#12 12 12. very 12. so 12. what a concept it is!
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lawofangie · 11 hours ago
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some things i've manifested
these are some basic stories, but i have some "crazy" ones i might share if you guys want lol
note: before manifesting i used to have a pretty "normal" life. i was conventionally attractive, middle classs, etc. i didn't really "need" anything but a social life and better grades. regardless of that, i just manifested whatever i wanted and didn't limit myself. i also added a few little stories behind them.
appearance change:
changed my hair texture to curly
grew from 5'2 to 5'6
clear, even skin and skin tone (tbh i already had a really good skincare routine, my skin was super clear bc of that BUT my face used to be like 10 shades darker than the rest of my body and i had CRAZY backne and strawberry legs)
losing 30 pounds (i used to be 72kg, now i'm 58kg)
changed my shoe size (i used to be size 9 now i'm size 7)
changed my hand size (for reference, my hands used to be a little longer than my phone, i had a "pro max" sized phone.)
social life:
having good friends in my state (im from up north and was completely lonely in the state i live in now)
popularity (i used to be pretty irrelevant but now everybody likes me and wants to be around me)
getting my sp's (i manifested them from scratch and took inspired action to meet them)
having people crush on me more overtly/ getting approached more (this is kind of a weird one, before my appearance change i was pretty attractive like maybe a 7/10, but i got tired of people just ogling me and not approaching me. i only had the unattractive and overconfident guys approaching me, all the attractive ones just stared lol)
just being likable lol (people used to feel threatened by me or feel like i was standoffish for some reason. idrk tbh but it was VERY annoying. i literally used to get accused of "acting like i own the place" for being quiet and just existing 💀. i didn't really care what they thought, but i hated when they complained about it and tried to make it my problem.)
school:
higher gpa (i used to have a 3.0 but i manifested a 3.8, which is a weighted 4.0)
high grades (i used to fail many tests/exams and have a mix of a, b, and c's. now they're all a's)
dream college acceptance
teachers liking me (they actually used to hate my guts it was so annoying 😭)
school crushes liking me back (tbh they probably thought i was already attractive but they never spoke to me or seemed like they wanted to get to know me)
leaving early (my school day ends at like 12 now)
lifestyle:
living closer to the city
having my dream routine (i have my dream skincare products, haircare products, diet, and health routines.)
having a high self concept (tbh i technically always did, i knew what i wanted and deserved. i just felt more like i was being injusticed. so i got rid of the "unwilling victim" mentality. i also used to ruminate on irrelevant things, like mistakes i made, what people thought of me, etc.)
very high confidence (in my looks, abilities, judgement, etc.)
money for my parents and myself
having a busy, productive life (i used to hate school because my grades weren't contributing to anything i wanted to do in life, so i wanted a productive life outside of that.)
always getting my way
getting all sorts of things for free
and more!
i'd say this all took me around 2-3 months, not because manifesting takes time, but because i assumed a lot of things would take time. i also had periods of doubt in myself and tried to handle things in the 3d on my own for some time.. which obviously didn't work. still, all i did was assume and accept these things as true and they happened overnight, in a day, or within that week. the longest anything's taken me is like 7 days, and that was because i kept wavering in my mind. manifestation is truly instant.
but anyways, i hope this is motivational and helpful. i do have some pretty "ridiculous" stories like some revenge stories, "crazy" stories regarding sp's, some not very appropriate stories, really good things happening to me, and others.
thanks for reading! i hope this helps. 🩶
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hazelfoureyes · 6 hours ago
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A Doe in Fall (Part 14)
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⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.
Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smut💦📍
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
Where we left off: Alastor and Reader had a misunderstanding and a heavy talk on the back porch. He’d let it slip how deeply he felt but it was muffled by your thighs.
Part 14 Someone like her
Brady says the magic words after finally meeting his elusive radio man. But was that a good thing?
「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, masturbation, Ace Alastor is trying his best, little smut to start the day, Brenda exists, Reader is also trying her best but it’s less hot, mentions of abuse, thinly veiled racism, Insecure Alastor, an axe, Alastor is the deer and gator」
MDNI ☎️💚🏡
Forehead pressed against the wall of the bathroom, Alastor’s hand gripped the base of his cock and squeezed.
He’d been trying to masturbate more, hoping to prolong things when with you, but the action was just so pointless. Yes it felt good, but so did scratching his back when he had an itch. But there was no itch here. He couldn’t mentally stay in a romantic mindset when it was just fingers and running water. What intimacy existed there? What was the point? Male orgasms were for procreation and pleasure, were they not? He wasn’t going to knock up the drain or make the shower quiver so this seemed just wasteful. 
Images of your pleasured face ghosted behind his eyes. Nothing pointless about that. A twitch to the otherwise bored flesh in his grip. 
Wasteful.
Your laugh at watching Alastor march through the bedroom sopping wet and butt naked choked you when your eyes lowered to see he was also rock hard.
“Oh.” Was all you managed before his shower was soaking through your cotton top and powder blue skirt. “Oh.” Ravenous mouth at your jawline.
“I didn’t want to waste it.” His hips rutted into your side, the evidence of every place he touched were large and dark wet spots on your clothes. “Do you want to —?”
His fingers were already crawling down your thighs and gathering your skirt up. 
You always forgot his strength when looking at him. Until he was holding you up by the hips, for example, fucking you against the bedroom wall. Wet skin slapping against your thighs, panties swinging around your ankle with every thrust. A lovely way to start a Monday. 
The weekend had been spent with a very attentive and clearly apologetic Alastor. His hands had been more present on your body, always holding your hand or pulling your legs over his lap as you both read. Dinners with his feet tangled with yours. Nights with his head buried in your hair.
The words were moaned through his own mind, scared to let them go again.
I just love you so much.
Every time you sighed his name, he clenched his teeth to keep it back. He wouldn’t weaponize it. He’d struggled to keep the compelled confession buried into your lap before, but he could keep it together until the moment was happy and without the bitter taste of his disappointment still lingering on your tongue.
An enlightened gasp dripped into a breathy moan as you realized this must be the make up sex the ladies always talk about. You’d never understood the concept before then. 
He felt you tighten around him, yes, a much better use of arousal. The good thing about his years of experience before you was he had time to learn. To know when to quicken his pace and when to focus on depth. Quality over quantity, he thought.
His mind stayed there long after you finished and he went into work. Leaving you behind was difficult, a small wiggling worm of fear deep in his skull that’d you’d vanish if his body wasn’t touching yours. 
You’d taken off some time from work, partly out of sheer embarrassment and partly to keep the theater safe from Brady. Which meant when he left for work, you kissed him goodbye at the door. You both laughed into the small space between your lips immediately afterwards. 
“Hush.” You warned him, and he pretended to zip his lips shut and slip the imaginary key into your skirt pocket. 
Alastor was happy to hear Brady had been told he had a handful of nothing but he knew his clock was ticking. You’d recounted your time in the station and how angry and disappointed the other detective had seemed with Brady. Brady would be popping up as soon as possible, you warned. There was no way he was dropping the issue. He’d be knocking on Alastor’s office door in no time. 
Much sooner than Alastor had prepared for, but he was ever the performer. 
Brenda far too loudly announced two detectives were there for him. She was side eyeing them with a sneer he could almost appreciate when she popped her head in to yell it. 
“I’ll be right out.” Alastor set his work down and took a deep breath. Every piece of him wanted to rush from the room and strangle Brady on the office floor. He’d seen him many times before but the pesky detective didn’t know that. A tremble of excitement he shook away. Smile on, he left the office.
His observations came quick and loud as he saw Brady’s face in the daylight for the first time.
Bright eyes. Tired. Light hair. Pale. Clothes wrinkled. Sweat stains even though it was autumn already. 
The man beside him was new to Alastor, and Alastor couldn’t tell yet what to do with him. Taller, older, darker complexion. His expression was relaxed in comparison to Brady’s stressed one.
“Good afternoon, detectives. Alastor. It’s a pleasure.” He extended his hand but only Freeman moved to shake it.
Brady was staring with blatant scrutiny. Alastor was quite tall, and much leaner than he had anticipated. His hair was perfectly in place, with clean skin and neat glasses. Was this the right man?
“Edward Freeman. I am a big fan, sir. Your voice is made for radio.” Freeman shook Alastor’s with both of his own, not noticing his partner’s wide eyed horror. “Such a pleasure. I promise we won’t take too much of your time.”
Alastor could have cackled directly into Brady’s face but managed to keep himself in check, “A face for radio too! Ha ha ha,” his laugh was loud, genuinely amused with himself, “Well it’s always a treat to meet a listener.”
Brady thought he’d black out. He’d began his day humming with anticipation, the high of having a name and occupation making him dizzy all weekend. The shock of Freeman immediately cozying up to his prime (and sole) suspect was throwing him off balance.
He’d brought him along so he could show him he’d gotten the right man. He’d thought —- he’d been so sure Alastor would be some second rate employee with rough hands and thick arms. Not the pretty host working behind some desk. Weren’t there large spools of cable and big contraptions radio station employees lugged around? Where were those men?
A string bean of a human in thin circular glasses was charming the wits off his partner.
“Brady. We��re here to discuss an important matter regarding your girlfriend.” Brady leaned in to separate the other two men and their budding camaraderie.
“Girlfriend?!” Brenda choked on her coffee, her desk just some feet beside them. “You’re confused. I’d know if he had a girl.”
“Thank you, Brenda.” Alastor said through a forced smile, “She is right though. I am unattached. Lifelong bachelor.”
“That’s interesting. Because when we picked her up at the burlesque theater,” he was cut off by a shriek.
“Nude dancing?! Sir! My—-you! Alastor would never! He is a man of means and class! I-,” Brenda’s hands were aimlessly shuffling time cards. “The only theater he frequents is the cinema.”
“Brenda.” Alastor laughed, not taking his eyes off of Brady, “Please. Let the man finish.”
“But you’d never! This is slander!”
“No slander. We picked her up for prostitution and her,” again he was drowned out by the receptionist. 
Brenda was on her feet, a second from foaming at the mouth, “Out! You get out of this office at once!” 
“Sure, why don’t we take this to the station.” 
“You want a local celebrity,” Alastor’s eye twitched as Brenda screeched out the words, “to be marched down there like a common criminal! I’m calling the station, you’re mad.” 
“Thank you, Brenda!” Alastor hissed, words heavy, “Let’s continue this in my office, gentlemen.” His arm swung out to gesture to the open door. 
Brenda was left fiddingly with her pearls in horror. 
Alastor followed the men in and leaned back against his desk casually, offering them the two chairs. 
“So, now that we’re … free from that, what were you saying?” He tried to chuckle away the chaos, one hand gently smoothing his hair back.
“We took in a woman last week for prostitution. Charges dropped but  — her friends said you were her beau.” Freeman leaned back too, crossing his legs at the ankle as they stretched out in front of him, “Radio man named Alastor? Not too many of those so, thought we’d just come by and check.”
Brady stood near the door, refusing to sit. “So. Gonna tell me there’s some more Alastors in New Orleans? Or gonna be straight with us?”
Alastor nodded, sighing through his nose. You’d filled him in already on the story.
“Burlesquer, right? Pretty thing with the long lashes and sharp tongue?” He looked up at Brady over his glasses, looking as boyish as a man his age could. 
“So you are her fella?” Freeman’s back straightened. He hadn’t expected that.
“Wouldn’t go that far… I’m embarrassed to admit it but yes I did take out a singer some time ago. Dancer too, I was told. But, I,” his hands slid in his pockets and he shrugged his shoulders, “I had a lovely time with her.” He gave Freeman a shy smirk, “I just didn’t want anything serious. Paid for her cab last time I saw her but I didn’t give her a dime for anything else.”
Brady stared at every inch of the man before him. His white button up was loose at the arms but wasn’t appearing to hide some powerful physique that said ‘I drag bodies around town.’
“We were told you’d been going to see her for quite some time.” Brady had been prepared for every reply.
Alastor furrowed his brow and pretended to think, hand coming from his pocket to adjust his glasses, “Talking about the nice little joint near the park?”
“Yeah.” Brady smiled. “So you admit it.”
“I loved going there. I first noticed her over a few weekends. Asked her out there, too. But after a few nights out she seemed a little… not worth the trouble, I’ll say.” He grimaced, “I really sound like a rake, huh?” He looked to Freeman, asking for the man’s acceptance with his eyes.
Freeman chuckled at the suggestion, “Not at all! Good looking man such as yourself, nice job, no wife. I’d be sowing my oats so to speak too. We’re just hunting down some people for questioning regarding a missing manager.”
Brady thought his head would snap with how quickly he turned to Freeman. He was saying too much.
“He’s uh, drats what’s her name?” Freeman turned around to Brady. Brady looked up to Alastor expectantly.
“Oh! She gave me some fake name. Winter or… August. I didn’t press the matter.” Alastor walked back to his desk and sat down, trying to get eye level with Freeman who was the easier of the two to play, “Missing manager? I frequent a lot of clubs looking for talent. Maybe I knew the guy. What’s his name?”
“Tommy Dupre.” Brady said it sternly. “And I’m the one leading the investigation.”
A twitch to the corner of Alastor’s smile, “Sorry detective, I assumed this here was your superior. He just has … an aura of experienced professionalism to him. Now where was I… a manager,” he shook his head, “Was he at The Bandstand by any chance?” His fingers were flipping through his rolodex of business cards. Brady noted how clean his nails were. But not suspiciously so, not something that seemed overly tended to. He shook his head again more firmly then. “No, never formally met the man at least.”
“He was your burlesquer’s manager.”
Alastor leaned back and crossed his arms, “I never went to her work and I truly don’t visit burlesque theaters. Can't risk my reputation.” Few people out of the club scene knew his face and name so that was a load of shit, but he hoped they wouldn’t stop and consider that much. “We run a clean show here.”
“Here’s the issue, sir.” Freeman patted the tops of his thighs, “Your Ms. Doe-,” Alastor’s brow furrowed in momentary confusion.
“Oh! Ha, clever. I see what you did there.” He laughed, it was light and made Freeman nod his head in thanks.
“She got roughed up real bad by Mr. Dupre around the time ya’ll were seen together.  He disappeared soon after. So, naturally….we wanted to see if you knew anything about what happened to him.”
“Doesn’t shock me to hear that.” Alastor's voice was high pitched and airy. His nonchalance was grating to the younger of the two detectives.
Brady rolled his eyes. Alastor was definitely the man Beth mentioned; a daisy. The kind of man to fret over a stained tie or wet shoes.
“People in …those kinds of establishments can’t expect civility.” His nails were digging through the cotton of his pants. It made him sick to say it. How many days did he kiss your bruises? How long had they lasted? Longer than Tommy, that was for sure. Outlived him by quite some time. His smile spread. Brady noticed it, clearing his throat. 
“What’s the smile for?”
“Ah,” Alastor hid his mouth with the back of his hand, he couldn’t bite back the glee of remembering Tommy beg, “Sorry. I’m just feeling quite grateful I didn’t stick around to be pulled into some dame’s drama. This is exactly why I remain untethered.”
“Wish I’d had that foresight…I’m only joking. My Donna’s a blessing and a half.” Freeman quickly retracted the comment. 
A moment of quiet as they all looked at each other. A natural dead end.
Freeman turned back in his chair to look at Brady once more, this was his impromptu interview. He’d begged Freeman to take the early lunch. Brady promised him this was the guy and that if it wasn’t, he’d never bring it up again.
So he was staring at his partner waiting for the never again to start. 
Brady chewed the inside of his cheek, mind bouncing through thoughts and theories and observations.
This man in front of him was soft. He was feminine in some aspects, definitely quite lanky and seemingly devoid of real muscle. Brady hadn’t imagined his killer to be concerned about style or fashion, yet this man clearly put a lot into his appearance. He couldn’t imagine him killing anyone… perhaps a gun?
“Got any hobbies?”
“Kenny.” Freeman chided.
“Sir.” Brady added it sarcastically.
Alastor whistled, “Besides jazz and piano? I fish. Uh,” Alastor looked for threads of truth to add to the web, “I garden quite a bit, actually. Love to dance.”
Of course he did.  “Sports?”
“I don’t watch nor listen to much of that.”
“No,” an exasperated sigh, “Do you play any sports?”
“Oh!” Another casual laugh that grated Brady’s senses, “No, no. I wouldn’t pretend I’m an athletic man.” 
“Hunting is a popular pastime around here, you ever go out shooting?”
“No sir, not my scene.” Alastor leaned back and swiveled his chair side to side. 
No hunting, really? Brady’s brows rose in suspicion, “….you from New Orleans?”
Freeman crossed his legs, a simple act that somehow conveyed a rising loss of patience.
“Born and raised, detective. Native son if there ever was one.”
He slipped out his notepad and slapped it against the fleshy part of his hand. Brady’s spirit was withering. 
A mistake?
“Understood.” Pushing off of the wall.
“Sorry to cause all this fuss over … my tryst with a dancer not too long ago.” Another bashful bachelor smile. “But it was just that. Fun. I never met her employer. I never even went to her shows. As for the place by the park-,”
“Beth’s.”
Alastor grinned to hide the flinch, “My doe, as you put it sir, was a real canary. But I haven’t been back there since I stopped seeing her. I’m sure if you asked they’d tell you the same.” The phone rang and Alastor apologized, putting a finger up, “Yes, Brenda?” The incessant woman asked what was taking so long. He smiled and nodded, “Thank you, tell them I’ll just be another minute.”
“We’ll be heading out. It seems I need to— to re-examine some things. Dig a little deeper.” Before Brady could retrieve his card to offer it to the radio host, Alastor was handing him his.
“Call anytime, but word to the wise. Brenda will answer first.” Alastor let out a loud and singular ‘ha!’
He rose to walk them out and Brady extended his hand again for him to shake, his stomach curdling at the touch. When the detective squeezed and shook his hand so hard his arm was moving up to the elbow he just laughed. He kept his own grip loose.
The limp and slender hand in his was disappointing. A final nail in his coffin, soft metal bending as it was struck.
Freeman smiled and hopped up, “Been a pleasure!”
Alastor took back his hand from Brady and wiped it off against his vest as soon as the men were turned around.
“Apologies for the disturbance, ma’am.” Brady kept his gaze down as he passed Brenda. Freeman set his card on her desk as he walked past.
“That’s a bunch of applesauce.” She hissed, refusing to stand.
Alastor’s mother taught him many things. Of this world and the other. Of the spirits always roaming and waiting. Of blue ceilings and birds hitting windows.
She warned him of people with heaviness,  people who gathered bad energy like rain on a flat roof. That weight attracted likewise things. A gravity would form and pull in more and more darkness. 
You’d mentioned a storm, and now Alastor was hearing that drip drip drip of the cracking roof. 
He’d been taught to steer clear of those people with that darkness, because you don’t want to be there when the roof caved in. 
She’d likened it to the sword of Damocles, don’t be so close you get cut when the blade finally drops. Don’t become collateral damage. 
When his skin touched Brady’s, he felt that heaviness. The gravity. We’re you both slipping down the sloping pull of his swirling negativity?
He felt the urge to spit, which was uncouth and unlike him. Brenda was talking loudly to him but she was deep under the ocean and muffled perfectly well. His drunken mind had been wrong about many things, but one line of thinking had been on the money.
Something had to be done. An accident playing out in slow motion before him, threatening to take you both down with it. 
A chill, insidious and violent made him turn on his heels and shut the door with force. There it was again, that fight or flight feeling. Twice in nearly as many days. Never did Alastor feel insecure in situations of life or death, not literal life or death that was. He didn’t care about dying. 
The thought of losing you was that first trigger, but what was causing this one? What was his gut trying to warn him about now?
Distance was needed. He needed to get as far from that detective and his gravitational pull as possible. Perhaps not physically, but in every other sense. There was safety in that, he could feel it just over the disorienting whirl of fear. 
If fear was a lark in his chest it’s little spine cracked and popped as it grew and mutated into a rageful osprey, anger opening his lungs and sinuses as blood rushed with renewed vigor. This was Brady’s fault, entirely. He was ruining everything. Alastor finally had what felt like all of the thj he wanted and deserved (anger dampening his usual insecurity of what was meant for him) and Brady was going to tear it apart. 
There was a struggle to decide how to proceed. He thought perhaps telling you would bring him clarity, but if you asked him to not do anything at all he couldn’t be sure he’d be able to stop from lying to your face about his intentions. 
A flash of confidence knowing he’d never lied to you died quickly, oh, he had lied to you. He’d lied to you in the alley before leaving to prepare to kill Tommy. He’d said it was the greater good of the community. A stain on his otherwise pristine morality when it came to you. 
“How could they?”
Alastor’s head popped up, Brenda had opened his door unannounced and continued her raving. 
“How could who do what?” He asked, smile small.
“Those detectives! Accuse you of debauchery!” 
He imagined telling her how his morning started, fucking the nude dancer against his bedroom wall, arleady shacking up out of wedlock. Maybe it’d kill Brenda? That’d be convenient. 
“I wonder if they are even real cops…I promise, I won’t let that nonsense back into this office, Alastor.” She gave him a thumbs up and left, leaving the door ajar. 
Daylight was already creeping away sooner and sooner as the seasons began to change. The first day Alastor was gone and you were completely alone in his home for an extended period of time was passed in an awkward boredom. There wasn’t much to do…his house was kept tidy, food didn’t take much time, and you had no means to get into town. So you listened through his record collection, carefully turning the vinyls over with delicate fingers. You’d heard oils from your hand could ruin the grooves. No idea if that was true, but you couldn’t risk it. Alastor’s job kept relatively regular hours, so when you knew he had most likely left work you headed out front to wait. It was a foreign thing to do, and a little embarrassing. Dogs waited for their masters to come home. You stuffed the comparison down, knowing you were once again comparing apples to oranges. Worse than that, dogs to yourself. 
“Welcome home!” You waited for the car door to close before greeting him, worrying over the timing. He froze between the car and the wooden steps. You stopped your swinging on the porch swing, noticing how odd it was to see someone completely still like that. You remembered the deer along the road. “What’s wrong?”
Every thought flew out his head and into the early setting sun. An odd deja vu came over him. He hadn’t heard those words in literal years. “No one has said that to me…since my mother died.”
Oh. 
Oh. That was….sad. You grimaced. “Should I not say it then?”
“No!” He came to life, “I mean, yes. No, You should say it. If you want. It’s nice.” Staccato sentences as he took the three steps in just two. He leaned over on a novel instinct for a kiss, and you leaned up to meet him. 
Another moment as you parted and both of you realized how odd the situation was. The killer and his dancer playing house. For a brief second, maybe heaven mistook you for something normal and good. When you smiled, trying to not say the obvious as you always did, he decided to not mention Brady. His first night coming home to you shouldn’t have to compete with that news. Tomorrow, he decided. He’d just….leave out which day Brady had stopped by. Not a lie, just an excluded, superfluous detail.
As you ate your dinner and he recounted his day, you made a decision of your own. 
“Hey, Saturday, can you drop me off downtown for a bit? I need to change my shoes and do a little shopping.”
You needed the gift, to set the mood for your confession. You’d survived your first fight, you didn’t combust into a ball of fire when you kissed him goodbye for work, it made sense to do it now. 
“Oh, did you want company? I don’t mind going out.” His little smile made it hard to deny him.
“Ah well, my friend is still staying over at my place and she may get uneasy with a man around. And my shopping….is at the kind of places men shouldn’t go. Frilly lacy places.” A terrible liar. “You should do something fun for Alastor! I’ll be maybe…four hours or so.”
He chewed slowly, since the misunderstanding he was a little more nervous than usual. You didn’t want him to join you, were you worried Brady would see? He shook his head, confusing you.
“...excuse me?” You laughed, “No?”
His head popped up, he still sometimes forgot you were right there and not on a phone, “Sorry, I was thinking about what to do with myself. No problem, sweetheart. You can just call me when you’re ready and I’ll head back into town. I’ll stick around the house, get some stuff ready for winter.”
“Perfect!” Perfect. 
So it was decided. He would tell you tomorrow that Brady came by his office. And you’d tell him Saturday that you were in love with him. 
That was the short lived plan. He couldn’t manage to wait. When the silence of the night settled and you had turned over to try and fall asleep, he broke. 
“I really hate keeping secrets from you.” His fingers were pulling and pushing at the edge of the blanket. 
You have secrets? You turned around and sat up. 
“Brady and his partner came by today to my office, like you’d expected. I didn’t want to ruin our day, knowing how rarely we will live traditionally. But it’s just bothering the hell out of me.” His hands came to cover his cheeks and crawl into his hair out of stress. An overreaction, the weekend having truly discombobulated the man. 
A beat of confusion, tense for Alastor but void of anything for you, until you burst into a relaxed laughter, “You’re ridiculous. You were really eaten up huh?”
“It isn’t funny!”
“It’s a litlte funny.” you pulled his head down onto your lap, “You coulda told me. It doesn't ruin anything. I told you he was going to look for you. I didn’t think he’d do it the next business day, but still.” He shifted his body to lie on his side and let you take off his glasses and set them on your side table. “Do you think he still suspects you?”
He thought about it. A little.
Maybe.
Brady seemed dejected when he had left, but he could see the wheels turning in his head as he was still searching for a way to make this puzzle pieces fit. 
“Probably. His partner seemed to believe me. A listener, it turns out.” Alastor pouted, still upset at your laughter. 
“That’s hilarious. I bet it pissed him off to no end, right?”
“He looked shocked. It was difficult to not laugh.” He let his legs fall off the side of the bed so he could turn onto his back and look up at you. “I told him you were a fling, that I had my fun and then disappeared because you were trouble. I said nude dancers getting beat up should be expected. I don’t mean that.”
“Of course you don’t. I remember your face when you saw through my makeup. Sure didn't look expected to me.”
His legs drew up, knees pressed together. “Was it still a good day?”
“You told me what was on your mind instead of driving yourself mad about it. It was a perfect day.” The open window let in enough light to see his stress melt away from the corner of his eyes. 
He sat up and kissed your nose, “Thank you. You can sleep now.”
“Oh, I've been asleep the whole time. You’re gonna have to do this all again in the morning.”
“That’s not funny.” 
You kissed his cheek and he smiled away the frown before settling back onto his side of the bed to earnestly sleep.
Flowers, you thought. You should buy flowers on Saturday, too. 
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
Alastor nerves hadn’t settled yet, even if he slept well beside you. Every day he came home and you were still there felt like he’d been holding his breath the entire drive. During lunch he’d call the house so you could talk and eat together, in a sense. The conversation eased him, a confirmation you still liked him. An embarrassing fear he couldn’t let you on to. 
He didn’t understand you spent the week calling record shops in search of something specific. Plotting exactly how you’d do it. You’d mastered the phonograph in the room beside the kitchen and found an old vase in the back of the cupboard. 
The panic didn’t settle for you either though. It just shifted to the confession from Brady. As if through osmosis, Brady was now Alastor’s main concern as soon as their hands shook. You were less scared, as he really did seem to be dismissed by his colleague from what you saw. Dejected and forlorn from what Alastor had described. 
Alastor was honest with you that he left work early to check on Brady midweek. He was practically dancing through the kitchen when he reported Brady went home on time for the first night in what could have been weeks. And he did so looking like shit.
And he felt like shit. When they left the radio station, Freeman gave him the silent treatment the entire ride back to work. He opened his mouth to offer an alternative theory, perhaps you or Alastor had a brother, but Freeman immediately shut him down.
“Stop. Enough.” He snapped from his desk. “It is over, Kenny. Let it go. Maybe some monster is out there doing all this crazy shit you think they are but it’s not this man nor this lady so just fucking drop it.”
He sat quietly the rest of the work day, thinking over everything again. It still felt right, but Alastor didn’t look right. Maybe it was a group, some new gang in town. Perhaps Alastor had some business with them. 
Staring at his neatly folded map of downtown, his fingers slid over the last known locations of the various missing people over the past year. 
Is downtown just inherently dangerous, he wondered. He supposed the map lined up with the jazz scene, and where there is dance and liquor there’s crime.
He went home to his wife and startled her with his promptness. While she was elated, he felt hollow. Purposeless. Freeman had warned him he’d invented this conspiracy to make work more interesting. Maybe that was right. Life was boring. Everything was so steady and stable. Nothing exciting anymore. It’s possible. He could have imagined a connection. 
But his wife accidentally stoked the dying flame of his suspicions. 
When he told her everything, about Alastor and the dancer he chased down and the missing Tommy, she hummed. 
“He could be like that Holmes man in Chicago.” She smiled from across the meat and potatoes she’d slow cooked over the day.
Brady asked what she meant. 
“He killed all these people at his hotel. On the outside he was a very fine looking man! Respected doctor, or something.” She took her time to chew, leaving Brady waiting for the point, “Turns out his hotel had some secret dungeon where he killed people. I’m fuzzy on the details, but, he hung for it. Maybe your guy has a secret room in his house or a cabin in the woods.”
He would have kissed her but he was too tired to move. As she continued on, changing to the topic of novels and then movies, he pushed the potatoes around his plate. 
No way work would listen to him if he suggested it. He’d lost all of his goodwill. But, as a citizen, he could maybe just….look into the public records for the radio man. Any convenient structures he owned. No one needed to know, no embarrassment if he was wrong again.
Just, one more check. To be absolutely sure. For his peace of mind. 
“So he murdered the actress for threatening to reveal he was only half white! It was a real shock. I swear talkies just get more and more intriguing.” She beamed sweetly across the table, happy to have him home, “By Hitchcock. Isn’t that a hoot?”
He nodded absentmindedly, “Sounds fun, dear.”
She let the misplaced comment go, and moved to turn on the radio. Something to fill the silence. She wondered if her favorite program was on, though it was a little late for that. 
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The day finally came, your highly anticipated and scheduled confession. Saturday morning you slipped on your shoes, pushing back thoughts of everything they’d seen, and slid into the car. You had a game plan. Apartment, get your stash and change out your shoes. Head to the phonograph shop on Calliope and grab the record. Flower shop, something bright and fragrant. Stop by the theater for a bottle of whatever they were willing to part with. Call him from there to pick you up behind the building.
Flawless.
Honestly, the easy part.
Alastor dropped you off in front of your building and you kissed him hurriedly. You didn’t need Ephi bounding down the steps and introducing herself. 
You didn’t need Ephi, full stop.
“I’ll call you from the theater so I can wait inside. Lo-,” Your mouth opened to say it, as you’d been practicing it in your head all week, “Lucky me I’m still welcome there.” A quick save.
You waved him off and bounded up the steps. Ephi answered when you knocked, hair disheveled and still wearing the dress she must have worn out the night before.
A familiar dress.
“Who said you could wear my clothes?!” You kicked the door closed behind you.
Ephi fell back onto your bed with a creaking of the metal springs, “You didn’t say I couldn’t.”
Barely a second into the room and you were already reeling with anger. What a skill she had.
Shoes off, you threw them on top of the closet out of her natural reach and searched for something flatter. Not too flat though. Alastor always looked too good for you to look like you didn’t care for what was fashionable.
Deep breaths, you grabbed the dresser with both hands and wretched it from the wall, startling Ephi back awake.
“What the fuck? Are you taking the furniture?! It’s a fucking dress.”
Relief as you saw the handkerchief still taped to the backboard of the shelf. Ripping it off, you shoved it into your bag. No need to count it, had Ephi found the cash the entire thing would be gone already. 
“Are you hiding money around your apartment…,” it wasn’t a question so much as an oddly worded accusation.
Your march to the door paused, briefly entertaining carrying your remaining clothes around with you but abandoning the idea. Let her borrow them for now, you were busy today.
You were gone without a goodbye, anger simmering away and evaporating with every block. 
As the distance between your problem and you became greater, the gap was closing in on Alastor and his.
He was in the kitchen splashing his face with water,  dusty from sweeping the porch, when he heard a car door slam shut. Not a normal sound for him to hear. Even more out of place than a ‘welcome home’. A moment of concern as he quickly dried his hands, maybe you had gotten a ride home already. It was possible he missed your call, but he’d kept the windows open to hear the phone. 
When he came to the front door, no one was there. A car was parked a ways behind his own though. Alastor stepped out and looked around the wrap around porch before turning back and going to the back door. Past the stairs and the kitchen doorway, he could see the shape of a man. He was standing in front of the greenhouse with both hands on his hips, staring at it. Bright hair reflecting the sun.
The screen door whined as Alastor opened it, announcing him much sooner than he had wanted. It was finally happening. The moment that was both inevitable and fiercely guarded against. 
“Census information is quite easy to find with a name like yours.”
Alastor tried to muster a hospitable smile, “Detective Brady. To what do I owe the sudden visit?”
Brady turned around and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, “I need to go get a warrant?”
The air between them tightened. “Not at all, did you want to come inside?” 
Brady nodded, a smug smile and a wink, “Sure do.”
Alastor returned to the kitchen for the key, grabbing a small paring knife and placing it in the back pocket of his slacks. Sharp and quick. 
“Wasn’t expecting guests…,” he admitted as he came back down the clean steps. He was never expecting guests, but he had been expecting this. 
“Good.” Brady clapped his hands together, “Quite the building ya got here.” He followed Alastor in and immediately looked up to the tall ceiling. “An uncommon thing to have. Only seen them at real fancy public places.”
Alastor turned right, following the winding path of busy shelves and potted trees with a practiced ease. Brady watched him slip between two large plants and hesitated.
With a hand on his gun, be pushed through.
“Ya know what my wife and I were just talking about?” He followed close behind. He couldn’t see Alastor but he could hear the leaves rustling. “H. H. Holmes.”
“Another missing manager?” Alastor asked from the other side of some crowded shelves.
“It’s thought he killed 9 people up in Chicago.” Brady emerged from the makeshift jungle to see Alastor standing in the center. 
“Busy man!” Alastor stood with his hands behind his back, sheathed in his pockets. “This is where the magic happens!” He nodded to the stainless steel table. “My gardening space.”
Brady looked at the table, then up to the high ceilings again. He took a step toward the table and crouched down.
His heels sunk in. Standing, he pressed his shoe in the soil around the table. Backing off he then tested the ground some feet away. It was noticeably firmer. “Ground sure is soft over there.”
“Water! Turns out plants love the stuff. Who knew!” Alastor’s fingers curled around the knife’s handle, “I prune, propagate, and repot them here and rinse it off after. Due to the shade of the table, the ground tends to stay wet longer.” He wondered if Brady had told anyone where he was. Maybe Freeman? 
The whole thing could be expedited by letting him bleed out on the greenhouse floor. Just a few swipes and this could all be over. He could maybe even have him gone before you called. 
Another little secret. Just one. Brady’s life was an insignificant detail.
Plausible, the detective thought. Brady examined the floor closer, unaware of Alastor’s eyes locked on his neck. He didn’t see much of a soft spot. It’d be improbable to bury all the bodies in such a small space. He’d have to dig too deep. 
“So you actually do like to garden?” He asked.
Alastor laughed, “No, that was a lie. This is all meticulously maintained for aesthetics.” 
Brady’s own laugh was dry in reply, the joke not funny or appreciated, “Night gardening?” He pointed his chin up to the light hanging above them.
“I prefer early mornings, before work.” Alastor leaned back on his heels, he’d waited for this conversation for years. It was almost fun. Brady didn’t know how predictable his arrival had been on some vague level.
Brady nodded and motioned for Alastor to lead him out. He didn’t want the man behind him.
As they snaked their way out again, Alastor fought the sickening feeling in his stomach to just do it. 
But he’d never acted quite so impulsively. He normally had a few hours to think it out beforehand. 
He’d been thinking this out for months now in a way, though, hadn’t he?
Alastor locked the door after Brady stepped out and Brady looked around the land. He couldn’t see any fences, but saw on his way in just how spread out the other homes were. 
“How far is the property line, if you don’t mind me asking? Seems to be quite a large parcel.” He had a rough idea from the paperwork he’d found. 
“It’s about 15 acres, from what I recall.” It was exactly 14.2 acres according to the paperwork. He knew every step by heart. 
As he watched Brady eye the land with a dismissive glance, he realized he’d never killed anyone at his home. It didn’t seem to be a good idea. Like they’d taint the land. Plus, killing the cop in the backyard was about as opposite of what you’d asked of him as he could get. 
The detective slapped his notebook against his palm and whistled, “Radio pays well, huh?”
“Better than a detective, maybe. But this was all my mother’s land.” He said it with pride, one hand leaving his pocket to gesture at the house and beyond. 
“Your mother. And she… how exactly did someone like her get her hands on a plot like this?” Brady squinted at the tree line, knowing full well how he said it. “Quite a bit of land for someone of her… background.” He quickly turned his full body to Alastor, “You see that movie, ‘Murder!’, by Hitchcock? My wife was saying how interesting it was over dinner the other night. Your receptionist mentioned you like the movies.”
Alastor bristled, he’d seen the film and picked up the tone being taken,  “Did you want to see anything else, Kenneth? Or did you drive all the way here to quiz me on your wife's morbid interests?”
“Detective Brady.” He corrected. 
“Maybe in the Orleans parish.” Alastor took a step toward him. He reveled in the confused expression Brady made. “Oh you didn’t realize when you crossed the lake? This is St. Tammany. You’re out of jurisdiction.” Another step. “So I’ll call you whatever I damn well please.”
Brady finally noticed the dwindling space between them and the shadow of the house creeping over Alastor’s face. “Maybe I should head out and get that warrant.”
Alastor’s arms went out in a shrug, “Ah, well, good luck finding a judge to approve you harassing a law abiding land owner for…what exactly? A drugged out criminal who stopped showing up to work? Forgive me for not holding my breath. Now kindly get the fuck off my mother’s property. “  
Brady shook his head, not able to do much more. He couldn’t process the truth in what Alastor had said. “Have a good day, Alastor.”
“And you have a safe night, Kenneth.”
Brady stopped, hand curling into a fist that Alastor didn’t fail to notice. 
“Is that some kind of threat?” It was the way he dragged out the two words. The gleeful range in which he said them. 
“Not at all. A warning really, there’s been some unhinged man harassing dancers lately. Demanding their private information, accusing them of silly crimes. Has the station not heard?” Alastor’s finger came to his chin inquisitively, “Perhaps I should give them a call. Who was your boss again. Freeman, was it?”
Brady felt his stomach drop, “What did you say.” If Alastor hadn’t been with you since before the assault, how did he know that Brady had been struggling to track you down?
“As a man about town who runs in important circles, word travels fast of bothersome people. Helps us learn where to avoid.”
Brady was still holding onto hope that Alastor was your man but now, his throat ran dry. He got more than that.
A man who ran in various circles of the nightlife scene. 
A man above the fray, a position afforded to him by the respect of his job.
A man people talked to often, therefore a man people saw everywhere. So it was never odd that he was always in the places where people went missing. He was ubiquitous. Where the jazz played, Alastor was there. 
A man with no wife to complain so his nights were free. 
A large piece of land. A chip on his shoulder. 
“You son of a bitch…I didn’t tell you Tommy had been involved in drugs. I was right.” The sentence got quieter and softer as he trailed on until he could only whisper, “You killed him.”
Alastor watched the color drain from Brady’s face as the realization hit, but the ‘son’ comment blanketed his frontal cortex and dampened impulse control, “On second thought; yes.”
It was just an expression, son of a bitch, but it’d been the wrong one to use so carelessly. Alastor’s heart was pounding in his ears and behind his eyes.
The detective kept his gaze locked on Alastor as he fished out his keys. His hand shook violently as he tried to get the car door key in his fingers. “Yes what?” Glancing down for a fraction of a second to check he had the right one. 
“That was a threat.”
Alastor’s hand twitched, he fought the rage bubbling up his throat. His vision was beginning to turn red around the edges. He could hear Aubrey squeaking out the first syllable of that damn word just behind his left ear.
Perhaps he was the blade hanging over Brady’s head. 
With even paces he walked over to the stump where he chopped wood and pulled the axe out, “Ya know! Something about you makes my fucking skin crawl.” He pointed it at Brady, the detective taking note of the arm strength needed to hold the unevenly heavy tool steady and parallel to the ground. “I do hope for your sake this is our final meeting. You should leave now.” His head titled to the left, “And keep your nose clean, Kenneth. It’s a dangerous time for bad men in New Orleans.”
Brady walked backwards to his car as Alastor advanced briskly with the blade still raised. When they reached the front porch Brady turned and booked it, glancing behind to see Alastor standing beside the porch on foot worn grass.
As the car started Alastor dropped the axe until it’s flat top of the blade rested on the ground and he leaned his weight onto it akin to a cane. His free hand’s fingers waved goodbye before dropping down to his side limply. He stood there with eyes fixed and body still as a predator waiting for its opportunity. How many gators had Brady watched from the shore with just that look? He peeled out, sight unseen as he blindly backed onto the unpaved road, and made a beeline to the nearest phone. 
He had to tell someone. He was right. He had been right the whole time. Alastor killed Tommy Dupre. And there was no doubt in Brady’s swirling mind that you knew that fact. 
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:・
˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖
@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx
@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98
, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,
@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk  , @whateverlololo , @psipies
@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  @fizzled-phoenix   , @star-kujo-platinum
, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl  @smoky000
@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain
@harley2223-blog  , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,
@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby
@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12
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outlying-hyppocrate · 1 year ago
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unwell about things,,,,,,, have not slept,,,,,,,, i can taste the numbers now
#random thoughts#taste.......... that reminds me. plazma. i still want to try plazma#plazma look lovely........... fucking......... biscuits or cookies or whatever you call them. fucking delicious#12 12 12. very 12. so 12. what a concept it is!#infirmum sum infirmum sum but it is an illness of mens once again! lacking proper diagnosis or simply sleep-deprived. oh crispin#you quote konstrakta now?? illustrate the concept of “mens infirma in corpore sano” in your own terms. oh certainly not. ridicule me please#well......... you've fallen? but where to? where to my love? who is your love? myself#carve cavities scoop out my own viscera like pomegranate. we are still we are still we breathe flowers and disease#viscera. viscera viscera viscera. viscera <12#a word! a word. becomes your new favorite#stand here to listen listen to the ramblings of an idiot. he believes his words will weave well into music#hyvä suomi! your country loves you once again where your own mother does not#hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh the words they hold me together. twist them as i were to wring out my own organs. soft shoulders#my skin feels strange on me sometimes. it feels rather like my brother's skin than my own but so so pale now#when was it last have i seen the sun? burn holes into seemingly poetic eyes get a grip on reality!#here we break character and watch as the fool begins to slap himself repeatedly in the face. why? because he likes it of course. masochist#i'd like the title branded into this skin sewn together of my dearly beloved family. yes please
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lunarharp · 3 months ago
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uhh another modern au agott follow-up. They've gotten progressively sillier
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steakout-05 · 3 months ago
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something that had always been really frustrating for me when i was still in math classes in school was trying to watch the teacher actually work the problem out on the board and still not understanding wtf was happening. for some context, i heavily suspect that i have some form of dyscalculia because math and numbers literally do not compute properly in my brain. it'd be too long to explain the full extent of my possible dyscalculia here but math literally does the mental equivalent of maxing out the CPU power and memory of a computer to the point where it freezes and lags to my brain.
math class was always stressful for me because no matter what i did and how much progress i made, there was always a lack of understanding i had when it came to trying to work any math problem out long term and remembering anything. it felt like there was always something i was missing, so when the time came for the teacher to explain and go through a math problem step-by-step on the whiteboard, i made sure i paid as much attention to it as humanly possible as child-to-teenager me could muster and even then i still did not understand how the fuck they solved it, all because of one thing: the teacher pulling a random number completely out of their ass that happened to be the key to solving the problem.
like. i don't think i can illustrate how frustrating and isolating this was to experience with words alone. here i was, paying as much attention as i physically could, trying my damned hardest to memorise each individual step and calculation in order to understand how to get from point A to point B. everything made perfect sense up until the teacher suddenly stops for a second and writes a seemingly completely unrelated number there with no context as to why it's there in the first place, and then, in that singular moment, everything immediately comes crumbling down and i'm left completely confused. and somehow, everyone else around me perfectly understands it except me. like. imagine sitting there, giving the teacher all the attention you possibly could, literally watching and studying their hand movements just to understand every single step, only to be even more confused than your classmates, who you're pretty sure were half-asleep during the explanation, who also say they understand how the teacher came to that conclusion. what. the actual fuck.
when i try to explain how infinitely confusing and irritating this was for me, i'm reminded of a quote from that video Patricia Taxxon made about DHMIS: "The rug is pulled again ... There was never any hope of following the thread, understanding is impossible.". even when i was literally trying my best to possibly follow anything that was happening, the rug still gets pulled out from under my feet and i'm sent all the way back to square one of not understanding a single thing and being confused again. all because the teacher didn't explicitly explain how they got that random number that was apparently singlehandedly necessary for solving the equation and where they got it from, apart from that place being from literally fucking nowhere.
it's really no wonder that i eventually stopped giving a shit about paying attention in math class, because even when i was, it was still daunting and incomprehensible as always. why bother trying anymore when trying still gets you nowhere? trying to ask the teacher where they got that number from was an impossible to understand task as well, as their either snapped back with a "well you should have been paying attention" (even though i WAS but whatever) or they do explain that they added the first two numbers from the equation together or something, but now i'm wondering why they didn't just explain that in the first place like they did with everything else instead of seemingly just assuming everyone would know to do that.
by the way, if i had to give an estimate, my math ability is probably still at like. a 5th grader's level at best. so uh. yeah it's not good. still, it is kinda funny to me though, not only because i do find a bit of humour in the situation, but also because some people are often so quick to judge someone's intelligence purely based on their mathematical abilities alone. like. the idea of someone calling me dumb for still needing to do addition with my fingers despite the fact that my reading and language levels are considered above average is really funny to me lmaooo
#dyscalculia#math anxiety#i was NOT having fun in math class when i was still in school loollll#to this day i still don't know all my times tables#i just know the essential ones like my 2s 5s and 10s#the others i only really partially remember but i still can't actually do beyond multiples of 12#like i partially know what they are but i can't actually DO them in my head without needing to sit there for a minute or two#i can't do quick maths. i just can't do that. there are too many numbers to keep track of and count at once to do quickly.#like i can't just conjure up a number like a fucken genie like other people seem to do. i need to like. actually count first#i hate quick maths games so much dude. it's so stressful. i physically cannot keep up with it and it's really frustrating and unfun#it's the same when people tell me to do an equation really quickly. like first of all fuck you#and second of all my brain WILL short circuit#anyway yeah this is a vent#making this not rebloggable for that reason..... sorry fellas#i'm still hoping other people with dyscalculia may find this relatable or cathartic#god how that particia taxxon quote strikes my very soul so so much.....#the entire video is really good but that quote specifically. holy shit#understanding is impossible. that is how i feel. that perfectly explains how i feel about math. understanding is impossible. wow.#i feel like data repeating ''i am not less perfect than lore'' to himself about that quote. understanding is impossible.#that is how i have felt about math for such a long fucking time oh my god#understanding anything to do with math and numbers feels impossibly incomprehensible for me.#basic concepts make sense. i understand how the four basic operations work. i just can't understand much else from that.#too many numbers overflow my brain#it takes literal actual power to be able to do one sheet of equations for me#i might not even finish it just because it's so difficult and uninteresting for me#i'm rambling again auahgh. the basic point of this post is that i don't understand math and math teachers don't understand how to make-#-any basic fucking sense. apparently. anyway yeah official steakout dyscalculia coming out post (i probably have it)#(i'm not diagnosed yet but i'm 80% sure i have it)#(the other 20% is me gaslighting myself) (augh)
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anotherpapercut · 1 year ago
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posts with library workers discussing library business where they feel the need to make it very clear whether or not they have an MLS are so annoying. like that makes them the ultimate authority on basic ass library shit that even most regular patrons understand
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astrxealis · 1 year ago
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finally actually working towards fixing my blogs lol 💪
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explode-this · 2 months ago
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#oh boy#was in a social group zoom thing this evening#and we were reviewing the guidelines for fair conduct and all of that whatnot which comes with being in a talk-based group#and someone took issue with the use of and definition given for the word ‘crosstalk’#saying that they’re in a 12 step group and ‘well ackshually ‘crosstalk’ means this’#to ‘well ackshually’ a ‘well ackshually’#the definition they gave is just what you generally see in zoom step groups *these days*#there is no definition of ‘crosstalk’ as handed down from the world service office#in other groups I’ve been in that aren’t 12 step#the general notion of ‘crosstalk’ is talking over the top of one another#or interrupting#usually to disagree or add an opinion or offer unsolicited advice#it doesn’t mean ‘you can never comment on what someone else said’#or ‘you can never add to the point someone made in the the thing they just shared’#maybe it does in that person’s particular step group#but it really depends on the individual social group of any particular flavor#the group itself must decide how to phrase the concept of ‘being a rude pushy dolt’#and for a lot of groups the word which sums it up best—esp in environments where talking over each other is made very easy—is crosstalk#i have no problem with them making a point or sharing the definition that they’re familiar with#but it’s not law handed down from on high by Bill Goddamn Wilson#fortunately someone else with some experience of in-person groups from the ‘90s was able to give their opinion#yes i said something but in more of a ‘here’s my experience and here’s what other groups I’m in have to say about this concept’#but I’m happy to report that i didn’t roll my eyes#12 step principles and conduct is my trigger to deal with#and so I’m dealing with it here by writing a fucking essay in the tags because buhhhhh my gaahhhhhd#okay#the 12 step hater is laying down the microphone gently as to reduce the feedback and squealing and not hurt y’all with my personal issues
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astranauticus · 4 months ago
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oh thank god i wasnt the first person to hear 反正, an extremely upbeat high energy borderline novelty song for an astrology themed collab and think 'hey you can make a real emotionally devastating animatic with this'
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crossbackpoke-check · 3 months ago
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Fixed point (mathematics) // The History of Perspective // "Point of Disappearance", Dennis Held // How the Hughes hockey family stays grounded // Fixed Point Photography-- // "Portrait of A.", Tung-Hui Hu // Mic'd Up | Hughes NHL 25 cover shoot // "Burnt Norton", T.S. Eliot // "Circuitry", Janine Joseph // Bruce Bennett // Nick Wass // from obedience [maybe one day, during a point in time], kari edwards // Bill Rapai // "Errand Upon Which We Came", Stephanie Strickland // Benchmark (surveying)
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art kid luke hughes
#joy i feel like i should’ve known it would be you wrecking my shit by saying this ->#no one tell me what it’s about i want to think about jack as a fixed point forever#like. please. please. why would you. & also why are these like miyazaki/indie coming of age documentary closed captions u know what i mean#anyway in a moment of brief insanity i thought about the devil!nico snapping his fingers to make jack first overall wherever he wanted#and the concept of things that would always have happened it’s just a matter of how you get there#no matter where your eye starts it always ends there no matter where your threads weave in the web of fate all the knots end up tied. fixed#(nolan going to vegas) it’s just the path you took to get there was a little different is all.#hi. it's me. five+ hours later. remember the brief aforementioned moment of insanity#yeah so we lost it in a completely different directions sorry?#if i had a nickel for every time i entered a hughes brothers induced narrative webweaving fugue state i'd have two nickels#which isn't a lot but relative to the amount i think about them kinda is and also it's weird it happened twice#also i'm not apologizing for hearing “art kid” with fixed point (one perspective? my googling of art terminology did not yield results.#luke baby girl i think you've got the wrong term.) and immediately jumping to science (math and ecosystem management) because. that's art#luke hughes#jack hughes#quinn hughes#vancouver canucks#new jersey devils#my cat would very much like for me to go to bed and snuggle however. i was possessed. (AND i just learned how to do small text)#so now all of you get to have worms for brain at 12:30AM too ok ily good night!!!!!#i lied actually i need to tell you guys things because number one EYE have no idea where this came from number two the things i do know#i have no idea if the red string meme it's all coming together points make any sense to anyone but me. SO FIRST#function defined by itself (43 superscript added by me) it's luke defining fixed point. he's cited.#perspective used to stage narratives!!! the history of perspective in art is honestly so interesting and i think actually this started#because i was trying to find a definition for fixed point in art and couldn't get one but found the article talking about#how historically perspective is used for geometric and architecture in paintings to add reality i.e. vermeer's squares#because our brains are SO hardwired to believe perspective “the illusion of geometric regularity and spatial recession... is nearly impossi#liv in the replies#said more but tumblr ate it bc it was too many tags & now we're on hour six i am not rewriting just know it was good. past/present/future l#it was not well articulated & i wanted to do perspective lines & also it could be better collaged but if it looks bad.. that's a u problem.
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kavehater · 6 months ago
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Stop ……. Rodrick from diary of a wimpy kid …
#you guys think I’m gonna simp ? HAH NO WAY actually he reaaaaallyyyyy reminds me of this one guy back in primary#he liked me and tried to insert himself with me all the time etc and he TOLD ALL HIS FRIENDS#he’s Shia too so he would go to the same mosque as me brother and dad and he told my brother he likes me I think …..#actually I didn’t find out until years later that he liked me until when fatema gave me the signs a guy likes you talk in eighth grade 😭🙂‍↕#then one night I was thinking about the past then it clicked#I was not at all impressed#I have never felt so disgusted#I should’ve known I was aroace from that moment but I didn’t know what aroace was#I didn’t hate the guy#I actually super liked him he was so fun and we were basically friends#he always made me laugh and we were lowkey buddies only in class cause we were forced to sit together#it’s just idk I don’t enjoy the concept of being liked most of the time !!!! cause most of the time it’s so vile when a boy likes a girl 😭#except that one dude he’s the only exception but he’s forever my favourite ✨#but anyways 😭#back to the point I really like the guy who plays Rodrick cause it reminds me of the guy who liked me who I didn’t like back BUT I LIKE#RODRICK CAUSE I ALWAYS HAD SM FUN WITH THAT GUY it was always so fun to talk to him#also in the future he ended up liking my classmate or something after he moved away to a different school 😭#I was like damn …. 🤨 not very loyal I see#granted he did like me for so long I’m just dumb unfortunately#actually omg I kinda miss him now he was so fun to talk to 😭#minus that weird part of him telling the whole world like BROTHER WE WERE LIKE from 9-12 yrs old he liked me I think HAHA#aiming to beat his record by liking kaveh for longer#I’m almost gonna be on year two eeeeeee !!!!!!!!#dora daily#wait now that I think of it I did always have a sneaking suspicion that this other guy in primary also liked me LMFAO he was also Shia#actually my close friend in sixth grade had the biggest crush on the other guy 😭😭😭#she had sm dreams of him me with kaveh when#wait … if I swap Shia guy 1 and Shia guy 2 with the duo of terror ( you know who ) THIS WILL BE LIKE THE RECREATION OF MY DREAM MUAHAHAHA#anyways I’m actually so tired gang I could fall asleep rn if I put my head on the pillow#when I said my myahahaha I hope you pictured the Elmo fire meme
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boomerang109 · 1 year ago
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unrelated to the mental breakdown but i think i need bangs again
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therandompagesblog · 26 days ago
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SKZ Mate Book 1
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SUMMARY:
Going from one werewolf pack to another. There's no turning back now, not when you know what you left behind. A dangerous situation is now replaced with something less sinister. Can Y/N learn to trust another group of werewolves?
Warnings:
This fanfiction may include distressing themes so please read with caution. MDNI All rights belong to the author. I own the created characters and plots to make this fanfiction. The themes DO NOT REPRESENT the real people. It is a dark romance themed fanfic!
⚠️ Omegaverse, A/B/O, Marking, Biting, Mating, Blood play, Mentions of Assault, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of Torture, VERY SMUTTY, Misogyny, Anxiety, Depression, Angst, Fluff, M/M/F, Possessive SKZ, Cursing, Pet Names, Humiliation, Kinks, Gaslighting, Sexism, Dom/Sub dynamics, Threesome, Foreplay, Begging ⚠️
💫🐺🌙
Before starting I would like to give a MASSIVE SHOUT OUT to these amazing works of art. These people's works inspired me to write my own A/B/O. So please also check their works out.
@ot8xbangchansgirlsblog The heart of the pack 12/10!!!! An addictive read. It was also the first ever A/B/O I encountered, but I love how pure it is and the romantic mxm involvement! And Idol SKZ!!! PLEASE JUST READ IT!!!!!
@doitforbangchan All Bark and No Bite 12/10!! The SMUT blew my mind. The dynamics between the reader and Straykids were incredible. Overall iconic and is a MUST read.
@last-words-ofashootingstar Allure 12/10!!! Made me feel a certain type of way. Felt like a sinner for reading it. Absolutely loved Seonghwa being a menace. Another definite read!!
@felixsramen Yours Truly 12/10!!!! Love poly stray kids with fem reader. Its such a wholesome read and I love love love it!!! Please read it!!! (Not A/B/O related but needs to be recognised)
@jakeys-layla Fanfiction Recommendations 12/10!!!! Has all the recommendations for you From A/B/O to historical and royalty fanfictions. Her account is a lifesaver and she's still recommending.
MASTERLIST
Cast and Characters
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11 ⚠️💦
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15 ⚠️💦
Chapter 16 ⚠️❗
Chapter 17 ⚠️‼️
Chapter 18 ⚠️‼️
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21 ⚠️💦
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24 ⚠️
Chapter 25 ⚠️
Book 2 is here. Chapter release: 13/11/2024
Feeling Inspired by my fanfiction. Go ahead and write your own. Any ideas, concepts or themes used please credit me accordingly© If you are unsure message me, I definitely do not bite 💙
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nattikay · 2 months ago
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Neteyam's first birthday!
Language notes under the cut:
so, the third panel there: Jake doesn't forget what day it is, he just has no idea how to express "May 28th" in Na'vi, so he switches to English.
The Na'vi of course don't traditionally use the 12-month calendar we have here on Earth. However, there is a way to express such dates in the language...mostly, I suspect, for the convenience of us nerdy fans who want to talk about our humany matters in Na'vi lol, but I believe the in-universe explanation is that they learned about it from Grace and only really use the terms if they need to talk in sky people timetables for whatever reason.
Because it's a borrowed concept, the terms are quite literal descriptions: "month" is vospxì, which is short for vosìpxì zìsìtä, literally meaning "one-twelfth of a year". To name specific months, you just add their number: May is therefore vospxìmrr, essentially "one-twelfth-of-the-year number five".
As for the day, that's actually a little trickier because Na'vi counts in base 8, not base 10. Instead of thinking of this number as two-tens-plus-eight like we do, they'd think of it as three-eights-plus-four: pxevosìng. Unless you're very good at math (which I am not lol), these decimal-to-octal conversions can be really hard to keep track of/calculate on the fly even before you try to start applying the Na'vi vocabulary!
All that to say, "May 28th" in Na'vi would be something along the lines of trr apxevosìve vospxìmrrä - 28th day of May, or most literally, "28th day of one-twelfth-of-the-year number 5".
...yeah, I don't blame Jake for just switching back to English for this 😅
on a much smaller note, I am not 100% certain that the adverb nìpxi can be used in this sense of "exactly/precisely", but I asked around among some other speakers and they generally agree that it's the best option available so I'm gonna roll with it. If it turns out to be wrong, well, I can always fall back on the "it's Jake" excuse lol
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aira-cc · 2 years ago
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.˚₊┈୨ The Artist in Me🪞୧┈₊˚. 
Hello all!! Yes, I know that everyone is playing with infants right now and probably doesn't want to see anything else, but I still want to share what I created with you. In the poll I recently made on Patreon, the artist's room concept came first and I can say this set has become as complicated as an artist's mind 𖦹 In order to share this month, I had to cancel some of the big items, make more clutter and use some ea meshes. I couldn't do everything I wanted to do and think I didn't do justice to this concept. It's not artsy enough if that is the correct term. So, I plan to continue the set in a better way in the future but hope you like what I share now ♡ The set includes a functional easel, mirror, and many decor items for your artistic sims. You can read more information below.
The set includes 17 items:
♡ Bread Plate | 6 Swatches | 900 Polys
♡ Mini Easel | 5 Swatches | 90 Polys
♡ Food Tray | 7 Swatches | 1k Polys  
♡ Pear Teapot | 4 Swatches | 2.6k Polys                          
♡ Deco Canvas | 3 Swatches | 270 Polys      
♡ Easel | 6 Swatches | 780 Polys  
♡ Tools | 1 Swatch | 1.4k Polys 
♡ Desk Clock | 8 Swatches | 1k Polys 
♡ Brush Holder | 6 Swatches | 1.5k Polys 
♡ Palette | 6 Swatches | 2.5k Polys 
♡ Paper Roll | 12 Swatches | 370 Polys 
♡ Paper Rolls | 12 Swatches | 1.1k Polys 
♡ Desk Mirror | 8 Swatches | 1.8k Polys
♡ Frames | 3 Swatches | 1.2k Polys 
♡ Paint Bucket | 10 Swatches | 95 Polys 
♡ Paper Bag | 5 Swatches | 460 Polys 
♡ Cart | 10 Swatches | 1.3k Polys                             
Additional Info:
BGC
Tagged swatches
Custom thumbnails
Custom specular maps
Frames, bread plate, and pear-shaped teapot were suggested on Pinterest. Thank you very much to those who gave the suggestions🌼 You can quickly access these items by searching “artist” or “aira” in the game. If you run into any issues please let me know. Enjoy!!
♡ Download on Patreon(Free)  
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Now this is done, I'm going to update all my mods/cc so I can play the game and eventually do small cc requests. I haven't even played with infants yet :S I want to make cc for them and the babies so badly, maybe this can be the next concept. As I mentioned before, I may not be active for a certain period of time but you can be sure that I stop by and check on my fellow simmers from time to time and continue to create content at a slow pace in the background ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎
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lc-holy · 4 months ago
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Thomas Astruc and Sébastien Thibaudeau were interviewed on Catboat's Twitch channel. A 5-hour interview in which they talk about their careers, the 5 seasons of miraculous and a little about the seasons to come. (There are no spoilers about season 6, only a few teasers).
The interview will probably be available with English subtitles.
In the meantime, here's a summary of what was said in the interview about season 6 and other Miraculous projects.
Thomas has always loved SAMG's work, and it was he who strongly suggested working with them on the series. But unfortunately, they will no longer be able to work with SAMG for future seasons of Miraculous. Episode production has changed and is no longer compatible with SAMG. However, he remains open to working with them on other projects.
Miraculous will be produced entirely in France from season 6 onwards.
The interviewer asked Thomas if an OVA project with Toei was still planned. But Thomas didn't want to answer the question.
Sébastien explains that they always plan the scenarios well in advance. For example, what happens in season 6 was already planned when season 3 was written. They've already written two pages of ideas for the Season 7 finale.
Thomas says they have ideas to go to a season 12 but it will all depend on the success of the series.
It's impossible for them to have one season too many, because their work is very emotionally demanding, and if they feel that what they're doing is no longer interesting, they stop.
Sébastien hopes that Season 6 will appeal to new viewers as well as those who have been following the series since the beginning.
Miraculous will never evolve into an adult series, it will remain a children's series. But they will always try to satisfy the fans who have been following the series for years.
They also wrote the series to appeal to parents who watch Miraculous with their children.
Sebastien teased us that there will be a song in season 6.
Thomas sincerely believes that season 6 is better than season 5, which was off to a bad start because he wondered how they were going to do better than season 5.
They had a lot of fun writing this new season, and the new writers who joined the series brought a lot of good ideas.
As season 6 begins a new arc, they consider it a season 1.
And with the new animation style, season 6 will bring a lot of new storytelling. It will be different. The stories won't be like the other seasons.
Some people will probably complain that it's different, that it's not like before. It's a question of adaptation.
Sebastien says we'll appreciate season 6 even more when season 7 comes out.
They don't know yet whether the theme song will change. Thomas would like to change, but he knows the fans love the theme song so they don't know yet.
Thomas hints that he didn't write the Shadybug and Claw noir universe to exploit it in a single special. But he remains very vague.
Thomas explains that there are many details in previous seasons that fans didn't understand, but which will make sense in later seasons.
There's a reason why Lila is a mythomaniac, and they'll tell it one day in the series. Thomas even says they've already told it in the series, but we haven't figured it out yet.
Thomas says that Chloe will remain an important character in the coming seasons, as she has always been in the series.
They have clarified that the new animation for the new seasons will have nothing in common with that of the Miraculous movie. Because the movie and the series are not linked.
They will soon be meeting to decide whether Miraculous will be made into a live-action series or not. It will be different from the series. Thomas mentions kwamis in particular, which are complicated to integrate into live action. Thomas has already written the concept. For the series to see the light of day, it will mainly be a question of budget.
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