#reflect on what happened and try again blah blah blah

[squidpedia]

So lilacs story is called undertale reflection? That’s AWSOME!

Thanks!! almost called undertale echo (callback to echo flower themeing) but that was definitely too on the nose. Echo ~ reflection Close enough. Lilacs always been associated with visual imagery of glass and mirrors in my mind anyhow

[rottingghosty]

Little Talks | DC X DP

part second part to the ghostling au !! this is just something to give you guys food while i write the fic

also usual errors will be made im only one person blah blah. hope you enjoy, as usual this is scheduled to post at 7am

☁️☁️☁️☁️

Danny lazily blinked at the person in front of him, his brain slowly rebooting itself as he released a small yawn. The person was green. A green person. Huh. Alien? He was exhausted, he spent so long aiding new systems and cradling stars that died and spread their dust around so they would be reborn again. He wanted to sleep but this person was in front of him and it’d be rude to ignore him. Pandora taught him better than that.

“Mrrp?” Danny felt his ears twitch, he wanted to feel mortified at the fact he made a sound like a cat in his own head but he really can’t be blamed because the moon he was around was really comfortable and he had no shame. He lazily tilted his head as the person’s shoulders seemed to loosen? A shake in his body. Weird.

Oh. He’s trying not to laugh at Danny’s response. Can Clockwork rewind so that didn’t happen. Of course CW ignored him like usual when it came to embarrassments like these.

“I do not mean any harm friend.”

The voice in his head echoed and it made Danny shiver in response, it was odd sharing a head space with someone else. He didn’t retaliate or cause any harm. His core could feel that this person was friendly, curious and respectful. He gives a head tilt in response.

Friend. Safe. Okay.

Danny gave another yawn, feeling his jaw open a tad wider than it should in normal human circumstances but who could care less when he has a Martian— an actual martian in front of him even if he’s too sleepy to actively be excited! He’s tired okay, it’s not everyday he gets to indulge on his obsession heavily on an everyday basis. He’d been so deprived that he’d gotten sick and it’s what made the others decide to give him the boot so he could enjoy his time before he got the crown.

“What is your name, little one?” Martian Manhunter softly asked in Danny’s head after the younger one winced from the volume earlier after he began to wake up.

“Danny.”

“Why are you out here?”

“Old man said I needed my enrichment.”

“One of my allies called you a baby ghost of the Infinite Realms, is this true?”

Danny released another cat like sound, this one more curious than the other when he had just barely woke up. Someone knew what he was? How curious, it wasn’t often Danny stumbled in dimensions that knew he was from the Infinite Realms… much less the fact that he’s even a ghostling.

“Mhm, ghostling is the proper term. We usually calculate age by how long we’ve been dead. In ghost terms I’m like three.”

Martian Manhunter seemed to pause, as if listening to something. Danny gave another yawn before he finally decided to change into a more normal size instead of the large form he had used to travel through the void easier. His form shifted in a bright light before he floated over to Martian Manhunter.

He quickly realized he was a lot smaller than he’d been and he supposes this is what CW meant when changing forms, he’d most likely reflect the age he’s in ghost terms. He doesn’t think he’d handle if Martian Manhunter treated him like a kid.

“When you said enrichment…?”

“Oh! Clocky said to play nice with my cousin? I think her name is Wonder Woman? Um he’s ah known as Chronos?”

[andhumanslovedstories]

I've been running this writing experiment lately to cut out phrases like "I felt" in my fiction writing. Like I was looking at a sentence in a draft that said, "he felt as if character's eyes were pinning him in place." And then I was like, "well, does he think that or is it true? As a result of this person watching him, he's froze. It's not like a thing, it is that thing."

Oh and "almost"! I'm always going, "He felt almost relieved that it hadn't happened." Well, did he feel better that it didn't happen or didn't he? Or "somewhat", I'm always going, "she felt somewhat perturbed."

And like none of that is wrong, to be clear. I don't know if it'd improve your writing, I don't even know if it'll improve my writing, but I use this sentence structure all the time so every viewpoint is from a voice that thinks about what it thinks, hedges its statements, and offers the same ability for wry little jokes formatted in the exact same way. And I have a lot of writing like that and I think (!) that they're good, but read as a whole, I'm like, "god, they all sound the same." Like there's one melody that I write songs to, so even with different lyrics, it's almost (!) the same song. Something I've been struggling with in regards to my writing and why I've felt so blocked is how boring I found writing my usual way. I'd read something and enjoy the individual parts of it, but then I'd step back and I didn't like the whole. And I got good at this enough at seeing that I didn't like it to do it in real time as I was writing, which as you can imagine didn't improve the process of writing because now I was bored AND dejected about being bored.

There's this sentence-level structure fact that I use unconsciously. A pattern I find easy is short sentence, short sentence, short sentence, long sentence. So I write that. "He [verbed]. He [verbed]. Then he [verbed]. As he [verbed] to his [consequence], he [verbed] that [noun] was [statement of condition]." Which could work, it often does make for a nice rhythm, but it's something I reach for often because it's easier for me.

Just last sentence, I originally typed, "I find it easier for me." But if what I mean is "using this pattern is less effort than another pattern," then it's easier for me. One voice is hedging its bets and the other asserting. Either is fine! But they're different! And, again, GOD you would not believe how many words I've cut out of this paragraph as I write it. I'm so chatty. I love using twelve words when six will do. And that gives my writing a specific tone to my ear.

So if I am bored of that tone, why not try using just the six words? Why be understated? Why be afraid of stronger opinions? So right now with my fiction, I'm experimenting with cutting out as many self-reflective words as I can. Sometime you do need to draw attention to the face that this is the character's interpretation, but like you definitely don't need to do it as much as I naturally want to do it. You don't need to always go out of your way to allow the possibility that the narrative voice is wrong. During editing, I trim the weaker ones (I originally typed, "what I consider the weaker ones" Is that more accurate?). But I think them being there in the first place shifts my language which shifts my character's which shifts my plot. It's sentence structure all the way down!!

(this barely applies to my writing on here, btw. i try to do good but yknow this is a tumblr blog. i'm not trying to get a lit mag to accept it.)

Anyway blah blah (chatty!) the point is I've been trying to write in a way opposite of my interests. Something that doesn't take itself too seriously, that emphasizes EMOTION and ACTION instead of minimizing it, and that clips through scenes at a good pace. Doing this been amazingly fun. I've been having such a good time doing it. I am writing so much because I really enjoy doing it. The process of writing is so fun again.

This post is about two things. One is my new mood stabilizer and therapy day camp. The other is about the benefit of pretending to be MXTX.

[aphroditeinthesea]

Heyyyyy

Thought I'd request a Leo Valdez fic.

So it's Leo × child of Aphrodite!reader, and everyone thought that their relationship was very strange since an Aphrodite kid wouldn't usually want to date a grease ball, but you saw more in Leo.

The scene is set at the lake after dinner before you have to go back to your cabins. You're sitting in his lap while telling him the drama of the Aphrodite cabin. But you get distracted and end up making out🤭.

leo valdez x aphrodite!reader

⚠️ making out

“Oh! I forgot to tell you what happened last week with Drew,” you rambled on, your hands twirling his curls around your fingers.

“What happened?” He asked as he tightened his arms around your waist, lingering lowly.

You took a deep breath, “okay, so, she lost this cashmere sweater she had, right? Well, she was like accusing everyone of taking it,” your eyes widened and you pointed your finger to yourself, “even me!”

“No way.”

“Yeah,” you continued on, “and everyone was like ‘I didn’t take it’ blah blah blah, but then, guess what?”

“What?”

“She saw one of the Hermes kids wearing it!” You explained, excitedly, “and so she started like yelling at this random girl who was like ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’” He nodded as you took a breathing pause, “turns out, one of our brothers took it, gave it to this girl as a present!”

“Wow,” he spoke. You finally noticed his eyes steady on your lips. You huffed, taking his chin in your hand, motioning him upward.

“My eyes are up here.”

He grinned, “you’re pretty.”

Your expression reflected his, “really?” You wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

His eyes looked back at your lips, “really pretty.”

You grabbed onto his jaw before your lips latched to his. He made a hum of surprise but easily fell into line with you. His arms loosened, letting his arms traveled down to squeeze your ass. You squished your body further into his despite the lack of space to begin with.

Your teeth grazed his bottom lip, his mouth opened slightly to allow your tongue inside. It practically wrestled with his whiel to any spectators, it would look as though you were trying to fully consume each other.

you rocked your hips towards him, the corners of your mouth lifting when you heard the groan from the back of his throat.

You two were so engrossed with your activities, you didn’t even hear the clearing of a throat nearby.

“Mister Valdez, Miss L/N,” a deep voice announced.

You basically lept off of his lap. You grabbed his hand to help him stand, both turning around to look at the centaur.

“Chiron,” you nodded your head in greeting.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I expect you two to go to your cabins.”

You both nodded. Leo speaking first, “right, yeah, heading- heading right there.”

You suctioned your still wet lips into your mouth as you moved your head in agreement. “We were just about to, uhm, go.”

Automatically, your hand conjoined with his as you made your way to the grass from the dock. You awkwardly walked past Chiron, stopping when he spoke again,

“You’ve got something, Leo,” he motioned wiping towards his face.

Leo lifted his hand to touch his face. When he looked down his hand, he noticed pink glittery lip gloss on his fingertips.

The both of you held in giggles as you stumbled towards the cabins, luckily side by side. You purposely passed his cabin so he could drop you off at yours.

When you arrived, you faced him, grabbing his other hand, swinging them between your bodies. “Good night.”

He took a step closer to you to kiss you once again. Your conjoined hands were held behind your back to get as close as possible.

You backed away slightly while his lips chased after yours, “see you in the morning, Valdez.”

He pressed another kiss to your lips, “good night.” He let go of your hands, allowing you to walk to your cabin. You opened the door before turning around to see him still standing there.

“Goodnight.”

He smiled, “goodnight.”

You looked into your cabin, closing the door slightly, “you might hear someone tapping at your window at like one in the morning.” You whispered, “and it might be me.”

“Can’t wait.”

[uzurimisery]

the space between two bodies. / satosugu x reader / part 1

Warnings: MDNI, happy ending, angst, cheating (not really this is explained in part 2), unhealthy relationships/coping mechanisms, suicidal ideation, depression, smut, no sorcery au, unedited

A/N: I started thinking about Gojo with anxiety and nihilist Geto and then what that looks like in a poly relationship with someone as flawed as they are

part two

“We’re sorry but we’ve decided to go with another candidate now. We will retain your information on file should a more suitable role open up.” 

The email stared back at you, the words on your phone screen blurring as droplets of rain hit it as you read it over for the hundredth time. Today was just another shitty fucked up day in the endless string of shitty fucked up days that had become your life. The third consecutive month of unemployment in a row. At least previously you could get temp jobs but now each day that passed just ate away at you with how useless you felt. 

Pocketing your phone, you pull out a 100 yen coin and put it in the vending machine.

You didn’t even like your old job but Jesus it was like no one was actually hiring. And when you did get an interview, you’d get ghosted afterward. On the rare occasion they didn’t ghost you, you’d receive a rejection letter like this one. It was preferable, you supposed, that your existence and effort were at least acknowledged, no matter how much it stung. Still hurt like a bitch to be told you weren’t good enough. 

Anything would be better than this, fuck you’d take being overworked and underpaid if it felt like you were doing something. This endless cycle of gnawing uncertainty and applications, interviews, followed by rejections. Worse than that you were out of deodorant and trying to find some in Japan was a Herculean effort. 

Yeah, it’s been a shit go and you’re fucking exhausted.

Maybe you’d go be an English teacher like everyone else who moves to Japan. You wouldn’t need a co-teacher so the pay would be better if you were just starting out. Not that you wanted to teach again dear god that was less than ideal. Thank god you had settled status. The thought of having to deal with visa issues at the same time made you feel sick. 

Maybe you could work at a host club. You turned, staring at your reflection in the glass. Your boobs weren’t half bad as you pushed them up from the underside like a push-up bra would. Or sell feet pictures. The market was probably oversaturated at this point but maybe there would be some interest.

Wait Jesus had your hair looked like that all day? Fuck. No wonder that girl kept staring at you on the train she thought you were a lunatic.

Sighing you press the button for 4H. It wasn’t like you’d always been this way, sort of drifting in a sea of uncertainty abroad your boat of doubt with no wind to guide your sails. There was a period of time, maybe a five-year stretch after you had graduated from university where your life was on track. An entry-level job in your degree field, a long-term boyfriend turned fiance, wedding planning, and a great group of friends. Shit, you had it all. 

The fiance was the first to go. 

As it turns out, finding your fiance in bed with the girl he swore you didn’t have to worry about, his tongue halfway down her throat like he’s trying to do an endoscopy, is a terrible way to find out you’re being cheated on. When he noticed you standing in the doorway he had the gall to sputter some bullshit about how it was your fault it happened. You were too focused on your work, you didn’t give him attention, blah, blah, blah. It was you who broke the relationship up by working so much and being married to your job. And as he paid for the overpriced four-bedroom apartment in an area of Tokyo that you didn’t even like, you lost the apartment in the breakup. 

You couldn’t slum dog millionaire your life away on Shoko and Utahime’s couch forever eating tubs of ice cream and binging TV after that, so everyone told you, or rather forced you, to move in with Suguru and Satoru. Bouncing around from couple to couple. It did give you some stability and just as things go up so must they come down. 

The company you were working for was liquidated after an investigation by the federal government found years of tax fraud. Luckily they got bought out, and you thought maybe if you put in work you could still climb the ladder. But all those late nights in the office, conbini dinners, and unpaid overtime, you were just another name on a severance list.

It felt like waves were crashing over you, each one larger than the rest. Almost like you were tied to a dock during a hurricane, a tsunami, or some fucking natural disaster that threatened to drown you if you didn’t hold onto something but there wasn’t much to hold on to. You could hold onto the minuscule amount of friendships that you had at least. It was far too awkward and messy to keep up with anyone else other than your main four since the rest were so tied to your ex-fiance and his life. Stupid fucking lawyer. 

The four of you were close-ish. Less close since Shoko had gone on rotation at a university on the other side of Tokyo. It meant she and Utahime had moved nearer to it since Utahime was willing to commute. But Suguru and Satoru were still close with you and still dating.  Biting as that felt at times. 

You met Geto first in a shared philosophy lecture. One of those run-of-the-mill ones, but the content that really got the two of you talking was nihilism. It was the seminar groups after class you shared where he really saw you. Stripped away of pretenses and your nerves laid bare. Not just another face in a lecture hall but something more, something human. The deep indents of nails in your palms and the rubbing of your hands together under the table. He had seen right through you, recognized the darker parts of himself in you- it made you feel understood.

The machine made a mechanical noise and the lights flickered. Sighing you kick the machine lightly to see if anything happens, if life could give you this one thing today that you so desperately needed. Just like everything else, nothing goes your way and your stupid drink stays logged on the shelf. So like every reasonable person you kick the machine again. 

“Stupid fucking piece of shit machine,” you murmur a growing string of profanities under your breath as you repeatedly kick the machine

.

All you wanted was one of those ¥100 coffee drinks that were loaded with caffeine to keep going through your slog of a day was that so hard? Maybe it would be best if you just packed it up and called it quits. Move back home with your parents and be berated daily. Why aren’t you married? Why did you and Kosuke break up? When are they going to get some grandchildren? They aren’t getting any younger you know. Face the cutting shame of fucking up another opportunity, another chance. 

What was the point in trying anymore when you couldn’t even get a stupid drink that you don't honestly even want at this point out of a vending machine so you can go home and masturbate to audio porn before you cry yourself to fucking sleep? 

Suguru’s voice cut through the spiral of thoughts, your name on his lips. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you had an interview and you’d be home late?” 

Of course, he’d catch you like this. 

“Hey Sugs,” it came out as a groan as you kicked the machine again, a loud clang following as your drink hit the bottom of the dispenser. Bending down, you grab the can before turning and facing him. “I did.” 

“How’d it go?”

“Like shit.” Maybe you should work on your delivery. This flat effect is really making you should like a bitch. Are you a bitch? 

Geto’s eyes raked over you, infuriatingly calm and measured. He was always so carefully disheveled, the type of person to look effortlessly put together no matter the occasion. Stupid name-brand black sweater over a white button-down half tucked into chinos with a chain on the belt. His hair, shiny and perfect, was neatly tucked into his signature half-up-hald-down look to keep the strand out of his eyes, minus the one for style. Notably, he was wearing his glasses for once, sleek frames perks on a tall nose. Oh, he smelt nice too, his sandalwood and bergamot cologne hitting you as he stepped closer, extending his umbrella to cover the two of you. Fuck he was so handsome it wasn’t fair.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Geto replied softly.

You shrugged, trying to brush it off. “ It is what it is.”

But the reality of it clung to you and drug you down, down, down into the depths of your psyche. That small, scared feeling you tried so hard to suppress started bubbling up again, twisting your insides into knots. It made you feel sick, so much like a lost little child in a world that had grown far too big and complex. Here it was, rearing its ugly head, in front of one of the top ten people you never wanted to see in such a shit state.

But that's all Gojo and Geto do at this point. They pick up the broken, crumbling pieces of yourself that slip between your fingers. You feel like a cracked vase leaking water all over the place no matter how desperately they try and patch up the ceramic. Each day the gap between you and them grows more apparent. They were both soaring and you were falling to the ground and rolling around in the mud. 

Geto had just done a four-page spread in Architects Digest, even though he was a pretentious motherfucker who hated the magazine. And Gojo… God, he’d just opened for Prada at Paris Fashion Week. They went viral on every social media platform a while back for how hot and gay they were. You’d been caught in the crossfire of your accounts being tagged and gained a social media boost, but that also meant a bunch of people DMing you telling you to take pictures of them. 

The most fucked up thing about it all was the gnawing feeling that chewing on your bones that you were being dragged around like an accessory to remind them how good they had it. A permanent third wheel they’ve been stuck with since university. Two talented lovers on the brink of permanent importance and their weird little friend who follows them along like a lost puppy. It wasn’t even true and that's why it hurt so much. You knew they believed in you, thought that you could be a successful artist, and supported you in it even, but the jealousy rotted inside you like a festering wound. You weren’t even jealous of their success, only just partial, but it was like you weren’t good enough to be around them. 

Maybe you were better off as wall decor in the life they were building together. Something quiet and serene that didn’t demand anything from them. Better that than the bitter, jealous mess you were every time you saw them succeed.

He starts, the same spiel he goes to when you get like this. “You can always-”

“No.” your voice comes out sharper than you intended, but you don’t care. 

“I don’t know why you act like it’s such a bad off,” Suguru presses, his calm demeanor only pissing you off more.  

“I don’t want to work for you.” 

“Why not.” 

You snap. “Because I don’t want to, Suguru! Is that so hard to understand?”

Fuck, you wanted to storm off, go back to the house, and slam the door behind you as you went. But it didn’t matter if you stormed off, you lived in one of his guest bedrooms. Both of you were just headed to the same place. Sad little rescue that you were.

Suguru assessed, his eyes softened, breaking you down. He picked out every one of your insecurities as he stared at you. Microscopic inspection, each of your cells was being assessed for your state of being. Have you eaten? Was it enough? Had you slept? Are you even capable of taking care of yourself in this state? 

The weight of his gaze made your chest tighten, and before you could control it, try and reel it back in, tears welled up in your eyes. Blinking them back, you swallowed hard, the lump in your throat bobbing as you did. You hated this. Hated the way his care, his pity, felt like a knife twisting in the last remaining shred of pride you clung to. 

Pity was the killy of pride and you should accept that your pride was already decomposing in the septic tank in the backyard. 

Fuck up, fuck up, fuck up. All you ever were, all you’d ever be. Every loose thread of your shirt feels like it's cutting against your skin. The hem of your trousers drowns your feet like you're wearing your parents' clothes. Shabby. Uncouth. Inept. 

Wordlessly, you turned on your heel and fled, rushing out of the side street as the tears spilled past your lash line. You couldn’t do this anymore--no more questions, no more pity. No matter how hard you tried, how hard you struggled, clawed your way through the fucking dirt, you could never be like them. Never be good like theme, never right like them, never fit like them. They had these perfect little lives that they could boast to everyone about. When they spoke, people listened. People cared what they had to say. The world parted for them, it was the Red Sea and they were Moses, making space. There’d always be room for them to shine. 

But you were screaming into a void, your throat raw, bloody, and you were aching from the endless effort to be seen, to be heard. You wanted to be looked at like your own person, your own successes. Hard to be noticed for something that rarely happened. No matter how loud you screamed, how much you begged, your voice was just lost in the noise. 

You knew Suguru would follow. He always did. Even if you didn’t live in the same house, he’d have followed you. His voice was muffled by the pressure in your ears but you could hear him trying to talk to you. He let you get all the way home and inside the gate of the house before he grabbed your wrist and yanked you backward. 

Trying to pull away, your shoulder wrenched painfully as you trashed in his grip. 

“Calm down,” Suguru spoke firmly, pulling you into his chest. His sweater was soft, and your face smushed against the fabric as sobs wrecked your body, trembling like the earth in an earthquake.

It was hard to speak through the tears, so all you could do was try and slip out of his hold as you sobbed. You didn’t want this comfort. You wanted to run from your failure. From how suffocating life felt and that no matter what you'd never be enough. Worse than that, the sweet sickly feeling that trickled down your throat that when he held your life this, it made the world feel just a little bit more bearable. As if somewhere you could survive another day if he kept touching you. It wasn’t yours to feel and he wasn’t yours to hold. 

Suguru lets you wiggle around. You hit his torso a few times, your strength fading as you cry. When your sobs turned to hiccups and gasps for breaths, he gently cupped your face, thumbs brushing away the tears that still spilled from your eyes. 

“Talk to me,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. The songs of a city nearly eclipsing it. 

What could you say? How could you explain this feeling? This horrible guilt, pain, and jealousy ate away at you every single day. The tears came harder now, speeding up as if to help drown you in your misery and take you out of it for good. Hiccuping you drew breath, sharp and quick, hoping to speak but nothing comes out. Words claw at your throat, digging it with sharpened points. It hurts the way they hang onto you.

“Is it all too much again?” His voice is so soft, warm like fleece pajamas fresh out of the dryer as he holds you so delicately.

This wasn’t the first time that one of the three of you had been so consumed by dread, suffocated by the weight of life itself. Suguru knew it all too well himself, from high school to know he held it tightly in his hands. It never went away from him, he just learned to live with it, let it fade into the background, and let a constant hum of despair serve as the baseline for the day-to-day. 

His thumbs brush over the apex of your cheekbones again and the tenderness shatters you, another wave of sobs tearing through you. They pull you under, out into the open ocean, and through their rip current.

“I just..” you start, it scratches your throat, thick with phlegm. “ I can’t do this anymore.” 

His voice remained steady. “Do what?” 

“Any of it. I can’t do it.” 

“You’re capable of it. You can do it.” 

Jarring, rough, whipping across your skin as the rubber band pulls too tight and snaps. You lash out, and it stings where it hits. The anger cuts through your skin like your fingernails leave crescent moons in your palms. 

“No, I fucking can’t!” It's ripped out of you as you stalk away like a wounded animal. “I can’t okay. I can’t do shit. I can’t keep a relationship without being cheated on. I can’t manage to get my own place. I can’t get a fucking job. I can’t sit here and pretend like I’m not fucking wasting away in my own misery watching you and Gojo and Shoko all succeed and be the only one of us still shooting for the stars and coming crashing down to earth every single fucking time. You and Gojo with your perfect little lives look at me like a charity case to be fixed.”

“We have never looked at you like a charity case.” His tone was firm.

“Really? Then what the fuck do you look at me like, huh?” You press the question circling back around. “Is it pity? Did the two of you see some poor stray that you wanted to take in and keep like a pet when we met at university? Is that it?” 

His eyes were hard, unreadable.

“It is that. You pity me.”

“Jesus, no! We don’t pity you- I don’t pity you! Is it so hard to believe that I care about you?”

“Yes, it is! There’s no reason for you to care,” 

“What the hell wouldn’t I care?” Suguru’s voice raised to a shout, frustration cracking his facade. 

“Because I’m just like everyone you hate!” Your chest heaves as you let out a flood of emotions. “ No ambitions, contributing nothing to society, just leeching off others.” 

“You’re not like them.” 

“I am. On paper, I’m exactly like them. The only reason that you’d keep me around is because it makes you feel good to watch me suffer or you pity me.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t pity you?” His voice cracked with emotion, but you didn’t stop.

“Then tell me why you care!” It comes out so desperately. You're begging him for understanding, to know why he stays. To know why he lets you in.

For once he looked uncertain. His mask slipped, revealing the cracks in his facade. It’s been so long since you’ve seen underneath it you’d almost forgotten how he looked when he wasn’t pretending to be happy. 

“Or is it that you don’t care?” 

Something flashed in his eyes, flickerings of things you only saw when he looked at Gojo. He opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. There's a fear in his eyes, like if he acts in this moment something may crack and crumble like the foundation of a house that leaves him crumpled in a pile of wood. He doesn’t, or won’t, give you an answer. 

So you turn on your heel, the conversation over in your mind, and head to the front door. You’ll go up and pack a bag before heading across town and crashing on Shoko and Utahime’s couch before calling your parents and groveling to them. 

But as you reach the door, Suguru reaches you. His arm wraps around your waist and he spins you around and pushes your back against it. He’s got you pinned. 

“It’s because I love you.” It’s the faintest breeze that passes from his lips, like a car driving past on a hot day, sweat making your shirt stick to you. “I care because I love you.”

Everything is frozen in a still frame. Neither one of you moves, neither one of you breathes. A still moment that holds you tight, threatens to squeeze you so tightly your heart bursts. 

“What do you mean by that?” You swallow as you speak, like pebbles in your throat. 

Suguru blinks back tears, looking up and then back at you. “That I love you. Fuck! I’m in love with you.” 

Disbelief makes your voice shake. “No, you’re not not. You’re with Satoru.” 

“And? I can’t love both of you?” 

“No, you can’t,” Hypocrisy tastes acrid on your tongue. You know damn well you could never pick between the two of them, that this blighted jealousy you feel towards them is more the fact they have the other rather than their success. It’s something you don’t admit but it’s there. “Besides, you’re lying to me.”

“No.” His response was firm and immediate. The whole time you’d known them, their worlds had revolved around each other. They’d been the only thing for each other for so long. It was an unspoken truth that they were made for each other in a way that could only be sewn by the fabric of the universe itself. Something so profoundly and divinely created it had been written in the fabric of life at the moment of the Big Bang. 

“I’ve seen you watching.” Suguru’s tone is low, cutting, it vibrates through you as he has you pinned. 

A sick, icy dread wraps around your spine. It starts in your toes and crawls up your body. Your muscles lock in place as it climbs up until it's all the way in your head. Paralyzing fear grips you.

“I don't…” The lie is transparent before it comes to fruition. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s brittle, cracking on your teeth as it passes through them.

“Don’t play innocent.” Suguru’s voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. The tension between you tightens and winds up to pitch, but there's a current that punctuates it. One that feels heady and warm. One that excites you in the same way it embarrasses you. “I’ve seen you watching. I’ve seen you for years. The first time, maybe it was a mistake. But last week? Three weeks before that?”

Your mouth went dry, choking on the excuse that tried to bubble up. Like finely ground chalk powder coasted every surface of it. “I—”

He cuts you off before you can even try to defend yourself. “I know you get off on it too. Leave your curtains open while you touch yourself. Saying his name, my name.”

Horror twists inside you like a knife, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. You’d always been so careful, never acting when you thought they were home. Never want to risk exactly this happening. Your face burned like you drank half a liter of vodka in a go. Maybe you’d wake up and realize this was a nightmare. The humiliation was unbearable. 

“Imagine my surprise,” Suguru continues in a low chuckle, left hand slotting perfectly against your waist, “when I came home early one day and saw that.” 

The tears that had stopped in your flash of anger spill hot and fast down your cheeks. The raw, hot shame and embarrassment muddle you. It makes you want a sinkhole to open up beneath you and swallow you whole. You can’t meet his gaze, your vision blurry. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll move out.” you stammer out, the words falling in a chopping spiccato, desperate to create space between the two of you. You’d never be able to face him again. 

“Who said anything about moving out?” Suguru comes, pulling you closer to him till you're flush against his chest. He bends down, breath tickling your ear. You feel the sharp pressure of his teeth grazing the shell of it, a jolt going through your body. “You don’t get to leave now.” Pulling back, he meets your eyes in a half-lidded gaze. 

Both of you are playing the game again. Looking for something unspoken, some cryptic clue you need to decipher. He was searching for discomfort, disgust, anything to make him draw back and stop. You searched for understanding, dissecting how it got to this point. Every moment, every glance, every touch from him that you had ever overlooked. 

He always held a soft glint in his eyes when he looked at you. Something subtle, normally reserved for Satoru. It warmed the edge of his voice when he spoke and crinkled the corners of his eyes when he smiled. There was that softness for Shoko, but it was different. The one he had for you was a more reserved, pulled-back, and dialled-down version of what gripped him when he looked at Satoru. He had always viewed you this way.

The times you sat sandwiched between him and Gojo, your legs brushing against him, his arm slung around your shoulders to reach Satoru. Pulling you against him on the train, in clubs, at parties, the bump of your hips against his own. Compliments when you wore flattering, his pushing Satoru to dress you up. He liked it best when you were in shorter dresses and skirts with tights. 

Suguru had always wanted you, but you had failed to notice. 

Instinct took over before reason could temper it. You pushed off the door, your hands flying to the loose part of his hair at the nape of his neck. The strands feelt just as silky an shiny as they look between your fingers. Without hesitation, the space between you two diminishes. You aren’t sure who closes the distance first, but your lips lock hungry. Teeth knocking against each other as you both desperately cling to the other. It's rough and aggressive, both of you starved animals feasting on flesh. The taste of copper spreading in your mouth as he bit down on your lip making you whine. His breathing becomes your own, heady mix of desire and dark, primal urge..

His tongue pushes against yours, taking advantage of your now open mouth, wet and warm brushing against the back of your teeth, laying claim to your mouth. Geto was dominating in all aspects of his life so it was unsurprising that he set the pace and led you to where he wanted to be. He moved your legs up, patting your ass to jump, to then wrap around his waist as he pressed you against the door. You grind your hips against his growing erection as he holds you there, and you can feel the heat of him even through his pants.

Suguru pulls away panting. His eyes are half closed, lips blushed a beautiful red and damp with saliva. He moves in again, this time to your neck, where he bites down hard. You squirm as he sucks a dark and angry mark, his mark, on your skin. The bite of his teeth against your skin feels right. It eats away at the jealous monster inside you every second he’s latched onto you.

Fed up with the door, Suguru opens it and carries you through the threshold. He moves the two of you through the genkan, toeing off his shoes while you kick your own off, and into the living room where he drops you on the couch. There’s an air about him, so intense it’s nearly oppressive, as his fingers inch up underneath your sweater, sliding it off of you. It’s a predator circling their prey, the success of a hunt now that he’s got you on your back against the soft fabric of the couch. He’d been waiting for this far longer than you thought and it spurs you on.

Suguru moves in tandem with you, tugging off his sweater and button-up shirt, exposing his happy trail. The dark dusting of hair makes your mouth water. Once his shirt is off, his hands cover your chest through your bra, palming your tits like stress balls. It's unpadded and lacey, and it lets him feel as if your nipples get hard. He pushes the cups down, leaving them to rest under your breasts, and pushes them up slightly, accentuated by your being on your back.

His fingertips close around your nipples as he pinches and pulls at them. You knew how much of a sadist he could be. One night you watched him edge Satoru for an hour straight. Seen how hot he looked with Gojo in his mouth as he writhed around. A sweet moan escaped you as he played with your nipples and rolled his hips against yours. It makes your head feel fuzzy, thoughts focusing purely on him. His weight presses down on you, so heavy and right it makes you ache.

You lunge forward, propping yourself up on your elbows to kiss him again. It’s just as messy and hungry as before, years of built-up desire between the two of you saturating your every pore. It settles in your bones that pulses in time with your heart. 

Suguru doesn’t separate from you, but he slides your trousers and underwear off in one go as you kick your socks off. He tugs his own off hastily, boxer briefs following in turn. His public hair is trimmed, a close crop like you’ve seen it before. Like every other aspect of him, it’s neatly maintained, put into its place, and kept there. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as he pulls your hips up by his head. Your back is half off the sofa as he places your legs over his shoulders and parts your core with his fingers. He blows cold air onto your clit that makes you squirm before he licks your clit. Moaning, you try to grind yourself against his face but his hands tighten on your hips, holding them firm. You’d get what he wanted to give you. Fight against it and get nothing, or accept it. 

He was slow to start. His tongue lazily explores you, getting familiar with your taste. It pushed against your clit, wide and flat, before swirling his tongue around it. The ball of his tongue piercing rubbed against the most sensitive part of you. Your hips jerk forward and he looks up, a warning in his eyes, but he doesn’t stop. Suguru curls his tongue again, this time moving it side to side, letting his piercing catch on your clit purposefully.  Every action he takes is measured as he picks up speed while latching his lips around it to add delicious suction. Two of his fingers slide inside you, reaching far deeper than your own ever could. He pumps them in and out of you, driving you closer to the edge.

You felt your pussy drooling, liquid gushing out and covering his chin. The muscles in your abdomen tightened with each passing second until you swore they'd cramp. It was all too much as you came, jerking and contracting in on yourself. Black spots dot your vision as your world shakes on this axis. 

Sugru watched as you came, pulling back from your pussy to stare at your face. His eyes never left yours as he rubbed soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. He could cover nearly all of you with how big his hands were, warm and calloused. Minus a cold spot on his left hand. 

His engagement ring. 

The silver felt like it burned your skin as he smiled at you and planted a kiss on your inner thigh. It glimmers in the low light, bouncing light off like a homing beacon. Bubbling sickness, bile rising in your throat, disgust palming at your skin. What had you just done? You’ve just violated a boundary so gigantic with Suguru. Let your own selfish need for intimacy lead you to this. He was engaged to your best friend. They were getting married next year.

You rushed to grab your clothes, panic surging through you. The world spins around you. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“We shouldn’t have done that,” you buttoned up your trousers, throwing your sweater on. Your hair is a mess and your skin feels clammy and flushed. The need to vomit is overwhelming. “This was a mistake.”

Suguru’s rising from the couch, trying to grab you, stopping you from moving but you dodge his hand. “A mistake?” 

Your left hand meets your mouth as you bite the nail of your thumb. It clicks against your front teeth. 

“Satoru won’t mind-” 

“A mistake Suguru,” You shake your head, bending down and grabbing the rest of your stuff. “Please. Just forget this.” Without waiting for his reply, you run up the stairs and slam the door behind you. 

You really are a bitch.

©️ uzuzrimisery

[hsvh-hp]

2024 Wrapped!

I've seen these posts floating around the site, and they look so fun!

2024 was a big year for me, for fandom. I made so many new incredible friends on here and Discord, got more involved in events, and participated in a few fests. I also finished the longfic I'd started in September 2023, which I honestly still can't believe is finally going live in less than 48 hours.

My best estimate of how many words I wrote this year (I cut a long in editing, so this number will actually be higher) is somewhere around 370,000.

This post got extremely long, so I've put the majority of it under the cut. I don't write very often (on Tumblr, anyway) about my process, or consistently promote my work. So, hopefully y'all can forgive me for indulging this one time at the end of the year.

In order that I wrote them:

🎉 Spiral Dynamics (Draco/Harry; 21.1k words)

This one was for the Fellytone game on the Drarry Discord server! Based on this stunning art by @appleslightning, there's basically some Friends to Lovers hijinks with Draco and Harry, as Draco's probation officer retires 7 years into Draco's 10 year term, and Harry volunteers to take the spot 'as a favour' without having consulted Draco first. Drama Draco's dramatics ensue. The fic also inspired this by @maesterchill, and I am grinning and kicking my feet all over again looking at it. THESE TWO, I love them, your honour.

✨ The 'Two for the Triwizard' Trilogy (Draco/Harry; 3 fics totalling 9.3k words)

A Triwizard Tournament AU, but make it Drarry. This small series was also born on the Drarry Discord in a fun game of 'haha what if'.

In Fraternizing With the Enemy, Harry sees that Draco has come to the Yule Ball with a boy from Durmstrang (Volkov? Vikhrov?) and totally only chases his date off because said date is from a rival school. Harry and Draco end up dancing and chatting, and Harry ends his night feeling like a complete goner ensnared by Draco.

The Fourth Hostage skips to the Second Task, where Draco has replaced Ron as Harry's hostage at the bottom of the lake. Under weight afterward of Harry trying to figure out What's Going On between himself and Draco, Draco takes some initiative of his own to remind/inform Harry that he couldn't have been chosen as a hostage for the Task if he didn't agree to it. They get together. 🥹

Little Hangleton and Beyond is another skip. I wanted a happy ending not just for Draco and Harry, but Sirius and the Malfoys as well. I'll expand on this later when I reflect on my favourite themes and character propaganda, but the premise for this one is Lucius Malfoy changes the course of the graveyard scene following the Third Task. Draco's been writing home about his new boyfriend, and Lucius just...can't let anything happen to Harry, lol. So, Voldemort is immediately cast back into Undeath, Wormtail is so shocked that he's easily apprehended, Sirius' name is cleared, Harry goes to live with him, blah blah, Happily Ever After.

🎉 Full Indulgence (Tonks/Fleur/Bill; 14.7k words)

This was written for @hptransfest! The prompt was basically exploring Tonks' Metamorphmagus abilities during sex, and I'd had an idea rattling around for some Tonks/Fleur that I was very excited to finally have a chance to write. The premise was that in Half-Blood Prince, Tonks wasn't coming to the Burrow in the summer to get sympathy from Molly about her feelings for Remus. She was there to ogle Fleur, and then it turns out Fleur wants her, and Bill's cool with it, and Bill gets involved, etc. It was a great excuse to write 15k of very indulgent smut.

The thing I was most proud about in this fic was that (despite me using she/her pronouns in the paragraph above) I wrote 15k of 3rd person POV smut and didn't use one single personal pronoun for Tonks. It was a challenge, but so fun and validating for a character who identified as having no gender at all.

✨ Something About Malfoy (Draco/Harry; 3.2k words)

This fic spawned as a short and sweet AU from Draco Malfoy and the Descent of the Feathered Serpent (TL;DR, the longfic I'm just about to start posting, which is Order of the Phoenix from Draco's POV).

Some backstory: when I was rereading Spinners of Fate to start preparing for the sequel fic, I was hit with the realization about Draco that, my god, this kid is such an egg waiting to crack lmao. Folks who follow the Canon in Draconis Major series will see the Trans Draco Malfoy tag on 5th year's fic. I've read multiple metas here on tumblr about how Draco (among others) are 'fem-coded' in HP, and so it makes sense to me that Draco be some shade of genderqueer along with being gay lol. He's a mean girl, and a Mean Girl™. But also still a boy.

He ended up bigender in my head, keeping his name and pronouns while just sometimes Switching Things Up externally as he pleases. This ended up a big deal in Feathered Serpent, since Umbridge takes cue from Dumbledore's insistence that BCJ snuck into Hogwarts using Polyjuice Potion that magically changing a person's appearance ought to be banned (but of course, as it truly goes with her, the control is the real point).

ANYWAY, in this fic, I pretended for 3200 words that Voldemort never came back, therefore Umbridge never taught at Hogwarts, therefore Draco could come out as trans/bigender/genderqueer exactly when he felt like it, which coincided with the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match. Poor Harry, he was not prepared for that.

🎉 Twilight Eternal (Draco/Harry; 23.9k words)

This was written for @hd-tarot, and was another fic that I had an idea rattling around for, looking for an excuse to write lol. Those who've been following me for a long time and have the sharpest of memories might remember this post from a year ago. There was an ask game regarding names of WIPs, and @omgkatsudonplease asked me about this one. I finally got to write it!!!

It's also very interesting to me to reread that ask and see how differently the fic wound up. I hadn't conceived yet that Hermione was involved, or that she and Draco were Unspeakables. I also thought it would be a Getting Together fic with Draco and Harry, but ended up with them already established in a relationship. I'm very happy with it, even if it (comparatively) didn't get much love.

🎉 WARNING: May Contain Pollen (Draco/Harry; 2.9k words)

Honestly, this is basically a crackfic lol. It started as a joke: what if there was sex pollen, but either Draco or Harry turns out to be allergic to it? And uh, yeah! That's the plot!

🚧 Beyond the Scuttling Void (Harry & Sirius, eventual Draco/Harry; 54.6k words and ongoing)

A crossover fic, using the Veil in the Department of Mysteries as means for Sirius, Harry, and Draco to isekai into another world! Surely this has never been done before! (heavy /s lmao)

2024 has been a year of getting back to fandom roots for me. One of the things I wanted to unlearn was the 'I must complete my fics before I begin posting them' mentality. This fic, since the crossover material (Skyrim) is an open world RPG, basically translates to Harry, Draco, and Sirius being able to do whatever they want. Well, Sirius ended up the prophesied Hero from the game lol. But since Harry follows Sirius through the Veil after a ten year long timejump (canon-based space/time shenanigans in Elder Scrolls/Skryim lore) the Main Quest™ is already dealt with, and Sirius is just a happily-married hero with a house he built himself, tons of friends, and two sons who he took in as orphans. Harry has to reckon a lot with feeling like a bag of dicks for asking Sirius to help him get home once they're reunited.

It's been really fun writing this fic as Harry learns how to navigate a world where magic is different, and which is basically medieval Scandinavia with dragons, elves, vampires, a pantheon of trickster gods, and spiders the size of horses lol. The lore runs deep, and Harry keenly investigates it for means to reverse his having been dumped here through the Veil. As far as I've posted, Draco hasn't shown up yet. Harry doesn't even know he's there, and likewise: Draco has no idea Harry and Sirius are there. I know where Draco is, and look forward to the three of them rolling up together like the pointing Spiderman meme. What I can say about Draco at the current point of posting is that at least now....he is safe, haha. He had to grow up very quickly all of a sudden to have made that happen for himself. He's Seen Some Shit.

So what were the most common themes in my work this year?

Established Draco/Harry. As seen in: Little Hangleton and Beyond, Twilight Eternal, and WARNING: May Contain Pollen.

I feel that for me, shifting from more Getting Together fics to Established Draco/Harry fics is a natural progression as I write more Drarry fics. Mutual pining, Draco and Harry pursuing each other, and proving themselves to each other are fun, but so is skipping all of that and letting them focus on whatever's threatening their happiness in the fic lol. Or, like Little Hangleton and Beyond, just letting them have their happiness while the rest of the plot ties up.

2. Sirius & Harry, and Harry living with Sirius. As seen in: Little Hangleton and Beyond, Something About Malfoy, and Beyond the Scuttling Void.

I really, really wish that Sirius and Harry had gotten the godfather-godson happy ending they deserved in canon. This is one of the greatest tragedies of the Harry Potter series to me (does that mean I would've trusted JKR to write it any other way? Ummm no lol). So, where possible, I set them up in a post-Goblet of Fire AU to have a happy future to look forward to.

As for Beyond the Scuttling Void, let's just say it's my post-Order of the Phoenix coping mechanism. Sirius isn't dead! He's just gone to be a hero and kill the big bad dragon. He's married and everything! He's fine, guys. Don't worry about it.

3. Lucius being a good dad for Draco. As seen in: Spiral Dynamics, the Two for the Triwizard trilogy, Something About Malfoy, and Twilight Eternal.

OKAY, this is my self-confessed delusion, my fight against the tide, and my drowned out truth lol. I love Lucius Malfoy. I hate when he's abusive to Draco, and I've just gotten numb to the prospect of him being killed off, in Azkaban, or...whatever...in post-war Drarry fic. I love when Lucius remains a hurdle to Harry because Draco, uh, kind of really loves and admires his dad.

There was a tumblr post about power fantasies that really spoke to me. Essentially, for some people killing/beating up the bad guy is the power fantasy. For some, love changing them. For some, the bad guy getting to run wild to their full potential. For me, Lucius is #2. I love writing him as a good dad, or at least trying his best through the war years, and having to reckon/own up with his failures in the end if he wants to restore full trust from Draco. I love when he learns something about Draco and will rewrite his entire worldview to suit his beloved only child (Draco & Narcissa based morality, rather than pureblood supremacy morality - although these certainly overlap a lot of the time). And, honestly? I think I love it (and him) so much because he's so underappreciated in Drarry fandom and fic. I have to feed myself on this one, guys.

So...this was 2024 for me! And I didn't even wax lyrically about the 291,000 word behemoth that is Descent of the Feathered Serpent lol. It was a very busy year for me, and fandom (especially all the new friends/acquaintances I made) helped me through some trying RL stuff. If you've read this far, THANK YOU FOR MAKING 2024 GOOD AND FUN!! I will maybe see you in a few days when I start regularly posting again. ❤️

[heygerald]

Hello my dearest friends, bonjour, nuonasera, and all the other greetings too!

It's been... well, a while.

And seeing as it has been a while (translation a freakishly long, unbearably awful, crazy time that cannot be understated) I feel that I owe it to everyone to answer a few questions:

Let's get the biggest and the best done with first: am I dead, and if so is this tumblr post being written by my restless ghost, unable to escape the purgatory of the tumblr graveyard where all absent writers are forced to go?

No! I am alive and—very shockingly given my absence—well. Was I always well? Wellllll..... no. There has been a lot of ongoings in my life in the last year that led to my absence. Sure I've been lurking around, but I haven't really been here, and for that, I'm sorry. It's been... a time and it would probably be best for us all if I just leave it at that.

But then again if my life were a tv show, there would have to be a recap, so here are the non-depressing highlights:

I got promoted (yay!) and then willingly took on a second position on an adjacent team to build my career and improve my resume (less yay), which led to a moment of self reflection as I considered my career goals and how I was going to get there, which then led to self-reflection of my personal goals and how I was going to get there, which then led me to realize that quite a bit of both needed to be adjusted. And knowing that nothing changed if nothing changed, I stopped fucking around and made some changes. I lost thirty pounds (yay again!) and then immediately reignited a knee injury I've had for a decade that got myself placed back into my tenth round of physical therapy (way less yay. Carl, if you're reading this, I hate you). I moved, paid off some loans, went on a lot of bad first dates, got back into yoga, realized I sucked at yoga, attended two funerals, helped a friend through a 6-year break-up, got into baking, etc. etc. etc.

And while a lot of it sucked, I can finally say that I got through it. I am very happy now, the healthiest I've been in a decade (minus a knee I now have a prescription arthritic cream for), and fairly confident that I've finally learned how to my balance work life with my social one with my debilitating need to travel.

Blah blah blah—when is she gonna get to the good stuff?

I know, apologies for the long-winded monologue when there is a much more important question in the air: what is happening with Falling Without A Harness?

Nothing!

Everything!

All the things!

I am not stopping this story, going on hiatus, or quitting. I promise. I'm not—and I'm not just saying that either—I'm foaming at the bit to start working on it now. The only obstacle is that I lost my voice a bit during my time off the internet, and while I've been wanting to get back into the story for a while, it's been a painstakingly slow process of trying to find media to inspire my inner voice again. There have been a lot of movies you guys, and after so much trial and error and disappointment—finally—I feel ready to get working again (all thanks to the Thunderbolts, Bob specifically, ie the most pathetic little man ever that just so happens to be the love of my life). Marvel definitely isn't as good as it used to be, but that movie reminded what it was like to have a muse, and so I've started some rough drafts on any idea that comes to me just to get practicing again.

I will be posting the next chapter of FWAH soon. I'm going to practice a little more on my writing style, before I plan on hopping back into the rough draft.

My posting schedule will be nowhere close to what it used to be but I think that's probably a good thing (for my life personally, I understand as a reader that this unofficial hiatus is probably the most frustrating bullshit ever, I have been there). That being said, I still have a very clear vision of where this story is going to go that I think you guys will like!

So, in short: sorry for the delay, I'm back and working on it, and thank you all so much for your patience and love! Every message I've gotten over the last few months meant the world to me, and I hope to start working on my replies soon.

XOOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO — Gerald

[thingsidrawgohere]

Now, let's talk about the making of this thing. It was a Problem but one I clearly made for myself.

I knew I wanted to bolt the book shut from the start- which meant I was looking into hardware very early. I know what you're thinking. Posts, obvs. I've used them before but I wanted something more dramatic. Eventually, I found these 't-nuts' (no comment) and you can see how I built a hollow in the boards for them to sit. The connector bolts had a flat head and thus I used them- after cutting them to size. And after sanding the black coating to the stainless underneath (good luck finding a 'silver' connector bolt- but it looks sweet).

For the cover, obviously, god, obviously, the viewer's reflection narrowing to their own face. Modern Life Horseshit, specifically My Feelings Horseshit, blah blah. But! I also found great joy in the fact that this motherfucker holds every scuff, fingerprint, and ding. (If a counter drops out- the R. It'll be the R- then it falls out. This project is about letting be and letting git.) This is the only book I've ever had to windex.

It took a very, Very long time to find a metallic paper that could be laser-cut both well and without producing toxic vapors. Fun. Glue could easily be wiped off but it took a fold like soup. And it was much more complicated with the second "repetition" being raised in a hollow that required a backing of a different, much thinner metallic paper that would not fold at all. I was going for a hall of mirrors thing but I did not hit it. I'll file the idea away for something else.

Now to the fuck-up parade. Obvs, the text block spine. I have no idea what happened. I think when I was trimming on my hardcore guillotine, I had it cattywampus and that pulled the tail edge out of plumb. Very cross. But I like the velvet endbands, even if they are invisible. I should restarted there.

And then also, the spine. There's was a Huge gap between the block and boards. Again, I'm not sure what happened. I checked the measurements and they all squared out so I think it was my hinges. This is a fairly small book with very thick boards so I think that was the issue. Cut apart the cover and rejiggered the spine (twice). Which meant my nice, tidy wrapping looks like dogshit.

But Now, I could see the gap between the spine board and text block spine. That was due to my own stupid. When I measured for the t-nut placement, I set the block at the edge of the back board. Rookie- because the block should overhang, ever so slightly, flush against the spine board. I added more velvet to hide the gap (maybe 2 or 3mm). Disappointed and messy and pissed but LeArNiNg.

I do not have a printer worth using. And thus I have some printed pages I'm not very happy with. I choose to not POD this one for added privacy. A little silly but I'm trying. So this is as best as I can do at present. Done is better. And frankly, it's my next of kin's problem.

Perhaps the greatest fuck-up of all, I wrote 15k of Sonic fic/Internet cultural mock-dissertation. And in case it needs said, not a good dissertation. I am not a Sonic person so I hope the real heads allow me grace cuz, cousin, I went to the Dark Places for this gag. I know the ache of Tommy the Turtle now. I can't ever unlearn that. I had a great time; would recommend.

I think, over all, the book is an absolute failure of construction. There's three different points wherein I should have just started over. I hate. Hate this book. But a success of exorism.

Thank you for participating.

[stilljuststardust]

Hey, it’s me again!

This isn’t really a question, but my mom was lecturing me earlier about change and blah blah and I said something about how I don’t have to worry about unknown change like losing my job or my house because of manifestation. To this she replied that she tried that and it didn’t work.

I’m trying not to let it shake my belief but it still is, Y’know?

-🦜

✧Other people often Parrot (haha get it) your fears/assumptions back to you✧

Hey parrot! it's good to see you again! I missed you!🤍

(I haven't used images while answering an ask in so long I miss my old format lol)

This is something Neville Goddard talked about, and why some people believe in keeping a manifestation to yourself until it materializes.

I think it's ok to talk about what you're manifesting if you are able to handle them repeating your doubts to your face because for some people that's what happens. If you're able to hold your ground that's great!

Other people reflect back to us our assumptions and oftentimes our fears. I know it's a really frustrating thing but just know that you're doing well, it's good that you stand tall when faced with old assumptions and fears.

Does this mean you're still holding a negative assumption? No, not necessarily. Sometimes even if we hold the assumption we have what we want, we assume that others don't/that they would say something discouraging about it and so they do.

Feeling discouraged

Everyone has times where they just aren't feeling it, that's ok. You can feel awful and still manifest exactly what you want. Affirm, persist, and self regulate if needed.

If you're feeling really discouraged take a stroll through the @loasuccessarchive

It has a ton of success stories.

Other success stories (gathered)

Also as for what you and your mom were talking about:

I don't think it's a bad thing or something that contradicts LOA to have financial safety nets because you can do something in the 3D and still hold the assumption that you won't need it. A lower scale example is knowing you'll win a boss fight but creating a save file anyways because you won't need it but it won't hurt, or studying even though you know you'll pass a test anyways.

[hugmeimtouchdeprived]

Ghost!Johnny Original drabble

Thought I'd post the original drabble that I posted a couple months ago but deleted it for reasons.

But I kinda like it, so posting it again! It was just the rough idea for the fic and the story will still be changing in the future.

Content warning: MW3 (2023) major spoilers

Original drabble | Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

She always takes the same train to work and back. Maybe she works at some library or bookstore.

A normal life. Boring, even, she oftentimes thinks to herself. Going about her routine, day in and day out, nothing ever changes. Doesn't even have the time to hang out with family or friends as much as she used to. Maybe something happened, maybe she doesn't even want to be around people right now.

Until weird things start happening around her, everywhere it goes.

It starts at the train station. Feelings of being watched. But it's busy during the weekdays, there's a lot of people around.

Looking around, that's all she sees. People minding their own business, going about their day. She thinks she sees a dark figure in the corner of her eye, staring eight at her, but when she turns to look, it's gone. Maybe she's just being paranoid.

But it happens again a few days later. And the day after that. And soon it's an everyday occurrence, both in the morning while waiting for her train and in the evening, when she arrives on the platform and leaves the station.

And soon, it's not just the train station, it's happening at work. The feeling of someone staring at her, a cold shiver up her spine. Shadows in the corner of her eye, disappearing when she turns to look. Books falling from shelves randomly when nobody's around. The pen she left on her desk in the backroom? She, eventually, finds it on the floor under the couch on the other side of the room.

And then, blah blah blah, weird shit keeps happening, and she keeps coming up with excuses for it.

It starts happening in her home. Things aren't where she's sure she placed them; the kitchen sink keeps turning on. A dark figure following her around. She sees it when she wakes up in the middle of the night, staring at her from the corner until she rubs her eyes and it's gone. In the bathroom mirror while she's showering. Hell, it's in every reflective surface; windows, the TV when she turns it off and the screen turns black.

Ok, maybe there is something odd going on here.

But she's not scared. Maybe she should be, and it does spook her in the beginning. I mean, who wouldn't gasp and jump a bit when they're taking a nice, relaxing shower, and suddenly see someone staring at them for a split second?

But she gets used to it. It becomes her new norm, in a way. The thing - she doesn't know what it is, and calling it a ghost doesn't feel right, even if that's probably exactly what it is- never does any harm, after all. It follows her to work and back, watches her from dark corners. Sometimes it might throw down a book, or some papers from her desk. Once she watched her mug slowly move, across the kitchen counter, as if being pushed, and shatter on the floor before she could catch it. She scolded the air quite harshly as she cleaned up the mess. It never happened again after that. (Or maybe it does happen, when she brings home a date or just some friend who happens to be a guy...)

Other than what she figured out were supposed to be some sort of pranks, or maybe just trying to get her attention, the thing was harmless. She starts talking to it, as if to another person. Just telling it about her day, complaining about that one coworker who just won't leave her alone and always finds reasons to scold her. Sometimes she might talk about the cute guy who came in at work and flirted with her - she doesn't see the shadow for the rest of the day. Huh, maybe she said something it didn't like, or it got upset when she turned off the TV.

And then it becomes clearer. In a literal sense, that is, it doesn't clear up her confusion at all.

As the weeks and months pass, the dark shadow starts to slowly resemble a human being. It's blurry, and she still can't catch a proper look at it, but she swears on her life it's starting to look more and more like a human man. A tall one, at that. Sure, it was tall before, towering behind her in her reflection before she blinks, but the more human it looks, the more its - his? - size shocks her, somehow. And not only is he tall, he's muscular, and looks almost as if he's wearing some sort of military gear. She swears she can sometimes see a glimpse of blood running down the side of his head and neck.

Weeks and months pass by. At least it's making her life more interesting, that's what she wanted, right? But the questions are endless in her mind. Who is he? Why is he following her, making himself at home in her apartment? Even more morbid questions, like how did he die, was it painful, was it quick, what does being dead feel like?

And she does try asking him sometimes, trying to get to know more about her new "roommate", but he never indulges her. Won't even tell her his name, although she's not sure if it's because he doesn't want to, or because he simply can't. (After she asks, in the bathroom of all places, a bar of soap falls onto the floor.)

And that's just how things go in her life now, apparently. Sometimes she thinks she might just have lost her mind, that she's imagining things. I mean, there's no way she's being haunted by some ghost, she doesn't even believe in that kind of stuff, or at the very least is a bit skeptical.

Not that she can keep denying the reality of it for long, it feels too real to be just a figment of her imagination. So she accepts it as a part of her life now. Not that she could do anything about it, anyway; she tried begging and pleading for him to just leave her alone in the beginning. He left her alone for all of two days before coming back.

Is she's gone from home for a long time, maybe visiting her family for the holidays or going on a little trip with a friend?

She'll come back to her flat, and to say the place is a mess is an understatement. Nothing seems to be broken, thankfully, but her clothes have been thrown onto the floor, same with any pens, papers and such that were on her desk, the candle in the living room has been knocked over. Brat, she thinks to herself as she spends the rest of the day cleaning it all up.

And then there's that one night. She wakes up and it's still dark and quiet outside. It takes a moment for her to realize in her half-asleep state that something's off, and even longer to realize just what it is.

The unmistakable weight of another human being lying behind her in the bed, their arm thrown over her waist, chest pressed up against her back.

The panic settles in slow. She doesn't dare turn around and look; this is just a dream, right? A nightmare, maybe. But it's cold, both the air around her and the person behind her.

She squeezes her eyes shut tight as she considers her next move. She could probably bolt, jump out of bed and run out. Grab her phone from the nightstand if she can, find help. She could try and fight them, but who knows if they're armed or not. Going back to sleep and pretending everything's fine is not an option.

So she chooses to do possible the dumbest thing she can in the moment. She's going to turn around, carefully, to see just who's in the bed with her. It takes her a moment to calm her breath and prepare to possibly run or fight the intruder.

She turns slowly, just in case the person is asleep and she can avoid waking them.

She turns, and there's no one there. The cold weight disappears into thin air, like it was never there. Her eyes close and she takes a deep breath, telling herself it was some fucked up dream that just felt too real. She has been stressed out lately, more so than usual, so it's not that out of the question that it would start affecting her in different ways. She promptly chooses to ignore the still cold to the touch indentation on the mattress beside her. It was just a dream, after all. Right?

Thank you for reading!🌷

[fandom-animals]

I have 2 theories:

1. Stolitz doesn't become official in the next episode. In fact, whatever happens, they end up worse than before; I'm taking full-on break up: no more talking or sleeping together. They're both devastated but trying to be cool about it (save for occasional petty remarks from both of them and Stolas obviously more open and weepy abt his feelings tho). They stay like that for a few episodes then idk at some point they reconcile and start talking again which leads to other stuff and then we're back on the endgame train. But basically Full Moon is gonna be pure angst w/o a happy ending.

2. Stolitz DOES become canon in the next episode, but their problems are not solved and each episode that passes afterwards just shows how many other flaws they have in their relationship. They end up breaking up a few episodes after FM. After the break up, same as theory 1 they spend some time apart, they grow as individuals and shit and eventually they reconcile and blah blah blah Stolitz endgame. The thesis of these theories is that even if we do or don't get Stolitz canon in the next ep, they still are endgame (I believe) but they still have a lot of growth to do before they can have the truly comfortable, loving, and satisfying healthy relationship that the viewers want.

Source: I've seen a lot of TV couples have to work very hard for their happy endings and I can't rly see why Stolitz would be any different especially w a relationship as complicated as theirs. If you were to ask me which route I think is more possible, I'd say theory 1 bc authors LOOOOOVE putting their fans through the ringer, and theory 2 reflects that as well but holds it back a little bit.

ALTERNATE THEORY 3 (imo highly unlikely tho): Stolitz becomes canon and they actually have a sweet and loving relationship!! It's not without its faults tho and sometimes we do get eps or arcs where shit is just MESSY but Stolitz still comes out of it everytime better and stronger. There are no breakups and every1 is happy!! The end.

Edit: Alternate theory 4: My sibling brought this up to me: they said that maybe Full Moon won't mark a major shift in with Stolitz and that it may just be more interaction between the two characters; that while the episode may not be a turning point in their relationship, it may still continue to move things along between the two of them (though for better or for worse remains to be seen.) Sibling may have a point imo and I may just be too overcome with Stolitz fever to have considered this before 😅 What do you guys think?

[neurosnare]

I don’t wanna be clocked as the “I’m better than you disabled type” for saying this, so please don’t go there. But I feel like people do have a problem with getting way too comfortable in their misery over the years here and I hope people see what I mean one day. Back when I was miserable myself and didn’t have the resources I do now, I used to get angry at those who said I’m capable of “doing more” or related but after receiving the help I’ve needed I’ve come to realize its a kind of fucked how normalized its been in these spaces to just.. use specific experiences or illnesses as a scapegoat? For a lack of better words. I used to do it but again, it’s normalized here I guess.. we’re capable of so much more and I’m growing more and more tired of the “I’m x so I can’t do x” thing..

I’m diagnosed with various things, some expected some new, I’ve been through heaps of traumatizing both irl and online situations resulting in the cptsd, chronic depression, BPD, some sort of dissociative disorder etc all being treated. What gets me though, is I see people experience way more mild things that they end up intensely identify with and blaming it or a few bad experiences on every negative trait they have, and don’t try and change anything. A lot of the time leading to misdiagnosing themselves as well with something serious, and yeah, I get mad about it. I get that people don’t all experience things the same but the same awwrghwk729191

The more I see this sort of thing taken happen between mutuals/acquaintances etc after I provide my insight the more (unreasonably?) angry I get? Because in my mind I guess people should know better but at the same time they haven’t been “enlightened” like I have so to speak. I’ve helped a couple of people, but some are so, so stuck in the “I’m this so I can’t do that or be expected to” thing and I only see this mindset in people who are very stuck on social media. I do not see this in people who are more “offline” or focus more on projects/friends/etc who have been through a lot like I have as well.

And just like. Dude.

[CW experience dump of unpleasantness];

If I can go through 13ish years of back to back domestic violence, witnessing my parent trying to kill themself multiple times, being woken up to screaming at 1am almost every day for months at one point, see people get beat, get beaten myself, have someone try to run me/family over twice, have a sibling die, endure s/a and on top of that be sent through multiple manipulators online after thinking I was through it all; I’m sure others with more “mild” problems in comparison they’ve ever went through can pull out of the “I’m so constantly drained and I can’t do xyz thing,” like I have, with work. But they have to really want it, when I get angry is when I see someone perfectly capable of using those resources and they don’t, but instead sink more into the “I can’t to blah” mindset.

I guess yeah there’s no hiding that this is a direct nod towards something that happened to me/someone recently, but nothing would change even if I dumped my feelings which I’ve done way too much of and itd always amount to nothing sooo instead I’ll just dump about what I see it all relating to in online phenomena. I’ll never be satisfied with how a friendship fell apart because of [the everything], and I could explain my pov further but I don’t want to get anymore specific than I am + I’m all around very certain it all culminates to this sort of thing. Out of all the worries I have recently reflecting on this is the only upsetting thing I’ve really been through recently besides random works issues and I think this will plague me for a long, long time. Wegh

Ty for the like attention span of idk 3 peanuts of my 50-ish followers who would read this post 🏓

[rosetheex-editor]

[Video transcript begin.]

[The video starts with the camera being obscured by a jean pocket, before being brought out and put in a shirt pocket, the things in view being some vines cracked bricks and a doorway without a door. Before a person identified as "Rose" begins talking.]

Rose: ok cassius, i'm here, let's fucking get this over with.

[A laugh can be heard from an unclear direction, seemingly encompassing the whole space.]

Cassius: Look up!

R: fuck you mean ‘look up’?

[The camera moves as Rose looks up at the ceiling, nothing is there except more vines and broken bricks.]

C: Gotcha.

[The camera jolts suddenly as Cassius kicks Rose from behind.]

R: FUCK! ok jackass, you really want to do this?

[Rose grabs a knife out of her bag, as the camera moves again in rose's attempts to calm down.]

R: you never answered my question… why do this to me? to edgar? what did we ever do?

[Cassius stares at Rose for a few seconds, before devolving into a fit of screechy laughter, after around 30 seconds, he wipes his eyes, and turns back to Rose.]

C: You really don’t know?

R: no, you asswipe, i don't know you in fucking general, and edgar never told me if he knew you, so like, fuck you want for real?

C: You know what my job is? I’m in the PR department. I’m supposed to make sure Showfall has a positive public image.

R: and that has what to do with us? frankly i just want to move on from this showfall bullshit i'm getting real fucking tired of you dickheads.

C: They all say that, but they never move on. They never can. Which is why I have this job! Showfall needs you out of the picture to maintain their status. I’ve failed to destroy evidence before, but I sure as hell won’t now.

R: Yeah, blah blah blah. showfall can go shove it!

[Rose runs at Cassius attempting to hit him, but Cassius moves out of the way before Rose can connect on a punch.]

C: Not the brightest, are you?

[Cassius smiles as he pulls out a pair of small throwing knives, then fixes his shirt and cracks his neck.]

R: do you think i'm gonna stand here and let you hit me?

C: No! Where’s the fun in that?

[Rose runs back up to Cassius, missing on another punch, before running back.]

R: DAMNIT!

C: My turn!

[Cassius quickly aims and throws one of his knives at Rose, it can be heard connecting with concrete and clattering to the floor. Cassius grins at them, making it clear that he missed on purpose.]

C: Whoops!

R: fuck you… your job must really suck if you find it fun to attack random people.

C: You’re not random, Editor. We both know that.

R: oh yeah, what's so different? what's the difference between me and the other fucking people showfall has hurt!

C: There is no difference, you’re just the closest target. Wait– did you really think this would end with you? That’s selfish.

R: well… It can't be selfish if I'm here trying to protect people.

C: Honestly, you’re just as naive as your sister. A shame, what happened to her. A real fucking shame.

R: YOU FUCKER!

[Rose tries again to attack Cassius, this time with the knife, stabbing Cassius in the right arm before running back to reopen the gap.]

C: Rose, this is a throwing knife! You’re supposed to throw it at me, not just stab me! Here, I’ll show you.

[Cassius smiles and rips the knife out of his arm, before throwing it back in Rose’s direction. It hits the concrete again as Rose ducks out of the way, causing the camera to shake. When it can refocus, Cassius’ smile has faded slightly, his jaw clenched.]

R: fucking told you… i'm not just gonna stand there jackass! throwing shit is no good when the other person moves.

C: Hm, you’ve got me there! How about a little… Hand-to-hand combat?

[Cassius chuckles at his terrible joke as he drops the other knife, flexing his hands. There is a very muffled whirring noise as his fingers begin to contort, after a few seconds, the tips of his fingers have something reflective and shiny sticking out.]

R: knife fingers? you have to be fucking kidding me.

C: Mhm! Courtesy of Showfall Media!

[Cassius brings his right hand up and begins to sprint at Rose, preparing to stab her. But, at the last second, Rose sidesteps the attack, causing Cassius’ hand to be embedded in the wall behind her.]

R: who's the foolish one now, stupid!

[Rose roundhouse kicks Cassius in the head, knocking him out of the wall as she runs back, keeping her distance from Cassius.]

R: HA GOT YOUR ASS! what do you have to say now!

[Cassius stands back up, leaning against the wall for support, the claw-like knives have retracted back into his hands, leaving blood to trickle down the wall where his hand now rests. He stares at Rose, and grins. It looks unnatural on his face.]

C: Just this. If I did this right, he should be here in 3… 2… 1.

[Footsteps echo off the walls of the building as someone rushes to the room the two are in, as they approach, breathing can also be heard. It sounds panicked and heavy. Soon, another person enters. The camera turns slightly to reveal Edgar in the doorway, his hair full of leaves and twigs, eyes wide.]

R: EDGAR? WHAT THE FUCK!

Edgar: I saw the note, and you weren’t home, so I’ve been sprinting around the fucking forest for half an hour looking for you. Why the hell did you think going alone would be a good idea?

R: WELL YOU DO IT ALL THE FUCKING TIME, RIGHT? WHY CAN'T I?

E: Do as I say, not as I do! Also, it’s been established that whenever anyone does something alone it ends terribly.

R: AND THAT'S WHY YOU LEFT ME ALONE TO ALMOST DI…. NEVER FUCKING MIND I'M BASHING THIS FUCKER'S HEAD IN.

[Rose grabs a landline phone out of her bag, before sprinting at Cassius, smashing the landline phone into the side of his head.]

[Cassius falls back to the ground, and takes a sharp breath in, but doesn’t give her any other reaction.]

C: Good one, Editor! But if you really want me dead, you have to actually try to kill me.

R: SHUT THE FUCK UP!

[Rose hits Cassius 3 more times before speaking again.]

R: IS THAT WHAT YOU FUCKING WANT? IS THAT ME TRYING!

C: Still fucking breathing, bitch. Try again.

R: ROT IN HELL!

[Rose repeatedly smashes the phone into Cassius' face.]

E: ROSE. Jesus Christ! Stop!

[Rose stops, looking at her hands, now covered in blood, as she begins sobbing.]

R: i'm sorry… i'm sorry. i didn't want to do that again.

E: It’s fine, Rose, just– please. I know what it’s like afterwards. It’s not pleasant.

R: i didn't want to do that, i already hurt ruby i don't want to hurt anyone else.

[A raspy chuckle can be heard from Cassius.]

C: Are you really going to let this dumb mechanic tell you what to do? Kill me. You fucking won’t.

[Rose begins to pick up the phone but drops it, the camera shifts as Rose falls on the ground, Rose continues crying for a person identified as "Ruby" it seems this person is dead however.]

C: Yikes. Wrong choice.

[More whirring can be heard from Cassius’ direction. The camera turns to him as his spine seemingly expands outwards under his skin. Something pierces the skin in the direct center of his back. The camera remains fixated on the man as 4 large, sharp metal legs emerge, the appendages are covered in his blood, small bits of his flesh are also caught in small crevices. The legs lift him off the ground and begin to move him towards a nearby window.]

R: SHIT! HE'S GONNA GET AWAY!

[Rose pulls her gun out of her bag, but is already pulling the trigger as it faces Edgar, the camera still facing Cassius.]

R: go to hell!

[Loud noise detected. Confirmed sound: Gunshot.]

R: what….

[The camera turns around to face Edgar, there is now a gunshot wound in his left leg, Rose drops the gun in shock, before screaming.]

R: FUCK! EDGAR ARE YOU OK?

E: I– uh–

[He looks down at his wound, then back to Rose. He drops to one knee.]

R: DAMNIT!

[Rose begins crying again, in between trying to ask Edgar if he's ok.]

R: please just– just say you’re ok– i didn't want to hurt you.

E: I’m– I’m fine. N– nothing vital was hit, I think–

R: ok um fuck i'm calling 911! just hang in there.

[Rose grabs her phone, as she does the camera angle changes to Rose's blood stained shoes, her crying continuing.]

R: WHY THE FUCK IS THIS ON! TURN IT OFF TURN IT O–

[End transcript]

[zeracanule]

I am not THAT pale...

There's gotta be some neurological brain thing pertaining to teeth whiteness and the whites of the eyes.

Also realizing. I think part of my issue is that neurologic recognition, from an early age, even if I transitioned I wouldn't be pale-ass petite.

So it's like... I could never pull off a certain brand of femme fatales.

So then what even is the point of transitioning.

Where as like. My mom, being my mom, was able to pull off the tomboy personality for years.

And that's why... you must eat your father.

"Bless me, with the, leaf off of a tree, on it, I see, the freedome reign"

... they had a house meeting today. Rather bitchy because I got woken up at 10:30. And so like. You know how your dreams after affected by how you get woken. Or like... it's like the dream actually happens in the split second of awakening and I'd just your unconscious suddenly processing all the information so as to perceive reality.

Well. I had a half-nightmare about failing at college. And having to go to a class I failed. And all that. And a bit of flying around campus/gliding.

But like. Shit dawg. If I could have just slept another few hours. Or something. I dunno.

Realized that the guy I was living around in Vegas was named Sean. And Sean is a diminutive of the French name Jean. And my mom's middle name is Jean.

And like. Another one of those "reality isn't real" blah blah blah situations.

Was nice not being asked how my day was by the liquor store guy. I think after I come int he third day in a row he realizes I'm not on some depressive binder. I'm just on autopilot.

If I could I'd be autopiloting myself to minecraft. But apparently the other part of my brain doesn't perceive the whole uh... like. Calories... of beer.

"Oh, he's depressed, maybe he'll want to go out, buy some beers, and be social."

And I'm like

No, no, I'm just doing this because otherwise you'd nag at me for a few hours.

And then there's the other voice which is like "hey, why don't you go unalive your former housemate."

And I'm like fuuuuccckkk offff, but then like at nighttime that voice turns into the faux-adult voice saying it's trying to teach me how to hold in my need to use the restroom so that I can get a job and all that.

And I'm like. Shit.

Brain grumpiness. Cheddar chicken rollers from Del Taco. Extra yummy. Creamy ranch. Mmm good.

Mild grumpiness because I am currently low on youtube videos to watch. Started up a new series again but the 1st season only has 10 episodes. And I think the 2nd season has some 20-ish episodes. But when I watched the other podcast they did which was 59 episodes I had a LOOOONNNGGG hiatus at around 40-ish episodes and didn't watch it for a year.

And like. I think my brain is trying to pace myself with episodes again.

Apparently my eldest niece is into D&D. Super cool. Sort of funny that my sister is getting that going. She used to be really good at story telling.

I'm just a world building idea farm.

>_> and then a decade goes by and I realize "oh, this was a reflection of blank" or such and such. But hey, almost a decade of having an idea be unabashedly mine. Or something. Need to drink more water.

Had a period of adding drink flavor stuff. But then it felt kinda funky drinking it.

And then started up vege drinks. And back on mid-range caffeinated drinks.

But needing to check an article I saw on artificial sweeteners being bad for the brain. Saw another before which mentioned differing levels of depression depending on type of sugar/sweetener intake.

Just all seems relevant because after I went to inpatient I met a dude who mentioned being "bored of water."

-contemplative cat reading newspaper- "I should buy a Juul."

[wilhelmfink]

9.21.24. - 1:15am

feeling very 2022 as of late.

bangs are back. air is getting cool. change is in the air.

I wonder if this is how she felt when I thought of moving to los angeles. maybe he's right, if he had encouraged me even a tidbit I would have gone. but at that point in my life, anywhere seemed better than bedstuy. and when I, for the first time in so long, felt tied to nothing, los angeles seemed possible.

so now, here I am. my best friend is moving out of new york this weekend and she's going to be in la next year. of course i'm bitter in the funny way where I give her shit for moving to a worse place. a place made of plastic. a vacation destination that is actually garbage. blah blah blah. in n out fries suck. she's delulu for thinking otherwise.

I know it hasn't hit me yet, it will eventually. I am terrified for when it does. but one thing I won't do is make her genuinely feel like shit about it. she's doing what she feels is right for her, and she's a little sunshine of a girl so she'll do well anywhere she goes. i'm sad it's far from me, but she's got flight benefits. i'm traveling more every year. i've had long distance friendships my whole life. it's just another one </3 nothing is different. everything is fine.

It's times like these that I have to reflect on what happened two years ago now. I always thought I wasn't a people pleaser, and I wasn't one until after my breakup. it's so funny, to have that One Breakup that changes how you live your entire life. your priorities. the one that makes you a people pleaser. the one that makes you bend over backwards to avoid losing people, and it still isn't enough, and it's not in the right way. you hold onto the things that seem important, that look like the future you've always wanted. in some ways it is. to others it isn't. you get the gossip girl/365 party girl stories you've always wanted, you don't regret a single thing. you have the wildest stories that a year ago, you wouldn't have ever imagined possible.

you wonder if she reads this ever, even though she told you years ago she wouldn't check it anymore. doesn't matter if she does. you couldn't be farther, even if you are somehow in the same city.

dreamt about will the other day. it happens more often than you'd think. saw him through a doorway somewhere and tears streamed down my face as I was lost for words. we always stare at each other for so long before something breaks. so many emotions i'm still trying to process, through writing, through therapy, etc. every conversation we have in my countless dreams goes far better than I fear it would in real life. I wish I was stronger - wish I had stood up for myself - when it mattered.

there is so much anger and resentment. bewilderment. shock. I suppose it all has to come rushing back this time of year.

It feel surreal, the path my life has taken. i'm sitting here in my own apartment in the middle of the city I spent my life staring at. my best friend who lived 20 blocks from me is moving away this weekend. my boyfriend, who they used to say was as big a manipulator and gaslighter and lovebomber as matt was, won't be here until next year. I never thought we'd date, never thought long distance would be an option on the table again. but going back to surreal - how do you feel inexplicably pulled to one person in college, from 2017, through your four year relationship, and he ends up being the first person you sleep with after it, remains a constant in your life through all of your mutual turmoil, becomes one of your best friends, giving each other dating advice but fucking when we're in the same city, timing always off, until everything clicked into place in december, and again in january, and again in april, may, june, july - and suddenly you remember what it felt like to feel forever. and it feels like this is how it's always supposed to be. you're grateful for the time it took to get here, because you never would have been ready in college, or two years ago. but you are now and every day is as full of love and joy as the last, and you're 3000 miles apart, but it feels like nothing most days. wind extinguishes the flame but fans the fire.

what a fucking whirlwind of two years. I love my girls. I love my boy. my chaotic story. my silly little haunts. i'm going to miss my best friend. one thing i've learned is to not take people for granted, because I know I have. and i'm gonna miss her being so close to me a lot. why do all my bestest friends have to be long distance??

the world has seemed like it's going to end so many times before, and it hasn't. it only got bigger, and filled with more love than I thought possible. fuck, do I love my friends so much. do I love the friendships I spent so much time nourishing after giving what felt like everything to them. i'm so excited for next week. next month. christmas. next year. the years after. i'm so happy. so many things to do and learn and grow from. aaalways look on the bright side of life.

excelsior.

1:56am

"and my intent is to breathe, in a new world

don't be sad for me"

[lavender--fairy]

i personal feel that this the problem a lot us are probably facing and thinking. i feel this is a topic to be discussed rather than saying "you have it now, the 4D is the only thing that matters, 3D is a reflection... blah blah blah". we should also consider the people who's struggling and suffering from serious mental health issues even though they know the LAW OF ASSUMPTION.

let's say they want to manifest good grade and their test is tomorrow they have nothing prepared so they just 'try' to manifest, claim it and sustain in that assumption and the next day they go to school with full hope and they doesn't know a single thing in that paper and yep they get a bad grade and get discouraged. i know i know, you be like circumstances don't matter it's because that is what you assume. if they were so passionate and hopeful about that why did they get a bad grade? many of them haven't even manifested a thing so far they get easily discouraged and give up. then they be like "let me revise it" and nothing is happening again, this shit is going on loop.

WE NEED TO STOP THIS SHIT!

the blogs and stuffs say that the 4D is real and the 3D is not important it's just a reflection. let's say your bills are due in an hour or so days and you gonna pay the 4D money? hell nah. what's the point of having it in the 4D if you're homeless and your stomach is empty. you say manifestation is instant, if it is so why isn't my assumptions not hardened into facts? we assume a lot of things and not seeing them get real pisses us off.

now let's take an example, i want a complete 360 turn of my entire life like nothing is same as before. i want to be in a different country, have different name, have different job, have different appearance, have different personalities, have different friends, have different family ...... everything is just different. and then I assume like "okay, I'm going to count to ten and when it reaches one when i open my eyes my reality is completely changed" (assumed) and then i do that and nothing changed and i gave up.

this is what is happening for a lot of us and it's even harder when they're a beginner to concious manifesting or haven't consciously manifested anything before on will.

WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF THIS THE CASE YOU'RE GOING THROUGH? WHAT WILL BE YOUR PIECE OF ADVICE.

if i make rules and if I assume that thing it's going to be like that why isn't it changing?

heyy butterbean!! listen i understand what you are trying to say and i really wanna help you out and i want you to cooperate with me alright? because its really hard after you've just rejected all the basic advice yk please let me help you. I want you to imagine something you truly desire, don't try to feel anything or try to follow any "rules", you don't have to,literally no rules, no "have tos" just imagine it being done, imagine the end. Like for instance imagine you having a different name, imagine someone calling you your desired name, or lets talk df imagine being confident and looking in the mirror and literally not being able to find a flaw, like maybe you dont like your nose right now and you think if you have straight teeth you'd look pretty but when you imagine you aren't even able to find something you want to change. Imagine people turning heads and imagine being confident doing things you are insecure doing now, imagine catching your reflection in a mirror or a store window and just feeling so happy that you look sooo good. Doesn't it feel nice ( if you feel nothing yet try this meditation ) ?? thats what you want to do everytime you think about your desire and in no time it will reflect, i promise, neville promises, the law promises. Moving on to

"you have it now, the 4D is the only thing that matters, 3D is a reflection... blah blah blah". I know you are frustrated but this is the law, thats how it works. 3D IS a reflection and there is nothing you or i and do about it, and its a good thing because if it is a reflection and if it reflects me than i can change myself. And ik you are gonna be mad reading this because you either don't know how to change self or you've tried different methods and nothing worked, well let me tell you something. The way to change self is by doing what YOU WANT in your mind, not what you think YOU HAVE TO , not what you think YOU SHOULD but what you WANT. Remove all the rules and do exactly what you want and then only will you be able to change self and it will be 100% reflected back, don't worry about it, you can always trust that. More about this (i love this post btw)

Another thing i notice is that you lack faith, do you really trust the law? do you fully believe that what you imagine will be reflected?? now dont be anxious if the answer is no because you can build your faith over time, and to do that manifest random things, just test it with anything you like, something small maybe or maybe try the ladder experiment. "the blogs and stuffs say that the 4D is real and the 3D is not important it's just a reflection. let's say your bills are due in an hour or so days and you gonna pay the 4D money?"

well if i ever am in that situation i will fulfill my desire of paying the bill and trust it fully and then watch it happen. And you can do it too, seriously if you think i wish i could imagine with ease, then do that, who's stopping you? the 3d? no no no the 3d isnt your obstacle, it isn't stopping you from imagining what you want...infact it will change as soon as you change self. Its you, really. Just fulfill your desire, and have faith.

Read edward art, drink some cold water, take a deep breath and release it with a sigh, stretch a little, you have got this !! hopefully this helps in one way or another.