didn’t seem to notice what was going on right behind his back. 

“I can make you feel even better than that if you want to come upstairs.”

Choso follows your footsteps wordlessly all the way to your front door.

[crowleys-bentley-and-plants]

ducks, apple, ox rib, nebula, polaroid, zombies, goats, fly, coffee, tartan socks :)

ducks - are you good with animals? could you lead a revolution with them?

Depends on what kind of animals. Wolves? Yes. Snakes? Also yes. Cats? Absolutely not they would eat me raw

apple - what's your guilty pleasure?

I dont feel guilty about my pleasures

ox rib - if you were some type of food, what kind of food would you be?

It would depend on the person (yes im magic food that can change) but it would be something that will make you sick but you wont be able to get enough of it :)

nebula - something you've done that you're really proud of?

Not died

polaroid - what's a bittersweet memory?

A memory that simultaneously makes you happy and sad

zombies - what are you most afraid of?

Nothing i have no fear

goats - if goats could speak, do you think they should be able to vote? why or why not? explain.

Since they only get till about the age of 14 i would say no because they're not of age yet

fly - tell us a secret. shh it's okay we won't tell anyone (except all of tumblr)

I actually really love petnames i just dont know how to function if someone calls me smt so that's why i say i dont like them

coffee - describe what you would do if you were in a coffee shop au with your crush and there was an apocalypse out there and all you had to defend yourself is whatever is at hand in the coffee shop (mugs, coffee machine, plates, cash register, desserts, chairs, tables, napkins, etc). the enemies are floating heads who want to kidnap your crush. go

I am the kind of person who's gonna try to be heroic but fail miserably so I'll probably use a chair to try to get the floating heads away from my crush but i would accidentally throw every chair so we wont have anything to defend us with anymore. Then i would use plates as frisbees to try to hit the heads but fail miserably because despite playing volleyball for like twelve years i have shit aim. My crush would probably leave through the back door by this time and i wouldnt notice because im trying to be tough and cool and try to impress them so i would then take a fork to try to stab the eyes. Fail again. And uhhh. My crush would not go on a second date with me lol

tartan socks - hot or not?

Well considering i own a pair of tartan socks and im very very hot i would say yes the hottest

[jmflowers]

My dash has been a bit sad lately, as if we’re all simultaneously going through a shift in our lives that’s making us feel off-kilter. So, in pursuit of finding the good in my own life…

Gratitude Challenge!

Here are 10 things I’m grateful for and/or proud of myself for accomplishing since the start of 2023 (and/or in the last year if 5 months is too short a period of time for your brain). Please feel free to play along!

1. I finished college with a 4.0GPA after 3 years of hard work. I can’t wait to walk across the convocation stage in June. (And I’m the first in my family to have a diploma from a post-secondary institution!)

2. I directed a large scene in a short film as part of the graduating class’ final production. It was difficult and exciting and we were able to work with cinema-level equipment. I’m so incredibly proud of what my team and I were able to accomplish. (3 7/8 pages in 3 hours!)

3. When I started to feel my mental health deteriorating back in February, I sought support and counselling to help myself cope. Being honest about the pressures I have been facing for years is allowing me to place necessary boundaries as those pressures resurface. Taking care of yourself is difficult in this industry, but making choices to hike and run and exercise when possible are other great ways I’ve been protecting my overall well-being.

4. I completed another large piece of fiction that required several weeks of work and attention, with additional background efforts to fully form two of my own original characters. I am really proud that they read fleshed out and honest alongside characters that are already known from the source material.

5. I became an aunt again two times over. I was able to adjust my school schedule in order to be present with E as C was arriving, and then spend the first week of C’s life with them both. Once I finished school, I made the time to go meet L as well and spend time with her mum, one of my oldest friends. My first nephew is due to arrive any day now.

6. When situations were uncomfortable, I made conscious choices to leave and excuse myself from the discomfort or actively stay and rewrite the traumatic memories that were making me uncomfortable. Having the power over my reactions in situations that make me feel out of control is wildly liberating. I look forward to working on that more as I continue to grow.

7. I’ve leaned into being vulnerable more often in the last 5 months than ever before in my life. It’s terrifying every single time and yet I keep doing it.

8. I read a book a day one week when I was feeling really anxious, as a coping mechanism. I haven’t read that fast or that consistently since I was a teenager. I can’t wait to do it again.

9. I started practicing writing amidst changing locations and constant distractions with the three sentence fic challenge (while TAing). I had a lot of fun and got some interesting stuff out of it. I’m really looking forward to writing a bunch more again, especially in less-than-ideal conditions.

10. I won a scholarship! That was elected by the teaching administration I was working alongside at my college. The money, whenever I get it, will be really beneficial to help pay off my growing debt.

Consider this a formal tagging for anyone who would like to do this, too! I’m going to call out @lacallemojada, @cuteasducks9, @slipperygaloshes, @drlaurenb, @englishstrawbie, @trying-to-get-somewhere-real, @thebroken--soul, and @heyfarfallina

[nirikeehan]

Happy Friday Niri! For DADWC: "opia n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable" for Thalia & Samson, maybe? 👀

Hi Gin! Thank you for this prompt; it will likely feature in an upcoming chapter of nightmare au!

For @dadrunkwriting

WC: 838

CW: Samson is a creepy sad sack

---

Much could be gleaned by looking someone in the eye. 

Samson did it with every new mageling brought to the Gallows. They teach you that, not to make eye contact with them. Something about not getting attached. But how can you go about, day in and day out with someone, and never give them the one decent courtesy of meeting their gaze?

Besides, you learn a lot. The eyes are the windows to the soul; one of the grifters he’d known in his adolescence told him that. Easier to get a handle on what someone will or won’t give you, if you get that eye contact. Easier to tell what they want. Some of those mages, they just wanted attention, a kind word, a friendly face to tell them it would all be okay. Others wanted tangible things — easy enough to get, in exchange for a little extra from their allotted lyrium bottles. Others wanted things he could never give, and those wore on a man, over the years. Still. The lesson served him well, all the way to army command. His Red Templars needed for the same things the mages did, but perhaps with some more urgency. The extra mile’s worth walking. 

Double-edged sword, though. 

You look them in the eye, and they can see in, too. 

“General?” 

No, no, not yet.

What did he see in Thalia Trevelyan’s eyes? 

Fear, at first. Of course. Every captor knew that look in their prisoner’s gaze. But no, go past that first night in the Skyhold tower. There was the clearing in the woods, the altar to some false god, Thalia up on the dais, looking at him. He’d felt so close to her then. He thought she’d understood his purpose; maybe she’d come to him quietly after all. Until that goddamned speech got all the peasants riled. 

Then he knew he’d have to be clever. 

Her eyes were so blue in the cave. Did she know how they shone? Like the water off the Wounded Coast on the warmest, brightest days. Samson would take her there sometime, right at the magic hour when the sun sinks low and orange and glimmers on the bay. When you can jump off the jagged rocks and plunge down into the depths and the cold will shock you but it’s so welcome after the day’s heat. Her eyes will be on him, and she’ll be smiling shyly, and he’ll convince her they’re alone and no one will see. She can slip out of her clothes, right there on the rocky beach. He’ll help her, a hand on one alabaster shoulder, brushing back her hair, glowing red… 

“General. Please. You’re needed.” Some idiot with a Starkhaven accent. “You awake in there?”

Piss off. Who did he even know from Starkhaven? 

Stupid dream, anyway. The sun didn’t shine at all anymore. 

Back to the cave. Her rejection had hurt, Samson wasn’t too proud not to admit it. But her spunk excited him, the rough and tumble of it, the scramble — oh, how she writhed. Why don’t they all do that? Am I not paying them enough? When she was on top of him, with the dagger. She couldn’t tell through the armor, but he was rock hard under there. 

At least until he’d clapped his fist over her delicate knuckles and tried to force her hand. 

A door banged open; heavy footsteps followed. “General, I hate to disturb you, but we’ve urgent business to attend to. Are you— oh.”

Samson groaned and rolled over, knocking wayward bottles to the floor. The light was blinding. He thrust up a hand to shield it and cracked his achey, burning eyes. A blurry figure stood above his bed, or maybe two. 

He coughed. “Meredith?”

A pause. “Meredith’s dead, General.”

Fuck. “I mean — Mareth.” No, it was the Starkhaven idiot, better known as Rylen. “Where’s Mareth?” 

“You sent him back to the camp to fetch the rest of your things.” Rylen stood there, looking uncomfortable. “You don’t remember?” 

“Of course I remember.” Yes, it was coming back to him now. After the battle, they had quartered in the nearby keep of Comte de la Something. The Orlesian fop had been all too happy to lend General Samson the lord’s chambers, and his victorious battalion had taken up residence with him. 

Well, mostly victorious. 

Samson managed to get an arm on the featherbed beneath him and shoved himself into an upright position. More empty vials scattered. He was in nightshirt only, his other hand clutching the pride and joy of his creation to his stomach, crumpled into a ball. He unfurled the dress as surreptitiously as he could. It looked little worse for wear — a bit wrinkled, stained with sweat and the rest, but nothing a good laundering couldn’t fix. He brought it to his face and inhaled as the silky fabric caressed his cheek. It had smelled more like Thalia last night, but if he closed his eyes, he could make out the lingering notes of her scent. 

[illbestarryeyedforyou]

how do you deal with depression and loneliness?

I think it's difficult to answer this because everyone deals with them differently and my way might not work for you, but I'll try to make sense and give you an insight to how I "deal" with these two aspects.

I'm actually kinda of appreciative that you ask because I've been thinking about what my therapist asked me to do in cutting everyone out of my life in certain social media ie Snapchat and Instagram. The next visit will be wether I'm able/willing to do that. I'm mentioning that because it corelates to my sadness and loneliness.

I don't mean to be too open so I'll try to not be irresponsible with my privacy.

There's different ways I've learned to deal with both loneliness and depression simultaneously. Wait- let's get one thing clear, it hurts. Always dealing with it.

Mental illness can get and is messy sometimes. In fact, fighting for your mental health is almost never something shown to the public, it's not celebrated, truth be told, it’s something that is mostly regarded as uninteresting, yet it’s the greatest challenge someone might face.

Personally, it's something heavy that would always eat away at me. I couldn't think clearly. Sometimes I even felt like I couldn't breathe. It got to the point where I would even disregard all the help of those that were trying to be there for me. I don't know why.. I guess everything felt hopeless, and meaningless. I thought that if I glorified this feeling of not wanting to be here, of wanting to disappear, it would help ease the pain. I was wrong, of course, but I felt shame in admitting to those around me that cared for me that I was struggling, that I needed help. Depression in most cases, is a silent killer.

However, thankfully, I was able to cope with this.. struggle. It not always easy, in fact, sometimes it felt like lonely journey. However, it can be an enlightening and blessing one to say. I apologize if this sounds like I'm gloating. I promise that I'm not trying to that. Sometimes it's difficult to give yourself credit so I'm simply trying to acknowledge and express how proud I am of myself for how far I've come and just how much I'm trying to make ground for the life I've neglected.

There's this barren part inside me that I've been telling myself that I don't want to go back to, but the more I think about it, the more I believe that it's wiser for me to step into that desolated place and slowly begin to water it. I'll stand there and inhale all that shame, hurt, loneliness, anger, sadness, uncertainty, resentment, and the suicidal ideation in me and then exhale out kindness, curiosity, joy, excitement, determination, resiliency, courage, hope, and love untill that's all I keep breathing in and out. It won't be easy but I'm hoping through therapy, I can walk through that part of my instead of avoiding it. Not to forget about it, but to embrace, acknowledge, and tell it that I care that I messed up, that I'm sorry, and although I can't change the past, I can focus on the future by mending that part of me so it no longer a barren side of my life but hopefully a meadow of positivity.

That's 👆🏽 actually what I'm going to talk to my therapist to help me address it. We briefly talked about it, but every time I talk about it I cry (I'm crying typing this). But I feel as though it's something worth.. aiding.

Try to reach out to someone if you can, anon. If you can't, know this: it won't always be that way. If you're currently struggling with depression and loneliness, I believe that you can mend it. Find resources, hobbies, but most importantly, practice coping methods that help you ease the struggle of depression and loneliness. I know that therapy might not be for everyone, but I advise you to please give it an opportunity of you haven't yet. Please reach out. Please try to remind yourself of your worth in this world. Take each day as they come and find ways to make it a good one.

Setbacks are part of life, but you keep trying to "look up" and remind yourself that life is a blessing. That it's not as bad as you might feel it is.

As for loneliness? Sigh, I feel alone right now, but sometimes that a phase in life some of us will have to go through. Become your own best friend. Do the things that will bring you joy. Appreciating your own company makes the loneliness part more bearable.

And maybe someday, you'll make new friends and even find a favorite person? Who knows? I just know that loneliness is something you can embrace or dread. Choose wisely.

I wish I could help, anon. I'll be rooting for you, okay?

I rambled like a fool and I don't know if I made sense.

Here ♥️♥️♥️

Thank you for the ask, anon. You got this 😊😊

[butchdyke-t]

Finding...

In moments of hesitation wondering if I would ever find happiness, moments of loneliness wishing I could be more and simultaneously less. Yet finding pointlessness in the thought, how bitterly I laugh when my mom tells me that "We love you no matter what". Every I love you feels like a broken promise, I look around suddenly everything makes sense. The bitter feeling to my siblings all sometimes misplaces hatred for them getting a better parent, a mother who actually means the I love you who means the I'm proud of you who follows what you say who cares and supports you, a part of me feels broken, hurt in pain.

Years later I find myself bitterly smiling at them no longer having the energy to help with my head down, the warmth lacking behind my actions bringing shame to me, to my soul, to my being... Bitterly I have them to think for how kind, patient, protective, hard, soft, rough, delicate, and how I hold myself only.

I am a strong butch. I am patient, kind, bitter, cold, warm, uninviting. and somehow all while wounded, scarred, overly warm, overly withdrawn, both not enough and too much, while I'm too grounded and floating without purpose.

I am butch, I am brave, I am strong, I will pull together by the seams and reuse to ask for help until someone pushes me to stop and pulls me apart and tells me to stop, yet I have never found that, until I found her.

finding her was a journey, someone who just understood me and as corny as that sounds yes saw me. Butches and Femmes have a special connection, I would do anything for femmes, they are possibly the only ones who can possibly understand the dyke gender the way butches can. How the way butches subvert Masculinity and Butchness and how Femmes do that with femininity, they divine other half of stone butches. You are not a real butch if you do not appreciate and adore femmes as people who are one and the same as us. Isn't it beautiful to find someone who understands you exactly? Someone who knows what society says about you who understands and protects you in ways only the complimentary opposite of you would be able to understand. Finding her was worth every moment of hesitation, self sacrificing and growth I had to do, for her its an indescribable feeling that I get when I face her, the way I find myself melting when she calls me her "Beloved" or "Bear" or hers, the way my heart exploded with happiness when she called me baby boy, or handsome boy or her boy, her wife, her husband, her love, something so warm about being hers. No one else's actually and for the first time being mono with someone feels right, as if I was molded for her and that has been a feeling I have chased, its been nine months of dating 10 of knowing each other and the feeling she has given me, these new found feelings have only gotten stronger, like me, building a secure foundation. Which she doesn't even realize how inanely impressive that is to me. The way she just loves. I dare say nothing compares to the love a femme can give, their sincere nature, how even if the wold labels her as mean or scary or stoic or scary, I laugh because nothing is as strong and soft and kind and welcoming as her, nothing, not even a strong warm coffee engulfing you on a winter's day with nothing but cold and shadows. Not even then would that be able to encapsulate what she does for me and to me. She peels the layers off of me as if she had been made to do it and somehow I believe I would be able to be loved and now she is doing just that loving me entirely without any hesitation, she loves me when I cry and when I don't she loves me when I feel sad and angry and all the things I hadn't felt before, she found me and I found her and she just gets me so much and fuck I've never been this in love with someone or to the degree so smoothly. I believe that she's the one for me, I used to think how silly it was to think what the greeks though that we were once two parts of one and they feared us because we were whole in a way that they could never be and that is s o poetic because as a butchfemme couple are often so feared and misunderstood in a world led by men who don't like seeing they can't control us. I just adore her and loving her feels like a privilege to be able to have her in my life.

Finding her means the world and healed me

So a huge thank you to @goth-femme for loving me and inspiring me to be the best butch I can be for me, for her, for us<3

[their-name-is-fake]

It’s actually so bittersweet that Matt Pat is leaving game theory. I have like so many things to say, so many feelings, so many comments.

Like he is the reason I like science and video games. I literally used to wait for him to do let’s plays of games I was excited for because I couldn’t afford to buy the game myself. On top of that I really enjoyed watching his lore videos, they were always something so fun and so strange.

It’s also weird because some degree we get closure before it even happens. Like I get to now live the next nine weeks knowing that this person who has changed my life is leaving soon. It’s so bittersweet to have this ability to know the future and yet be unable to stop it.

Like I’m also so proud of this man. He has come so far and has truly shaped part of YouTube‘s landscape for years to come. I mean from his play to his merch having a built-in ARG, to his actual ARG. He has truly changed the way I look at media and the world around me in general.

It’s exciting to know that he is working on new projects like a possible game and a new Lofi based ARG. But at the same time it’s so heart wrenching to know that the rest of my life is going to be lived without hearing this man’s voice from a screen once every week. and I know he’s never like truly gonna go away, I imagine he will still be on GT live until the end of summer so at least we get to see him play more video games. But then what? Like what happens after?

I don’t know I have so many feelings that range from acceptance to sadness to the realization that this is what it means to be old. And maybe there’s something to be said about being the first generation to have grown up with this specific style of media, maybe there’s something to be said about the parasocial nature of YouTube, and how it means that people can simultaneously leave in more potent mark on your life, but also a more potent Scar on it but I’m not gonna say it. Because in someway, I am mourning my childhood.

From Mat Pat, to Tom Scott, to stampy cat, to captainsparklez, this truly has been the end of a generation. I wanna be able to say with confidence that I am so proud of being able to have both grown up with these people, and be able to say that I watch them up until they’re retirements. Years from now I will look back on these people, and I’m sure many more who will choose to leave the reins for someone else, and I will laugh.

But for now, I will cry. I will cry for the things that will never be the same again. I will cry as finally, finally, I am an adult.

Thank you so much MatPat, and I’m excited to see what you and the rest of the team do next

[little-miss-moonshine]

flying too close to the sun

(tiny note, I wrote this in late february and didn't post it. a month later, I wrote about the flowers again, but I think I should validate my initial emotions and post this. )

the flowers you gave me on tuesday stand straight and proud on my desk, in the apple juice bottle you bought me on thursday, rinsed and dried on friday. their purple petals glare down at me as I cry at my desk, loud sobs and soft whimpers permeating the stale air of my room. I have often given, but never gotten, flowers. in our relationship, you gave me many things, but never flowers, and never your heart.

the flowers, like you, are slightly oxymoronic. someone once told me that when flowers are given with love, they take longer to wilt than ordinary flowers. the flowers you gave me rest atop dried, crumbling, rotting stems, but the flowers themselves are as perfect and purple and pristine as the day you gave them to me. the colors seared themselves into my memory when you handed them to me, the fallen angel: skin shadowed, blue eyes alight, golden hair made into a halo by the lamplight. like the flowers, simultaneously dead and alive, you are simultaneously beautiful and terrible. my greek god, a force of nature, a being of kindness and cruelty in equal measure.

indeed, that is how I loved you: as something to be awed by, to be worshipped. I worshipped you like holy light, loving you without condition, without limit, and without expectation. you looked down at me from the pedestal I raised you on, something like pity in your eyes. you protected me, I cherished you, and we called that enough. that, in itself, is an impossibility; people go where they find love, and rarely love without receiving it in equal measure. as such, my love, although I treasured you as a crown jewel, it is now your turn to treasure the nuggets of gold, of my love, in your memory, as the world treats you the same way that you treated me. indeed, I still love you, but now, I open my arms and embrace the hellfire of your gaze. you know what they say, the hottest fires burn blue.

so what do your oxymoronic flowers have in common with you? like the flowers, you show me love and care right alongside your casual indifference. holding me, caring for me, forehead rested against mine to calm me down, but telling your friends that I was just another girl. brushing the hair from my face, kissing my cheeks while I called out your name in nightmarish sleep, yet scrolling through bumble as I clung to you for dear life, seeking you even when unconscious. you kept telling me you weren't ready for the commitment of love, but that you care for me so, so much. here's what I think: you loved me silently. subconsciously. you can push it down, run away from it, and hurt me in the process, but you can't escape it. no matter now incapable of commitment you think you are, you can't deny how you feel. the sad part is that it was enough for some time, but just as you're starting to understand, I'm starting to lose hope.

you left this morning without a word, just wrapping me in your arms for the briefest of moments. some would call me stupid, in the throes of illness, coughing blood onto my floor, calling you in the night just to ask if I can sleep on your floor, knowing full well you'd come to check on me out of concern. call me if you need anything, and I'll be there, you said, and you probably meant it. I hate seeing you hurt, you said, but why would you do as you did if that was true?

I hate to be helpless, my love, but I love being with you. I wish you'd throw me a lifeline, tell me everything I want to hear, but I know you won't. doesn't stop me wishing, though.

I wish it ended there. I wish I was the kind of person who could get closure like that. yet, here I am, at midnight on a sunday, unable to move because of the pain in her legs and stomach, and I am calling you.

[taegularities]

Hello lovely Rid 💕💕💕

I wish I could have messaged you sooner but I only saw your post this morning and I've had kind of a busy day. But I've been thinking about what to say the whole day in the free moments I had.

First of all, you are absolutely not alone in the feelings you have right now. For some reason our brains really like to go against us sometimes and make us put ourselves down, I think a lot of us have experienced that. And I also think that's a reason why you shouldn't be afraid to vent on here, because while of course I feel so bad that you're going through this right now, it can be comforting just to see someone speak about an experience that you've gone through as well, and know that you're not alone. I feel for all of the people that have reached out to you, saying that they feel the same. And I also think it's beautiful that everyone is helping each other here by sharing the things that are helping them get through it or feel better 🥺🥺🥺

The thing with comparing yourself to people and not feeling good enough... I totally get that. I'm obviously here to remind you that you are absolutely amazing and so so admirable. I know that it might not help fully, because these thoughts often completely disregard the good things that you know are true about yourself just to put you down, but I'll never miss a chance to sing your praises.

It's so so amazing that you are where you are right now, the fact that you are getting your master's degree!!! and starting a new job!!! is amazing!!! And those things might be the ones stressing you out, but you're still doing them! You're working hard just as you've done so far to get to where you are now.

Your writing and presence on here are also so precious to me. I hang onto your every word, whether that's in your stories or when you answer asks and talk more about yourself. You're so genuinely kind and funny and thoughtful and you make me so happy.

Another thing is the way that you keep trying despite all of the things you're going through right now. You realise the way that this mindset is making you feel and you're actively talking about it and trying to change it. All of these things are things you should be proud of and if you can't be proud of them right now, I'll be proud for you until you can. I am so so incredibly proud of you, Rid.

I don't have any real advice on how to overcome what you're feeling (and I've already talked way too much). You already seem to be trying to focus on the things that make you happy and reflecting on your own accomplishments, which is something so hard to achieve, but all that matters is that you're trying. (I'm literally ready to listen to you list all of your accomplishments and things you're proud of so that I can remind you of all of them next time). You're doing everything you can right now and you're definitely strong enough to get through this.

You'll be okay, Rid. And every time you're not, we'll be here to remind you that you will be. Sending all of my love to you with the tightest hug. I'm so proud of you 💞💞💞

it's absolutely okay... you know i appreciate it that you always drop by at all. and the fact that you thought about what to say shows so much care, i'll cry 🥲

for some reason i didn't think of that yet and tbh, knowing now that my post enabled people to open up and give each other comfort makes me 🥺🥺🥺 i really hope everyone feels better now. there was so much kindness in my inbox today, and i feel so bad i've been too busy or down to answer yet :'( i'm also so sad that everyone's been feeling that way, though. maybe it's the weather.. or the season. something's going around.

and ivi, all those praises :(( i don't know how i deserved them/you, but holy fck, they made me smile and tear up simultaneously. you make me feel so much better every day, i don't even know if you know. but fuck, thank you so so much. your presence has been a damn gift. i love you to tiny bits, i really do 💕

[sxrrandomfanfics]

Genesis Album: A Trick of the Tail & Corresponding Psychonauts Characters

I am going back to my musical love and singing again now that my headphones are fixed. So I was listening to "A Trick of the Tail" and putting characters from my current Hyperfixation onto them

Dance on a Volcano - Lili Zanotto Now, Dance on a Volcano is the first song on the album and I'm not just choosing this song because of "volcano" in the name. This 15/8 time song is about trying to persue a single goal and leaving others behind with your own talents. I feel that it feels like Lili's rejection of Psychonauts as dangers of the profession aren't quite on her mind but she leaves other peers behind and seems to not have a true link. A great match to her as the song demands "you better start doing it right!"

Entangled - Caligosto Loboto Entangled using dreamlike imagery and a floaty, dissociating, swaying melody to the slow tempo is a great match to how Loboto is acting, not entirely there, especially in Rhombus of Ruin. Plus, Entangled itself is a song about a person who is getting ready for a surgery. Using those two ideas and reflecting on Loboto's past makes this match very well. And then imagining that the different verses are where we see Loboto's family to his actions against the campers, and against Truman and Raz in Rhombus makes the song work very well with his story. Plus the line: "With your consent I can experiment further still" being repeated in the chorus is chillingly attached to him.

Squonk - Morceau Oleander A story about a creature who is so sad that it can't stop crying, yet doesn't want others to see it cry... coupled with the idea that there's a secondary story of a son trying to make his father proud by catching the beast... I'd say this has Oleander's story written all over it. With Oleander trying his best to make his family proud (getting into the military) after everything that he'd been through with a trauma. The line "all the king's horses and all the king's men could never put a smile on that face" is supposed to reflect the beast that the son wants to capture, but simultaneously, I see it fitting Morry, especially after PN1's storyline of him being the villain.

Mad Man Moon - Helmut Fullbear A kind of reflection of "Dance on a Volcano"'s energy, Mad Man Moon is a slow reflective song about leaving home that swells into a high energy while the narrator sings about what he misses and how those who have something want the opposite while he is trapped somewhere he can no longer escape unlike the home. It really gives me the vibes of Psi-King's Sensorium with the reflection always kind of being there but also the high energy and colors swelling up into a crescendo and climax before reeling back into the slower beginning. Couple that with the idea of how Mad Man Moon contrasts those living in deserts wanting rainstorms while those who live in rain want the sun. Just the sensory overwhelming me and being far from home reminds me of Helmut.

Robbery, Assault and Battery - The Noodler Do we know anything about this character? No, but he's a villain named multiple times and is featured in the TPT comics, apparently. And because of that, with how Robbery, Assault and Battery is a celebration of a villainous act, I think this is the character that fits it best, taking joy in the actions.

Ripples - Ford Cruller This song is a reflection of lost time, using the idea of a woman reflecting back in the water and it just fits so well. Truly the lyrics about losing time fits well with the lyrics: "Sail away, away/Ripples never come back/Gone to the other side/Sail away, away." It's so fixated on the moment in time of just realizing how much time you've lost feels like how Ford must have been for so long.

A Trick of the Tail - Razputin Aquato Not only is it the song the album is named after this song, but the first part really fits Raz. However... not the rest of the song. I always imagine that this is more of how the Aquato family believed that this would happen if Raz ran and found out the psychics were as bad as they thought. A more reflection of a character through another character's perception. It fits the least but still...

Los Endos - Lucrecia Mux Los Endos is a medley of... Dance on a Volcano and Squonk, with the ending parts having the whispered lyrics of - "There's an angel standing in the sun./ There's an angel standing in the sun, Free to get back home." Which I suppose fit Lucrecia Mux (pre-transformation and post with the two songs attached without Entangled between them).

[shanshotdeck]

"Your joy is defiant. Protect it."

I saw Dandelion (directed by Nicole Riegel) on a Tuesday afternoon this summer. It was July in New York, and the sun seemed to be constantly shining on steaming sidewalks. So, after a morning of running errands in the already oppressive weather, I decided to take a break and go to the movies. This is typically how find myself at multiplex's -- totally unplanned and during the middle of the day.

This wasn't a completely random decision -- I had read about the film online. I'm on the indie filmmaker side of Instagram, and knew there was a very small window to actually see it on a big screen.

There were about five of us escaping the muggy city heat inside the Kips Bay AMC.

After the screening, and back out into the heart of Midtown East, I walked to the 34th street bus stop, feeling refreshed and inspired.

Three films came to mind while I waited for the crosstown bus:

Once (2007), the latest A Star Is Born, and American Honey (2016).

Like every millennial sad-girl theater nerd, I played my Once soundtrack CD over and over again in the car. Repeating songs, singing badly, and of course, crying as I drove over the massive connecting freeways of Los Angeles.

Dandelion's soundtrack of original songs is incredible, and brings me right back 2007 and 2018. All the feelings of artistic ambition, desperation for love, and healing heartbreak.

Comparing this film to Once and A Star is Born isn't too original. All of these movies involve instant connection, tragedy, and music. How love and art can easily destroy one another.

Dandelion is also a Road Film. The rich colors and textures, as well as the romantic entanglement (although slightly less raw and messy) reminded me of American Honey. In a post by ARRI Rental Group, Dandelion's DP cited Andrea Arnold's films as a visual reference. I felt very gratified reading that while on my own road traveling home. Proud of my emerging cinematic eye. Even though I don't have a grasp on the technical language of filmmaking yet, I guess I am really learning something! Watching all these movies with appreciation and curiosity.

Of course, there is so much more to say about these films. I recommend them all. Watching them either together or apart.

My summer daytime filmgoing has given me a cool new sensation that I hope to feel again -- a colorful amalgamation of film images comes rushing toward me while the film in front of me slowly unfolds.

This is something I know I can only truly experience with a screen big enough to hold the film and my imagination simultaneously.

[ruthestherr]

wishes before year end 2023.

In my early 20s, I always imagined that I would have an amazing career when I reached 25, then get married by the age of 27, have kids before I turn 30, and decide to be a freelancer, working from home mother to raise my kids and family.

Well, I think that's pretty normal for girls to have a dream like that, huh? Then, here I am, I will turn 29 in about a month-- not yet married, just got laid off from my previous job, already got a new job (thank God), but obviously struggling to adapt and fit in. Turns out life can be so much out of the line, out of what we have planned. And.....that's actually okay. Because we're human anyway, our plan is not God's plan, so...I guess what I can do best is just live daily enjoying what I have now.

BUT, that's not the reason why I came here on Tumblr again after months of not writing on any platforms (I know, I always have some excuses).

I feel like time has passed but no time has passed too, simultaneously. It's mid-November 2023, December will come in just a blink, and I'm definitely in the middle of feeling ready and not ready, certain and uncertain, worried and not worried, sad and happy. I once wrote in my other blog that the end of the year always gives me a weird sentimental feeling and that's true.

I feel like I'm ready for the future and tomorrow, no matter what it will hold for me, but I'm also afraid because getting older feels lonelier than I thought it would be.

Sometimes I definitely feel like a wise, mature adult who is ready for everything, but sometimes I feel like I'm stuck at 15 inside. Sometimes, I feel like there's a little girl inside of me, screaming for attention and love and I'm scared to face her because I feel like I let her down at some things, although she might be proud of me too in other things.

You know, being an adult means you become dull. And you probably need to face people you don't like every day, talk to them, and smile, because you call it professionalism. Although I'm a professional PR, I can't fake out my face when I hate someone or something. And sometimes I feel like "Why am I forcing myself to do this?" which is then followed by "Of course because you need money to live, dumbass".

Okay, back to the topic of me being all sentimental because I will be turning 29 soon and I'm still single, living with my parents, have no security, only have minimum savings to live my everyday life, and hate my coworker at work so much it makes me want to quit that job. Thank you.

I hope Christmas comes soon.

I hope the company will (at least) grant us a short Christmas holiday because I can't take any leave for now.

I hope I'll find a new job very very soon (I hope it will be after the new year, in January 2024-- AMEN, I MANIFEST IT).

I hope the new girl who will enter the team in December is a great friend and company-- and I genuinely hope she can survive it.

I hope to have many interviews and job opportunities for freelance and remote working soon (and NAILED IT).

Help me to go through the day, Lord. AMEN.

[3s0t3ric]

Watching People Operate Through Fear is so Captivating

The human experience is so divine in the way that we all have complexities, yet all of our experiences are common among certain other populations. Why? All of the sudden social boarders blur and we are among our peers not of just age, but mutual experience.

As I’ve decided to dive into learning more about aspects of myself outside of my academic life which I have spent the past 17 years of my life nourishing, I’ve found it rather troubling to catapult myself into ANY sort of novelty.

In the same stroke as academia, I have also been a vegetarian for 17 years. This means that as a 6 year old KINDERGARTENER, I made the conscious decision to forbid any meat into my body, and boy am I hard headed. Let me tell you, old habits die hard! During a recent trip of mine I had decided now was the time to immerse myself into something that was novel for me. I received a complimentary snack from one of the many restaurants I had visited; the gag is this “snack” contained fish. I was determined to at the VERY LEAST attempt to eat it. I worked myself up for the next two (2) days (48 hours) (2880 minutes but who’s counting) ruminating trying this bite sized, cultural interpretation of what only I could understand as a tuna salad. My dear travel buddy (bless this poor woman for letting me get a box for my 1” by 1” snack) had walked me through the idea of having to go through some things alone, as not to blur your thoughts with the potentially improper guidance of others.

This struck a cord in my highly independent being. Not only did she tell me that i had to do this alone, but I am blessed to have myself, and only myself as my support system.

I am the only person in the world that has spent 100% of my time with me. I know me the best and I know when to push myself, and when I need to let myself rest.

After 2 days, I had finally decided I was in a safe mindset for a new experience. I went to the refrigerator where the rather minimalistic to-go box sat and put the bite of fish cocktail in my mouth. There was an immediate flush of emotions. I was encapsulated; up to my neck and inexplicably unable to breathe? This feeling was comparable to sneezing hours after my wisdom tooth surgery and ripping all 4 stitches simultaneously (I’m not kidding this was WILD). I choked. Not on the food, but I began to cry. As the fear melted to frustration I hear my own mantra I’ve repeated to countless others.

Be gentle with yourself.

If I’m being completely honest, in this point of time I wish I wasn’t so quick to be emotionally intelligent because I wanted to sit in my anger.

Anger is sad’s bodyguard.

What was I truly angry about? Well I was sitting on the cold floor of a shared kitchen in the middle of central Harlem defeated by none other than a scoop of Smokey (tilapia??? Your guess is as good as mine).

But. I did it. All me.

We can’t discount our life experiences. After much consideration, I am proud of how I proceed through fear. I am proud to know I have the mental grit to want to do something, and get it done.

Make it a point to share your feats, yes, but also the character building days that built that person with successes. Healing is not a solo journey. Heal in community and take notes from the ones you trust. Others can share their experiences in a safe environment to encourage deeper thoughts about your own human experiences. We aren’t as distant as we think.

The biggest failure is to not do it,

and

old ways never open new doors.

[punishprose]

I just want someone to be proud of me. To see how hard I'm trying, because god, am I trying. I'm trying for you, not for me. I could care less what happens to me. It seems as if I'm supposed to be there to stop everyone else from hurting themselves yet no one can do that for me. It hurts, it hurts to be constantly told that it would be easier for everyone if you were dead. That you’re ugly and pathetic and disgusting and you should just kill yourself. Eventually, you start to believe it, even more than whoever said it. You, you hate yourself so much you wish you could disappear and not have to deal with the world ever again. You would be better off dead, so you try. You silence your cries when the blade catches against your skin, you gather your sleeves all the way up to your hands and the only thing anyone can ask is if it's a trend. You are conflicted, you want them to notice so bad, so bad that you eat less and smile less and have the same apathetic look on your face that no one can see through. Simultaneously, you know what would happen if they did find out. They would look at you like you're even more broken and fragile than they did before. They would pity you forever, not realising that that’s the exact thing you don't want. The exact reason you hate yourself. So. You want to disappear. You want to stop feeling, stop thinking, fall asleep forever and never have to wake up. But do you want to die? You convince yourself that you do, but then you always have excuses for why you can't. “People love me.” The same people that told you you should kill yourself? “They would be so sad.” WHAT ABOUT YOU? YOU ARE CONSTANTLY IN A STATE OF NOT QUITE ASLEEP, NOT QUITE AWAKE. HOW MUCH BETTER ARE THEY FEELING? Recently, you’ve been starting to care less. (Another thing to hate yourself for.) Who cares if they feel sad? WHO CARES? You have been falling, for months, for years now. Maybe your purpose is just to talk others out of the same stupid, stupid things you do to yourself. You don’t even like the glide of the blade against the skin, the searing pain that always passes too quick, too quick. You treasure the aftermath, the blood, the pain you feel when you sit down, the numb sensation of knowing why you’re feeling like this. Maybe everyone likes control. Maybe this is the only thing I can control. I can't control how much I eat (even though, god, would that be ideal), I can't control what I do, what I say, how I FEEL.

I feel bad for the people who have to put up with me. I’m narcissistic, pretentious, annoying. Not to mention a liar. You have lied ever since you could, ever since your mom sat you down, and at the ripe age of 7, told you that sometimes it was better to lie, in order to make people feel better about themselves. You replied, like children do, and said that you thought you were always supposed to tell the truth. Because that was the right thing to do right? Wrong. Everything you say should be a lie, because nothing you do is enough in their eyes. It doesn't make them feel better when you tell them that they hurt you, that having to look at them while they were like that was nauseating. So you lie. You always lie.

You lie so much, in fact, that it comes back to you. You make promises you can’t keep, break people's hearts. You wish you could just go back to the way you were. Far from perfect, certainly, but happy. You were happy.

And you seem happy, people say. You seem happy and put-together. What could possibly be wrong with your life? I am. I am the problem with my life. I turn nothing into an avalanche, crashing down on me when I'm alone. The mask I keep up is an exhausting one to wear. Have you ever wondered why I spend so long in the shower, why I lock my doors and shut everyone out, even if just for a minute? You are the polar opposite of who you’re supposed to be, the person your friends are friends with, the person your partner loves. You aren't that person anymore. You have been too far twisted, too contaminated by the thoughts of everyone else seeping into your thin, thin, skin. WHY CAN'T EVERYONE JUST LEAVE ME ALONE? They would be better off without you. You hurt everyone with your words, your useless lies. You are useless, and you deserve to die, coward.

But, after all, you are a coward, so you won't do everyone the favor of just disappearing. Too selfish, too self-centered. It's easier to just shut away. To silently sob underneath your blankets in the middle of the night when the world is asleep and finally, finally no one is watching you. You dig your nails into your palms, checking in the morning if they left the crescent shaped marks you adore, you worship. You check yourself in the mirror to see if your hips still have the raggedy lines you drew on them. 5 days in between, they both fade. Everything always fades.

Hours after arguments you don’t get the closure that you want. You forget for a minute, you forget that everyone would be better off without you, and you partake in the naive emotion of (momentary) happiness. It is naive. It’s naive to think that anyone loves you. They love the person you were, the person they want you to be. They don’t love you. They despise you.

You deserve it.

No one even wants to talk to you anymore. They reply hollowly and pretend they don’t notice that you know they despise you. You dig your heels in and convince yourself they don’t and inevitably, inevitably they prove you wrong. It’s not their fault. It’s yours and it will continue to be yours forever.

You should just stop talking to them. They don’t need to be held back by you, your slow, sluggish, broken brain. They only stay because they have to. Because they too know you’re fragile, and broken and leaving you would make them feel like it was their fault. But you don’t do them the favor of leaving first because you are primarily and eternally a coward.

No wonder no one loves you if they don’t have to.

You wish you could rid yourself of this pain, but it’s impossible. The only way out would be to die. And you want to, you really do (you think). So you search your drawers of anything you could guzzle, anything that would make your heart stop or your liver fail or your head spin. Anything, you would do anything for it all to end.

Failure is inevitable, of course, because it’s you we’re dealing with. A failure. You know it and you know they know it too.

You live in constant dull pain because you don’t want others to. You live so they can smile. It’s a lot, carrying the weight of the happiness of others on your back, but you’ve always done it, ever since you were 10 years old.

I hope they’re happy.

(8/9/21) 

[saturday-night-dispatch]

Dispatch-001

Saturday night with a pot Darjeeling and nothing more to do than just flying away with all the things that crossed my way this week—shiny toys, blinking gadgets, ill-designed comic books, records lost in clouds. Readings. Stuff you can buy, for what else is left to do?

#1

Just now listening to three songs from James Brandon Lewis' upcoming album Eye of I with Chris Hoffman on Cello and Max Jaffe on drums. Sounds amazing, free every now and then, thoughtful and swinging, like a melancholy boxer. Will be back for the whole thing, drops next Friday, 2/3.

#2

Wout van Aert for the victory. Cyclocross can be pretty predictive if only one of the Big 3 is competing. They truly are above all the rest. That said, today was my first ride out of the year, far to late but all the more enjoyable. Remco blew San Juan, Nairo still in tha game—for now.

#3

Stay True by Hua Hsu (Huascene) is a read that caught me by surprise. It's the kind of book you want to read in all night while listening to your favorite music, or maybe an album that the book brought back to mind. Although Sonic Youth have not been mentioned (yet), this is the band that is always lingering around the back of my mind while riding through the pages. And because of my one-band-one-album habit back in the days, Sister is the record of choice. But anyways, this is just one of the many rabbit hole opened by the book, but deep inside, it is about something completely different, i.e. friendship in a form that might actually only exist in the early twenties, when you are still too young to write your biography but actually live through all the stuff that will make up the bulk of it. And this is exactly what this is. But, as a memoir, it's not a biography per se. It is also written in memory of an unlikely friend.

I bought the ebook while I was at the airport in Atlanta, Georgia with some time to kill. I was on my way back from an in-person job interview, and to finally get to this book now seems like a perfect fit for what felt like a final break away into adulthood. During my interview, I could feel that the new role would demand responsibility and leadership, vision and engagement—the youthful cynical disengagement seemed out of place. I did not think that Stay True would capture this change so adequately, at once outspokenly so and then also in terms of the story it tells, indirectly. This change makes me proud and sad at the same time. I feel like the place I interviewed for would be a great fit for me, somewhere where I could make a splash and have influence and work on my publications and career. But I also miss the cynically recluse me, the student who can only attain this role because he does not have any responsibility yet. Stay True locates this break a bit earlier (when Hua Hsu finishes college, he was the same age that I started), but that is another story. And not important at all.

Then, of course: The book is written quite beautifully. I was interested in it because I know the author's writing on music from the New Yorker (wonderful essays on both J Dilla and Madlib, if I remember corrctly), and the style of the magazine is definitely something that deeply influences how the book is set up (I am thinking of the theoretical interludes that comment and contextualize the narrative without explicitly referring back to it). But it also has its very own vibe and feel, something that is simultaneously laid back and urgent. It is not, however, nostalgic; rather, the breaks and tumbles of the narrative, the development that it displays and the constant change all make each earlier phase seem complete. As we would constantly build cocoons and emerge in a new form that does understand, but ultimately leave behind its former self. This peaceful relation with the time's passing certainly puts one topic front and center: death. Our struggle to let go. More, I hope, next week.

#3

Album most listened to this week: Cassandra Jenkins, An Overview on Phenomenal Nature. Soothing, unsettling. And too short.