#it took me so long to collect the pictures of the actual records for this that iwas just gonna do screencaps and not gifs but

[micamicster]

DIRTY DANCING (1987) soundtrack: Be My Baby - The Ronettes / Big Girls Don't Cry - The 4 Seasons / Do You Love Me? - The Contours / Love Man - Otis Redding / Wipe-Out - The Surfaris / Hungry Eyes - Eric Carmen / Hey! Baby! - Bruce Channel / Cry To Me - Solomon Burke / Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? - The Shirelles / Love Is Strange - Mickey & Sylvia / She's Like The Wind - Patrick Swayze / I've Had The Time Of My Life - Bill Medley & Jennifer Warnes

[norman-fucking-reedus]

I read something that you said Scud liked to be recorded and I’m actually foaming at the mouth at the idea of that because it’s so real. I NEED a fic for that. So glad I found someone with a Scud obsession as bad as mine

LIGHTS, CAMERA, ACTION

THE GOOD GOOD: FemDom!Reader x Sub!Scud, recording during sex, lots of teasing, and edging, bit of bondage, your much needed dose of pegging, and scud crying during sex, don't forget the hair pulling

GUYS I LOVE SCUD SO MUCH I ABSOLUTELY ADORE HIM MY PRECIOUS LITTLE ANGEL

I'm really trying to get my drafts cleared out LOL hopefully sometime soon I'll have a big major posting spree and then I can start working on my inbox

I HAVE SO MANY REQUESTS AUUUGH IDK WHY I LET THEM ALL PILE UP SOMEONE KILL ME

The idea of Scud being recorded is still my favorite because I feel like he'd be so nervous under the lens, trying to hide from it and not be seen but he'd still end up looking like a slutty pornstar (my precious pornstar)

also scud in lace. its been on my mind for I don't even know how long at this point.

You sighed as you walked down your complex's dingy, dimly lit hallway, silently hoping that Scud wouldn't be too mad at you for coming home so late into the night. After all, you had told him that you would only be about ten more minutes, but that had been almost an hour ago.

Things got a little out of hand, nothing you couldn't deal with sure but it was quite an inconvenience. A short, fifteen-minute task had easily turned into a full job, one that included running around the shop looking for spare parts. With what you had learned from Blade and Scud, it didn't take long to find all the little pieces you needed, and even a reward for yourself.

"Scud! I'm back! Look at what was in the shop" You called out to him when you jingled your keys in the lock and swung the front door to your apartment open, eagerly kicking off your shoes as you toyed with the little camcorder you had come across, flipping through the random pictures on it. There was no clear indicator of who's camera exactly, but you had always loved photography, so just one day with it wouldn't hurt anyone.

There was no response to your voice, the apartment barely lit and quiet, soft thumping coming from you and Scud's shared bedroom. He was probably playing on his PS2 with his headphones in, loud music blasting at levels you’ve already scolded him for.

As you padded through the cozy living room, you pointed your camera at random things and took little cameos of them, making your way down the short and narrow hall towards the room where you could see some of the orange lighting spilling out through a crack in the door.

You approached, about to call out Scud’s name once again as the soft thumping faded into a rhythmic beat, a Lady Gaga track when you finally stopped short in front of the door, pushing it open a bit and poking your head through, combing hair out your eyes as your mind drew a blank, greedily taking in the sight in front of you.

Scud was in fact not playing on his game system, but rather prancing around the cozy room what he didn’t know was your very expensive lingerie set. An all-white, delicate full ‘angelic’ lingerie set. A satin ruffle top with a waist-high lace garter belt that clipped onto the white mesh fishnets, all paired with lacy underwear that had a large bow on the back, topped with a fair-sized opening that revealed a large portion of his dumb butt.

You had originally bought it to surprise your boyfriend a few months back, but you had both gotten so overcrowded with work that it slipped your mind, collecting a thin layer of dust somewhere you weren’t even sure where you had put it. Scud always got curious about your things when he was rocket-high, digging through things and asking a million and one questions. Now here he was, looking pretty as ever swaying his hips around in the bedroom, mumbling along to the current track playing.

You found yourself flipping the camcorder's small screen open and resting against the door frame as the device started to record, capturing Scud’s fluid movements as he obliviously danced around, brown curls falling sweetly in his face, and skin glowing orange from the multiple sources of warm light in the room.

He really did look like an angel, his broad body looking much more supple and soft, legs long and lean, hips wide and divine. A walking, talking piece of pure eye candy, reserved for your eyes and only your eyes. Guess this camera just found itself a new owner.

Scud spun around on his heels and toes, once, twice, before he stopped, eyes focusing on the small little red dot, flickering up to meet your gaze and feeling his entire exposed body heat up in embarrassment.

“W– Wha– How– How long– Hello– ” Scud sputtered, completely frozen in place as he stared at you.

You, who was now fully entering the bedroom, “Don’t stop now, I barely got any footage” placing your free hand on his small waist and dipping fingers under the fabric of the garter. A smile tugged your lips as you started taking in the entirety of your boyfriend's body up close, his skin soft and hot under the tips of your fingers. “Y– You’re re-recording me?” He knew the answer, but hearing it from you verbally just made a chill run down his spine, and his cock twitch.

“Does that make you nervous love?” Your fingers trailed up his scarred chest, brushing across the lose ruffled top and grazing his nipples, a small whine coming from Scud as he dipped down in order to hide his face, but you wouldn’t let him. “Look at me” You said as you lifted his head up by the chin, forcing his gaze onto yours.

Scud lightly whimpered, desire burning in his gut as you brushed hair out his face, fingers dancing along his skin. He felt exposed under the camera’s lens, so much of his raw and bare skin visible to the naked eye. Your gaze on his body made his cock throb.

“What do I always tell you about playing in my stuff?” You said in a condescending tone, teasing the tips of your fingers down his textured belly.

Scud shivered at your touch as goosebumps prickled his skin, a strained grunt coming from him as his face flushed. “N– not without mommy’s permission”

You slowly walk around him, taking in his full body in the set. “Don’t touch mommy’s things without permission. That’s a rule, right?” You murmur as you stop recording to take a picture of Scud’s ass, definitely filling out the panties better than you could.

“Yes…” He mumbles, and it almost comes out like a squeak. His cock aching with need and his stomach with embarrassment, heart pounding from a combination of nerves and weed.

You brush your lips against the skin of his shoulder, slipping fingers under the waistline of the lace undies. “So can you explain to me why said rule is broken?”

A whimper broke past Scud's lips as your fingers teased and explored his exposed skin, squeezing his hips and tracing scars. "I just– I just found it under the bed and didn't know what it was" Scud stumbled out, heart thumping in his chest as your hands covered more ground on his body, circling around to his back.

"Mhm?" You hummed, tracing your finger up his spine. He let out a moan as chills ran through his core, trembling under your touch as he could feel goosebumps explode across his skin. "Well, do you know what it is now?"

Scud nodded frantically at your words, "Yes! Yes– I know now" quivering as he spoke.

With one hand on his waist, the other still holding the camera, you guided him to the edge of the bed and pushed his upper half down onto the mattress, smiling softly to yourself as you eyed Scud's new position through the lens.

Click! Click!

The electric snap of the camera made Scud feel fuzzy and warm, slightly embarrassed, and very exposed. His skin was flushed a light red, some areas more blushed than the others. From where his cock was confined in the small panties, he was completely pulsing, throbbing with pure need in his gut.

"Do you also know not to break the rules?" You questioned, flipping through the few shots you had taken before moving your attention to the small walk-in closet, crouching down and reaching inside a box.

Scud whined into the soft comforter when you returned behind him, his socked feet barely reaching the rug between them. He could hear the small beep of the camera as you pressed your front to his bottom, a yelp coming from him when your palm made contact with his exposed cheek. "I asked, so answer"

"Y– Yes! Not breaking the rules is a rule" He whimpered, a shudder running through him as his skin tingled.

You smiled at his words as you caressed his side, squeezing his waist and hip slightly. "Good. Very good. So don't you think you deserve a punishment?"

Scud didn't respond, but he nodded his head, hiding his face the best he could behind his hair. You pushed the strands back and cooed at his cherry-red face, tiny whines coming from him as he squirmed under the camera's lens, jerking his hips slightly as he rutted against the edge of the bed.

Your hand made contact with his cheek again, a choked-off groan coming from his throat at your palm. "Words."

"Y– yes ma– ma'am..." He stuttered, trembling slightly with anticipation. It wasn't often that Scud got punished, even with as bratty as he was, so his cock was totally aching just thinking about whatever vile shit it was you were thinking about doing to him.

And you were thinking of doing some quite horrid things.

Teasingly, you ran your hand over the opening in his panties, prodding your finger at his puffy rim. A suppressed shudder traveled through him as his cock twitched, his hole fluttering at your air-light touch. You softly cooed at how needy he was, smiling to yourself as you single-handedly took off your shirt and tossed it on the floor somewhere to be picked up later.

From the box in your closet, you had pulled your strap set, a pair of cuffs, and a long vibrator that you had been wanting to test out for a little while.

Cuffing Scud's hands behind his back with only five fingers was a bit of a challenge, but an easy one. He squirmed a little as you did it, wiggling his fingers as his wrists adjusted to the new sensation of the cuffs.

You shuffled around behind him, cursing softly as you knocked a few things over before tossing a bottle of lube along with the rest of your toys, pressing yourself against Scud as you leaned down near his ear, breath feather-light and hair tickling his skin. His heart pounded in his chest, and you could hear his pulse in his neck thumping.

“Just how should I punish you?” You murmur, trailing your lips against his ear lobe and teasing the skin with the very tip of your tongue.

“Maybe I should spank you ‘til it hurts to sit,” You run your free hand down to his ass and give it a slap for emphasis, followed by a squeeze just cause.

“Or maybe I could tie up those cute balls and see just how long it takes for you to pop” You hum, nibbling on Scud’s ear and tugging it with your teeth until you dropped it with an idea lingering in mind.

“Or," You said as you pulled away from him. "I could just leave you here by yourself” You smirked, watching Scud’s face twist in horror.

“No! No– please no” He pleaded as he squirmed on the bed, hips jerking in a desperate search for relief, cock painfully hard and throbbing. “Need a punishment, need mommy to punish me” Scud blabbed, his body trembling as his eyes darted from your face to the camera's lens, his body coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

“But how should I punish you?” You teasingly coo, combing some of a Scud’s bangs out one of his eyes as you smiled softly at him. “I could smoke our whole stash right in your face”

Scud groaned, “Please don’t” squeezing his legs as arousal burned hot in his gut. “I’m really sorry mommy, I– I’ll do anything”

“Oh, I know you will. Just stay still for me ‘kay?” You pushed yourself back up to your full height, pausing your recording to swap out the camera for the bottle of lube, shaking it slightly before uncapping it and squeezing out more than enough of the clear liquid onto Scud's puffy rim, watching the shiver that ran through him as the cold sensation rolled down to his sensitive balls.

You scooped it up with your two fingers and easily slid them inside Scud, a soft moan coming from him as he clenched around you, almost instantly pushing back in search of more. "Such a greedy little hole, you just wanna be fucked so badly don't you?"

Scud whined and squeezed his slick walls around your digits, "Yes! Want mommy to fill me up so bad, need her so bad" rubbing his face against the soft comforter as he could feel it burning hot.

"Don't worry baby boy, we're gonna get you all nice 'nd full right now" You spoke sweetly to him as you picked up the camera with one hand and the vibrator with the other, resuming your recording as the toy harshly rumbled to life after the click of a button. Without wasting a second, you watched as the buzzing wand glided into Scud with zero resistance, pressing it directly against his sweet spot and causing him to loudly sputter, blabble, and cry out nonsense as the sudden vibration traveled through his entire nervous system, cock throbbing with the uncontrollable urge to cum.

Scud sobbed around his loud moans, choking out gasps when you started to quickly thrust the toy in and out, each hard bump to his now very sensitive prostrate only sent him closer to the edge, hands twitching and pulling where they were restrained as his body spasmed, heaving as his heart started to pound in his chest the harder and harder you fucked him, hips jerking down into the mattress as he tried to pathetically chase his rapidly building orgasm, a burning pleasure coursing through the entirety of his body before–

You swiftly pulled the toy out of him right as he was about to topple over the edge, a confused, strangled whimper tearing from his throat as his poor hole needily clenched around nothing, so full and pleased just a split second ago and now suddenly empty and crashing down from the way you abruptly ruined his orgasm.

“Sorry, my hand slipped” You mumbled, obviously not sorry at all as you teased his fluttering hole with the toy, capturing all your torturous movements through the little camera lens.

The cuffs rattled as Scud whined and squirmed at the contact against his sensitive skin, trying his hardest to push back onto the vibrator while also jerking his hips away from it. He was so high, so hot and sweaty as he heaved from where he was on the bed, shaking as you tauntingly dragged the toy up from his slick balls to his drenched rim, only ever applying the slightest amount of pressure.

It made him push his hips back in desperation, letting out a surprised yelp when you smacked him with the toy, tutting your lips as you shook your head, placing the camera down and positioning it to capture Scud's hidden face, forcing his head up by roughly yanking a fistful of hair.

He whined as a shiver ran down his spine, trembling as his eyes nervously darted away from the lens, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment at being recorded in such an exposed state. His cock was still painfully aching, whole body throbbing uncontrollably from your early treatment.

Scud made tiny little whimpers when you started to tease his hole again with the toy, his hips twitching as he tried not to jerk them back, desperate and craving to be filled up again. His gut ached with arousal, cock leaking painfully where it was confined in the small panties.

"P– Please fuck me, please mommy" He begged as you dipped your head down and started nibbling at his bare shoulder, teasing the skin of his hip with your fingers.

You blew on his ear as you ran the length of the vibrator up his slick crack, a keen noise pulling out his throat as his hole fluttered in anticipation. "Is this what you want pretty boy? To be stuffed like a dumb slut?"

Scud whined at your words, nodding his head and hiding his face shyly behind his hair, jumping slightly when you tightly gripped his jaw, lifting his head once more and dropping it to pick up your camera.

"You're so cute when you're nervous" You said to him as you smooshed your cheek against his, pointing the lens at the both of you and snapping a few pictures, Scud's face red and embarrassed as the flash flickered, electric shutter ringing in his ears.

Scud huffed slightly as his socked toes brushed the rug beneath him, kicking his feet impatiently as need and heat burned through his veins. He whined softly when you pulled away from him entirely, leaving the camcorder pointed at him to capture his facial expressions when you suddenly shoved the entirety of the vibrator back into him, a loud and shaky moan tearing from Scud's throat as the toy easily slid into him, almost yelling when it buzzed to life against his sensitive walls.

His hands curled into one another where his arms were stretched behind his back, yet immediately scrambled to wrap around your wrist when you trailed fingers up his spine, his fingers twitching and trembling as they latched onto you, incoherent mumbles leaving Scud's lips.

As you started to properly fuck him with the toy, quickly thrusting it in and out as he tensed up at the sensation, shuddering as his jaw went slack and he started to desperately yet sloppy push back against your movements, toes curling into the carpet as you shoved the vibrator right into his sweet spot, stars dancing in his eyes and coursing through his body.

"I bet that feels so good huh pretty boy? Gonna cum aren't you?" You taunted as you fucked him quicker with the silicone toy, watching the way he had started to twitch and squirm, his whimpers and cries starting to increase in volume. Scud tried to respond to your questions, but his words only came out as a garbled mess.

It earned a small laugh from you, pressing yourself up against him and dipping your head down to attack his neck, running your tongue over his pulse, and feeling his heart race under the muscle. "Didn't quite catch that" You murmured into his ear, slowing down your movements as you searched for Scud's sweet spot, a broken sob tearing from his lips when you found it. "Yes," He gasped, trembling underneath you as he heaved for air, clumsily stuttering out his words. "Wanna cum so bad, want mommy to make me cum"

Scud tugged and pulled at his restraints as he choked back cries, clumsily pushing back against your movements desperately as he chased after his rapidly building orgasm, babbling brainlessly. He could feel the buzzing sensation in his toes, all the way up to his teeth, it made his head foggy and his jaw go slack, not sure if the high he was greedily riding was from the weed or sheer pleasure, but it had him on cloud nine either way.

Each thrust brought him closer and closer, so close he could practically taste it. A needy, broken whimper came from his chest as his body twitched against you, small pleas starting to fall from his lips as his untouched cock throbbed from his burning climax, lungs running out of air as his body started to tense up, standing right on the edge and about to fall down face first when you yanked the toy right out of him again, Scud whining and basically sobbing in protest as his hole uncontrollably clenched down around nothing, heavy groans leaving him as his body struggled to recover from the way you completely denied him again.

"Oh Please, please mommy, please" Scud sobbed as his body felt so empty and used, desperately craving the relief that he needed so badly.

You shut the toy off and tossed it down on the bed, taking hold of the camcorder and stopping your recording, snapping a few pictures of how utterly destroyed Scud was, face soaked with his tears and drool as he weakly rutted his hips in search of any type of pleasure. He whimpered softly at the flash of light, feeling exposed and nude under the lens.

"It's okay Scud, you've been doing so well for me. Momma's gonna make you feel so good" You murmured comfortingly into his ears as you pressed a kiss to his cheek, pushing your body up off his and leaving the camera on the bed. Scud still whined out in protest as your body heat left his, leaving him cold and lonely. His heart started to soar and quickly pick up speed when he heard the familiar sound of your strap buckling together, small mutters and curses coming from you as there was a slight struggle.

It wasn't long before you reappeared behind Scud, this time pressing your cock against him. Anticipation sparked to life in his tummy as you dragged the silicone through his slick, unable to help himself from pushing back against you with tiny little sounds. He needed it so bad that his body was practically begging for release, involuntarily twitching.

Scud was so close to an absolute breakdown, whimpering and mumbling incoherently as you finally started to push in at a tauntingly slow pace, the lube helping to make it an easy glide and blissful stretch. His head dropped down onto the mattress as sparks flew up his spine, so understimulated that even the slightest of touch would probably send him tipping over the edge.

You readjusted your camcorder with one hand and the tightly tangled the other in his hair, yanking his head back up to be captured in the lens, giggling at the groan that left Scud’s lips. “Come on pretty boy, keep your head up for momma”

“Need– Need it–“ Scud started to babble, head totally clouded and overworked as he desperately jerked his hips, rocking them back and forth to get any type of stimulation at all, trembling like a leaf on a branch when he felt the tip of your strap finally, finally jab right into his tender and used sweet spot, knees buckling between him as he involuntarily squeezed your wrist tightly, nails digging into the flesh as the orgasm his body had been begging for completely took over, loud and broken sobs leaving Scud’s lips as his untouched cock throbbed and pulsated, cumming right in the lace panties of the lingerie set.

The fact that you captured that on camera almost made your mouth water, and you cooed at Scud when he went ragdoll in your hold, stroking his side to give him some comfort as he slowly came back down to earth. “Oh, you poor little thing. Did I tease too much?”

Scud could barely even muster out words, breathing into the mattress as his body twitched, small grunts and whimpers coming from him your hand in his hair kept his head upright and his face vulnerable, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks.

“Or, did I not tease you enough?” You murmured the question softly in his ear, moving to grab a fist full of hair from the front and gripping his cuffed wrists, yanking both backward as you took a step forward to shove the entirety of your cock into Scud, who could almost taste the pleasure coursing through him. A choked sob tore itself from his throat, eyes darting frantically between the wall and camera lens as it felt like pure heaven burned it’s way up his spine, hands twitching and curling in on themselves under your grip.

It was arguably the best he’s ever felt in days, weeks even. When you started to relentlessly and mercilessly slam into him, each thrust going right to his core and sending his eyes rolling into the back of his head, lips glossy and slick with spit as he drooled from the mouthwatering pleasure.

“You’re just so, so cute Scud. I can’t wait to watch our little movie over and over and over again” You said as you tilted his head to the side by his hair, biting down harshly on the flesh of his already bruised and marked neck, a shriek pulling its way out his chest as all five of his senses were at a complete overload, skin flushing a deep red when he felt your teeth blissfully break skin. It was all so overwhelming, the wet glide of your cock slipping in and out against his tender velvety walls was simply too much for his mind to be able to comprehend, hips jerking as his second orgasm built up rapidly, like a can of soda that had been shaken up and was just waiting for someone to pop the tap.

He heard the sound of the cuffs clicking off before he felt the fuzzy material sliding off his wrists, your hands finding his and intertwining your fingers together, pinning his hands down on the mattress to fuck him with all the womanly strength left in you, sending the silicone as deep and hard into your angelic boyfriend as your body would possibly allow for. Scud’s head involuntarily dropped right down onto the blankets, whimpers and broken moans tumbling past his lips as he tightly squeezed your fingers, so close to the edge that this time he really could taste it.

“Please momma, please, please– fuuck, please” Scud helplessly babbled, needily pushing back to meet your thrusts as he was so fucking close, so close that he’d almost do anything just to cum, not that there was much to do considering he was already crashing down the hill, just needing a few more rough thrusts of your hips before his tap was finally popped, an explosion of fizzy stickiness exploding right in his gut, his second orgasm spilling right into the already soiled underwear, seeping through and dripping down onto the floor.

Scud went totally limp where he laid face down on the bed, breathing heavily as he twitched and tried to come down from such an earth shattering high, whining softly when you pulled out.

Tiny kisses were planted all over his face, neck, and shoulders, you gently brushing his hair out his face and unsticking it from his sweaty forehead. “You okay?”

Scud nodded, with his eyes half-lidded and a content smile tugging at his lips. “Mhmm”

“Did you learn your lesson?” You asked, pulling the bra strap and letting it snap against Scud’s flesh, a small grunt leaving him as his skin burned. “Yes ma’am…” He grumbled out, feet dangling off the bed.

You smiled softly, kissing him right below his eye. “Good baby. Now let’s get you all squeaky clean and cozy for bed, then we can find a way to put our special show on the TV for only our eyes to see” You said with a hint of mischief in your tone, reaching for the camcorder and stopping your recording once and for all.

Whoa. Did Norman fucking reedus just fucking finish something. Did Normam fucking reedus just post something. Whoa. How crazy even is that.

ANYWAYS 😝 yes guys I still love Scud he's still my angel boy and be always will be I love the part of the fic where my peenar goes inside his body thats the best part hands down I love to fuck men with my lady peenar

One fic at a time guys 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ I have a few others that eeerm should get posted soon… dont get your hopes up (because mine are already up and that's a problem)

IF YOU SEE TYPOS NO UOU DONNNT 😭 MY GRAMMARLY IS ON MY COMPUTER AND THE APP IS GARBAGE ON MY PHONE PLEASE STOP THIS MADNESS

I was gonna end this with the cam corder MaGiCaLlYy disappearing 👁️ but that's for another fic 🙂‍↕️ (that ill end up never writing)

[zeondraws]

Thanks for the response! If you ever do make that post I eagerly await!

In the meantime, do you have pictures of Muir and Innes' room? Ever since it was confirmed I've wanted to see more of it, but I think that room is skipped through by most letsplayers and I unfortunately can't get the game myself to look around

I hope you have a goodnight!

Aye, no problem

I will probably feel more confident to talk about the rig, once I have the artbook next year. I'm sure there will be tons of info inside of it, I bought myself the hand signed version because this game hooked me so quickly.. that I was like "I ain't regretting this purchase" (I may or may not like to collect artbooks, I am very excited to get this book in February holy shit WAA).

Either way, I actually have a recording of their room, here:

The recording is a wee bit long for what it is, because there isn't that much in their room to begin with (I recorded it for two other folk who needed art ref). The door is missing too, hence why I didn't know whom this room belonged to. Until I asked someone at Secret Mode/The Chinese Room. I imagine, since they lived next to Roy for example they probably hang out with him a bunch.

Also while I am answering this ask, imma answer another anon question at the same time, since it fits with the room questions:

I took a look around it again and made a few screenshots to show a few details.

Btw I noticed something while looking at the table.

Toilet paper?? Wha

Who smoked me ciggies? Also there seems so be a small box for snus? If I understand correctly, dunno.

There wasn't much else to find in their room. Tho I love how decorated it is.

I'll share more Gibbo Screenshots in the future. Either way hope I was able to help a wee bit for both anons! Until then..

SCOOOOOOTLAAAAAAAAAAAAND FOREEEEEEVEEEEEER!!!!!!!

[writerofadream]

Fortune favors the Bold ⛓

Chapter Two: Meet the Stars

TDI! Duncan x Juvie Bestfriend! Reader

Duncan and you had been separated for around three hours now, you had both on seperate boats and you were aleady getting twitchy. You both had brought a total of four things from juvie, as well as two confiscated items of yours. Duncan had bought his switchblade, a handheld pistol, a bracelet, his meds, a picture of his mom, as well as a small heart locket that held a picture of you when you were around nine.

You had bought a handheld pistol, a dagger with your initials on it, a locket that had a picture of Duncan in it, a picture of seven year old Duncan and you, a deck of cards, and lastly a lighter.

The older boy had been furious when Chris informed you that neither of you would be on your meds for this little 'expedition.' and by furious I mean, had quickly shoved Chris into a wall holding a knife to his throat. "I can deal without my shit. But unless you want a fucking wild animal released she get's her shit at least once a week got that, asshat?" Duncan hissed. Chris's eyes flickered towards you, as you took a selfie of the two while doing a piece symbol with a large smile.

You were crazy.

He loved crazy.

Crazy made money.

Chris didn't want you on your meds. His exact words were that you were "So much more fun without them!" he didn't seem to mind the fact that Duncan had shortly thereafter had shoved him into a wall and put his forearm to his neck. "She's going to get her meds, at least once a week, every friday, got that?" he had whispered. "You know what that's a great idea. She'll have this strange contradicting personality, people will think she's crazy!"

Chris truly, loved an insane idea.

You had leveled the gun at his head in record time, your phone gone in a flash. "Don't, call me crazy." Your voice was shaky.

"If you say so scorpion. Let's get a move on!" Chris smiled patting your shoulder as he quickly got guards to seperate you and Duncan both. Now you were on a boat on your way to an island which sure looked nice from the picures.

The medicine you took kept you steady, kept you from losing your cool on everyone around you. It kept you sedated, calm, cool, and collected. Without you turned into an injured animal that had just been cornered.

Wild, rabid, and feral.

So that was the deal, you would get your meds every friday because then you'd have a confusing contradicting personality which would get viewers intrigued and therefore more money!

The weekend after Chris had picked you up, he had seven armed guards seperate you and Duncan and put you on two different boats. Duncan had yelled for a long time and eventually got three of his guards down. You had broken the finger of a guard that had grabbed your shoulder and had broken the shin of one of the others.

You were staring at your hands by the time you felt the boat hit the dock slowly. They were already shaky. Your eyes flickered upwards and your stomach was quickly full of dread. It was a dump, the island, was an actual god forsaken waste of space. You jumped off the boat not bothering to find the ladder.

"Here she is, Y/N our resident scorpion." The insane TV show host yelled from his post on the dock. Your eyes flickered quickly around the island, at least what you could see. A pit formed itself in your stomach. "This was not what we were told, Mclean. I don't like being lied too." You nearly screeched at him, you were seething with anger.

"Oh I know princess. Your parole officer told me about that. She also told me to tase you and bring you back if you started making a fuss." The psychotic man smiled at you. Duncan watched you wearily from his spot on the dock and noticed your stance.

Hands clenched, body tense, eyebrows furrowed, eyes slitted, jaw set. Yes, all the looks of a L/N, ready to pounce.

Suddenly before you could jump there was arms around your shoulders and hands around your waist. "Scorpion, you better put that tail of yours down. I'm too pretty to die!" Chris giggled as Duncan dragged you away.

He grabbed your waist right before you could jump at the TV host. "Hey, ain't worth it, Y/N. We both know it." He hissed in your ear and gently threw you into the group of people. You sighed your body untensing and your fingers found his.

You stared at the people around you. A pretty blonde with a surfboard, a goth-chick who was fine as hell, a girl who clearly looked like she got everything she wanted, a girl with brown hair that seemed nice enough, a buff girl in a blue outfit, a girl with a shit ton of additude, a set of girls you would've thought were twins, a dude everyone thought was fine (you didn't see it), a tall chubby blonde boy, a nerdy looking redhead, a kid who was clearly homeschooled, a short boy who was looking at the goth chick with a huge smile, a dude who clearly played the guitar, a sporty dude, a blonde muscle-boy with a hat, and lastly a goody-two-shoes who was cute.

Suddenly you heard a loud yell and saw a flash of redhair hit the dock. Courtney ran to grab the girl out of the water. "She could be seriously injured guys." She scolded your group.

"If she thinks a concussion is a serious injury you've never actually been hurt have you?" Duncan laughed and honestly you had to resist the urge to giggle as well.

A chance of 100,000 dollars, and the ability to fuck around with some assholes?

This is going to be the best couple weeks ever.

[stumpyjoepete]

Currently on an apartment hunting trip and took Saturday to go into the city proper. Some good people watching.

Late-middle-aged asian woman talking with a ~60 yo bearded (eastern european? israeli?) man. I pick up the conversation at: - "So, if you need anyone taken out, just let me know" - *shows pictures of four rifles* - "I'm serious, I'm very good!" - <proceeds to explain his long-range target shooting prowess and puts forward some claims about a guinness record of some sort>

They also talked about his friend Martin who gave him some "real san francisco sourdough [starter?]". Also, he shows a bunch of pictures on his phones of various models. They're like ex-ballerinas and gymnasts. Or something. Unclear what the deal with the pictures is and whether this is related to guns or not.

"And then they said, 'you should do this shoot for free, this will blow up your career', and I said 'no! you will pay her!'" So like, I guess beardsy mcgunzo gets points for his position on labor rights. Says modeling is usually a terrible deal for models and it's very exploitative. Says "IT is much better". Not sure how actionable this is for ex-world-class-gymnasts-posing-covered-in-butterflies-or-whatever.

Shows a picture (note: I can't see any of the pictures, other than the first one with the guns). Says his son made it when he was 5. Unclear if his son is currently like 7 or like 30. "Very artistically inclined." And then he says, "and look at the description!" I take it that the description is very detailed and lucid for a five year old. "You see the picture and think he is retarded, but then you see the description and you say wow he is very smart." Some parents put their kids' art up on the fridge, and some parents collect material to roast them I guess.

This whole time, I still cannot figure out what the heck the relationship is between the lady and the dude. She's totally interested in all the crazy stuff he's talking about. Yes-and-ing. "Oh you have 4 guns? I know a guy with 43 guns. I mean, of course they're not as nice as yours." Talking the whole 30 minutes. We get to Grand Central and she says she'll look up Martin if she ever goes to SF, and also nice to meet you.

This lady might actually be the crazier one. I dunno.

[ghoul-slime]

Pictures with Jutty and a (too long) recap under the cut!

Ok first of all WOW, what a weekend. I flew into NYC and met up with @papaslittlesunshine a day before the show. We hung out around the city and did all sorts of fun things, ate good food, and did our best not to melt in the heat and humidity. The day of the show it was raining pretty hard, so we showed up to the line about an hour or so before doors, but the venue was super small and we still ended up getting great spots a few rows of people back.

I'm once again blown away by how great these guys sound live. The guitars are so much heavier and louder than the studio recording and Jutty's vocals are fucking outstanding. It's a completely different experience. Speaking of Jutty, his stage presence is amazing. He'll make (and hold!) eye contact with you a bunch and you can tell he's having a great time and knows exactly what he's doing and how to work the crowd. He also did the as above, so below sign with his hand again before he went off stage, same as he did at the LA show.

Afterwards the guys all hung around the venue and took the time to talk to everyone. It seriously seemed like they must have met just about every single person who came out.

Ross was super cool and easy to talk to, he signed my vinyl and asked if I was coming to the following night's show. I told him I had to go back to LA and he gave me a sad little pat on the arm, which was funny and sweet. Matty was working the merch table. He'd come out of the backstage area after about 10 minutes and realized that they actually had nobody behind the counter selling merch, so he jumped in. He was super nice as well. I told him how great they sounded live and he said thank you. I bought a tote bag and he signed my record and told me very excitedly that the tote bags fit the vinyl records perfectly (he was so excited he told me the same thing again later that night haha.) He also gave me a little handful of DT pins.

I chatted with Hayden the longest, who was SUPER sweet, and very easy to talk to! We talked about living in LA and he said LA was his favorite city in the world, which made me super happy to hear. He told me he lives downtown and I told him I work in the same area and that I live in Koreatown and we talked a bit more about our favorite neighborhoods in the downtown area. He mentioned his dogs and I told him that his dogs were super cute and then he asked if he could show Sunny and I a picture! Of course we said, yes please do! It was a picture of one of his little dogs laying in his open luggage and it was EXTREMELY freaking cute. He said that he'd been asking his dog sitter to send him pictures while he was away, and I said I'd similarly been pestering my friend for pictures of my cats all weekend. He signed my vinyl and I totally forgot to ask for a picture (but that's more than ok).

After that I went outside and there was a line of about 20-30 people waiting to talk to Jutty. Despite there being so many people (and it starting to rain), he took his time talking and listening to everyone who came up to him. The person in front of me in line had made some incredible pieces of art and gifted them to him, and he was just so genuinely excited and in awe and grateful. It was so cool to get to see that exchange. When it was my turn I was fucking nervous as hell, but I talked to him for a short few minutes and gave him a couple of the keychains I'd brought to trade. He said he loved collecting trinkets and then we talked a bit about NY being a refreshing change of scenery from LA. Honestly I was VERY nervous meeting him, but he was incredibly sweet and very attentive. Talking to him is intense, he maintains eye contact with you and listens very carefully to what you have to say. He was so nice and patient and then was sweet enough to sign my record and take a picture with me. (Thank you Sunny for taking the photos!)

We also managed to snag Neil real quick to sign our records as he was heading to the bar across the street and tell him thank you. I also chatted for a bit with the singer from Silent Mass, the opening band, who was originally from LA and we talked about some of the differences between LA and NY.

Overall the entire experience was incredible. Just as good if not better than the first show in LA. I'm also SUPER grateful to Sunny for pushing me to be less shy when it came to meeting/chatting with the guys. If it wasn't for her I'm sure I'd have chickened out and just left! It was also incredible getting to meet so many cool people in line and after the show. I traded keychains and got a lot of cool things in return. Seriously, we met so many creative, cool, funny, and GENEROUS people there (our line neighbor's mom gave us freaking COOKIES from Katz's across the street!). If you were at the show and see any of your goodies here (the picture is most of Sunny and I's combined haul), then thank you so much!!! I will treasure them always.

Here's to a hundred more Drag Talk shows in the future! I seriously hope anyone who wants to see them gets to, because it was such a fun and uplifting experience, between how gracious and genuine and down-to-earth the guys are and how creative and warm all the fans are. Hands down one of the all-time best live music experiences I've ever had.

(This got super long and I'm sure I'm forgetting a ton of stuff, but I wanted to get this out of my head while it's still somewhat fresh.)

[mpsansy]

Just to establish the timeline of when the ghosts were able to turn corporal (Manifestation, able to interact with the living world/remember, etc.), feel free to correct me, but it seems like the trio was first judging by the TikTok of Stretch putting JT in his place. Most likely due to the shear animosity the three most certainly share, if not Stretch having the most himself over Casper. Casper is next by the fact that he’s not oblivious to his father’s… less than stellar record of being an actual father. But because he seems aware of JT’s attempts to resurrect him and his mother… And it be fitting. JT’s greatest failure, wandering the halls of his mansion, an apparition of a life JT could have had… If his selfish ambition wasn’t thicker than blood. But seeing his dad trying helps Casper to still have a generous view of his father… At least until he meets Wendy, and being a witch, hooboy, she can practically taste how THICK the curse is over the McFadden family. Next is Casper’s mother, I feel like I missed the reason why, but I’m going to chalk it up to that because she died so suddenly from the curse her spirit hadn’t really collected itself until much later.

Is any of this slightly correct?

Mm, a little bit of it. But to be fair, I need to be more clear on my posts over there on TikTok. I’m finally starting to get the picture of what I want out of these characters, so I’ll be soon compiling all the things I need to tell about these characters. And having to write it more accurately here will be a big help to translate it into my videos over there!

Anyway, getting back into this. None of these ghosts were ever able to interact with J.T. The trio specifically weren’t even in the manor except for Casper, who saw a man desperately seeking a way to get his family back. Casper had a hunch that this man was perhaps referring to him and another person, but… he didn’t know him. Like at all. It was mixed feeling for the child, but he really did want to help the man.

However the interactions were so small, so faint. It irritated the child. But perhaps irritating J.T more cause now he knew something- someone was there with him. Casper had lashed out and broke some things due to the invisible barrier. Both equally tried to talk, but something was there to say “NO”.

Though this was for the better for Casper. Because this man, the man that was indeed his biological father. In all the years of attempting to bring his wife and child back, he was still thinking of himself. Always had, always will. A reality I don’t think he saw until Wendy came into his life.

Now with what you’re saying there, kinda feels like you pulled it out of my brain. Wendy is not only great friend to Casper, but a spectacular magical genius. Knowing all things about curses and secret spells. And she does see it. All the things that happened to her friend and his family.

It might have actually upset her cause, as you said, she can taste how thick the curse is. I happen to take that literally. With Wendy describing the taste as blood and sticky like tar. Almost suffocating if you wanted her honest opinion. And she feels for this family. She really does cause it seems like all the horrible deaths that happened to the McFadden family, it all occurred because of J.T’s crazed obsession with power. And all of them paying the price for it.

And I kind of said something about Casper’s mother that I’ll be happy to repeat. She was lost in all this time. And with your thought about the curse having a play in that would be appropriate to sum it up to.

She'd be the very first affected by the curse and it pushed her so far away that she split apart. Barely managing to collect herself and trying her best to call out to her family.

Took long enough, but the trio finally heard her calls.

[posttexasstressdisorder]

About That Radio Thing...

A Sort-of MasterPost in Zenith Mid-Century Industrial Design

Every once in awhile I get bitter about what I had thought was gonna be my "happy fun retirement project", because I ended up having to give them all up. I took a lot of really good photos of them in the process of selling them on eBay for literal pennies compared to the dollars I'd spent on them. So at least there's the pictures, and the knowledge.

I'm talkin' about my radios. Radio, real AM Radio used to be so incredible, before it became hate-radio. It was how I heard EVERYTHING first!

The year is 1971. I'm a musical-obsessive 12 year old and hearing Lennon's "Power To The People" come over the airwaves for literally the first time, along with everyone else! It felt incredible! It was how we all connected to the big energy of our time. In a way, it was our internet.

After my sweetie died I wanted to collect radios that I liked, radios with a certain kind of industrial-streamlined deco vibe, and boy I collected. In the span of a couple of years I managed to find/buy a large collection of Zenith radios in particular, along with a few choice others.

The main object of my obsession was the industrial design of most Zenith radios from 1939-1953, the work of one Robert Davol Budlong. His designs speak to me. Seeing the evolution of style from between those two dates is impressive.

So I was all set to enjoy being an old radio guy. Until I wasn't.

There are a lot of reasons the radio collecting thing just decidedly became NOT what I was going to do. First was finding out a lot of the "old radio enthusiasts" are mostly old nazi shits.

I had been excited about living just down the street from a "museum/club" building, but after I actually tried to interact a few times, that pretty much came crashing to a halt.

There was one younger guy who seemed OK, but as for any other interactions, not really. And it coincided with my financial downward spiral in such a way that I had to start selling off what had at least occupied my grieving mind (and eyes).

Eye candy becomes expendable when shit gets real. I ended up having to sell most of the radios. I kept one console, and a couple of small transistors. So I kinda had to grieve not only my sweetie, but the "eye candy" that had occupied me since she died.

Oh, and somehow in the shuffle of this shitshow of life this past 10 years, I once managed to leave the lock unlocked on my (supposedly secure and guarded) storage unit, and thirty of my prize radios and record players were literally wheeled out and stolen. About $2k worth.

And now, I'm too broke to collect a goddamn thing.

But at least I still have the pictures.

That's what started this. Every once in awhile I want to see them. It makes me happy to see all that amazing Budlong design again. Of the ones that worked, I can remember what each one sounded like. I also collected ads for certain models, catalog pages that they were part of, etc. There are posts about that, as well.

So I thought I'd just put all the links to the main radio posts I've made over the last few years, making this a Radio Masterpost of sorts.

Lots of mid-century industrial design eye candy. Yer welcome. Alternately, go to my page and just search "Zenith" or "radio", "radio ads", "catalog", "radio advertising" etc. I don't do the tag thing much, but the search works pretty good on my page, actually.

So yeah, the love affair with radios will stay mine, but it's bittersweet.

AND NOTE: THEY ARE ALL GONE, VERY SOLD. ANY EBAY LINKS ARE LONG, LONG DEAD.

Just search my blogpage to see some more. I'll try to gather all the various links together here.

Here's one last one for today. Another of Zenith's unicorns, the T545: Combination radio and 45-rpm-only record changer, in all its original bakelite splendour. This is another rare bird that, sadly, I only owned for a few months before having to give it up again. I hope the new owner has done the electronic/mechanical restore to it and that lit lives on. To have found one with absolutely no real damage to the bakelite, and brights that are BRIGHT, it's really rare! Feast your eyes.

[jeannereames]

The Importance of Space

Sometimes where we work matters. At least it does for me.

When my sabbatical was approved for spring of 2024, I assumed I’d do it where I’d spent most of the pandemic: my couch with a rolling laptop desk, and my kitchen table. I have an office at the uni, yes, but have never worked well there. As a grad student, I got used to research in my home space, and I never successfully transitioned to an office somewhere else. I have colleagues who can't work at home, for whatever reason, but I work best at home (even when my son was young).

For some time, I've planned to renovate my upstairs into an office after my son graduated and moved out, for “when I retire.” In fact, I bought this old (1936) house because it had a lovely open floor plan in the finished attic that just SCREAMS library/office. But it needed a split-AC to better control the temps, and serious updating. I’d even had thoughts of adding a little half-bath. I started saving up for all this as soon as I moved in, but it would cost a lot, so it became what felt like a “unicorn” long-term goal. My work for the ATG Netflix docudrama was to get additional funds towards that renovation sooner than “some day.”

This past summer, I finally had the split-AC done. Nothing else could move forward until that, replacing windows, and the potential half-bath. Yet estimates for the last were out of this world, post-Covid, so I decided to jettison the idea.

THAT meant—around August/September—I realized I might be able to get all the updates done in time for sabbatical.

You have no idea how much this recognition thrilled me. To have My Own Home Office (again), and make it just the way I wanted it (albeit without a half-bath). So, bids commenced. I had a GOAL, and a timeline. My sabbatical would begin January 2nd, 2024. And by golly, I was going to have my office (mostly) ready. That a retrograde Mercury would turn direct the evening of January 1st (my time zone), made me all the more convinced that it was the right date to begin.

Ergo, on top of the crazy teaching load, and editing for the Macedonian collection, I scheduled renovations. I just had to survive through December! It was sometimes anxiety-inducing, and half my library (non-academic) was up there. I had to pack all the books (c.1000+), move them downstairs, then move them BACK. Upside? I’ve been recording them with Library Thing as I unpack and reshelve, so I’ll finally have an accurate list of everything I own, at least at home. I’m also slowly using those same (emptied) boxes to bring home books and files from my uni office, for research. And for Christmas, my dear son made me a pair of custom sized-for-the-wall-space bookshelves, 5 feet by 5 feet. I’m tickled pink.

I even managed to find, after much searching, a desk and office chair that are low enough for a short person (The Struggle Is Real). They arrived just in time to be assembled before Jan. 2nd. It really did feel like FATE.

Oh, yes…best part. My office is inspired by Chefchaouen, Morocco’s famous Blue City, with bi-colored blue walls, white ceiling and accents, and a terra-cotta toned carpet. The various installers thought I was nuts until they actually saw it complete: ‘Oh, yeah, this really works.’ Um, yes. Yes, it does. Sun-yellow cushion and blue-yellow-white sheer scarf curtains complete it. Plus a beautiful blue-and-white bowl a student brought back from Morroco for me—the first décor I set out along with my reproduction of the gold sarcophagus from Royal Tomb II at Vergina that Beth Carney bequeathed me.

Eventually, once all the bookshelves are in place, I’ll decorate with photos from Macedonia. My dining room features photographs I took in Rome + a little Greece, the living room is mostly Greece…but my office? That’ll be Macedonia. Virtually all the pictures in the house (with a couple exceptions) I took myself.

There's still a lot more to do; less than half the books are unpacked. My white board isn't up yet, some furniture is still downstairs, BUT.

Today, I unpacked the Loebs I’d brought home, onto my new desk, and started organizing my research. 😊

[btwimkindagay]

About me

Thanks @littledreamling for the tag

Nickname: Usually Breezy! My first name is a place name, so some of my friends call me by other place names (but more commonly acquaintances who think they are funnier than they are 🙄)

Sign: Sagittarius sun, Taurus moon, Aquarius rising. I hope that doesn't give away all my secrets

Height: 5'7 or 170cm!

Last thing I googled: "Wilfred Owen Letter to Wife poem". It's actually called "The Letter"

Song stuck in my head: I don't have one at the moment which I'm grateful for because I have a headache which feels like someone is trying to lobotomise me through my left eye. (I've taken some painkillers so I'm just being dramatic until they kick in)

Followers: 138! Thanks to everyone for politely waiting out the Goncharov phase

Amount of sleep: I regularly get 9-10 hours of sleep because otherwise I feel so bad 😥 I am envious of people who need less because for me 8 hours and 4 hours feel the same 🤢

Dream job: probably also a professor, like Crow! I'd love to be able to do research on things I'm interested in (it's always gay nuns, but recently it's also polygyny within medieval Jewish communities), and chat with colleagues about theirs, and write articles, and make lots of powerpoint presentations (I love them because I can even script in my jokes), and see what the younger generation are interested in when it comes to history! However, as we have established I am a very tired person, so I'm not sure how well I would cope with the expectation of out of hours work.

Wearing: Blue silk pyjama bottoms decorated with little white vines and flowers, brown walking socks, and a long fluffy hooded! dressing gown which I would probably call maroon or burgundy. Don't judge me for this (or do, I deserve it).  For the more wattpad experience we can also say that I have thrown my long brown hair into a messy bun.

Books/movies that summarise me: I could ask my friends, or I could just insert a picture of the DSM-V here because that's what they'll all send me

Favourite song: I don't have favourite anythings to be honest, but my most played song this year (at a whopping 22 times) was Zitti e Buoni by Måneskin. Lyric-wise I'm still obsessed with Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wives, specifically "I know that you mean so well, but I am not a vessel for your good intent".

Favourite instrument: I've played clarinet, recorder, guitar, and keyboard, none of which I had any talent for 😂

Aesthetic: I've been told so many things about how I dress so I'll try to keep it brief. I own an eclectic collection of dresses (probably 60+) and tend to favour colourful patterns for daily wear and single colour grecian-style drapes for formal events. I likewise own lot of colourful patterned tops (described by my friends as "pretty", "flattering", "interesting", and "like you took it from your mum's wardrobe" (she gave it to me)) which I wear with jeans. That said, I can most commonly be found in my "grandad" looks of a men's shirt open over a vest or buttoned to the bare minimum of decency, or one of my two favourite golf jumpers (one grey, one beige).

Favourite authors: I don't have favourite authors of books (though I definitely do for fanfiction), but I do want to read more Margaret Atwood because I've only read The Handmaid's Tale and that one quote from The Robber Bride that lives rent free in my head.

Random fun fact: I managed to get super glue in my mouth when I was decorating a christmas bauble with watch parts last night! Very on brand, I'm notoriously clumsy. I also only managed to super glue two of my fingers together, so that is a new record

Tagging @bidet-and-legolas @a-liittle-bit-of-both and anyone who fancies it!

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

This is based on a scene from the Netflix series Spinning Out, since Kat, Serena and their mother remind me of Sirius, Regulus and Walburga.

*********

"Maybe you should just leave everything there..." James said with a concerned voice "We can buy new stuff"

Sirius shook his head. There were some valuable things in there. Things that were irreplaceable. Like the collection of records he had received from Alphard. His books, his drawings, his pictures. Some other stuff.

God... Ok... Sirius hadn't told James that maybe the real reason he wanted to go back to that house was to see Reggie. He had been worried for the past three weeks, having terrible nightmares of Orion doing to him the same stuff he did to Sirius. He couldn't stop imagining Reggie all alone and scared. Like he used to be when he was a kid. Sirius had to see him. He had to ask Reggie if he wanted to come with him. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe Sirius could convince him. Maybe Sirius could rescue him from that hellhole.

So they told Effie and Monty they were having a nice drive to celebrate James' new driver's license. But in reality, Sirius dragged him here.

"I'll be quick, Prongsie. I promise" Sirius said, trying to keep his voice steady. Keeping the bad memories from that night out of his mind. That was the last time he had been at Grimmauld Place.

"You can wait outside if you want" Sirius added.

James shook his head, then he smiled comfortably.

"I'll come with you"

Sirius smiled back. He couldn't do this without James by his side.

The guards were very stupid to let them inside the property. Perhaps Sirius' parents hadn't forbid him the entrance. Or perhaps they were expecting him to come back. Maybe it was all a trap.

James parked the car just outside the mansion. Both boys looked at each other and nodded encouraging each other to move. They got out of the car, and walked to the door quickly.

Sirius knocked before he hesitated. But once he did so, he started shaking.

"Orion is probably not here" Sirius said nervously "Let's hope she isn't as well"

James nodded with a comforting smile.

Sirius hoped Reggie was the only one home. Sirius really hoped Reggie was at home. Sirius wanted to see him.

Unfortunately, it wasn't Reggie who opened the door. Not even one of the maids. It was Walburga herself.

Sirius took a few paces back. So as James.

Walburga looked furious, but also very tired. She wasn’t wearing any makeup or elegant clothes. She was actually in jeans and a sweater which made her look younger and weird. She had bags under her eyes. And she had a cup of wine between her fingers, like always.

She took a nasty glance at Sirius and then at James. Then she smiled evily.

"Look who is back from the death"

Sirius remembered the last words she said to him. 'Nobody is going to love you. You are nothing but a burden. Who is going to stand your temperament?' But he tried not to act scared or intimidated.

"I am here to get my stuff" Sirius announced as confidently as he could and pushed his way through the door.

"Hi Mrs. Black" James added nervously before following Sirius inside.

Sirius realized it was the first time James actually visited his house (ex house). When Sirius had visited his so many times he had always been welcome. He even lived there now.

Walburga didn't try to stop them. She just followed them with her gaze. And as Sirius and James climbed the stairs, Walburga followed them too.

Everything was the same as it always was. But at the same time, it felt so wrong being there. Sirius felt like an intruder.

Sirius was walking through the second floor corridor, when Regulus came out of his room. Sirius stopped on his tracks. Reggie!

His brother looked skinnier, paler, sadder. Could that be possible? It hadn't been so long since...

Sirius remembered Regulus' expression as he left that night. Tears on his eyes, scared, sad but also angry. Very very angry. Sirius hadn't been able to shake that image out of his head.

"You're back" Regulus said.

His voice sounded different now. He wasn't angry. There was hope in his voice. Hope. It broke Sirius' heart. Sirius felt an inexplicable urge to close the gap between them and hug his little brother. God, he had missed him so much.

"Sirius won't be here long" Sirius heard Walburga's voice behind him. Regulus' eyes turned to her with fear "I bet his new mommy and daddy would be expecting him for dinner..." she turned to James "Isn't that right, Mr. Potter?"

James didn't dare to say anything.

"Go back to your room, baby" Walburga said to Regulus "And close the door"

Sirius wanted to beg Regulus not to leave. But he didn't dare. Besides, Regulus' expression changed with Walburga's words. He became angry. He gave a nasty look at James. Then a nasty look at Sirius before getting back inside his room.

"Fucking hell, Walburga" Sirius snapped furiously.

At least Regulus was alright. At least Sirius saw him again. Now all he wanted to do was pick up his things and leave.

He got inside his own older room, followed by James. He was surprised to see everything had been moved or stored away in boxes. That hit Sirius in the guts. Sirius had ran away before, but when he was back, everything was always the same. But not this time. It meant one thing. It was over. It was really over. Sirius wasn't welcome anymore this time.

"Here" James passed him a bag he found on the floor.

Sirius tried to avoid the knot on his throat as he started putting in the bag everything he could. James helped as well.

Walburga was watching them from the door, arms crossed. Then she rolled her eyes and buffed.

"What do you think you are doing, Sirius?"

"I am moving out with James... So I am talking my stuff"

What Sirius didn't know was that Regulus had popped out his head out of his room to hear their conversation.

"Your stuff?" Walburga snorted "It's not your stuff unless you pay for it. And you didn't. They are my stuff. And you're not taking my stuff out of my house!"

Sirius was willing to ignore her. He just wanted to be out. He felt like he couldn't breathe in there. But Walburga walked towards them, he pushed James away and ripped the bag out of Sirius' hands.

"Are you fucking serious right now, mother?"

She squeezed the bag between her arms like a kid.

"You're acting like a child!"

"Who is the child here, sweetheart?"

Sirius and Walburga stared into each other's eyes defeintly, like they always did. They fought and fought until they tasted blood. They both had the same temper. They both wanted to win.

But out of the sudden, James sighed.

"Come on, Walburga..." he said "Why do you always have to be such a fucking bitch?"

Sirius was surprised to hear those words coming out from his best friend's mouth. He would've laughed if he wasn't so scared and stressed.

James was surprised of himself too because the minute he said that, he started blinking hard and he went bright red.

Walburga was taken aback as well. She blinked in surprised and ducked her head to the side.

Then she frowned furiously.

"Why did you just say to me?" she asked.

James was still frozen, so Sirius decided to act quickly. He grabbed the bag out of his mother's hands who gave in easily, still processing James' words. He took James' arm and dragged him out of there.

Regulus retrieved back to his room.

"Sorry, Mrs. Black" James finally said as they were climbing down the stairs. Walburga behind them "I always wanted to call you that... This might be my only chance"

Sirius and James got out of the house and Sirius inhaled the summer air outside. He had been holding his breath. But there were not quite out there yet. They needed to climb to the car and drive away from the property. Fast. Now.

Walburga was still behind them.

"Come on, Sirius. You don't even know how to wipe your butt. How are you going to survive on your own?" she said as Sirius put the bag in the back seat "Are you going to depend all your life on The Potters? Let me tell you, they are not going to last long"

Sirius saw James frowning as he got into the driver's seat.

"Fuck you!"

"You're not going to last very long without all the luxury from this house" Walburga added "You're a spoiled brat. And the Potters are not going to stand you!" she shouted "With your changing moods and tantrums..."

"I don't care!"

He didn't want to waste his breath explaining to her how The Potters had been everything she hadn't. How they were so amazing with Sirius. How he felt comfortable with them. How they felt like home and he wished they could be his real parents. They would never leave him, or get tired of him. Right?

'But what if they do?' A voice said inside his head 'Walburga knows you longer. She is your mother and she knows how insufferable you actually are. How you ruin things. How explosive you are. The Potters hadn't met that side of you'

Sirius shook that voice away.

"As long as I don’t have to live with you anymore!" Sirius added.

Walburga looked at him.

"Fine!" she said as Sirius got into the car, next to James "Fine, do what you want"

Sirius didn't know if he should feel relieved. He was about to close the door when she added.

"Just know you won't be back in Regulus' life as long as I have anything to do with it"

Sirius froze at those words. No! Reggie! Did this mean he won't be able to see his brother again?

Walburga walked back inside the house with a wicked smile.

Sirius took a look at the mansion in front of him.

Regulus was in there. Regulus was still in there.

"Come on, Pads!" James said, getting Sirius back to reality "Let's get out of here before your father gets home. He gives me the creeps"

Sirius closed the door in defeat and James started the engine, when Sirius saw Regulus himself getting out of one of the first floor windows.

"Wait!" he said.

Regulus was carrying a bag. Why was he carrying a bag? Did this meant he wanted to come with him?

"Hang on!" Sirius told James as he stepped out of the car.

"What are you doing, Reg?" Sirius asked as he approached him.

Regulus took a quick look at James' car before answering.

"You cannot leave without Rufus"

Sirius gasped when he saw the little teddy in Regulus' hands. Rufus was Regulus' teddy bear when he was a kid. He used to go everywhere with it. One night, when Reggie couldn't sleep, because of his nightmares, Sirius had told him that Rufus was magical. Like an amulet, he said. That every time he held him, he won't have  nightmares. Regulus believed it. So everytime, Sirius woke up with nightmares or couldn't sleep, Reggie would lend him Rufus.

"We can share him" little Reggie had said "I don't want you to have nightmares as well"

Sirius tried not to tear up as he grabbed the teddy from Regulus' hands.

"But he is yours" Sirius whispered.

"I bet you are going to need him more than me"

Sirius smiled but Regulus didn't. He sounded angry.

"Plus, I am a grown up now"

Sirius hugged the teddy between his arms as Regulus grabbed the bag from the floor.

"Your precious records" Regulus put the bag on Sirius' arms "Mother wanted to throw them away but I rescued them, in case you came back" he looked down now. Like those words hurt him "You're welcome"

Sirius didn't know what to say.

"Now go" Regulus added.

"Come with me" Sirius' voice broke. He was begging and pleading with his words, with his eyes.

Regulus looked up at him.

"We can live with James now and then get a flat of our own..." Sirius continued, he felt his eyes were full of tears "Come with me... Please Reg"

"No" Regulus answered. Just like that.

Sirius frowned and shook his head. He didn't understand. Why couldn't Regulus come with him?

"Reg..."

"You took your decision and I took mine" Regulus interrupted "I want to stay"

"But..."

The car's honk made Sirius jump.

"Pads! Let's go!" James shouted.

Regulus was looking at him with disgust.

"You don't want your new brother waiting, Sirius"

Regulus spoke with the same venom as Walburga had spoken minutes ago. Sirius realized how much Regulus resembled her. The same sarcastic tone. The same frown. The same way she twisted her mouth. He even had his arms crossed. Just like her.

"Reg..." Sirius tried "Can I see you at school?"

Regulus took his time to answer.

"Goodbye, Sirius" he finally spat before returning back to the window.

Sirius had lost his chance. His heart felt small. His body felt cold. He wiped the single tear that felt down his cheek.

"Sirius!" James called now more gently.

Sirius walked back to the car like a zombie. He got in without saying a word. And James didn't insist. He drove away.

The whole drive back Sirius was silent. James didn't insist on talking. He turned on the radio instead. The further they were from Grimmauld Place, the more Sirius felt he could breathe. But he also felt so small. So vulnerable. He held Rufus between his arms as if the teddy was his brother himself. He couldn't believe Reggie didn't come with him. Was there anything more he could've done? Some more convincing? Perhaps just dragging him against his will until he understood?

Sirius looked out of the window when he felt he couldn't take it no more. And tears rolled down his eyes. He didn't want James to see him cry.

Regulus was all Sirius thought about. He didn't know if Regulus hate him or not. He didn't know if he would be able to see him again. He didn't know what Walburga would do to stop him. All Sirius knew was that he wanted his brother back. This was so fucking unfair. Why didn't he come with him? Why did he choose them? After everything....

When they got back to the Potter's property, Sirius felt more safe. But he wished his brother was here. So he hugged the teddy tighter. Regulus was right. Sirius would need Rufus more.

James turned off the engine and looked at Sirius with concern. Unsure of what to do. Sirius didn't want to worry him. He had done enough.

"I can't believe you called my mother a bitch"

Sirius smiled. James too.

Sirius and James began laughing at that, breaking any tension.

"I can't believe it either!" James giggled now more relaxed "It felt so great"

"I bet" Sirius smirked "She is actually a bitch"

They laughed a bit more. Then James smiled at him.

"Hungry?"

"Starving!"

James nodded.

"Let's eat some of mum's pastries before dinner"

James rubbed Sirius' hair before getting out of the car. Surely after, Sirius got out too.

He was back home.

[creative-soul-22]

Something I wish I had known earlier

I started having favourite characters and therefore becoming part of a fandom at the age about 4/5.

I started writing stories at the age about 9/10.

I started collection pictures of my favourite characters/movie stills at the age about 13/14.

I started making and editing videos about my favourite characters also at the age about 13/14.

I started out poorly. The first things I wrote were nothing but childish scrabbles about nonsense stuff my twisted 10 year old brain came up with. Most of my scrabbles from the past cringe me so out that most of them have been destroyed and thrown away (but my mum saved like my first scrabble I did in a booklet I made for her) By the age of 14 I saw Frozen for the first time and I wanted to write a story about a character like Elsa ever since. I made like 1,000 attempts (That is by the way my longest ongoing project).

Also with the movie stills. The first movie stills had the pause sign from the DVD player on it, the display structure fully visable because they were (not well taken) shots of the DVD player screen (Screenshots in their raw original meaning). They were taken by a digital camera from like 2003 with a tiny screen and a poor quality. Still I was finally able to capture my favourite characters, looking at their photos. They meant everything to me. I literally had an entire album filled with them.

Same for the videos. The first one was also shot from the DVD player with my Nintendo 3DS. Then tried putting music under it, timing it to the video (still couldn't put music under the video as it's sound, I had to start the video on the 3DS and play the music on the DVD player, also 3DS videos are silent without sound). That's how I started video editing.

Then, with the 3DS I also started photo editing, like putting a sparkle brush on it.

And still I was trying to improve my works. Did I watch Youtube tutorials? Not til this very day. Everything I do today is "handcrafted", if you want to call it that way and all the quality you see is coming from 10-14 year long journey of doing it. Literally learning by doing. You don't know how many times I have spent on recording movie scenes to get stills like this:

And often, even to this day, I decide to delete thousands of stills for the dullest reasons only to remake them months later (although I think it's time now to set up something lasting and I'm working on that). There is something someone told me in my youth:

"Being creative means you make 95% shit and 5% real good stuff. But you have to make that 95% shit to make the 5% good stuff".

The person was actually talking about dancing positions spefically because that was the task at this moment but still the message is universal so I changed the quote a bit.

So, you see, the things I do today have been there in my life for a very long time in my life. Basically my entire life, if you consider how young I was when I started having favourite characters and writing.

But the thing is, it took me a very, very long time to realize these are my hobbies. You know, for a long time, my answer to the question "what are your hobbies/interests?" was like "Reading... baking*... watching movies" because I was brainwashed by those kids whose answers were "Horseback riding! Ballet! Playing the (insert ibstrument here)!"

Watching movies wasn't considered a real hobby by my teacher in ninth grade (she literally said it would make us look lazy if we put "watching movies" as a hobby in our job application) so I felt like I had no hobbies. I was insecure about who I was. You know that was that time when the question "what are your hobbies/interests?" was a frequently asked question. I was 16-17 years old.

Until one magical day I realized that it was all there. Right before me. Ever since the description of my hobbies/interests always says to this day: "telling stories, writing texts, editing videos and photos, reading, acting, watching movies and shows."

Don't let anyone tell you your hobbies aren't hobbies. If you like doing something and you enjoy to do it in your free time it's your HOBBY.

*baking was considered one of my hobbies because I really enjoyed it at school and I was better at baking then at cooking although my cooking teacher in the last for 4 years of school was like HELL but that's a whole different story.

[thetenthdimension]

I Can't Stop Writing Diaries

There’s this one picture I took two years ago. Well, it’s two pictures, one isn’t as good as the other so I forget about it.

It’s the picture I look back on as the axle that my life is spinning around. At the solstice of 2022, at the age of 27, I went to a park in Tolworth that was on my way to work. I arrived at dawn, changed into a white floral dress, and did sun salutations at sunrise. After that, I did Tai Chi until I had to start work at 6am.

That day I was thinking the culmination of thoughts who-knows-how-long in the making. “I don’t want to look back at the age of 50 when so much of my life is already done, and just wish I had the courage earlier”. Three, maybe four, days later I finalised my new name and spoke to a couple of friends. It was time to transition.

The picture was taken at the Solstice, as the sun rose, in that dress, doing those sun salutations. One of the most pivotal moments of my life actually captured.

I can’t stop thinking about Herodotus.

He’s the “father of history”. The first (western, preserved) person to write an extended record of history. Before him, all we have is archaeological artefacts. We look at them and guess their meaning.

Even this is amazing. The amount of oral history that floated away as soon as it was spoken must be staggering on a level of a shadow-internet. We have a literary record with herodotus. He brings the past into vivid colour. You look at the Proto-Indo-European culture of 4000 BC and you piece it together with some wheels, some cups, some grave goods, and the odd descendant word across 500 descendant languages. Herodotus makes history feel like it’s finally arrived.

I never used to take pictures. Certainly not of myself. The first time I ever took lots of selfies was after I was an extra in Bohemian Rhapsody. They put me in pretty makeup and did my hair and on the last day, I asked them very politely not to wipe it off or undo it. I took all the pictures at the train station. It was the first time I ever felt compelled to do this. I remember loving myself and finally feeling good. My scene got cut.

I look back on those pictures and make my best guesses as to my thoughts. I think they jog my memory. I’m grateful to have something to latch onto. How much is lost, though?

One thing they ask you during a psych evaluation for transition is “were you unhappy then? Are you happier now?” God, I think so? I feel happier, I think? I look back at bright spots and dark spots and I can say there’s a common thread. But how can I reconstruct my thoughts when so many of them have just floated away?

I have these moments I call Talismans. Moments that when I doubt myself, I think back to and remember the feeling. Spending an hour staring at myself before a goth girl concert because I felt I looked amazing. The first time I got gendered right when I’d deliberately put little effort in. I try to hold them and the feeling close. I keep them written down, because I want to preserve those thoughts. How can I prove to myself I’ve transitioned if I can’t prove I’ve changed?

But the thing I cling on to more than anything is this: even if I can’t prove I’ve had that change, I know in that moment that I Want it. I’m desperately checking my face, body, and mindset every day to try and find any evidence that the hormones are working. Even if I don’t have a vivid history, I can learn to trust my present.

It’s two years on. I’m back in that park. I was here last solstice too. It feels good to collect my thoughts again. Who knows what’ll feel good next year. All I hope is that that’s what I’m doing.

[infinitywritesnyc]

Alright you desperate, horny little fucks (including myself) It's time to set the record straight! The person we are going to marry is most likely not on social media apps. Although according to New York Post Magazine long distance relationships have a 60% success rate, I in the other hand I get too anxious not being able to have someone by my side when I need companionship. So consider me part of that 40% failure bracket!

The man of our dreams is more than likely not on Tinder, Hinge, or even Grindr. For some of us ,our future partner is in uptown Washington Heights smoking their hookah sipping on his corona on a hot summer NYC day. For few, they may be in a meeting closing deals or on a trip to Ibiza so he could rave all night. To many they might be at a local store, or just down block, or even better right in front of them. I tend to had my fair share with men, and one thing i have realized about dating apps is that they are overwhelmingly sexually heightened. To the point where in 2024 The First Date, especially in the local community is either, Netflix and Chill, a Cyph, Carplay, or with even higher chances a 'one night stand'.

WHAT HAPPENED TO LOVE GUYS? I am feening for someone to pull up unannounced with flowers, with reservations to Blend On The Water for two, and a playlist ready for the night. Someone who makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world. Does that exist anymore? Or did Love go extinct? Are we just all trying to fuck each other until we run out of people to fuck? What are we gonna do if we all fucked? At least pick three to start a family and keep em on a rotation? Hmm maybe that's why people try to aim for polynomory. But not me! I'm a Monomagous person, so I did some research of my own. 

For a long time I used to believe falling in love online, was the only way my life would change, but in reality social media is an outlet for us to share, create, and support one another. The love part should come after the first link up, after the first get together, creating face to face memories! The list of people I have met online growing up till this day in age 2024? Reaches 20,000 users! I GURANTEE you, that 40% from back in the days are faded into the clouds, the other 40% I have met and created an acquainted relationship with, then there's the 10% that I actually was able to maintain close friendships with and like 2 relationships came out of those online interactions from the age of 13-24.

During the COVID pandemic in 2020 we were locked up and collectively fell under the same illusion that gathered a billion brains blended into one, why do you think anxiety sky rocketed ? Cause we all know exactly what we are thinking and feeling, we all have an ideology of being one. We all tend to downplay it 99% of the times by being relatable to one another in which created what I like to call TikTok Culture, which includes; The effect on how we listen to music, what we find admirable, what is right or wrong, what is in or out. We came together to solve the solutions to our distractions rather than seeing the bigger picture, (which as of today June 2024 that illusion is slowly breaking, and hopefully this blog shatters it) 

the bigger picture: the world we need to fight for is outside of our front door, not in our screens. Then you will see and feel the full effect of the manifestation that's bursting to come outside of you into the world. 

Which is why I am very big on in person interaction, understanding, accepting and loving one another. In-Person experiences are way more genuine, memorable, and in my opinion the most real. When you meet at a job, bump into each other at the market, meet at a festival or concert. At the end of the day everyone has their own version of what's real right? This is mine.

But just to clarify on something really quick, the term "In-Person" did not exist before the pandemic. Think about that. 

Consequently, I took notes at the simple fact that every men i have tried to date or fucked. Left me scooped into the streets with no self-progression, i look back and noticed how much experience I've gained, both negative and positive, yet! Even though how i move about life has helped me focus where i want to be, i genuinely did not benefit from these relationships AT ALL! So i came to a conclusion that me and my future man's end of life goals, will most likely allign, and we will eventually end up with each other, so why don't I just live? take the steps that i need to get to my end goal, and in time the love of my life will meet me in the middle, at the right time. So FUCK dating apps, write your end of life goal, take those steps! And meet the love of your life! YOUR PERSON IS, OUT THERE! 

New York Post Magazine - https://nypost.com/2018/10/31/long-distance-relationships-are-more-successful-than-you-think/# (Oct 31, 2018)

[daveinediting]

In the beginning, I was a reader.

Actually, I was a listener to stories my parents read to me. I was also a listener to Disney records my parents would play for me. The one I remember most? 101 Dalmatians.

I've still got Cruella's voice in my head from that record.

Reading's a thing that happened in grade school. In class, of course, but also selections from those Scholastic catalogs our teachers would hand out. I remember the first two books I ordered were ghost story collections. Then, later on, I got into DC's horror comics that I'd buy down at the local 7-11. In 1977, I caught Starlog issue 6 out of the corner of my eye at the local grocery store. I bought it and kept buying each new issue.

So.

I was a listener in the beginning who eventually became an avid reader as well.

In third grade, our teacher, Mrs. Lohse, gave us opportunities to write our own "books". We'd write a story, turn it in, after which it was typed up by a parent who left room for pictures on some of the pages. We'd then add a thin cardboard cover to those pages, title and illustrate the cover, add illustrations where there was room on the typed pages, staple down the middle three times, fold the pages and cover right over the stapes and voila!

A book.

I was absolutely hooked.

And so I became a writer, too. I don't remember much more writing in grade school but I do remember analyzing stories like "The Price of the Head" in Mr. Allen's Language Arts class, the first time I remember discussing the craft of writing. Then Mr. Hodges in High School, one of two Creative Writing classes I took in High School with more writing analysis like Contemporary Lit in college as well as more creative writing. And then more in-depth analyses on books like Nancy Freedman's "Joshua, Son of None" and Mary Shelley's "Frankenstein". And then a coupla plays, high school satires about our class which my friends read at lunch.

I got all the laughs I was going for. Which only got me more hooked.

Then in college I picked up more game in Copywriting and Advertising Campaigns while pursuing my university major. The two classes between them involved a combination of persuasive writing and creative writing.

Okay now rewind a bunch. Because I was also a musician. Or, at least, my parents signed me up for piano lessons when I was in grade school. I remember basic music classes in school, by the way, rudimentary music theory (Tah, Tah, Tee-Tee, Tah) and actual play performances. The top two plays that come to mind are a big deal lead role in a play put on by my Boy Scouts troop at my grade school... and The Ghost of Christmas Past in A Christmas Carol.

My parents made sure I rehearsed. Know what I mean? They would record the entire play except for my lines so, as I followed along listening, they would pause the recording so that I could say my line for that moment, and then un-pause it until my next line. In the Boy Scouts play, I had a ton of lines so it was pretty easy to know where they went.

I still remember how excited our den mother was at my performance. Either because I the best actor ever, or...

Her expectations weren't super high to begin with.

Either way, that kind of excitement over something I'd done was addicting.

Definitely memorable.

Somewhere in there, I also joined the boy choir at church that later turned into being a member of the adult church choir. So yeah. Music music music. Choir choir choir. Rehearse rehearse rehearse. Perform perform perform.

All these activities continued through Jr. High and High School in different variations. The music. The singing. The musicals. And then around Junior or Senior year in high school, my parents helped me buy a basic synthesizer. Shortly after, I saved up and bought another one that could do more. And then not long after that my parents gave me a multitrack cassette recorder for Christmas. A friend of mine who was a guitar player (relentlessly practicing Pete Townshend's guitar parts from classic Who songs, mostly "Pinball Wizard") jumped right into the opportunity and we started writing and recording songs. And then later I'd rent more advanced synths from American Music in order to write and record even more complex songs. Even later still, a friend of ours who was a drummer with his own kit and his own backlog of songs joined in.

The writing and recording continued through college where I took to a major in Advertising with the intent of starting a career in that endeavor within the local advertising community at an ad agency. Not long after I graduated, though, I realized I didn't want a career in advertising.

Whoops.

Later that same year, I caught a flyer in the mail about The Art Institute of Seattle, went to their open house, and was into my first quarter of the Music & Video Business program that December.

Around that same time, my Advertising Campaigns professor hooked me up with his contact at Instructional Media Services on campus that started me working as a cable channel operator and turned into a position on the production crew at IMS.

At The Art Institute, I picked up the basics of editing which was fortunate because I also picked up an opportunity to be an assistant editor for one of the producers at IMS who was starting his own production company to produce travel shows for public television. It's for that company that I later became an editor and then much later a composer and then somewhere in there a pinch-hitter for motion graphic design.

Same deal at IMS that eventually became UW Video.

And also now on projects for which I do the one-man band thing in my home studio. Editing. Graphics/motion graphics. Music.

I'm still an avid reader, by the way. And I'm still an even more avid writer.

It's how I process my thoughts across a number of arenas personal, professional, and a few things on the outside.

All of that experience, by the way, centered me in a particular way: music. That and writing were my thing. Therefore musicians and writers were my people. Which was fortunate because in my career path, writers were also most often producers in need of editors. So it was helpful to share some of the same headspace. And musicians,well...

A lot of people in my life are musicians in some way. Which is how it was in school. Most of my friends were in choir. So music's how I identified. Music's how I thought of myself. It was the context in which I thought of myself.

It's the way I engaged the world.

So.

The other day I was in a conversation about school districts, budget cuts, fine arts and performing arts. We were discussing how the arts in general are understood to be elective, accessories if you will, to serious education. And how the one school district was down to one full-time music teacher.

One.

Which tells you just where the school district's cutting back.

It also brought to mind everything I wrote about just now. It brought to mind the question of what my life would be if I didn't have that thread of music classes and opportunities running through my education. If I didn't have an environment of creativity in which to engage the world in the way I'm wired to engage the world.

I was definitely ADHD boy in school. "Hyperactive" was another word for it. As was "distractible". "High energy" would be a very nice way to put it. "Verbal" would be another.

Of course "talks in class" is how it was typically phrased on my report card. And not in a good way.

Definitely definitely definitely I wasn't for every teacher going back to first grade. Not every teacher could handle me. I got in trouble a bunch. My parents got notes a bunch. I was graded down because of my "citizenship". And a number of teachers yelled.

However.

There were other teachers, Thank God, who could or knew just how to manage me. My guess is that they were either wired similarly or simply knew what they were doing. Of course the ones who contributed the most to who I am were language and literature teachers and music teachers who also consistently modeled a professionalism I didn't recognize until later.

It's not nothing, is what I'm trying to say, the Arts.

They're defining.

They take you places. They connect you to certain people immediately.

And yeah.

You can build your entire life on them.

😁

[dreambook06]

Dream from: January 2017

kinda reiterating what i said last time, but one of the best feelings/sensations ever is when i wake up in the morning after a good night’s sleep, still in a sleepy haze, maybe i had a good dream (if i end up remembering it. oh yeah i just remembered last nights��� it was our 2006 disneyland vacation but it wasn’t… it was so bizarre way too hard to explain. it had many aspects of other dreams i’ve had that i thought i’d forgotten until now. reoccurring characters and locations and stuff. basically i was recording with the camcorder through the rides but it was this whole other world nothing like real life and all the rides were just off and unreality and aaahh. then the target store and the toys there were kinda timeless and i was walking through there with this person who was in my other dreams. they are some kind of unreal version of babyblanket2001 from a dream at least a year ago. btw i was basically my 6-year-old self the whole time or i was no one really. there were so many more deep things than this! then i got these earth balance macaroni and cheese from the top shelf at target and then there was this huge building. btw the macaroni was character shaped like the penguins from madagascar 2 for some reason. and then ‘babyblanket2001’ and some other person were on the top of the building and i handed them the macaroni and said look at this then i went back down etc etc. then the other person ended up throwing a knife and it went through their shoulder what the heck! it is so different in the dream, how it went down, trust me. then etc etc.

i’m on a ride front seat guy says not to record, then the ride keeps going and it’s like a toboggan sled ride and we’re on the middle of nowhere in the snow or sidewalk or something and then mom cuts the cheese and i’m lik you know there are other people on this ride then she looks behind her and me and pilar roll off behind the sled this all these craks open in in the ground and apparently there are all these other characters who are detailed and deep who we’ve befriended along the way and one kid falls in and this is basically exactly like a previous dream i’ve had… etc. then they try to get him out and apparently now it’s set at a huge house where they’re set up stuff to try to get him out and SO MUCH AAAHH. and there are lots of people and they’re in allthe rooms having a sleepover and stuff and one guy’s like is anybody going to help me get them out! etc.etc. then it’s like paige’s house but it’s not idk it’s like a mix of houses i’ve seen on smugmug.com and there are all these fun unexplainable rooms and in every room there are people doing stuff and aaahhhh and then there’s a basement and it’s like mason’s old basement in real life…etc. whatever irrelevant aaahh so much stufff then one of the last things minus so much i left out because it’s too overwhelming, is dad gets mad about something to do with teeth like he’s sick of saving our teeth so he gets all angry and goes in his bedroom and takes the tooth case and throws the teeth all over the bed one by one. when he’s done i go in there and carefully try to collect them all and put them back and i clone them so i have a copy for myself if he throws them away next time. then he sees i photo i took on my camera of all the teeth in a pile and i don’t remember his reaction but i actually did take a picture of them in real life a few weeks ago. etc etc..

then i woke up, the last thought on my mind were the jc syd sleepover, remembering the layout of the house and jaycey’s bedroom, and here i am, ready to write about it now. just kidding i got demotivated again, this took too long to write (5 mins), and the magic of waking up grogginess has subsided), but there’s just this feeling i temporarily get, that very quickly comes and goes, for a few minutes at most, in the mornings, maybe i stand up or walk down the hall, maybe there’s idle noise in the background from outside, but something about this little haze makes me briefly forget , just barely, who i currently am and what year it is. for those tiny moments, it almost feels like it’s 2008 again. like it’s 2007 again. i feel as if i’m still in those better years for just a short while, and i remember very clearly what it was like to be alive and living in those moments. suddenly it’s as if 2011 and beyond has never taken place yet and here i am. 7-8-9- years old. it never has a pre-2007 feeling though. i don’t think i’ll be able to ever feel that again in real life. i REMEMBER how it felt, but i can never feel it truly again, i don’t think.