#i'm definitely very proud of it since i've never put this much effort into details and shit

[anattemptatmeaning]

Meredith: First Time Caller, Long Time Listener - Chapter Three: Crystal Clear

Author's Notes (potential spoilers): My home internet is really slow, hence why this post may look a bit rough (I also stayed up til 4AM finishing and posting this on AO3 lol) and a lot of things have been going on in my personal life but I'm proud to post the third chapter of my humble story! Especially proud, considering that I'm absolutely PATHETIC with procrastination and anxiety, so being able to consistently write three chapters on something I've been working at really means a lot to me. And I got to live out my childhood fantasy of secret passageways in a Bad Times at the El Royale/Barbarian-style sequence. Definitely a two-for-one.

Chapter Theme Song: One Way or Another - Blondie (I find it really funny in the context of this chapter, it matches the dark humor of an OC you'll meet in later chapters)

Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4GV9rbpFrebDNkG3J1GGcu

Trigger Warnings: This chapter contains some graphic violence, mainly near the end, but there's slight references to it around the midway point.

Tags: @nocturnest @blingblingsparklesparkle @brittklein18 @luluartpop

Word Count: approx. 2,828

Three: Crystal Clear

The landing in Minneapolis was smooth.

Tangerine got through security with minimal effort, owing to his experience in the business and strings pulled with money to spare. The private jet used for his businessman cover, one of his favorites and most convenient, didn’t hurt.

He texted Lemon to put the bastard at ease.

🍊: Landed safe

🍋: In the belly of the beast now mate

🍊: Fuck off, all I need to do is kill one sodding cop and take a picture of him and send it to some bird

🍋: If any one person recognizes you you’re public enemy number one

🍊: Could say that about any of the other places we’ve been

🍋: Not Meredith.

Tangerine had to take a large seething breath at that point. He tried convincing himself it was just anger as always. 

🍊: Didn’t we agree never to mention that place out loud ever again?

🍋: No, we didn’t, we just stopped talking about it

🍊: Yeah well same fucking principle alright? I landed, I’m ready to do the job, that’s it, why the fuck are you acting like this?

🍋: I still don’t think you should’ve taken that job. I was already on one anyways from the fucking White Death and with where it’s looking, we won’t need one for months

🍊: We’ve already fucking discussed this

🍋: Just finish it and get home ASAP

Tangerine was about to get into another row over Lemon’s hypocrisy when he was the one trying to do his job without a complaint, but got his shit together before he could get even more sidetracked.

He checked into his hotel and went straight to unpacking. As he began hanging his suits, he realized he could not stop thinking back to his client.

She was indeed unusual. He appreciated the promptness and it was certainly a lucrative offer, but it was rare that he would get paid such a high amount, and he was usually sent after the higher-ups. Crime bosses, crooked politicians, and the like. But one measly corrupt cop? If it wasn’t for the curiously high price, arguably below his pay grade.

And it just so happened to coincide with one of the very few jobs that separated the Twins.

Tangerine pulled out his phone and scrolled to find the contact of his client, and began typing.

🍊: Oi, just to clarify, you said three million?

He gets a reply almost immediately.

🔲: Yes. 

🍊: I’m not gonna deny it’s a pretty penny, but how do you have that much, and why me, why this?

🔲: I didn’t want to bother with details. I did say it was personal. But since you asked, revenge. For my family. We’ve got quite a bit of money, and my dad left me a hefty sum in his will. I’m using the bulk of it to pay you. If the job gets finished, of course. 

The response was reasonable if irritating. He was a fucking professional for Christ’s sakes. 

And revenge was annoyingly common in his world, one of the most frequent reasons for people like him to be hired in the first place. It was all a bloody soap opera at this point. 

Tangerine prided himself on being the type not to ask questions, but skepticism won out.

🍊: Hold your horses, who do you think I am? I’m doing your dirty work for you, and I’m gonna be expecting that three mil when I get that photo.

🔲: I genuinely find that ironic. And once again? You did ask. But I think that’s quite enough chatter for a man of your…occupation, isn’t it?

Judging by what he heard of her voice, she was older than him, but came off as a pretentious fucking brat in these messages. Avoiding her bait, Tangerine turned off his phone and got to work, hacking into databases and digging up shit on Officer Geoffrey.

Officer Geoffrey was a madman. 

And he was no cop. He was Black Stone.

Black Stone had been an independent operator for quite some time, and profusely refused to work with any other, not even an agency or a handler. Quite rude too, even considering Tangerine. He flipped from being curtly professional to raving lunatic, constantly giving everyone else in the business a fucking earworm. He was also on the older, washed-up side, looking more like an alcoholic father than a threat.

Tangerine never liked Black Stone. Neither would he admit it, but he was surprisingly a rather prolific contractor, despite being in his line of work for far less time. 

It pissed him off to no end. His ruthlessness matched his reckless abandon, but there was a clear pattern to his victims: they all had committed serious misdeeds, from Blackwater affiliates who had fired on civilians to human trafficking ring leaders. 

Not that it undeterred Tangerine’s opinions of him. Self-righteousness annoyed the hell out of him, and there were plenty of “deserving” folks walking around all over the world at the end of the day. 

Besides, the Twins had worked with Blackwater several times amongst everything they had done throughout their rise to infamy. They hadn’t perished to the great Black Stone. 

Anyways, his methods were as unpredictable as he was angry. Sometimes he’d shoot a prick through their fucking ears. Other times he’d lead a whole gang into a fucking forest and burn it all down. 

Tangerine was understanding a lot more why he was being paid so much. The cop shit had to have been a cover for Black Stone’s antics, and someone had been pissed off just enough. Unsurprising. 

Well, then.

—

Tangerine tailed Officer Geoffrey’s patrol vehicle in a rental car.

He had been intercepting his field operations. Luckily for Tangerine, it wound up as a fairly mundane day. Black Stone was simply monitoring the city while writing the occasional traffic ticket. 

At some point, Geoffrey began to drive out of the Central District. Tangerine followed close behind in a rental car, occasionally darting around different roads to maintain an unsuspicious distance. 

They crossed the Wabasha Street Bridge onto the southern areas of the city. By now, Geoffrey hadn’t done anything besides driving, not even using his radio. Tangerine decided to kill him wherever he stopped. 

Eventually, Geoffrey slowed down and parked. The GPS revealed their location to be in Sunfish Lake, which looked to be a rural village with few houses around. Perfect. Tangerine pulled over just one turn away. He drove a slight distance down a wooded path before killing the engine. 

Tangerine trailed Geoffrey and quickly caught up to within a short distance of him, walking along the road and taking cover among the trees as needed. Minutes later, a multi-story house in a more open lot of land came into view. 

Fair spot for a safe house, Tangerine had to admit.

Geoffrey fished out a set of keys and entered the house. Once he closed the door, Tangerine made a beeline for the house, ducking out of the field of vision whenever Geoffrey walked in front of a window. At the door, Tangerine got out his lockpicks.

Whatever mild approval he expressed of Black Stone for his choice in refuge disappeared once he realized how fucking mediocre his locks were. Nevertheless, he quickly brushed the disappointment off. He would complain once he got home to Lemon.

Once he heard the latch click free, he swung the door open quietly yet rapidly. He closed it with one hand as he drew his revolver with the other.

The interior of the house was unremarkably normal-looking. Grey walls. Forest green tiles. A kitchen with an island, couches and a coffee table over a rug. Bookshelves, framed artwork, potted plants.  

Geoffrey hadn’t come into view, but momentarily Tangerine heard footsteps coming from upstairs. He slid behind a wall and prepared to ambush, but right as he got into position, the footsteps stopped. And never fucking came back.

Puzzled by Geoffrey’s apparent disappearance, Tangerine stepped out into the open. Still no footsteps or sound of movement. He scoured the first floor, walking down a hallway and checking every room and the garage. 

Nothing. 

Tangerine was about to venture onto the second floor when he heard what sounded eerily similar to rustling. He instinctively turned towards the sound, finger on his trigger.

Nothing?

He moved in the direction it came from, which was towards the back door. Right when he reached the door, he heard more rustling. But it sounded like it came from within the house.

What the fuck?

Tangerine briefly peeked through every room on the first floor again before walking up the stairs. The second floor was as mundane as the first. Bedroom. Bathroom. Second bedroom. Second bathroom. 

He was just walking out of the second bedroom’s closet when he noticed a weird flash in the corner of his eye. 

He wheeled around and was face-to-face with the bed. 

Tangerine squinted and walked closer to the headboard. White with three frames that looked like cupboard doors.

Doors.

He used his free hand to look for any openings between the frames and the headboard itself. When he came to the middle frame, he felt his fingers squeeze in just a bit further than with the other frames, followed by a click, and the door swinging wide open.

Under the bed was a dark, long passageway resembling a cave. And there was light at the far end. 

Forced to crawl, Tangerine got on his knees and began navigating through the dimly lit burrow. As he got closer to the light, he noticed that it came from within what appeared to be a dug-out room. 

When he saw what was inside, his jaw dropped.

There was a gigantic fucking conspiracy board filled to the brim of him. Of everything about him. There were photos of him ranging all the way back from when he got his start in the business, his teenage years, to his most recent job. He should have gotten rid of the security camera footage by the time he got home.

And yet.

Newspaper clippings of his jobs, all covered up by the various agencies and criminal organizations by the time they hit the headlines. Portraits of his targets, in live and mangled body form. Snapshots of all the cities he’s worked in, including some uncomfortable close-ups on buildings he recognizes. The inevitable trail of red string connected all of them together in perfect chronological order from what he could remember.

Underneath the board was a long desk. On both sides of it were supercomputers, with a more general-purpose desktop on a smaller desk next to it. There were even more articles dedicated to him, scattered across the vast piles of documents he thought no longer existed. Burner phones he discarded. Cameras of the surveillance kind. Safe house keys. 

This time, what he noticed the most was a garish handwriting in a darkened, oft-putting shade, trailing all over most of the torn sheets of paper. He knew it wasn’t blood, but a distinct putrid odor emitted from the questionable ink he couldn’t quite place. It just felt unnatural.

The writing itself, in bold, large capital letters, spelt NOTHING IS FORGOTTEN.

He picked up one of the sheets of paper and noticed the deranged writing covered a past contract he signed. 

Fuck the job, Black Stone was going to fucking answer for this.

Coming out of the room, he was again bathed in the darkness of the cave as he crawled back to the bed.

Wait, didn’t he leave the door open—

His head bumped against what was certainly the wood of a frame.

That didn’t budge.

He tried pushing against the door as hard as he could, eventually resorting to punching it with his brass knuckles, but for whatever reason, the door did not move an inch. Someone on the other end had to have been holding it in. It was like it had been fucking sealed.

He caught another flash at the corner of his eye and saw that more light had now appeared in the opposite direction. Cursing under his breath and realizing he was forced to find another exit, he crawled all the way to the other side.

There was another ladder leading up to a circular door, looking the same as the one he originally took. The door was easy to open - all he needed to do was push - and spit him out right on a lot of open land. The door was covered by grass, and he noticed a keyhole. It had been unlocked.

Almost directly in front of him was a large white mansion. It easily surpassed Geoffrey’s house by about three times in size. The main entrance had three large wooden doors and wide platform stairs leading up to the front door. 

Two of which were wide open.

Tangerine seethed and quickly barged through the entrance. He was done with Black Stone’s games. 

As soon as he fully stepped inside, both open doors rapidly slammed shut behind him, causing him to flinch. All the blinds were closed in the house, giving the atmosphere a dim, shadowy atmosphere.

Tangerine tried looking out the small windows of the door, but they were built in a kaleidoscope style, the panes seemingly divided into dozens of protruding bumps of glass, making it difficult to see anything. There were no moving shapes, or even shadows from under the door that gave away an outside presence. 

“Fucking bullshit,” Tangerine muttered with half a mind to beat the piss out of whoever showed up, Black Stone or no. Then he heard something akin to a glass shattering from inside the house. He drew his revolver. 

The nearest window smashes to pieces as a figure crashes through the glass to tackle him to the ground.

With a roar of exertion from the sheer frustration of the day, Tangerine puts all his strength in kicking the person off, but they grab hold of his legs and use their fucking body weight to slam him back down. 

Tangerine hits the floor face first, and it’s instantly met with a deep, heavy punch to the back of his head, causing his nose to make full contact with the ground, signaled by the sound of something surely breaking. 

Letting out a furious groan, Tangerine jabs an elbow upward, only slightly connecting with his attacker but connecting nonetheless, and he attempts to follow through with a jab of his own. Said attacker - whose weight had become suspiciously light - only captures his arm in a deathly grip and slams his legs onto Tangerine’s upper body, pushing his head with a now-damaged nose into the floor again with a louder crunch - make that two, as the attacker was pulling his arm back relentlessly far. 

Tangerine let out a guttural cry of pain as his arm was broken, proceeded by his elbow as the bastard had the nerve to suddenly reverse the lower part of his arm in a 180-degree angle. He had dealt with broken limbs before, he was a fucking assassin, but this was particularly inconvenient. 

His quick-thinking of how to adapt to his incapacity was rudely interrupted when the bastard slams a fist in his face, the sensation of pain arising from the broken nose clouding his judgment. A punch to his stomach then the next to his chest knocks the wind out of him. 

Tangerine could now clearly recognize the figure. Black Stone, his tall, lanky figure and his messy dark hair. Most of all, he saw that he was pissed beyond belief. His eyes told the story of a flurry of emotions: rage most obviously, and something involving sadness. 

Tangerine doesn’t get to take advantage of his emotions the way he usually would’ve as Black Stone slams him from wall to wall, then punches him through the cheek, his fist reaching his lips. He begins to feel the same sensation of pain from his nose in his mouth, and is only able to see two of his teeth on the ground before he is practically dragged by the neck without concern for potential choking. His attempt at breaking off is met with a kick to his knees and yet another punch to the shoulder, rendering it nigh dislocated. 

Shortly, he feels Black Stone throw him to the floor, now carpeted. Tangerine was about to fight through the pain to rip him a new one when he noticed dozens of people. Then hundreds. They were at the back of the house now, and he could see into the sizable lot of land through the back door that people surrounded them from all sides. 

People he recognized. No, people he knew - or knew him, rather. 

And standing closest to him were the survivors of the Meredith Elementary School bombing. 

"You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I'll rise." -Maya Angelou

[amethystina]

I just saw this on X (formerly known as twitter) and I immediately thought of you. And I don't know why I had the urge to send it to you, so here it is.

It describes perfectly how I feel about your writing. I usually don't read ongoing fics, but if I find one really intresting I read the first chapter to have a better understanding of it and save it for when it is finished. But with 'Who holds the devil', I felt like I couldn't stop reading. Like I physically couldn't stop reading, and it was all due to your writing. Everything you write about, every detail, every emotion, and every expression is written in the most unique and intresting way I have ever read.

The reason I sometimes prefer reading over watching things is because I have the ability to imagine what I am reading and emmerse myself completly in it when the writing is done well. And you don't just do it well, you do it INCREDIBLE.

In my personal experience, you are the first writer with which I like the long descriptions of things. Because when I read them, nothing feels too long or too much, it just feels perfect for the storytelling. And I only realise that there were a lot of words written after the fact, because everything just sails smoothly.

I don't know why I had the urge to send you this 😅, and I hope I didn't overwhelm you with my unstructured oversharing on here. But I just wanted to say, you are incredible and I hope you stay healthy and happy in the future (even if you suddenly decide to stop writing this fic, there is no pressure as you have already given us a lot).

Take care 💜

I am a little overwhelmed, not going to lie, but in a good way? In that way where I don't really know how to respond because I'm feeling so many things right now, but all of them good.

I've said it before but it will never not blow my mind when I hear just how much my writing seems to affect people. Because it doesn't feel all that glamorous to me, you know? When I'm sitting there, frowning at my document, trying to figure out what word goes where. Or when I'm trying to find the right rhythm and cadence to the sentences, and capture the right emotions and imagery to tell the story I can see playing out inside my head.

But I am, of course, incredibly flattered and also very proud to know that I can have such an impact. I started writing fanfics on a whim — because I wanted to write at least one before I died — and the art of writing (or whatever you want to call it) wasn't even something I reflected on at the time. Well, tbh, I can't say that I do that all that much now, either — I just write what I think sounds nice xD

Point being, even if I've always put a lot of effort into my writing, it never really occurred to me that I might end up being genuinely good at it. That felt like such an unobtainable goal that I never even considered it. And it's been pretty disorienting to be told that I am (but, again, in a good way).

Especially since I go against a lot of the common writing advice that you see floating around. I write a lot of words — some that are definitely not needed. I use adverbs, adjectives, and whatever the heck I want. I often do a lot of telling instead of showing. I repeat things and spell things out for the readers in a way that good writers shouldn't. I do a lot of hand-holding with my readers, taking them through every step of the character's thought process and reactions. I write detailed descriptions of what the characters are feeling instead of only showing it through their actions. The list goes on.

Like, if you look at what the writing advice says, I should be a terrible writer xD

But I'm glad that I'm not. I'm glad that I can write things that move people and that the stories I tell feel that engaging. And I love being able to share them and spread the joy. It's such a wonderful feeling to know that I've made a difference somehow, however small it may be.

So thank you so, so much for your kind words. Which feels wholly inadequate to convey just how grateful I am that you took the time to write and send this, but trust me when I say that it means a lot to me. I never thought I'd reach this point, with people reaching out to me just to tell me how much they love my writing. How wonderful is that? It leaves me utterly speechless sometimes.

How is this my life?

And so far I have no plans to stop writing Who Holds the Devil, don't worry. I can't promise it'll happen quickly what with everything that's going on in my life right now (like being officially diagnosed with burnout due to long Covid — yay me) but I'm way, way too stubborn to give up. And I also love the fic and the characters too much to stop xD I want to see this through to the end just as much as the rest of you.

So yeah. Thank you again for sending this — it made my day. And you take care, too 💜

[celentriateam]

Hello! My name is Will S. And I'm here to tell you about Celentria!

I have made this account to document my story, Celentria. I have been working on Celentria since 2018 and I have finally gotten to the point where I can start making something of it. My ultimate goal is for my story to be a animated show but I'm nowhere near close to that being reality at the moment (but i can hope haha) . But i am putting in the work and effort to get there. I have nearly completed the 4th draft of my story and will be working on some concept art soon. Unfortunately due to personal struggles, i took 2 years away from art so at the moment i am having to focus on regaining my art skills. When i have accomplished that, its concept art time!

More about me

My name is Will S. I'm 20 years old and I'm from Britain. I have been writing since I was 9 and drawing since I was 8. I started writing my first story when I was 9 and finished it at age 13. Although I am very proud of it, I was a child when it was written so it definitely could do with some touch ups.

Ever since then I have written a plethora of drafts (57 to be exact) . Of course, the majority of them are an unfinished mess but I'm still proud of them nonetheless. I have 27 completed final drafts that I just have to go over ooone last time to confirm whether they really need to be rewritten for the 700th time.

As I've said I've been drawing since the age of 8. of course most of my drawings at a young age where just 2000s anime girls with unrealistic boobs but I was AMAZING at drawing those large boobed anime girls haha. The art I (hope) to draw now is very whimsical. I have taken a liking to fantasy (a genre I used to avoid) in recent years. My story Celentria is a mix of Whimsical Fantasy, Horror, Drama, Realistic Romance and a hint of Sci-Fi.

BUT anyway this isn't about the 50+ stories that I've written or my recent liking of fantasy art. This is about Celentria, the story that I have been working on for 6 years.

About Celentria

Celentria is a story that I have been working on for the past 6 years (on and off) . Now, I believe I am good at writing. I don't believe that I am the best because if I believed i was the best then I'd never improve. BUT the one thing I historically struggle with is writing blurbs. So for anyone who happens to see this, you're going to have to wait a bit for some story info. My apologies. I will have a dedicated post in the future that will contain an understandable and concise blurb.

(I proceeded to spend the next 30 minuets trying to write a blub and as you can tell from the lack of blurb in this post, I failed)

At the moment It is just me on the team. I did have other people on the team a few years back but due to our ages we where very busy with school so we where unable to continue working with each other. I will tag and end all posts made by me with -WS. If more people join the team then they will do the same but with their initials.

The story of Celentria can be very dark in places so, If I continue to post here, I will put detailed trigger warnings on posts that require them.

I am currently not looking for other team members as I cannot afford it and I do not believe I am at the level where I can start hiring people yet. I would love to make money of off my art but at the moment I am just a cleaner so I definitely do not make enough to sustain a team. But I hope I will in the future.

If everything goes as hoped, then Celentria will be a fully animated show that will be on video based website for free or paid (it really depends on money , as most things do unfortunately) I have even considered making a visual novel game that takes place 2 weeks before the main story starts, as promotion. But of course that is something that I cannot do at the moment so I wont speak too much on it.

I don't believe I have anything else to say, and I have been writing for a a while now. And on top of that its currently 02:53am so I best be getting some sleep.

Questions are always welcome and I will try my best to answer :)

Thank you for reading

-WS

[bluejayblueskies]

Your writing means a lot to me. You are very skilled as a writer. I can tell you put a lot of thought and effort into everything you create, because it’s always so well-crafted, from the concept to the overall storyline and pacing to the smallest details of characterization and description. Your TMA fic captures the tone of the original and digs deeper into the themes it brought up, and your characterization is always so spot-on I can hear the dialogue in their voices. Your work somehow encapsulates everything I love about TMA and then goes beyond it in ways that seem so perfectly fitting it makes me sad we never got that in canon. You are amazing and wonderful and I am so grateful every time you post another story, or a new chapter.

I’m sorry you’ve been feeling down about your writing lately, and worried about how your work will be received.

I know how frustrating it can feel to work hard on something and be proud of it, and then see it not get the recognition it deserves from a wider audience. I have one fic that achieved moderate popularity, and then nothing else I’ve written since has gotten more than a third of that amount of attention. (The story wasn’t much better quality than most of the other fics I’ve written, but it just happened to be a premise more people were interested in and got spread around more on tumblr.)

Still, I don’t think it’s a waste to write something just because you want to see it, or a waste to share it even if the audience it receives ends up being fairly small. Even on some of my less popular fics I’ve gotten comments like “this gave me a lot of feelings” or “thanks for writing a very accurate version of how it feels to be...there (mentally speaking, I mean), this is the best description of that I have found up till now” or “this fic really hit hard for me and it meant a lot, gonna be thinking about this one for a while.”

One fic I was putting out serially in chapters, there were 3 people who would regularly read and comment on every chapter, and 5 people bookmarked it. (Which, yeah, is only a handful of people, but still that handful of people cared deeply about this story, enough to read and comment on each chapter as it came out, and enough to want to read it again when it was finished.) A story that only ends up appealing to a few people might still be really meaningful to those people. As a reader, there are certain fics which really resonated with me and which I’ve found great value in, even though they aren’t as popular as some of the writer’s other work.

I hope your latest piece finds a wider audience than you’re expecting right now, that a lot of people read it and comment on it. But if it doesn’t, I hope you get to hear from the people you touched the most about how much it resonates with them, and that you can appreciate the value of your own work even when it doesn’t get the recognition it deserves.

first of all, this message is making me feel so many happy fuzzy emotions, i don't quite know how to handle all of them or how to put the full extent of my gratitude into words 🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕😭😭😭 i've read through this several times already, and i think i'll probably do so in the future as well because it's just so lovely and is making me very emotional 💛💛💛

second of all, thank you so so much for this 💛 even though i know that fics that reach a small audience can be really meaningful to that audience and that numbers really don't matter, i can still get caught up in placing my success as a writer on... i guess quantity over quality? but getting reminders that certain works resonate with certain people and that just because that number of people isn't a lot it doesn't mean that the fic was a waste is really helpful for me. i'm definitely hopeful that even though the concept for my fic is kind of niche, there will still be people (other than me) who find meaning and enjoyment in it!

thank you again for this, so so much--i appreciate it more than i can articulate 💕

[tamiddyinyourcity]

7:29am.

Real crackhead shit... AHH!

Monday, February 24th of 2020.

Monday is my Friday, so I'm about to get active as fuck for today. 💕

What's the haps, yall:

I'm still mad about the beautifully detailed post I wrote on here that never got posted.... @staff this is why your app is fucking dead

I had some angsty days over my most recent relationship. I'm deciding to be 100% self-centered, as an act of self care, since its not like nigga cared about my feelings anyway. So its not like I'm gonna be the most politically correct person by saying "He really could've prevented so much shit". Plus, I'm honestly not in the mood to beat myself up over things. Other people can do that for me. So I still maintain the right to be as narcissistic as I choose, if it helps me cope, and does not hurt anybody.

Had to block a mutual I've known for a few years for disagreeing with me over it. She somehow miscontrued a post that was blatantly "I wish we communicated better, I wish things never got violent, and I especially wish he trusted me, lying just made the whole situation into what he was afraid would happen", into "I'm blaming him for getting hit".... Bitch, its MY hand. He did choose the literal worst way to go about things, (no one reasonable would go "i better act as coldly and two faced as possible to avoid getting slapped," but, hes stupid and wasnt honest about shit that he felt before so shit happened dude,) BUUUUUUT, that doesn't excuse violence. I'm not out here doing the nae nae over the fact that I was becoming the very aggressive and hostile person that I definitely never wanted to be. No one's doing the splits over abusing an ex post breakup. I was extreeeeemely offended, aaaaaaand bitch got blocked. Then she got mad about being blocked..... shes so dramatic.

All I can say that if you don't wanna get attacked by a rhino, don't throw rocks at it. (Note: I am not a rhino, I am a human being that can also handle the way I react to situations.... I can't change the past, but I can aim to do better. So, I will, promise.) I still uphold the belief that if you're feeling intimidated or anxious, then voicing your problems or thoughts goes a lot better.... I just wish he was honest, man. If he told me straight up any of the many things he didn't tell me that night, just to tell me on the phone before, I would have understood and compromised. Or wanted to make them comfortable. It's a shame that things didn't go as easily as we'd hoped. I said several times that all I wanted was honesty, and that I wanted to just ask him questions as if it was gonna be our last time seeing eachother, to finalize things, and not result in me repeatedly contacting him over "what if" questions I had that never get answered.... And I explained in depth how it would have done more good for me and him, just to say whats gotta be said and leave out. He didn't listen..... And frankly, a girl who cuts you off due to your inconsistency emotionally, repeatedly leading her on, and lack of care for her feelings, and putting no effort towards any resolutions, will HATE, when you go "Oh I only said I wanted to kiss you that night, to be a fuckboy. I have no romantic interest in you, and didn't see any hope for us. At all. Whatsoever. And no, I refuse to answer any questions you have"....... When he literally agreed for me to uber all the way to his house, for the sole purpose of actually having a deep talk with me. I'm not proud of my actions, but I see why I did them. No one else needs to, since it's my experience. And if nigga even so much as gave talking a chance, instead of hiding his feelings and fears..... The night could've gone so differently. Or at least, its what i would've hoped.

I feel slightly not so great about cutting off Nevaeh, but its not like we were best friends. She has her own life to focus on. And, i have some toxic shit to allow to blow over before I consider myself to be healthy again.

Not sure how I feel about my ex. Not thinking about it is better. Instead of thinking, "God, he fucked me over", all I can do is go, "I know better, and I can at least say I gave things a chance." He was so keen on ending things, even if it meant lying his ass off. I hate him for it. God..... Anyway, I'll miss elements, but I'll certainly not miss the way he saw so little in me. I don't appreciate men hiding their feelings from me, nor making simple shit extremely difficult. Fuck that. Move on.

As I got off work last night, Adrian messaged me to hang out. Considering that I have a diva cup up my pussy and was happy to know that I could get a ride home without a dude feeling entitled to sex, (i dont play that shit,) i agreed. It was nice, honestly. It's a little sad, realizing how difficult I've been taking in the things around me lately. All it took was maybe a three hour long hangout where I showed the dude my city lake, ate skittles in his car, and talked about random shit to make me realize.... "Wow, I really am emotionally starved."

Getting out of a 3 to 5 month long relationship where I was fishing for breadcrumbs definitely had me fucked UP. I still am.... Not great, when a dude goes from liking you a lot to seeing you as a pocket pussy, and unworthy of bare minimum intimacy he was happily dishing out before...... But, Adrian was chill to talk to. Idle talk, Skittles, and just joking around a bit or talking about how things have been within the year we had last seen eachother.

It's kinda odd, knowing that a year from today or whatever, this same dude had a nose ring, longer hair, a Golf Wang stan, and pretty much gave me obnoxiously amazing sex, (i saw God from the type of dick he had given me,) before inexplicably dumping me off like a week old Hot Pocket. And I think he did cocaine? I wouldn't be surprised. College students.... be like that.

And a year ago, I was like, desperate for his attention and hung onto my phone, just, waiting till I got a text back. Like a simp!

But fast forward to last night, where I checked my texts, and saw a day old message from him at 1am, and frankly went, "What the fuck does this nigga want?", with a frown on my face.

Now THAT'S what I call self progress.

The dude who blew my back out and had me dickmatized a year ago is now un-party-obsessed, and seems less prone to do shrooms during a hailstorm for shits and giggles. A lot more mature. Decent acting.

I'm still sus about why he wants to come back????????

Since..... Okay, I was gonna say, "its not like I would hit up a one night stand and ask them to suddenly be my friend again", buuuuut I probably have done that in the past before........... Its a new decade and a new me, my self esteem from pre-Summer 2019 is a part of me that no longer exists. Just fyi.

BUT, I can't fathom why a taken dude would hit up his one night stand to suddenly be besties. Especially after ending on such terrible terms....

How does one go from "Stay the fuck away from me, I have no interest in being around you whatsoever", to "Hey, wanna hang out tonight?", without sex being the main factor?

I don't know. And probably shouldn't even bother thinking about it too much. Niggas are unpredictable, and still predictable. So if he ends up being my new late night car vibing buddy and we just eat Skittles and talk about horror movies coming out, then sure. If he ends up just trying to pull a Slow Burn Hoe on me? Only time will tell if it works.

I kinda left the "hook up with another girl's boyfriend" market ages ago. Ages as in, at the start of last summer.... But, still a long time since then right?????

It's also odd knowing how each time I did inform a girl of their man cheating, they took it out on *me* and stayed with the guy? Oh excuse me, its not like I'M the one messaging your man about wanting to slurp HIS pussy like a wild dog eating a can of baked beans. Check your fucking MAN.

Just to stay with the guy, and I think, "So I really could've just let him do something and she'd keep him? Wow. Its almost like I should've just done it, if there would be no consequences either way past her shading me....."

(Like that time my friend in high school, Audrey, didn't believe me when I mentioned her boyfriend trying to "cyber" with me.... What weirdo tries to do sext roleplay with unprovoked women in high school???? Anyway, she frankly didn't believe me, or bother to see my proof. He then cheated on her constantly. With many many different girls. And oh, look who's all shocked NOW, hearing that her aint shit boyfriend was trying to fuck her younger sister's friend? I don't feel sorry for her now, but I had a little sympathy for her lovewhipped ass back then.....)

All that ever got me was some gossip, and the nihilistic wisdom of, "She won't leave him anyways, so why not just bang him if she'd just not believe you or care either way?"

And the reasons not to do that, are:

STDs. For some, not a game ender. But for me, I prefer not to have that risk, and think I look much cuter without any potential loser with sex addiction or chlamydia trying to risk it all for a quick nut like that.

Karma. I wouldn't want my own boyfriend(s) doing that shit. Sure, one can't stop a cheater from cheating, but if every woman in the world collectively went "I don't fuck taken men, sorry", then there would be less to worry about. Gotta stick to girl code, yknow? And if a dude still wants to cheat, then i guess he and his homies gotta go Greek and Roman then.... Get the olive oil, lather up your bros for your boys night I guess.

At the end of the day, I will still be single. Better to be single with the knowledge that a man liked me, but I didn't give in to them and have them promptly lose interest, in the same way they "lost interest" for their girlfriend. Better to be single and cocky, than single and cocked up, with nothing to show for it.

So with all that said, the night was still just platonic and vibing. Not sure I wanna say more, but just glad to have a good time with friendly company to take my mind off things.

I'll miss Patrick, but things change.

8:22am. Peace out.