#I don't feel detached to my surroundings and myself

[shanedoesdoodles]

You ever look for a specific word/thing to describe a feeling you're having and think you've found it but as you look more into it it turns out it was a simular concept but very distinct from what you were looking for? And then when you try to be more specific everything that pulls up is still the same close but definitely not the same thing to describe it? I'm a stuck in a bit of a loop at the moment

[streets-in-paradise]

.

[fishnapple]

FUTURE SPOUSE - Channelled message: What they love about you

(can also apply to long-term committed partner)

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost

Book a reading with me - KO-FI (�� personal reading)

1. Citrine

Loving you and being loved by you is like registering for a foreign language course, a never-ending one. At first, I was perplexed by your emotional distance, I could see it, your emotions, but I couldn't reach it. It felt like a wall was between us. I suppose my emotional expression felt foreign to you, too. Our language didn't match. But we persisted. We learnt and we've found some success.

You will find my neediness less annoying, and I will find your distance less scary. We've learnt to appreciate each other's endearing traits more, to admire rather than criticise each other.

I get to feel your care in such an intimate way. It's subtle, modest but warm, and it makes my heart squealed. It's like a perfume scent that lingers close to your skin. Sometimes you would forget that it is there, but you could still feel its effect on you, subconsciously, it makes you feel at ease, relaxed, like an invisible embrace. You always know me so well, inside out, even the smallest reaction wouldn't escape your eyes. You make me feel so appreciated, and I want to give you my unwavering devotion. We are, in a sense, the only existence in each other's eyes. (We still care for other people in our life, but no one understands us like us, no one sees us like us)

We don't show our love for each other in such an extravagant and boisterous way. We want to go about our life together quietly, to protect our nest. We are more alike in the way we function in this world than you think. Both your detachment and my attachment stemmed from a sense of solitude in life. The difference is, you want to embrace it, I want to run away from it. And when we are together, we enjoy our solitude together.

We get to feel life together in such a pure and beautiful way. I had never paid enough attention to little beauties surrounding me until I met you. Life takes on many more colours than before. It's vibrant, it's blinding, and it's moving.

Note: You guys could have some difficulties in the beginning due to differences in your way of expressing love. They are more attached and needy while you are more detached and distance. I don't think they are generally the needy and clingy type. They could just appear that way to you. But, gradually, you will learn to understand and adjust to each other. And that will be immensely rewarding. They will come to appreciate your more detached temperament, it shows hidden strength and also shows that you don't just overreact to situations, you will face adversities with calmness.

They love your quiet devotion and how you care for them in such a subtle and observant way. They feel seen and understood by you.

They will want to enjoy the quiet life that you share with each other. The type that goes under the radar, very private, not many will be able to intrude upon.

They also love how being with you makes them notice more beauty in life, to pay more attention to details. They learnt to enjoy smaller things, to find joys in ordinary days with you.

2. Red jasper

If you were a detective, a secret agent, or a spy, I think you would be very successful. Or are you one? Your silent moves would kill me every time. I didn't know that I could be attracted to something so dangerous. Why? The anticipation, the dread, it builds and builds in me, until suddenly, I find myself floating in the middle of dark water. I love it and I'm scared of it. The food you gave me, I'd never know if they were poisonous, if they had some kind of spell cast on them. Anyway, It filled my stomach, and it filled my heart. Full and contented. That's how I feel when I'm with you, minus the dread and the fear.

You don't say much, but your stare is enough, more than enough, it's intimidating, you know? Don't you know that people are scared of that? Or you've already known and you're enjoying it?

Whenever I look at you, I can't resist the urge to play detective myself. To deduct your thoughts and plans from those minuscule expressions on your face, your reactions. I want to observe them, to study them, so that, next time, you can't spring your surprises on me. Haha, fat chance, I will fail most of the times though. It's frustrating but also fascinating, especially when I see your surprising tactics worked on other people. A sense of sympathy, perhaps. Where do you get all those outlandish ideas from? Is there a recipe for the ideas generator with a 'totally explosive and secretive' tag on it in your mind? Do you have a production team working overtime behind the screen for you? Give me a hint.

You do whatever you want, sometimes you even moved away, change your address without telling me, knocking at my door in the middle of the night to tell me some irrelevant stories then walked away, telling me to go to the beach in the middle of winter. It's maddening, and it's addicting. I just want to grab a hold of you. I know it's impossible, but I always want to try.

Note: Are you someone who is on the quiet side but like to do whatever you want? Maybe you aren't, but they will view you that way. Your silence means unpredictability for them. They can't read you. And when they can't read someone, they perceive that person to be dangerous, they can't predict the other person's next move. But they love that feeling of uncertainty with you. It's scary but exhilarating, I think they have a liking for extreme sport and scary movies, anything that hints at a hidden, darker side.

They like your cooking, whatever you cook, even if it looks weird or unidentifiable, made from strange ingredients, it gives them a sense of uneasiness but also satisfaction.

They find you to be intimidating and inexpressive. They also like that other people are intimidated by you, is that a sense of camaraderie? A secret fan club. Your mysterious existence intrigues them. They want to probe into your mind to understand your inner working, with not much success, and that will even drive them more into it. It arouses them in every sense. They want to catch hold of that elusiveness, that uniqueness that you have. Be careful that it could translate to some possessive and obsessive behaviours from their part.

3. Amazonite

If you look closely at everything in nature, you will find that balance is everywhere, the equilibrium of randomness and order, of opposition and unification. And I find that balance in you too, because you are a part of nature, we all are, I find me in you and I find you in me.

You are the everlasting flame that burns. I got close and got a burn mark for touching you. But it's the mark that I would proudly display. Not to show off my bravery but to show off our closeness. You touched the softest part of me, the body hiding behind a tough shell. It hurts. It feels scary. It feels naked, but I wouldn't choose the other way.

How can someone so fierce and powerful like you can also be so tender and soft? softness could kill, strength could soothe.

I saw you walking on a strange road that not many dared to walk, but you seem so calm, so at peace, it made me curious, it made me envious and it also made me yearn to be with you. To walk with you, even if you don't need a companion. Are you chasing the moon, a faraway dream, a total darkness? Whatever destination you are heading to, I want to be there with you, for you, because I know my happiness also lies there as well. Your steadfastness gave me utmost trust and security, something that I didn't know I needed that much.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm seeing multiple people in front of me, but it's just you. I see a playful child, I see a wise wizard, I see a naughty trickster, I see a serious teacher. Somehow, they all act in union, a harmonious whole. It's ever fascinating. I could go to you for the soundest advice, then have banters that go nowhere and everywhere. I could go to you for the sweetest smile then having the rawest touch. What can I not find in you?

Note: This person practically loves everything about you. The love and the hurt that you can give them.

They find you to be their perfect counterpart, someone that they want to walk with, the one that can lead them to their happiness. They find happiness in their journey with you, no matter the destination.

They love how multifaceted you are. You seem to embody lots of different and contradicting traits, but it worked for you. You can harmonise them well into a fascinating being that they can't get enough of.

This person probably loves someone who can teach them, widen their mind, make them face their deepest part, but also be gentle about it. They love someone that know where they are going, someone who is very sure of their self, even if the path they tread doesn't mesh well with other people, I see the image of a stream (conventional ideals) feeding/pouring fear on a fish, but the fish just swims pass them. They find this steadfastness (their word) give them the courage to also go their own path and put their trust in you completely.

I think the way you act is pretty gentle, soft, and loving towards them, but it can also trigger them, touch them deeply, they can perceive a liveliness to you, as in someone who is brimming with life.

4. Labradorite

Hmm, the people seeing you be all smiley and warm probably won't be able to guess the wild animal that you've put on a tight leash behind closed doors.

Not with me, I will see it and I will love it. I love how you present yourself in such a soft, sweet way, then act all passionately when you are with me. Can it be called deception? I don't think so. It's just that you have such admirable self-control, you know when to hold and when to release, you don't just show your wild side to anyone. They have to earn your trust. I feel like the only guest in a private show. It boosted my ego, I will be honest. It makes me excited every time I get to meet you. Like a kid going to amusement park to watch firework.

You know how to play with words. Make it more flirty than necessary, but also make it into a soothing balm for the most agonising pain. I will tell you every time, to write a book, and I will be your most avid reader.

Being with you is me deciding to be brave, to embrace changes. You will bring changes into my life. Not intentionally. You just are. I found my life getting flipped upside down, being shaken, wrung out all the unnecessary grimes that had tenaciously clung on. I know that after they'd gone, you would fill me with real life. It felt like a dream before. Now I'm wide awake, lying on the shore, empty and liberated.

How can you give so much? Is there an infinite bank of fire inside you? Falling for you is like falling into the rabbit hole. It leads me into a strange land, expanding then contracting, being too big, being too small. Then, you will shine a light through a tiny hole on the sky for me to find you. I always know how to find you. The fire in me longs to be one with your fire.

Note: This person have so much passion for you. It's not just lust in a physical sense. It's more like your fire ignites their life fire and make it burn wildly. They can feel a passionate energy from you, it's generous and giving, like a sun. It's a life force that attracts every living being. I think that life for this person before meeting you had been quite dull. You make them feel alive. And to be alive is to be aroused, much like a seed sleeping underneath the earth, one day, sprouted out and kept growing.

They love how you're able to control yourself. They sense that you have a more wild side, an animalistic side to you that you just don't show to anyone unless they are deserving. They love how you present yourself beautifully and can also act passionately and assertively. You know when to be flirty, when to be serious, when to be soothing. You're probably have a talent with words too. They love your way of communicating, it's fun and creative.

[chillingwithtavesss]

Hi, hello, how you doing? You can call me drac, I'm not new to Austin's fandom but I am new to sharing and expressing my opinion about his career and relationship.

I've seen everyone's side. Looked at both arguments. Looked at the relationship myself. And I honestly believe Austin and Kaia are in a pr relationship.

Now before the shippers jump on me with their attacks... I don't hate Kaia. I don't speak hate about her. I don't tear down her talents, or as some say lack of, I don't even comment on her personally. That's how little she matters to me. Without Austin I wouldn't have even known who she was. I barely knew who her mother was.

That being said, I don't think she is what she claims to be. Her personality, from what I've seen in trying to get to know her, changed based on those she surrounded with. When she was with Pete Davidson she was putting on a front of being the wild girl. And now with Austin she's trying to match his shy, humble, intellectual personality. I wanna know who she is behind the mask. I wanna know what her personality really is like. Not what she thinks she needs to be.

As for her and Austin... Nothing really makes sense. In the few years they've been together he's barely mentioned her in interviews unless put on the spot. Ive only seen her at one of his family functions and that was the birthday party for Ashley's daughter. I haven't seen her hang out with his friends, family, or co stars. Haven't seen him with her co stars. When he's with her every picture seems like they are just walking quietly and wish they were somewhere else.

And please explain how this man goes all over the world and hardly gets papped or fans leak photos, but we get multiple pictures of them doing stuff. He went on a whole ass road trip with friends and no one spotted him but he goes to a private resort with her family and he's papped every day there, including in their private pool?

And if we wanna ignore that then tell me why he has no problem being happy and present with everyone he comes across. Interviewers, fans, other celebs but we don't get that level of connection with her. Why can he smile and laugh and hug his co stars, look like he's in love with every man and woman he talks to, but looks like he's fighting with her and giving her the silent treatment?

Before it was confirmed that Dua and Callum were together she walked the red carpet for the mota premiere. He actively looked for her at the baftas when on the red carpet. If Kaia is as important to Austin as the shippers claim why wasn't she invited to any of his events to walk with him. Not be in the background or let in after those that were important get let in. No, why didn't he take the woman he loves to stand at his side at awards and premiers? He did it with Vanessa. Why when he's clearly on break but she has events does he not go with her? He did with Vanessa. He says his love language is touch and words of affirmation... So why does he barely hold her hand, kiss her, hug her, show he wants and loves her? He did with Vanessa.

You cannot tell me that he completely changed how he is in a relationship to go from openly showing love and affection to his partner to cold and detached to his next. Even if he didn't mention Vanessa by name he still talked about his girlfriend or his partner when speaking in interviews but now he doesn't.

Whether they want to admit it or not, something is off about this relationship. How did they meet, how did they start dating? Who introduced them? He went from making out in the street with Lilly rose depp to in a committed relationship pretty quick. Btw, how does he show that level of horniess with Lilly but can't even show an ounce of attraction to his girlfriend?

Now my question to shippers and those who feel the need to go to war... Why? What do you get out of it? Why do you seek out people who differ from your opinion to attack and argue? Aren't you exhausted? If tomorrow you were exposed for the hate and venom you spew, if it was sent to every person you love and care about including Kaia and Austin, would you stand proud and claim it? If every person you send anonymous hate to was to turn off the feature would you still send it? Doesn't the constant fights and arguments and back and forth weigh on your mental health? Are you incapable of a civil conversation, incapable of agree to disagree situations?

I remember the phrase, curate your online experience, everyday when I see stuff I don't like or agree with. I don't seek it out but sometimes it crosses my dash. Now maybe it's cause I'm older, I've been through the crazy hormonal stages already that I can do this and move on with my day, but I block what I don't want to see. I block the blog or filter the tags. Now I'm gonna admit that I'm not a huge t.swift fan. She just doesn't do anything for me. But I follow a lot of people who do like her. I'd say 15% of their content is t swift related. Instead of fighting with them, or sending anonymous messages I filter the tags they commonly use for her content so I don't have to see it.

Sorry for the long post and the rant, it probably doesn't make sense, but I wanted to share. Thank you. I hope you and all others that read this have a good day.

Oh wow I really like this take ! You said some great things and very unbiased and civil.

I think shippers like I said seek out blogs like mine and others because they to know something is low key off with this relationship. I think they to some degree see what some of us on this side see A lot of them also live through Kaia…so pointing out weird shit in this relationship offends them as if they were her & the one dating Austin. That’s why they go to way so badly.

I find it strange that Austin barely mentions Kaia but has told the blue christmas story more than once and mentioned vanessa multiple times over the course of them being broken up. He even spoke about their trip to Italy in a podcast…but with Kaia…nothing. With Vanessa no one has to put him on the spot he brings up her himself.

I wish most of the shippers like you. I made a post about how their a small handful I have met who know how I feel but do not harass and bitch about my opinion. If they see something off being said about Kaia they keep it moving and let people be.

The relationship is off and I know it isn’t me and others just thinking this because we aren’t fans of Kaia. Even if I was a shipper I would still think shit is fucking weird.

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 5

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

Dr. Miller stood on the sidewalk in front of The Library and I felt like it was some kind of death march. With each step I tried to come up with some lame excuse as to why I had followed him from the school; why I had ended up on the same street as him. Nothing that was plausible came to mind.

I had a feeling he was one of those human lie detector types. Already I felt those dark, brown eyes studying me from afar. Up close, however, they appeared much softer.

“Care for a study session at The Library? You know.. since classes are cancelled this week.” He tipped his mouth up in a half smirk, “I mean, I'm assuming you had a question for me since you followed me all this way.”

I both admired and was intimidated by his bona fide candor. The man appeared completely see-through; honest. He wasn't about to spare me his sentiment on my Tuesday night blunder that left us both standing on the chilly street corner.

“I'm sorry. I..” I didn't have a proper response. Maybe I should have just been honest - to a degree. I had wanted to solve the mystery of the black Mercedes, though that hadn't been the root cause of my trip to Woodbridge on that cold, winter evening. Still, was it right to call him out for following me Thursday night?

You don't know that he was even following you, I reminded myself. Earlier I had convinced myself of the more rational idea that it was a coincidence.

Dr. Miller was entertained. That was another transparent element to his persona. Whether he knew it or not his expressions revealed a plethora of emotion. In this case, he was having fun with the way he had me on edge. It was my own fault. He could have been mad; weirded out. Maybe he was. Or maybe he was simply amused or even flattered.

He opened the door and motioned for me to enter ahead of him into the little bar. Immediately the ethereal scent of luxury washed over me. I was hard-pressed to define exactly what that meant, though it was eminently recognizable and potent - like leather, cigar smoke and a collection of unknowns I couldn't quite pinpoint.

“This way.” Dr. Miller nodded, only passing me when my body froze in place as I took in the surroundings. Leather couches. High top tables. Dim lights. Quiet conversations among small groups, all sipping on different bourbons, scotches or other drinks. An old Dean Martin song played as background music and a line of men dressed in fine suits sat at the bar.

I looked down at my navy blue sweater that was topped over jeans and removed my hat, attempting to straighten my hair out, or style it blindly in some way. When we sat at a small table in the back corner of the place, I stared across at him as he removed his jacket and sat down.

“I'm underdressed.” It was the least of my concerns.

Dr. Miller huffed a fleeting, quiet laugh and abruptly removed the tie he had on over a white, button down shirt, tucking it into the pocket of his jacket. He then proceeded to undo the top two buttons and fluffed the collar.

“Feel better?” He asked.

My bottom lip detached from my top one when his selfless act revealed a trim patch of chest hair that gave even Tim McGraw a run for his money. This man was far too suave and experienced not to know what he did to women. 

“Yeah.” I was at a loss for words and I had no idea what his angle was. Not to mention I was still utterly embarrassed by the circumstances that led us to the back corner of the fancy lounge that night.

When a waitress wandered over it gave me a moment to process things - though not for long.

“What are we drinking tonight?” She asked, prompting Dr. Miller to motion to me first.

“Oh, umm..” I cleared my throat. Despite the fact that we were in a bar I hadn't thought of a drink to order. “A Manhattan on the rocks, please.”

“I'll do the same,” he said with a nod.

“Easy enough.” The woman disappeared and he folded his hands on top of the dark, wooden table as he stared across at me.

“How old are you?” The question was simple but it still took me off-guard enough to allow for a few seconds of hesitation.

“Twenty-seven.”

The next question wasn't so generic. “Are you afraid of me?”

My eyebrows raised. I had given up all control of my facial expressions. “What?” I breathed the word aloud.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“Well, what is it then?”

That one was more vague. I had an idea of what he meant, though it was more of an assumption. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Yes you do,” he challenged. Just as hotness swelled through my cheeks he motioned to me with his first two fingers. “That.. right there. I've seen your grades, undergraduate and graduate studies. You're an intelligent woman, mostly A’s. I've looked at your social media accounts - you seem to have a relatively active social life. So, why is it that you can barely look me in the eye or even speak to me?”

Wow. He had a set of balls.

“I don't know.” I was trying to process what felt like a hundred different things at once. How did he know about my grades? Why had he looked into my social media?

“Yeah ya do,” the man repeated.

“Two Manhattans.” The waitress returned and placed our beverages down but this time Dr. Miller didn't look away as he thanked her. The moment she was more than an ear shot away he pried into my psyche even more. “Tell me why you followed me down here tonight.”

I couldn't lie to him. Not when his voice demanded the truth and his eyes pervaded my soul. I went with the most impervious truth in my laundry list of reasons as to why I had followed him.

“Thursday night,” I paused for a moment and then just blurted out what was just the tip of the virtuous iceberg. “I thought I was being followed by a black Mercedes when I left the school, so I wanted to find out-”

“You were right,” Dr. Miller casually cut me off and sipped his drink for the first time. I watched as he set it back down leaving watery fingerprints behind thanks to the perspiration on the glass.

“Excuse me?” I gave a laugh and held his gaze now.

“I followed you.”

Frightened or flattered? Frightened or flattered? What was wrong with me that I couldn't decipher how the revelation made me feel? Shouldn't I be frightened?

“You did what I hoped you would do,” he added. “Especially after the tragedy that occurred on campus.”

I was confused now. What had he hoped I would do? When I didn't ask he proceeded to elaborate on his own.

“You sensed someone was behind you and you didn't turn down the street where you live.”

“How do you know where I live?” That one I blurted out. 

Yes, I was freaked out now. Still not as frightened as I should have been, but freaked out nonetheless. The drumming in my chest grew more prominent as the milliseconds passed. Yet, my eagerness to be there across the table from him still came out victorious.

“I looked you up on the campus portal.”

“Why?” I didn't know if I wanted to ask him ‘why’ or ‘how’; but ‘why’ came out first and I simply waited.

Dr. Miller noticed my shaking hand as I picked up the Manhattan. His eyes dropped and rose in less than a second, as to not acknowledge it, though it was plain as day that he observed my involuntary action.

“I'll answer that question if you answer the one I asked you. Why do you get so nervous around me?”

“You know where I live, you know all my grades and you found my social media accounts,” I said, exasperated, “And you want an answer as to why I get so nervous around you?”

“Yes.”

What the hell was wrong with him? There was definitely something wrong with him. There was something wrong with me for not getting up and leaving.

“You want the truth?” Dr. Miller went on. “I was attracted to you the second you spoke to me in that differential, submissive way that just radiates off you, I'm assuming, whenever you're in the presence of a man you perceive as dominant or powerful.”

I took another sip of my drink. My hand was beyond shaking now. It was trembling. Dr. Miller placed his hand over mine on the glass as I went to set it down so it wouldn't spill. I didn't attempt to pull away.

The warmth of his hand sent my hormones into overdrive. I discovered right then that the Molotov cocktail of lust and fear was blocking out any form of logic. I would have been a great mind for a psychology student to study being so equally frightened and aroused at the same time.

“I think you get nervous around me because you know what I could do to you.”

What did he mean by that? I swallowed hard. I couldn't giggle my way out of this the way I often did if I was nervous. My body was in a state of shock and my mind was locked down.

“Is that why you know all that stuff about me?” I needed to know. “Because you're..” I cleared my throat, not fully able to believe what he had just said. “..attracted to me.”

Even after his formal announcement on the matter I still wasn't convinced. There was that stereotypical submissive behavior he was speaking of.

“That's part of the reason,” Dr. Miller confessed, “But I also wanted to..” he pondered for a moment, the first flounder in our conversation. “I wanted to make sure you were.. okay.”

“What are you talking about?” I shook my head

“I looked up your grades and your Instagram account, which you should put on private by the way, because I wanted to know a little more about you. But I looked up your address when I learned about the murder on campus.”

My eyes squinted when he made a casual suggestion about my Instagram account. What was it to him? Why did he care whether my account was set to public or private? He wasn't my dad or my boss or my.. anything else.

“There are some seriously fucked up people out there.” He almost smirked when he said that despite all the tension but his small smile quickly faded. “And all I could think of when I found out about the girl on campus was that it could have been you.”

“You don't even know me.”

“And you don't know me, yet here we are. Two people who took turns following each other home.” He raised his glass to his lips and the amusement was back in those teddy bear eyes of his as they continued to study me.

I glanced down now at my hand that was still shaking and he reached for it again.

“Don't be afraid of me.” It was a plea and a demand rolled into one.

“I probably should be.” I closed my eyes and spoke the words because I was still too chicken shit to look him in the eye as I made my confession. “But you're right.. I get so nervous around you because..” 

I fantasize about you pinning me against the wall and kissing me and...

I still couldn't get the words out. When my eyes fluttered open, Dr. Miller let me off the hook.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I could tell right away.”

“Am I that transparent?” 

“To me you are.” His hand released mine and there was a wave of disappointment. “And then tonight-”

“You knew I was following you.” It was half-question, half-statement.

“I saw you in the parking lot.”

“Dr. Miller-”

“Joel,” he corrected.

“Joel.” That fit. Joel Miller. I was so smitten over this man that even his first name made me weak in the knees - after he had admitted to violating my privacy on so many levels that should have sent me running, or even reporting him to the university.

Apparently, he was confident enough to think that I wouldn't do that. And he was right. Even for knowing one another for such a short amount of time, it felt like we were on some unspoken level of understanding; some kind of eccentric, warped version of kindred spirits or something.

“Are we on the same page?” He asked now. For the first time there was just the faintest hint of concern in his voice. His hazel eyes shifted back and forth just enough to advertise his uncertainty.

“I think so.” I did think so; but I hardly knew what book we were in.

The series of events were borderline perverse. Dr. Miller had dug into my personal life when he decided I was a perfect match for his antithetical impulses. As a result he felt some kind of connection that led him to follow me home in order to make sure I was alright after the murder occurred on campus.

I hadn't been able to put a halt to my own impure thoughts about him since the moment he walked in the door of class on that first evening. Similarly, there was a dominance and a confidence in the man that was so appealing. It awakened parts of me that I hadn't even realized existed. I wanted him. In the most primal of ways I wanted him.

The fact that he had followed me on Thursday night, I decided, didn't bother me. I could tell that he wasn't bothered in the least by the fact that I had followed him.

And here I was naive enough to call myself the predator and him the prey. Dr. Miller had known all along that I was there. He just waited until the moment was right to let me know that he was, indeed, in control.

There was a silence that had drifted over us but I knew he was reading my body language; deciphering if his decision to be entirely straightforward with me was the right decision. It was - or so that was how I viewed it. The fantasy that had been the focal point of my inner monologue as of late had presented itself on the table right in front of me.

“How old are you?” I lifted my glass again, hoping this time the shake in my hand would subside. It didn't, though I took a quick sip anyway and set the glass back down.

“Forty-four,” he said right away and then added, “Maybe we should play a game of twenty questions.. get to know each other.” That little smirk highlighted his dimples and I knew I was in full swoon.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“My turn,” came his immediate reminder, “Do you like my class?”

I gave a laugh, thankful for the lighthearted question. This one was easy. “Yes. I was disappointed that classes were cancelled this week, actually.”

“So that must've been why you came down to the university.” Dr. Miller winked now without attempting to be subtle about it. “Your turn.”

“Are you married?” It was bold. My face was fifty shades of crimson; but I had to know.

After a brief swirl of the brown liquid in his glass, a smile crept on his face that reminded a bit of The Grinch combined with The Cheshire Cat. “No.”

“Have you ever been?”

“I believe it's my turn.” Dr. Miller smacked his lips after another longer sip from the Manhattan. He smiled wider now and looked me directly in my eyes. I was smiling back at him. “What's your biggest fear?”

My chest tightened just a bit at the question and I saw his fingertips clench the glass a little tighter as the sentence rolled off his tongue.

“Dying,” I answered honestly and knew it was a dark answer. He was probably expecting me to say spiders or the dark. “I'm afraid of.. being forgotten and missing out on whatever's out there for me in the future. And upsetting the people who love me.” I shrugged as if it wasn't genuinely deep thought. It was. Actually saying it aloud was intense.

Dr. Miller's smile had faded. He was staring at me with such a solemn expression that seemed to match what I was feeling inside.

I hardly wanted to change the mood and so I managed a little grin. “It's my turn, I think.” I piggybacked my former question with the one he threw back at me, “Were you ever married?” 

“Yes.” He held his glass between his hands by his face like a poker player making a more thorough attempt to hide his cards. “I was about thirty. It lasted less than a year. I haven't been married since.” Dr. Miller's eyebrows rose and fell once, and I could tell he didn't care to elaborate.

I nodded, not knowing if I was crossing the line in our back-and-forth, sophomoric way to get to know each other. Again, I wasn't wholly sure but he didn't appear to mind as his turn rolled around again.

“When did your last relationship end?” He asked.

It had been a while if we were talking about formal relationships. “I've gone out on dates here and there but..” I thought for a moment, “A boyfriend.. it's been over two years.”

“Why didn't it work out?” Dr. Miller leaned forward just a bit with his elbows on the table now. I knew I could have pulled the, 'it's not your turn’ card but I answered the question honestly.

“I was bored.” It was the first time I acknowledged it aloud. “Yeah.. I.. I just got bored and rather than drag it on, I broke it off.”

“No one else has managed to cure that boredom spell huh?” 

Not until now. I would have loved to have answered him in that way but I wasn't exactly about to show off my full hand of cards, either. I simply shook my head and saw the squint of his eyes as I assumed he was hoping for a more in-depth response.

I had something on the tip of my tongue that I wanted to ask. The alcohol aided in letting my guard down enough to get it out.

“What are you hiding?” I asked because I knew he was. It was more than a haunch. I could almost see the skeleton in his metaphorical closet.

Disarmed. That was the only word I could use to describe the uplift of his eyebrows, the side glance of his pupils toward the wall, the uncomfortable shift in his posture. It was the first time that night where he truly looked subdued.

There is something. I knew it.

“Hiding?” Dr. Miller tried the cool smile again but it didn't erupt on his face in that same smooth manner the way it had every single time before that. His jaw was a bit strained and he cleared his throat.

“Aren't we all hiding something?” I tried to make the question appear more playful and lighthearted.

“What are you hiding?”

“I asked you first.”

“Well,  uh..” His smile was a combination of forced and genuine now. “We’ll revisit that question another time.”

“Fair enough.” Another time. Sounded good to me. I wanted there to be another time. No, I needed there to be another time.

“Are you attracted to me?” Dr. Miller asked, as if he didn't already know.

I didn't beat around the bush. We were here. The boundaries that I so naively assumed would separate us had been breached and he had already made such bold admissions. What did I have to lose by telling the truth?

“Yes.” I was leaning forward now, my hands folded in front of my glass on the table. That one elevated my heart rate and I knew I had forfeited any power when I continued to allow him to ask me questions in rapid succession.

“Did it bother you when I told you I followed you the other night?”

“No.”

“Does it excite you?” He asked.

My cheeks were scorching now. “Yes.”

“Are you going to feel weird when you see me in class from now on?”

“A little.” 

Dr. Miller chuckled now and I laughed with him. Wow, how the mood had changed. I think it was possible that I had experienced every emotion there was to feel over the course of our time together. It was exhilarating.

When I saw him take the last swig of his drink I wondered what that meant. Was that a wrap for the evening? Would he order another? I hoped he would. I could have sat at that bar all night with him.

Dr. Miller lanced at my drink and I hurried to take a sip of it in case he wanted to leave.

“Don't,” he said right away, “Take your time.”

“Thanks.” I let out a sigh and he stared at me for so many consecutive seconds that I was starting to think I had something on my face.

“What do you do for a living?” He finally asked.

“For now, I'm a secretary at the board of ed in the next town.”

“So, I guess I'm not the only one getting up early tomorrow.” 

“Quarter-to-six.”

“Mmm..” Dr. Miller glanced down and swirled the ice in his glass.

“Can I ask you one more question?” When he gave a little nod I asked, “Did you get in the elevator with me last week on purpose? I mean.. was it just to ride with me?”

His answer shocked me. Well, the detailed version of what I assumed, by now, would be a simple ‘yes' is what left me in a heated awe.

Dr. Miller's jaw tightened again and he spoke through partially gritted teeth. “When I saw you walking toward that elevator..” His eyes closed briefly and then opened again, finding my gaze immediately. “.. it took every ounce of restraint I had in me not to grab you by the throat, pin you up against the wall and shove my hand down the front of whatever pretty panties you happened to have on that night.”

And checkmate.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @amyispxnk @grogusmum @michilandcof @morallyinept

[heartofbusan]

TLDR: re-entry into the bangtan gravitational field at your own pace in 2025. Guilt free!

2024 was such a re-set year for me when it comes to engaging with bangtan. Can I be fully honest and say that their enlistment has been relaxing for me? Sure, we had a shit tonne of content to wade through, but without the members themselves being present for any of it, it meant a less direct engagement with the work during their 2024 releases. For me, that meant fewer feelings of guilt towards 'being present' with them. Does that make sense? It's like I got room to engage at my own pace and on my own terms. Or I might just be getting older, lol. Not discounting that possibility.

The music we got still had great impact on me. It felt sensual to engage with it as if it was a new discovery and less of an obligation. Time constraints sometimes meant it took me weeks to watch an mv, or listen to an album without distractions. Quite a different way of being army than I was before.

I became an army during the pandemic, right at the very start of our first lockdown. I allowed myself to delve into something that had only existed in my periphery. With their amazing music, which was second only to their interactions and personalities, came a whole boatload of content to wade through. All the while, Dynamite was being launched as my first official comeback. Growing up with that juggernaut meant feeling deeply invested and also responsible for their success. The results were very much a shared success. The perfect fertilizer for the parasocial relationship I'm currently involved in with seven Korean men I've never even met.

It took me away from my own life. Kept me in that state of detached social contact that was created thanks to the pandemic. Yet, I felt sated, my joy became engaging with these men, their art. What need did my surroundings fulfill that couldn't be met by army as friends and by bts as my sole purveyor of art?

Fleeing the horrors of Twitter and learning to navigate this platform also meant a deeper focus into one aspect of army that I never felt fully comfortable doing there. Jikook.

What can I say? They have my full attention. I lost some, what at the time I thought were some very good friends in this process. I barely gained any new ones. Yet, in this year, I did discover the power of a restful thought written into sharp observation. And nothing compelled me to write as much as jikook does.

But, all good things must evolve in order to be sustainable in the long run. I don't want that period to sour, to become just a hyper fixation. BTS' enlistment period meant I could take a step back and re-evaluate what it all meant to me and how I could keep it for the long run. As we roll into the sanctified year of 2025, the year that means the end of bangtan's mandatory enlistment period, we'll being sucked back into that vortex. I want to do it on my own terms.

My personal goals for 2025.

More: engaging with new content in my own time. Less: obsessive streaming and the feelings of guilt others put upon behavior that might be detrimental to your peace. Sorry, but this behavior is not sustainable in my life as it once was.

Less: buying dopamine. More: buying with intention, whether it be music or merchandise. Those tickets will not come free of charge, i hope you have been saving up ☺️

Less: engaging with content as it drops. Yes, even lives! Argh. As much as it pains me to feel like I'm ignoring someone. More: Being present in my real life.

No one gets to dictate who is army and who isn't. These are arbitrary rules set upon by some who are willing and able to direct a lot of time and money to a singular goal. I know as I write this that I'm making excuses for myself. Yet, I need it to be true. I want to carve a place for bangtan into my life, not the other way around. Let's not let a corporation dictate our genuine feelings for the sake of capitalism.

Most of all, I hope health and general well-being are what carry us all into 2025. Nothing is certain, but love is a very powerful feeling. One which can move mountains. Sometimes to great personal cost. Yet, it is worth it in the long run. Wouldn't you agree?

I hope you have a very calm and enjoyable end of year. Be safe and tell your loved ones how they make you feel. It's important to hold on to the things you have control over and to let go, nay, expell the things that are beyond your reach.

[adolfusraptor1985]

The Effects of DPDR (Depersonalization Derealization) On My Alterhumanity

[Warning: 1,000+ word essay below the break]

The connection between psychological abnormalities and alterhumanity has always been a significant and undeniable experience. I believe that more studies should be conducted to explore the relationship between mental health and alterhumanity. My own alterhuman experiences are closely tied to psychological challenges, and I strongly suspect that while alterhumanity cannot be fully explained by science, there may be substantial links to certain psychological conditions that contribute to it. This short essay will focus on the impacts of and connections between my identity and experiences with dissociation.

To begin, what exactly is DPDR? DPDR stands for Depersonalization-Derealization Disorder, a dissociative disorder that lies at the lower end of the spectrum of related conditions. Dissociative amnesia is in the middle, and at the most severe end is Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). Depersonalization involves "experiences of unreality, detachment, or being an outside observer with respect to one’s thoughts, feelings, sensations, body, or actions." Derealization is characterized by "experiences of unreality or detachment with respect to surroundings." Together, these symptoms can leave individuals feeling numb, robotic, or as though their perception of reality is distorted. They may perceive the world around them as blurry, dreamlike, lifeless, or fake.

I have not been medically diagnosed with DPDR, although I have never seen a therapist or psychiatrist. I am considering seeking a diagnosis to ease my mind and potentially receive help. My research suggests that my experiences align perfectly with the symptoms of DPDR, and the condition has only worsened over time. I’ve spent the last few years feeling increasingly detached from myself, my surroundings, and my life in general. Everything feels unreal to me, like a dream or a TV show. Nothing seems truly to exist—myself, my actions, the people around me, and their actions all seem either scripted or entirely imagined.

So, what does this have to do with my alterhumanity? How does DPDR make me identify as nonhuman? It’s actually not the disorder itself, but rather the impact of the symptoms that influences me. My primary focus here is on the depersonalization aspect of the disorder, as it directly affects my sense of self. For me, depersonalization creates a profound sense of detachment and emptiness. I don't feel connected to my body or as though it truly belongs to me. While I don't dislike my appearance—I generally think it looks nice—I can't genuinely feel it as being "me." Most of the time, my mind feels empty, particularly when reflecting on myself. I struggle with "about me" projects because I can’t identify personal interests, hobbies, or personality traits. The few things I do know about myself have emerged only after the onset of DPDR. To cope, I immerse myself in work or creative projects. I often daydream about being fictional characters I’ve created, allowing me to embody someone with a defined personality, backstory, and identity.

This detachment from myself leads me to feel nonhuman. Typically, humans have a strong sense of identity, but I don’t. Humans are generally aware of who they are and how they fit into society; I’m not. Humans retain memories that shape who they are, but I don't. How could I possibly feel human if I don’t even feel real? Because of this lack of self-awareness, my mind attempts to fill the gaps with things that feel "right" to it—a fluffy tail I should wag when I'm happy, a collar I should be wearing, a walk I should be enjoying with my owner.

One of the few things I've been able to genuinely connect with is animals. Society and human interactions can be overwhelming for my dissociated mind. Growing up with a dog, I find my identity leaning heavily toward canines, though I still lack a solid self-image. I’m comfortable identifying as a dog, as that feels natural, but I’m not comfortable identifying as human (aside from biologically). This is where derealization plays a role. Concepts involving reality—whether something is physical, psychological, conceptual, or spiritual—are difficult for me to comprehend. Since some days nothing feels real, who’s to say that I’m not actually a dog? Why should having a human body matter if it doesn’t feel like me?

In short, my dissociation detaches me from my own humanity. Does this make my entire identity a disorder? Am I not truly a dog because this is all a construct of my mind? Could this even border on clinical kynanthropy? My personal answer is no, but honestly, the answer might be "possibly." The challenge with endelic and similarly caused alterhuman identities is that it’s nearly impossible to draw the line between what’s "real" or not, and asking someone with DPDR to define these things is like asking a four-year-old to solve an algebra problem. I barely understand what reality is—but when you think deeply about it, does anyone? My belief is somewhat divided. On one hand, I recognize that much of my alterhumanity is related to a potential disorder and therefore isn’t "real." But on the other hand, it’s a deeply personal and integral part of my own reality. At the end of the day, no science or logic can disprove the concept of nonhuman identity unrelated to biology, meaning this is, at the very least, not delusion based.

[happymetalgirl]

Uboa - Impossible Light

Of all the artists I've reviewed prior, Uboa is the one whose work I have the most unique whiplash with covering. I actually felt compelled to look all the way back to 2019 with my review of her grippingly monumental death-industrial breakout, The Origin of My Depression. It was an album which revolved very harrowingly around the constant and inescapable distress of gender dysphoria, and my review of it of was one of impressed but detached and analytical empathy for the autobiographical struggles that creator Xandra Metcalfe so nakedly and horrifyingly expressed on those songs. For many of the same reasons I don't frequently revisit albums like Lingua Ignota's Caligula and Sinner Get Ready (despite it being my favorite album of 2021), my re-listens have been fairly few and far between for The Origin of My Depression. It is a testament to the emotive capacity of albums like those that with such dark subject matter being so commonplace in metal and listeners like me being largely desensitized to lyrics on depression, brutality, and abject human cruelty that albums about foreign and specific personal experiences like surviving sexual assault and persisting on spite (Caligula) and confronting God about allowing it (Sinner Get Ready) and the inescapable oppressive thralls of gender dysphoria in a virulently transphobic world (The Origin of My Depression) can elicit such heartfelt pain.

A lot has changed since I reviewed The Origin of My Depression. Five years later, revisiting that seminal Uboa album for the first time in at least a year or so and sitting down with its successor, my approach to Xandra Metcalfe's crushing self-portrayal of trans life through grippingly intense music is not, this time, with a detached empathy for the trans struggle.

I do intend to maintain my anonymity and healthy distance on this blog, especially now, but I will make at least one thing about me clear because it is an unavoidable facet of a review of this album by me: I am a trans woman. This was the realization that I came to last year of a clearer vision of myself that upon realizing I wasted no time in pursuing. I consider myself one of the lucky ones, relatively: financially stable/independent, insulated at least partly from the worst legislative actions being taken against trans people, and mightily euphoric, strengthened more than I imagined I could be in my transition.

That said, I still identify, as do most trans people I know and have spoken with, deeply and personally with the intense struggles that Metcalfe poetically details on The Origin of My Depression and this new record, whose lyrics were birthed from a similar time and mind-state to its predecessor. My very fortunate mental and emotional strength in feeling as though I am very much winning the battle against my own gender dysphoria has not precluded me to sitting back and resting on my laurels, but rather has driven me to turn my efforts outward as much as I can toward the war against societal transphobia. So many of my fellow trans people suffer needlessly because of blind, stupid, disgusting hate, and their many heartbreaking stories of being trapped in the throes of dysphoria surrounded and suffocated by ignorant malice fill me with such anger that they are being kept from the fulfillment and joy that I have found in being trans, that they deserve just as much as I do. This album, like a lot of trans art, serves as a plea for compassion and help from those privileged enough to offer it in desperate and exasperated terms and a plea for perseverance in these dire times to all trans people and from Metcalfe to herself.

An emblem of life around the time of The Origin of My Depression, the lyrical content of Impossible Light was spawned during a plateau of a rising wave of anti-trans bigotry, about half a decade or so into the significant increase of visibility of trans people and the mainstreaming of the "trans issue" in public discourse in the 2010's, a discourse full of obvious lies and deception through bigotry disguised as moral panic which largely misrepresented and demonized the trans people who were sidelined in the debate on their own existence. That wave of hate from religious and right-wing bigots has only grown since then, reaching a frightening height in 2022 when Republican congressional candidates and governors made combatting transness the forefront of their electoral strategy for the midterm elections. It was a strategy that wound up failing massively in a way that would push any rational political actors away from it in the immediate future, and yet, despite losing on it, republicans held firmly to the hot potato that just burned them, a grim prognosis of the party consolidating into its most rabid devotees behind anti-electoral fascism driven by transphobic vitriol. The party shifted its losing focus on transphobia back to its winning focus on xenophobia and fear-mongering about immigrants in time to capture all branches of the U.S. federal government earlier this month from the inept and incompetent institutionally entrenched opposition party, but the transphobia never went away, and the American conservative movement's most devoted believers have been licking their lips and champing at the bit to see their most evil wishes come true for trans people through the authoritarian action of the coming administration. As a time capsule of sorts of the bleak environment of 2018, this is the even bleaker world that Uboa's next album was delivered into, and yet somehow, it's perfect for the world into which it emerges.

Impossible Light is about reaching for the unreachable: joy in a world of misery, self-worth amid ubiquitous denigration, womanhood from manhood, love in a world of hate. Created at a time when the light was at least visible and now released into a time of seemingly absolute darkness, Uboa's message might seem near-prophetic, and given the insight she expresses in the album's liner notes into the rising tide of fascism sweeping through her own home town in Australia, I imagine she probably had a feeling it was always going to go like this. But the reality is that for trans people, that light has always felt distant, if not outright unreachable; we've always weathered difficult times, we've only ever known struggle, making the essence of Impossible Light, sadly, evergreen. But the caveat to that is that so are we.

As with its predecessors, the musical content on Impossible Light is befitting of its subject matter and context: eerie darkwave ambiance with melancholic low-hummed vocals, jolting blasts of harsh noise, and existential screams of rage, agony, ecstasy, euphoria. Cavernous drones through ambient darkness become suddenly claustrophobic storms of distortion, white noise, and screaming, with "Phthalates" setting the tone via wavering hums of low-register synth hovering over the sounds of destructive industrial clanging of metal. It's very much got the feeling of the opening of an A24 horror movie. The smooth segue into the building, pounding drums over the melancholic singing of "Endocrine Disruptor" is thematically fitting and serves as a great dual opening to the album, with Metcalfe's vocals dripping with disregard serving as a representation for a lack of care for a world with a lack of any benevolent care for her. But the album's apathetic tone does not last long as the blasts of harsh noise and scratching/scrpaing industrial dissonance erupt from the brief but colossal "A Puzzle" and while a djent rhythm of all things rides the tempestuous waves of synthetic distortion and rattling drum-programming on "Gordian Worm". And all of this occurs seamlessly as a deranged progressive suite over the first 18 minutes of the album's four opening tracks, which I love as a representation of the ceaseless mental and emotional chaos of navigating the internal and external highs of euphoria and lows of dysphoria, an ethos that persists through the haunting dark of "Jawline" and the careening explosions of warping noise on "Pattern Screamers" and "Weaponized Dysphoria". It might seem from a cursory listen like it's all just kind of aimless madness and uncontrolled neurodivergent mania... until it all comes together.

While the minutia of the lyrical content is indeed very insular and contained within the trans world, the broader fighting spirit is subtly brimming from the overarching themes and emerges more stoutly as the record progresses, though not linearly and not without constant, dramatic, human flux the entire time. The mood of the album is indeed all over the place from the lofty objective of gender abolition being analogized through the fantasy of estrogen-driven mutation of "god's" nature through pollution on "Endocrine Disruptor" (an analogy for trans people's presence within the cis-heteronormative/patriarchal hegemony as inherently disruptive) to the dissociative respite of "Sleep Hygiene" that sees Uboa tempted by a return to suicidal ideation through indulgence in the escape of sleep. The album is definitely representative of a relatable and chaotic mind state very common to the trans experience, but Metcalfe brings the crucial message of queer perseverance home, with a little help from her queer friends, on the closing track, "Impossible Light / Golden Flower", which very fittingly follows the emotional exhaustion and the dejected repetition of the despondent mantra of "stay in bed" with the simple and potent singular counter of "get up and run". All the afflicted screaming, heartbroken pessimism, and dysphoric depression of the previous tracks and the catatonic escapism of "Sleep Hygiene" are brought to a beautiful and breathtaking crescendo of hope and love on the closing track's glorious multi-stage swell of a choir of organic and emphatic trans voices and catharsis through persistence and euphoria. It's the rebutting of the social narrative of transness being a curse and trans people being the shame and weakness and rot within civilization to be purged with the converse of that fascistic narrative: that in the face of so much hate and opposition trans people are strong, that being trans in a world that represses us is worthy of pride rather than shame, that being trans is a blessing rather than a curse.

It is a time of limbo for trans people now. We've never had it particularly easy as a group, and while the increased community and allyship we've found as of late has served a benefit, the past several years under the scrutiny of the cis-normative lens have been especially volatile. Republicans turned their focus back onto racialized people to win the general election, but the transphobia never withered, it only went quiescent. Even before it became an issue that directly affected me personally, I had kept up with and continue to keep up with the rise of American fascism in the republican party. Consequently I've heard a lot of Donald Trump, unfortunately, half the time at one of his many rallies, rambling like a sundowning racist grandparent about "what they've done to our country" and how unfair everyone is to him. And I have noticed, amid the dull, numbing rambling from the podium about his many grievances that becomes tedious even to his devout cultists, the reliable and resounding Pavlovian response he gets from the crowd whenever he makes some reference to anti-trans sentiment or aspirations. It is indeed a time of very anxious limbo for trans people now that the worst premonitions of a future second Trump administration have become a very possible reality, especially racialized trans people, trans kids, and trans people living under republican governors. And in a time of stockpiling HRT and scrambling for passport applications while the neoliberals who failed to defend us prepare to throw us under the bus for their loss, the plea to stay awake and keep ahead toward the impossible light at the end of the suffocatingly dark tunnel is a more desperate one than ever. Hope is scarce and reaching that increasingly distant light within our lifetimes definitely feels impossible.

But

Why should we languish and doubt ourselves? Are we not strong? Have we not already transcended and defeated gender itself? Have we not already turned over the impossible weight of millennia of gender paradigms? Trans people are so strong! The light of being who we are is already an existentially massive feat, and we are less alone in the glory of gender transcendence than ever. Why CAN'T we reach the light of simple human joy?

With the physical record, Xandra Metcalfe included a small sheet with liner notes delving into the origin of Impossible Light and its contrast to The Origin of My Depression. In it she discusses the necessity of reaching for that impossible light with motivated hope in sharp contrast to delusional optimism and toxic positivity, and in succinct terms the imperative for queer people to do so together, not alone, in community, as she does on this record in participation with other trans and non-binary peers (Tig Harutyunyan, Haela Hunt-Hendrix, otay:onii). She also directs her focus on the primary driving root cause of the suffering and bigotry in the world, capital, and the need for the few of us to act in solidarity in the face of poverty, genocide, climate destruction, apartheid, and fascism. During the time this record was put together, Metcalfe attended multiple funerals for trans friends, and the final touches of the album were done in the midst of the genocide of the people of Armenia in Artsakh by the state of Azerbaijan and the genocide of Palestinians in Gaza by the state of Israel, and Metcalfe writes about the much of the grim civilizational ills surrounding these injustices in very similar ways that I have found also myself writing about those same omnipresent ills and in a similar way that I'm sure millions have also found themselves thinking about them, with a deep sense of daunted uncertainty in even the near future. These liner notes were surely written before November 2024, but the message within them has only become more poignant.

Xandra Metcalfe's plea for collective strength among trans people is more important now than ever, as we face down the last months before heading into a fascist administration that will either moderately target us with discriminatory legal and executive action or severely demonize and scapegoat us for the pain they are about to worsen on the poor and working class people of the US and the global South through escalated parasitism of the less powerful to increase even further the concentration of wealth into the hands of the already-wealthy via a gutting of the social safety net and destruction of public communication and education. Now more than ever, we need each other.

Of the many changes I have made in my life, transitioning has been far and away the best change I have ever made. The clarity I'd never experienced before, the weight of masculinity that I was convinced for so long I just had to carry lifted off my shoulders, the euphoria of self-realization in embracing womanhood, the confidence in reaching and becoming the person I want to be even when she seemed too far beyond my grasp. It's a very strange dynamic to have that euphoria also tied to such fear of increased discrimination, of increased harassment, of being scapegoated for the ills of capitalism by capitalists, of being scapegoated for the failures of the neoliberal paid opposition party, of targeted violence, of losing it all. It's strange and disheartening to see the quick return to silence from the privileged moderate liberals who lamented Trump's electoral victory. It's strange to go to work and act like everything is fine and normal for the benefit of the same corporate bosses who threw their support behind a fascist movement that dehumanizes me to pad their bottom lines and who also plan to throw me away as soon as all the value from my labor can be extracted. But it's also strange to feel such motivation in the face of unwinnable odds. It's strange to feel such self-love and self-confidence that I never felt I deserved before. It's strange not being crippled by depression because I finally found and conquered the origin of MY depression. I have been much more hopeless in the past than I am now, and I know that I'm not alone. This album is not just a reminder that we need each other, it's a reassurance that we have each other, there are people like us who understand us. But even before that, it's a contrast to the search for an escape from the misery of the transphobic world through self-isolation and suicidal ideation of The Origin of My Depression. The thesis of Impossible Light is that there is no peace in suicidal acquiescence, no peace in defeat, and probably no peace ever for trans people, but that the impossible is worth the reach, that if you're going to be alive as a trans person then you may as well live fucking vibrantly, that there's some good in this world for us, and it's worth fighting for, and we have to do it together.

Trans liberation now.

MY album-of-the-year 2024

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: INFP, 25. Feeling pretty lost in life. After a long battle with mental illness (runs in the family, I'm surrounded by people that as of now don't want to go to therapy and keep reliving the same patterns, hurting everyone who hasn't gone through the process I've - THANK GOODNESS - gone through thanks to therapy and medication), I find myself unemployed, without friends, without money, still studying for my degree (I'm almost finished though) and for the first time seeing things so, so clearly.

I wasted most of my teenage years trying to understand what the fuck was going on in my head, battling anorexia, depression and social anxiety - and the latter still has a big impact on the way I speak to people since words don't come to my head, plus depression really wrecked my memory and it can take a whole 20 minutes for me to remember a specific name that I wanted to bring up in a conversation. I feel like I'm cooked.

I don't hate myself nor I feel like I have low self-esteem; actually, I really like who I am when given the time and emotional space to make my true self and inner creativity shine. I think I could give a lot to people but because of a general lack of understanding of common references cause I was detached from everything most of my life and I've missed them all, I tend to be perceived as cringe/weird/naive/childish and none of my conversations are surviving past the first week.

I'm really trying hard to develop my vocabulary, catching up with tv shows characters or even basic history references, but it feels like a huge toll of notions that I can't possibly internalize in such a short amount of time. These people dedicated years (consciously or not) to common knowledge, their family members had culture and raised them to be curious about the world - I'm only now waking up and looking at the world for the first time, with the intention of developing my social and verbal skills.

Basically I need to step up my life and I don't feel like it's working cause everyone can tell I'm so behind and I'm not up their standards - especially in my age range, and considering my economic state. Whenever they ask "what's your job" or "what's your favorite music genre" and I can't really give them an answer to either, I feel ashamed. I know it's not my fault, I had to survive violence and ignorance growing up and I was never given the time to discover who I am or to become a functioning member of society or even feel "safe" enough to try ANYTHING, so yeah, I do have self-compassion, I guess - but others seem like they don't, and I'm so slow when I speak, I'm so slow when I wanna come up with a joke and in a social setting everyone looks at each other like they think I'm stupid.

Is there any advice you can give me? I know I can make it. I am exactly like everyone else, I can develop the same abilities and have a good future. Am I right? Or is this just some lie I'm telling myself? Am I deluded? Will people always look down on me and avoid me altogether?

--------------------

I'm not in a position to tell you that you're lying to yourself; it's something you need to determine through honest self-reflection. There's nothing wrong with talking yourself up in order to motivate yourself to do better. It's also a good thing to try to focus more on the positive aspects of life, especially when you have a history of getting stuck in negativity or narrow-mindedness. This would certainly help you with Ne development, which should be an ongoing project.

As far as I can tell, the root of the problem you're describing isn't psychological but social. Not everything in life is under our control. In fact, studies have consistently revealed that people are far more influenced by their social environment than they care to admit. You don't get to choose which family you're born into. As a child, you have no say in which neighborhood, city, or country you live in. Yet, upbringing, community, and culture are three major factors that influence the trajectory of your life, everyone's life.

If you're unlucky, you grow up experiencing a painful mismatch of personality and environment. And it is down to luck. You shouldn't fault yourself for accidents of birth. And you also can't really fault the "environment" because it's not really a conscious entity that intentionally sets out to harm people. Although the social environment is created by the people comprising it, it's not within any given individual's power to change or control it. This is why, historically, you see people migrate far from home, in search of better environments with better opportunities.

You're young and, because of your upbringing, you didn't really get a chance to participate properly in the world. This means you haven't really experienced firsthand just how big the world can be. There is such a diversity of people, places, and culture in the world, which I take to mean that there's a place for every person. Somewhere in the world, there's a place that will allow you to be your true self. Somewhere in the world, there's a place that will help bring out the best in you and allow you to contribute the best of yourself.

However, that place may or may not be where you were born and raised. When you feel like you don't fit in despite all your best efforts, it might help to ask whether this is really the place you're meant to be and the people you're meant to be associated with...

I've known a lot of immigrants in my lifetime, so I have taken part in many complicated discussions about how to fit in, culturally. Some people find it easier to pick up mainstream culture as they go, looking up references and remembering them as necessary. Some people like to be more prepared and put effort into studying cultural history. I've had a lot of people ask me for help getting to know western culture's most important artists, writers, books, musicians, songs, movies, and tv shows by decade.

It used to be easier to learn cultural knowledge when media was more centralized. Nowadays, people are more siloed, ironically because of social media. Subcultures abound, appearing and disappearing with short-lived social media trends. In today's chaotic media landscape, trying to keep up with the latest cultural trends isn't really worth the energy anymore because collective memory has become so short. What's the point of remembering a meme or viral event when most people will have forgotten it a month later?

What is one to do when faced with this kind of information overload? There are two helpful strategies that go together:

(1) Narrow Your Focus

One reason people are so interested in cultural knowledge is because culture is an important avenue of self-discovery. Have you ever noticed that when they put together a boy/girl band, they find four or five guys/gals with very different and distinct personalities? They're hoping to ensure that teenage listeners will find at least one band member to relate to on a deeper level. It's a way to cover all the bases and maximize the chances of turning someone into a fan. While it sounds like a cynical and calculated ploy, it's actually an important way for teenagers to learn more about their own likes/dislikes, in contrast to others.

One could argue that the reason we have so many genres in music, movies, tv shows, and literature is because of the diversity of human beings. We're all born with a personality that we express in our own unique way, which means we all have a propensity to like and dislike certain things. As much as I've tried to get into death metal, I just can't seem to resonate with it. And there's nothing wrong with that, as long as I'm not out there trying to stop other people from appreciating it. We are all entitled to our personal tastes.

You're hoping that by learning more cultural knowledge, some of those factoids will eventually pay off during a social interaction. But what are the odds that they will? Pretty low because it's too random. Is it really worth the energy spent in remembering all that information only for a small portion of it to come in handy at some random time in the future? Sure, there are people who have a head for remembering trivia, but if you're not one of them, it quickly becomes a waste of energy that could be better spent elsewhere.

But wastefulness aside, cramming yourself full of factoids isn't a good strategy for two reasons. Firstly, when learning is motivated solely by a desire to obtain external rewards (e.g. approval or money), people don't tend to achieve true mastery or genuine appreciation of the subject matter. In other words, it's a shallow way of learning that doesn't help memory retention, as you're finding out. Secondly, doing something just to impress others is basically contorting yourself to conform with other people's expectations. This doesn't help you learn about yourself, quite the opposite, it takes you farther and farther away from yourself, which is why it doesn't feel right.

While we often associate identity formation with adolescence, the fact is that learning about who you really are is a lifelong task. Thus, the question isn't about when you started (early or late), it's more about whether you're using a good approach that actually gets you incrementally closer to the truth of who you really are.

If participation in culture is an important pathway for learning about oneself, what you should be doing is exploring different aspects of culture to learn about potential likes, dislikes, interests, and hobbies. For example, you're not going to know whether you like horror movies until you watch a few. But once you've watched a representative sample of the genre and realize you don't like it, let it go and move onto something else.

It's almost as though you believe you have to know everything so that you can relate to anyone. I don't think this is a good or efficient socializing strategy, unless you love researching and have a great memory. You need to accept the fact that you're not going to be friends with everyone. It's okay that you're more compatible with some people more than others.

To improve your chances of social success, you have to know what you're looking for and how to find it. When you go fishing, you don't just throw a hook in the water and hope for the best, right? You have to use the right kind of bait. In the context of relationships, "bait" refers to the things that attract people to each other. One of the best and fastest ways of connecting with people is through common interests. However, this pathway won't be available to you as long as your interests aren't genuine or you haven't developed them properly.

(2) Prioritize Quality (Over Quantity)

One reason people feel easily inundated with too much information is lack of critical thinking skills. Critical thinking helps you sort through information and evaluate its quality. It's like learning how to quickly spot the rare diamonds amongst the pile of cheap shiny jewels. This also helps with the first point of narrowing your focus.

When you have a better idea of what you like or find intriguing, you open up opportunities to dig deeper and nurture a more sophisticated appreciation of the subject, to refine your tastes. A like/interest (feeling) can be transformed into an edifying intellectual pursuit (skill). But this can only happen if you value learning for its growth potential and not just for the social approval it might bring.

You seem a bit too concerned with how people judge you as a "weirdo". It could be the case that you've met some nasty people. But it could also be the case that you're projecting because you low-key feel ashamed of being "behind" in your development.

There's nothing wrong with being ignorant when it happens through no fault of your own. Nobody comes out of the womb knowing everything and we don't all have equal opportunity to learn what we need to know. It's pointless and illogical to compare yourself to others when you didn't begin life at the same starting line. And being human means having blind spots. Ignorance only becomes problematic when it is willful, that is, a person denies their ignorance and refuses to remedy it with proper learning. Given your motivation to learn, it's clear that you're not stuck in a state of willful ignorance, so there is nothing to feel ashamed about.

On occasion, people come to me asking about a psychology book they've read, only for me to break the bad news to them that it's a terrible book, full of misinformation. Should they then walk away and give up out of embarrassment? I sure hope not. I hope that they would learn to choose their learning resources more carefully.

The trouble with being a newbie is that you don't yet know enough to separate out the good stuff from the junk. To counter this, instead of becoming too reliant on one resource, communicate with a wide variety of people who seem to exhibit more knowledge than you. Eventually, you'll get a better feel for the quality of the knowledge. For example, if most experts are in general agreement, then you've probably stumbled upon trustworthy information. But when nobody can seem to agree on what the "truth" is, then be more careful.

Following from that, instead of slinking away in shame when you're caught not knowing something that seemingly "everybody should know", why not just be honest about not having had the chance to learn and welcome the person to enlighten you? Allow yourself to be humbly schooled. I can't tell you the amount of useful information I've picked up by simply letting people go on and on about their passions and interests.

Doing this could also take a lot of pressure off you, in terms of having the opportunity to: 1) sit back, relax, and listen, 2) learn and absorb information in a more natural setting, and 3) get some valuable tips about which direction to take your learning and where to find quality sources of information to speed up your learning. You might even get inspired to pursue something new and interesting.

The concept of "quality" also applies to people. Every person is a mixture of positive and negative qualities, but some people exhibit more of their negative qualities. When you meet people like that, it is fine to feel repelled and get away from them. But don't then overreact and overgeneralize and believe that everyone is bad.

If the people you're interacting with are truly judgmental jerks, it's better to find out sooner so that you don't end up in a toxic relationship. You truly like yourself? Then wear it proudly. Be open, authentic, and transparent about who you are and the struggles you've been through. Observe how willing people are to accept all of you. This should help you quickly separate out the good from the bad eggs. A good person should be:

empathetic and compassionate

willing to give you the benefit of the doubt

inclined to see and acknowledge the good in you

curious rather than judgmental

sensitive and accommodating, within reason

Every place has its good and bad people, and meeting new people is luck of the draw. When you meet bad people, there's no need to waste time with blame or anger. It's their problem, not yours. Simply walk away and keep looking for good people. And if your social environment isn't overflowing with your kind of people, you might have to migrate to a new and better environment.

Generally speaking, the process of improving yourself and your life goes a lot more smoothly when you know how to tune out noise and keep focused on your main goals.

[jerirose]

"Lost Me" for SKZMixtapeZine

I can finally share this!! I was so happy when I was told I got a place in the Zine, I'd never done one before and to be surrounded by such incredible artists was such an honour! I learnt so much painting this piece and I am truly thankful to all of those that organised it and put it together! Image Description and my thought process on my painting under the cut!

My Twitter | Instagram The song I got assigned was "Lost Me", which I think was my top choice if not one of my top 3. I was so happy to get this song - not only is The Sound one of my favourite Stray Kids Japanese albums, but I just absolutely love the emotions in this song. Changbin is one of my favourite song writers which is why he got to be the face of this painting. I listened to this song over and over again, I'm sure if it hadn't been for me listening to the First Take version mostly, my music app would have questioned whether I was okay or not haha. Changbin said in a Nylon interview that Lost Me was "a very sad song about wanting to be loved by the people around you that you lose sight of yourself" and that really stuck with me - I remembered the days I would go on late night walks, feeling so dissociated from myself because I was trying to keep people around that didn't like me for who I was but who they shaped me to be, the feeling of detachment from yourself that you get from that... at first I'd a different vision for this painting but eventually, it made me think of those double exposed photos that were distorted and blurry, that feel almost like a wrapped reality, that uneasiness that they hold... that's how this song makes me feel and so I tried to translate that into a painting.

[Image Description] A digital realism painting of Seo Changbin from Stray Kids standing in front of an alley way with a large neon sign that says "Lost Me" and under it in Japanese it says "変わっても全て" which translates to "Even if everything changes" in English is blurred and distorted. Changbin is doubled like a double exposure photograph, blurred and slightly transparent like he's fading into the background, behind him glowing lights of shop signs light their way down the alley way and a shop to his right has the lyrics "孤独には感じたくないんだよ" in Japanese which translate to "I don't want to feel alone" in English. The painting is painted in bright pinks and blues like those from a busy night-life scene, with glitch effects and light leaks, giving the whole painting the feeling of being taken on a disposable analogue camera during a night out. Changbin looks to off to his left in one of his exposures and off to the right in another, his black hair is down and not styled and he wears a simple black tee-shirt in both.

[thatstolenpayal]

"kab tak chalega aise, ab bade ho rahe hai hum, aur yeh sab bachpana, band karna padega"

dear aditi from yjhd,

i understand and feel you completely today. you have always been my favourite among everyone. you knew it all, you accepted it and told bunny to not give up on his dreams, yet felt everything deep down. i sense something, today, the end.

this separation, from people i've known since childhood, my room, my neighbourhood, the air that surrounds me, seems to be fading away, every moment. my shoulders feel lighter, detached of something i don't want to let go. it's not like everyone is leaving today, but the realization that stabs me in the back drive these sudden waves of sadness through me.

they say this feeling is beautiful, you let go of things only to keep sweet memories to cherish forever. but is it okay that i feel terror in my heart, a fear of losing myself, this place, and an unwillingness to face what's next?

i have not had enough of it yet, there is so much more left, so many memories left to make, songs to be sung together, and late night conversations. i miss everything already.

i am so scared. growing up isn't beautiful after all.

i wish it could stay a little longer. just a little.

ban liya apna paighambar, tar liya tu saat samandar, phir bhi sukha man ke andar kyun reh gaya?

kabira, yeh jawani hai deewani

[animasola86]

Just another adventure, right?

My interpretation of the infamous Scriptorium scene:

2.2k words

Sebastian x gn!reader/mc (1st person POV)

hurt/comfort/fluff

(Original screenshot by @gamesscreens, this post here)

“Cast it on me,” I said and stared up at him in a determination I didn't know I still had in me.

“What?” Sebastian exclaimed. “No! You can't be serious!”

“What do you expect we do then?” I hissed, looking back to where Ominis was pacing up and down the dark corridor nervously. “Ominis refuses to have anything to do with this and I completely understand it. I don't see how I could ever cast the curse as well, but, since you know it, you should cast it. It's our only way out of this, Sebastian!”

He stared at me with his jaw clenched and his lips tight, his eyes dark and conflicted. Then he shook his head and turned away, staring at the door that kept us from leaving.

I walked up to him and placed a hand on his back, gently curling my fingertips against the fabric of his robes. He slightly stiffened at my touch, but then turned his head towards me.

“You can do this,” I whispered. “I trust you...”

He turned around fully, his height and dark demeanour towering over me like an even darker shadow in our grim surroundings.

“You trust me to hurt you?” He inhaled deeply. “I don't want to hurt you. I... can't do this... to you,” his voice was low, vibrating through my very core. “You realize I have to mean it... for it to work...” He shook his head and turned around again, his profile set. “And I certainly do not mean to hurt you...”

“Then pretend I'm somebody else!” I said with a sudden idea. I saw him frowning at that. “Here, I can even put up my hood and turn around!” I started grabbing my hood, but he quickly got a hold of my wrists. I stared up at him with my mouth open. “Sebastian, please!” I breathed. “I know it's a lot to ask, but... only you can do it.”

He looked at me with an intensity that made my heart hammer against my ribcage, that made my knees weak. A shiver ran down my spine as his fingers let go of my wrists and turned to the hood of my robes instead, as he very carefully pulled it over my head. His hands found my face and while his thumbs gently caressed my cheeks, he leaned down towards me. I could feel his breath on my lips as he brought his face even closer until he pressed his forehead against mine, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Just another adventure, right?” I heard him whisper, or rather I felt his voice humming deeply against my skin.

My hands found the front of his robes and I gingerly dug my fingers into them. “Yes,” I breathed.

He inhaled deeply, then leaned back up and pressed his lips quickly on my forehead. I looked up at him unable to say anything else. I couldn't imagine the turmoil (well, a little bit) raging inside of him. Perhaps if I had been forced to do this to him, I would have struggled in the same way, probably even more, considering I still found it hard to fight even the bad guys like goblins or Dark wizards. But to purposefully hurt someone you... loved...

I swallowed hard and turned around, facing the wall, showing him that I was ready (even though I clearly wasn't, I had no idea what to expect). I braced myself, but hearing his equally strained breaths behind me didn't really ease the knot that twisted my stomach. But it was nothing compared to what was to come.

His voice was almost cold, detached, when he shouted: “Crucio!”

The impact was immediate. Like a fiery hot breeze of the sharpest needles imaginable it rushed through me and then it spread. I heard my own screams echoing loudly off the walls as I staggered, sinking to my knees, my muscles tightening painfully. I grasped at my chest as my body convulsed in never ending spasms of agony, like tiny blades piercing my skin, penetrating deeply, twisting around mercilessly, through every fibre of my being. And it was lingering, sinking deeper, corrupting every nerve. I screamed and cried and my tears felt hot and raw on my hurting skin. All I felt was pain, there was nothing else.

Everything hurt.

And it took me the longest moment to realize that I was suddenly no longer alone on the floor. Two arms had wrapped themselves around my writhing form, holding me tightly pressed against a warm chest. And as the worst seemed to be over slowly, though I kept feeling the occasional twitch from my still highly stimulated nerves, I noticed the shaking of another body. Shuddering breaths that were not my own echoed in my ears. Then I felt his voice, puffed against the skin of my neck as he pressed his face against me.

“I'm so sorry,” Sebastian breathed barely audible, his voice shaking badly. “I... I didn't... want this...” He hugged me to his chest, held me as if I was slipping away, squeezed the pain away with every passing heartbeat. And I just lay in his arms, my head resting on his shoulder, trying to fight the urge to just let go and sleep... forever...

When I finally found the strength to move again, I raised my hands gingerly, snaking my arms around him, grabbing at the back of his robes. My movement caused him to hold me tighter, as he inhaled sharply. Then he leaned me back a little and our gazes met. His eyes were dark and clouded, the skin around them red, and his cheeks were wet. He looked at me with his eyebrows knitted and the saddest look I had ever seen on his freckled face. His lips were trembling. I swallowed hard, then winced at the still hurting sensation of it. His gaze immediately grew even darker and I heard him take an unsteady breath.

“Are you...” His voice broke before he could finish his question.

I slowly, weakly raised a hand to touch his face. My fingertips slid over his wet skin and when I did so, I saw a single tear leave the corner of his eye. He tried to blink it away, but I caught it with my thumb and gently caressed his cheek. I raised my other hand and grabbed his shoulder, trying to pull myself up a little. He helped me by pulling his arms tighter around my waist, lifting me onto his lap as he did so.

Now both my hands were holding his face and I held onto it as I pulled myself even closer to him, until his warm, shuddering breath ghosted my lips. “I'm fine,” I whispered, looking into his dark, conflicted eyes. “I'm fine,” I repeated as I caressed his face, my fingertips slipping between his dark, messy locks as my thumbs wiped at his heated skin. “It's alright...”

When he closed his eyes, a few more tears slipped from his lashes and the tension in his face eased a little. His hands clawed at the back of my robes, before they, too, relaxed and started rubbing my back gently. I breathed deeply against his slightly parted lips, my thumbs drawing circles on his cheekbones. The longest moment passed with my heart drumming against my ribs, as the last tremors of the curse slipped from my body.

I leaned in a little more, the tip of my nose nuzzling his skin, before I turned my head and pressed my cheek against his, merging the tears we had cried for and at the hand of each other. I felt him inhale sharply at that and his embrace became even tighter, to the point I had to push my elbows against his chest to not get completely smothered by the immense bear hug he was providing. “Sorry,” he breathed against me and loosened his grip with a tiny snivel.

I grabbed his face again and leaned back, and when he looked at me, his eyes were warm and intense. My thumbs found the corners of his mouth, my gaze wandering over the shape of his lips, and before I knew it, just when my body was finally relaxing again, I had closed my eyes and pressed my lips against his. It was just a short peck, out of instinct, but when I leaned back only the smallest bit, I felt his hand taking hold of my head, his fingers slipping into my hair as he held me close, and then it was him who pressed his lips against mine. It felt ten times more intense as he deepened the kiss, the warm feeling of his breath and the taste of his tears causing me to shiver against him.

His other hand found my face as my own hands wandered up and around his head to get lost in the thickness of his messy hair, my fingertips scraping over his scalp in a desperate attempt to hold onto anything to keep me from falling. But fall I did. Right into the warmth of his mouth, the safety of his embrace, the gentle caresses of his fingers. He tilted his head and adjusted his position beneath me, his lips closing around mine, gently sucking and pressing, tasting every inch of my mouth. I was utterly breathless when he eventually leaned back enough to allow my lips to part slightly, only to dive back in immediately at the sight of it.

I could feel his tongue gingerly pressing against my lower lip and I couldn't help but gasp as he pushed past it and slid into my mouth, my own tongue meeting his like a long awaited friend. (No. Lover.) I smiled at the thought, grabbing his hair tighter as I deepened the kiss by seemingly pressing my entire jaw against his. His hands grabbed my face, holding me in place as he circled his tongue around mine, now really tasting every inch of my mouth, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin of my own.

I breathed loudly against him, completely forgetting everything around us, because there didn't seem to be anything else but the mouth and hands and taste and feel of the boy close to me, when a timid voice suddenly broke through the stupor of our kiss.

“Are... are you two alright? Can anyone say anything?” Ominis asked from the other side of the corridor, luckily completely oblivious to what was happening.

I felt Sebastian tense against me, the movement of his lips halted as he withdrew his tongue and leaned back only enough for us to lock eyes. I breathed against his lips, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. He smiled back feebly, his thumbs caressing my cheeks before he reluctantly let go and leaned back even more. I retrieved my hands from his hair, leaving it even messier than it was before. We looked at each other for another second, then I licked my lips and said, with my voice barely audible and slightly strained:

“I'm fine, Ominis, we're fine.”

“Did it work?” he asked and I heard his footsteps coming closer.

Sebastian quickly stood from our weird entanglement on the floor and helped me to my feet as well. I felt my knees shake, but I couldn't be sure if it was the curse or the kiss that had weakened them. While holding me with one arm, I saw him wipe at his eyes with the other, inhaling deeply as he did so. Then his gaze wandered past me towards the now open door and yet another room visible behind it.

“It did,” he said, his voice low and raspy.

I looked up at him, my hand finding his face. He met my gaze when my fingertips brushed his jaw. Before Ominis eventually reached us, Sebastian leaned down once more and gently pressed his lips against mine. I grabbed his face and kept him there just long enough, my lips desperate to feel his, until a deep sigh echoed through the corridor. We broke apart again and straightened up quickly.

“Could we please leave this place now?” Ominis said quietly, the glowing tip of his wand pulsing rhythmically in the air in front of him. For a moment I thought I saw a frown on his pale face and I blushed deeply when I wondered what he might have heard.

Yet as I saw the tiny smile on Sebastian's lips and the warmth inside his eyes, I knew I didn't care.

(Original screenshot by @deathlysallows, this post here)

Bonus:

Dear diary, today I had my first kiss with Sebastian. It was a wet one because we had both cried because, oh right, he had hit me with the Cruciatus Curse just before. I was in so much pain and he had been devastated about it and then it just happened. Hmm, yes, a moment I will never forget!

Bonus 2:

Ominis in the back, while the two of them are tongue deep inside the other's mouth: “You realize you're making out on top of the bones of my dead aunt, right?”

[kat-thepoet]

Veins of Violet

Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Part 10: Hide snd seek

A/N: Hi 🤭

Previous Chapters ☞ HERE ☜

3.7k words

"Please don't. I'll promise not to do any business anymore. Just spare my life," he begged, his voice trembling with fear. I looked at him, my eyes devoid of emotion. His words felt empty, and the thought of killing him stirred nothing within me. I raised my gun, placing the barrel between his eyes, and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed in the room as he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. His eyes remained open, staring through me, as blood slowly trickled from his forehead, pooling into his eyes as if he were crying blood.

I woke up screaming, "Nooooo!" My heart pounded in my chest, the terror of the dream still gripping me. Logan immediately woke up, his arms wrapping around me as he pulled me close, comforting me. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice soothing. "It was just a nightmare."

I clung to Logan, my body trembling as I tried to shake off the nightmare. His warmth surrounded me, grounding me in the present. His hand gently stroked my hair, and I could feel his heart beating steadily against my back. "You're safe," he murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I'm right here."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The vivid images from the dream still lingered, the feeling of cold detachment as I pulled the trigger, the lifeless eyes staring back at me. "It felt so real," I whispered, my voice shaky. "I... I killed him without even blinking, without feeling anything. It was like... like I was a monster."

Logan held me tighter, his voice firm but gentle. "You're not a monster, Violet. You're not alone in this, and you're not defined by your nightmares. We all have our demons, but they don't control who we are."

I nodded, feeling the tension slowly begin to ease from my body. His presence was calming, a stark contrast to the horror I had just experienced. "I just... I don't want to lose myself," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You won't," Logan said, his voice filled with conviction. "I won't let you. We'll get through this together." He tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze. His eyes were filled with concern, but also with a strength that gave me hope. "You're stronger than you think, Violet. And you've got me. I'm not going anywhere."

I leaned into him, letting his words and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothe me. "Thank you," I whispered, feeling a tear slip down my cheek. "For always being here."

Logan wiped the tear away with his thumb, his touch tender. "Always," he promised, holding me close as the remnants of the nightmare began to fade, replaced by the comfort of his embrace.

- 

A week has passed, and things have been really good between Logan and me. We've kept our routine natural and pure, enjoying each other's company without any pressure. Logan opened up to me about his past, telling me about his time with the X-Men and the things he's been through. It was a side of him I hadn't seen before, and it made me appreciate him even more.

We also talked about Laura and how she made him feel. It was clear that she means a lot to him, but she's been MIA this entire week. I've been covering her shifts, trying to help out where I can, but it's been a little worrying not knowing where she is. Despite that, Logan and I have been focused on each other, finding comfort in the stability we've built together. I confessed that I have been helping him sleep these past weeks. He thanked me by taking me to dinner and he asked me to be his girlfriend and I obviously said yes.

It's Sunday today so means day off. Vanessa texted me earlier to come by to her apartment so they can ask us something since today is the day they leave to Seattle. 

As Wade zipped up his backpack, he turned to us with a sheepish grin. "Hey, before we go, I need to ask you guys for a favor. Vanessa's mom is, like, super allergic to dogs, so could you take care of our furry little troublemaker until we get back?"

Logan immediately rolled his eyes, clearly less than thrilled with the idea. But before he could say anything, I nodded with a smile. "Of course, we can handle it. No problem."

Wade's grin widened. "Thanks, you two. I owe you one."

Vanessa chimed in, giving us a knowing look. "Just don't leave your shoes lying around, and you'll be fine. Trust me on that one."

Logan sighed but finally gave a reluctant nod. "Alright, we'll take care of her. But if she destroys anything, that's on you, Wade."

Wade laughed, giving Logan a playful punch on the arm. "Deal. You guys are the best."

With that, they finished up and headed out the door with their suitcases. 

"This should be fun," I said with a grin, looking down at Ms. Pool, who wagged her tail enthusiastically. I handed the leash over to Logan, who took it with a resigned sigh, clearly not as excited as I was.

While Logan held onto the dog, I quickly gathered the essentials—her food, water bowl, toys, and anything else I thought she might need. "I'll bring these over to my apartment, and if she needs anything else, I can always come back later since I have Vanessa's spare key."

Logan nodded, holding onto Ms. Pool as she sniffed around curiously. "Let's just hope she doesn't cause too much trouble," he muttered, though I could see a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I laughed, giving him a playful nudge. "Come on, Logan, it won't be that bad." 

With everything in hand, we headed out, ready to welcome Ms. Pool into our home for the week.

As I set up a cozy corner of the living room with Ms. Pool's things—her bed, bowls, and a few toys—I couldn't shake the lingering worry about Laura. It had been MIA ever since her birthday, and I couldn't help but feel a little uneasy.

I pulled out my phone and decided to text her, hoping for a quick response that would put my mind at ease.

Violet: Hey Laura, just checking in. Haven't seen you in a bit. did I do something? Let me know if you need anything.

I hit send and stared at the screen for a moment, waiting for those familiar dots to appear, but nothing came through right away. Sighing, I put my phone down, trying to focus on making Ms. Pool comfortable. But the concern for Laura lingered in the back of my mind, a quiet reminder of the uncertainty surrounding her disappearance.

As I finished setting up Ms. Pool's corner, I turned to Logan, who was in the kitchen, slicing up some apples. "Do you think we should go to Laura's house and check on her?" I asked, the concern in my voice evident.

Logan paused, looking up from his task. "Do you know where she lives?"

I shook my head. "No, but we can check her application at the shop. It should have her address."

Logan considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, that might be a good idea. If she's been off the grid for this long, it's worth making sure she's okay."

I felt a bit of relief at his agreement, glad that we were on the same page. "Let's head over there after we finish up here," I suggested, glancing back at Ms. Pool, who was already getting comfortable in her new spot. 

Logan gave a small smile. "Sounds like a plan."

- 

We stepped outside, and a cool breeze greeted us, ruffling the leaves that were just beginning to turn shades of gold and crimson. The day had that distinct early September feel—summer still lingering in the air, but with the crisp promise of fall just around the corner.

As we walked to the shop, the wind picked up slightly, tugging at my hair and reminding me that the season was about to change. The streets were quiet, with only a few people out and about, most of them bundled up a little more than usual, sensing the shift in the weather.

Logan walked beside me, his usual quiet strength comforting as we made our way to the shop. I couldn't help but glance around at the familiar sights—the leaves rustling in the trees, the hint of woodsmoke in the air from a nearby chimney. Everything felt serene, but I couldn't shake the worry I felt for Laura.

When we reached the shop, I fished out the keys from my pocket and unlocked the door. The place was quiet, the stillness almost eerie compared to the usual hustle and bustle. We headed straight to the back office, where I knew Laura's application would be filed. The anticipation of finding her address and checking on her added a layer of urgency to our movements.

"Where's the file cabinet?" Logan asked, glancing around the office.

"It's right there," I said, pointing to the row of files neatly organized in the corner.

Logan moved over, quickly rifling through the files. "Found it," he said, but when he looked up at me, his expression had changed, a frown creasing his forehead.

"There's nothing here."

"What?" I said, feeling a pang of confusion as I walked over to him. I grabbed the file from his hand and flipped through the pages. My heart sank as I realized he was right—there was no address, just her name and phone number. 

"She started working here as a minor," I said, my voice trailing off as I looked over the file again, trying to make sense of it. "And there isn't even a number for one of her parents."

Logan's brow furrowed deeper as he crossed his arms, clearly as concerned as I was. "That's not right. How could she work here without that information?"

I shook my head, frustration bubbling up inside me. "I don't know. I guess they never thought to look into it deeper because she's been reliable. But now..." I let out a sigh, my mind racing. "We've got nothing to go on. This was supposed to help us find her, but now we're even more in the dark."

Logan placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "We'll figure this out. There has to be something else we can do. Maybe start by trying to reach her again or ask around if anyone knows where she might live."

I nodded, feeling a little more grounded by his presence. "Yeah, you're right. We'll find her. We just have to dig a little deeper."

For an hour, we wandered through the city, stopping people along the way, showing them the picture of Laura on my phone. With each person we asked, hope slowly ebbed away. No one recognized her, no one had seen her, and each "no" felt like a weight pressing down on my chest, making my heart sink further.

As we walked, I could sense Logan's growing discomfort. His usual calm demeanor was strained, his jaw tight, and his eyes scanning every face in the crowd with a quiet desperation. It was clear that his eagerness to find Laura matched mine, maybe even more so.

I reached out, touching his arm lightly as we paused on a quiet street corner. "We'll find her," I said softly, trying to reassure both him and myself. But the uncertainty gnawed at me, making the words feel hollow.

Logan looked down at me, his eyes dark with worry. "We have to," he muttered, his voice low but filled with determination. "She's out there somewhere, and we're not stopping until we find her."

I nodded, drawing strength from his resolve. The city felt vast and indifferent around us, but we couldn't give up. We had to keep searching, no matter how long it took, no matter how many dead ends we hit. Laura was out there, and we wouldn't rest until we brought her back safely.

-

Two hours later,  we walked back home, the weight of our fruitless search hung heavy in the air. Logan and I were both quiet, each lost in our thoughts, the concern for Laura gnawing at us. The cool breeze that had felt refreshing earlier now seemed to carry a chill that matched the unease in my chest. When we finally reached my apartment building, I pulled out my keys, ready to head inside and figure out our next move. Just as I was about to open the door, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I quickly pulled it out, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the notification. It was from Laura.

Laura 🧚🏼‍♀️:"Are you home?"

I stared at the screen for a moment, relief and anxiety flooding me at the same time. I quickly typed back, my fingers trembling slightly.

Violet: Yes, I'm home. Where are you? Are you okay?

I hit send, my eyes locked on the phone, waiting for her reply. Logan noticed my sudden stillness and looked at me with concern. "What is it?" he asked, stepping closer.

"It's Laura," I said, my voice a mix of relief and urgency. "She just texted me."

Logan's eyes widened slightly, the tension in his posture easing just a bit. "What did she say?"

"She asked if I'm home," I replied, still watching the screen intently for her next message. "I told her I am. I'm just waiting for her to respond."

We both stood there, the anticipation thick in the air, hoping this would be the moment we finally got some answers.

Another text buzzed in, and I quickly glanced at my phone. My heart skipped a beat as I read Laura's message: Is Logan with you?

I looked up at Logan, who was watching me intently, waiting for an update. I hesitated for a split second, unsure of what to make of her question. 

"She wants to know if you're with me," I said, showing him the screen. His expression shifted slightly, a mix of curiosity and concern.

"Tell her I am," Logan said, his voice steady but laced with a hint of urgency. "Ask her where she is."

I nodded and quickly typed back:

Violet: Yes, Logan is with me. Where are you, Laura? Are you okay?

I hit send and glanced up at Logan, the tension between us palpable as we waited for her reply.

"I feel like something is wrong, Logan," I said, my voice trembling slightly as I looked up at him.

Logan's eyes narrowed, a protective edge in his gaze. He placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, his grip firm but gentle. "We'll figure it out," he said, trying to steady me. "But whatever it is, we'll handle it together."

I nodded, trying to take comfort in his words, but the unease gnawing at me only grew stronger. Something about Laura's messages felt off, and the way she specifically asked if Logan was with me set off alarm bells in my mind. 

We stood there, waiting for her response, the silence stretching out as my anxiety built. Logan stayed close, his presence a comforting anchor, but the sense that something was very wrong wouldn't leave me. I just hoped we weren't too late.

- 

An hour had passed since Laura's last text, and Logan and I had settled on the couch, trying to distract ourselves while we waited. We were cuddled up together, the warmth of his body helping to calm my nerves, but the tension in the air was still thick.

Then, suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It was soft, almost hesitant, but it sent a jolt of anxiety through me. Logan and I exchanged a glance, and without a word, I started to get up to answer it. But before I could reach the door, Logan grabbed my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

I looked at him, confused, my heart racing. He didn't say anything at first, just put his pointer finger to his lips, signaling me to stay quiet. The seriousness in his eyes made my stomach drop.

Then, in a whisper, barely audible, he said, "That's not her."

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. How could he know? But the certainty in his voice made me pause. I glanced back at the door, a sense of dread creeping over me.

Logan tightened his grip on my wrist, pulling me back slightly, his eyes never leaving the door. "Stay behind me," he whispered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I nodded silently, my pulse pounding in my ears as Logan moved towards the door, positioning himself between me and whoever was on the other side. The knock came again, a little louder this time, as if the person was growing impatient.

Logan gestured for me to stay put, and I did as he instructed, my heart in my throat as I watched him approach the door, every muscle in his body tensed, ready for anything.

Logan moved cautiously toward the door, his steps silent as he leaned in to look through the peephole. His expression shifted instantly, a mix of alarm and urgency flashing across his face. He turned around quickly, about to say something—

But before the words could leave his mouth, the door exploded.

The force of the blast threw us both backward. I felt a rush of heat and the deafening sound of the explosion filled my ears as I was flung across the room. The impact of hitting the floor knocked the wind out of me, and for a moment, everything was a blur of noise, dust, and pain. Logan's body instinctively shielded mine, taking the brunt of the blast. I could feel the weight of him on top of me, his protective instinct kicking in even in the chaos. 

The apartment was filled with smoke and debris, and my ears were ringing from the explosion. I struggled to focus, my vision hazy as I tried to make sense of what had just happened. Logan groaned as he pushed himself up, quickly scanning the room for threats.

"Violet!" he gasped, his voice urgent but strained. "Are you okay?"I nodded weakly, trying to sit up despite the disorientation. "I'm okay," I managed to say, though 

my voice was shaky. "Logan, what—?"

But before I could finish, we both heard footsteps—heavy, deliberate—coming toward the blown-open door. Logan's eyes hardened, and he quickly positioned himself between me and the incoming threat.

"Stay down," he ordered, his voice low and fierce. 

I nodded, fear gripping me as I watched Logan brace himself for whatever was coming through that door. The situation had gone from bad to worse in an instant, and now we were about to face whatever—or whoever—had just blown up our door.

Through the haze of smoke, a figure emerged, his presence as chilling as the memories he dragged with him. The familiar silhouette sent a shiver down my spine—the same face, the same coat that had haunted my nightmares for so long. God, I hated that coat. But it was nothing compared to the hatred I felt for the man wearing it.

The man who had made me suffer through unspeakable pain and torture. 

He stopped just inside the ruined doorway, his eyes locking onto mine. That smirk—a twisted, cruel reminder of everything he had put me through—spread across his face. His gaze flicked briefly to Logan, assessing him, before settling back on me with a sickening familiarity.

"Hello, Violet," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "Did you miss me?"

Every muscle in my body tensed as I glared at him, my hands curling into fists at my sides. I could feel the growl rising in my throat, the sheer fury boiling inside me. "Strucker," I hissed, the name tasting like venom on my tongue.

Logan's stance shifted subtly, ready to act at a moment's notice, but he didn't move, waiting for my lead. He knew this was personal—too personal.

Strucker's smirk only deepened, as if my anger amused him. "I've been looking forward to this reunion," he taunted, his eyes glinting with the same sadistic pleasure I remembered too well. I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, to not let the terror of the past overwhelm me. But facing him again, after all these years, it was like every wound he ever inflicted had been ripped open anew. 

But I wasn't the same person I was back then. I wasn't helpless. And I wasn't alone. I glanced at Logan, drawing strength from his steady presence, then turned back to Strucker, my resolve hardening.

"You have no idea what you've walked into," I growled, the fear in my chest morphing into a cold, focused rage. 

Strucker's eyes narrowed slightly, but that smirk never wavered. "We'll see about that," he replied, his voice low and dangerous. The tension in the room was electric, the air thick with the promise of violence. This was far from over.

With a simple motion of his pointer and middle finger, Strucker signaled the men behind him to attack. They moved swiftly, and in an instant, Logan's claws were out, gleaming in the dim light, while my fists crackled with purple energy as I began to levitate. But something was off—these weren't ordinary soldiers. They were mutants, each armed with their own unique powers, and they wasted no time unleashing them on us.

There were about ten of them, and they coordinated their assault with a terrifying precision. Energy blasts, telekinetic waves, and other forms of attacks came at us from all directions. Logan slashed through the onslaught, his claws slicing through the air as he fought to protect us, but the sheer number of them was overwhelming.

In the chaos, one of them managed to get close, too close. Before I could react, I felt a sharp sting in my arm—a needle piercing through my skin. I barely had time to register what had happened before a wave of intense pain shot through me, making me wince and falter in mid-air. Logan's eyes widened in alarm as he saw me struggling. "Violet!" he shouted, his voice tinged with desperation. But before he could reach me, another mutant injected him with the same substance, forcing him to his knees.

The room began to spin, my vision blurring as whatever they had injected me with took hold. I tried to focus, tried to summon my magic, but the pain was overwhelming, clouding my mind. I could see Logan fighting to stay on his feet, his claws still extended as he tried to fend off the attackers, but he was slowing down, the effects of the injection clearly taking their toll.

My strength was draining fast. I could feel my powers slipping away, the purple glow around my fists dimming as I lost control. The last thing I saw before everything went dark was Logan's agonized expression as he struggled to reach me, and then I felt the cold, hard ground beneath me as I collapsed, the world fading into nothingness.

Part 11: Her true awakening

[yupuffin]

5 Interactions of Cosplay Performance with Schizoid Personality Disorder (SzPD)

I'm Yu, and I'm a cosplayer and performer from the Pacific Northwest region of the United States! I've participated in this hobby actively and consistently since around 2011 or 2012. I'm locally known for my participation in cosplay lip sync battles, which have gathered momentum as premiere events at conventions in my region in recent years.

For as long as I've spent discovering myself through cosplay, I've only recently gained awareness of a condition called schizoid personality disorder (SzPD) that seems to accurately encapsulate my intense introversion as well as other prominent experiences from throughout my adolescence and adulthood. I've come to understand that the prognosis for SzPD is generally very poor; individuals with SzPD, such as myself, often struggle to find genuine fulfillment and enjoyment, even in activities typically considered rewarding, leading to diminished happiness overall.

I don't talk about it much, just because education and awareness of personality disorders (PDs), especially scarcely-researched ones like SzPD, is still so limited, and there is still a strong social stigma against PDs in general, leading to the widespread misconception that individuals with PDs are, for example, inherently evil or abusive.

Interestingly, though, upon contemplating why it is that I specifically enjoy cosplay performance, I've found that several aspects correspond directly with and thus (in my experience) serve to combat certain SzPD symptoms; even though simple participation in a hobby doesn't comprise formal treatment, I think that it, nevertheless, significantly improves my personal quality of life!

(photo by incostumemedia with Kumoricon, 2022)

Formation of self-identity Schizoids experience a phenomenon called "splitting" consisting of a considerable discrepancy between their genuine, internal identity and the surface-level identity they exhibit externally, like a facade; in my experience, it's comparable to extreme form of code-switching or "masking." This leads to a nebulous and fragmented, sometimes almost nonexistent, sense of self-identity. Cosplay performance considerably strengthens my sense of self-identity as a multifaceted and extensive hobby providing individualized opportunities for creative expression.

Engagement with physical self SzPD involves pervasive dissociation and depersonalization (a sense of detachment from one's physical self or identity). Engaging in cosplay performance is an enjoyable and rewarding method of forging a connection with and paying attention and responding to my external, physical surroundings and my place in them.

Bridging the gap between external reality and the inner world A primary characteristic of SzPD is preoccupation with a rich internal fantasy world over reality -- effectively a form of maladaptive daydreaming that further inhibits cohesive self-identity. Cosplay performance is a creative tool I utilize to express aspects of my imaginary "inner world" in a physical, external reality, thereby making them feel more tangible and meaningful.

Facilitating genuine social interactions and relationships The aforementioned sense of detachment, lack of self-identity, and preoccupation with fantasy combine with a strong aversion to emotional vulnerability characteristic of SzPD to form a marked lack of interest in social activities and engagements. As a schizoid, I feel more like an "observer" of the external world rather than a true participant, and hence struggle greatly to form personal connections with others in most contexts, as I see little to no incentive in socializing. However, my participation in cosplay performance gives me access to a robust, supportive community I can interact with or disengage from at my leisure; designated performance events and opportunities facilitate such engagements at discrete and predictable intervals, reducing the spontaneous aspect of socialization that I find particularly challenging and overstimulating. Furthermore, the underlying fandoms and fictional media behind cosplay performance serve as basis of common understanding and shared interest, enabling me to conduct enjoyable social interactions and form fulfilling interpersonal relationships without necessitating the vulnerability I would experience from a deep emotional connection on a personal level.

Intrinsic fulfillment through creative self-expression Anhedonia, a strong characteristic of SzPD, is a diminished capacity to experience enjoyment or pleasure, which can result in a feeling of chronic boredom or persistent understimulation. In tandem with the previously mentioned factors, this leads to great difficulty in deriving fulfillment from activities many would typically consider fun or rewarding, such as social interactions or even common hobbies. Creative accomplishments, such as presenting a cosplay performance, provide a sense of intrinsic fulfillment and purpose that I don't necessarily get from other activities, which often rely on external validation from which schizoids feel a significant disconnect.

(photo by Brianna Shade with Kumoricon, 2023)

[chaysreality222]

A Shifting Attempt Storytime - Part 4

hey, it's c! in the early morning, i woke up and had a shifting attempt but was sadly interrupted (rip). i wanted to tell you guys about it and ask for advice! please read!! thanks <3

so around 5 am, i had woken up and i decided that i wanted to try and shift to my hogwarts dr. i got in a comfortable position and put on shift on accident guided meditation by alunir. i first focused on my breathing to fall deeper into relaxation. once i was finally relaxed, i decided to focus my mind on her voice and counting at the back of my mind.

when i had gotten to 50, that's when i started to feel a numbness in my entire body and feeling like my consciousness was about to float outside of my body. i then started to see a galaxy full of stars, as if i had been seeing space but not so clearly. my hearing had gone out (tooning out my cr surroundings except the meditation ofc) and it had felt so peaceful. like i've never felt that amount of sereneness, quiet, peace, etc. in my entire life.

i set my intention to focus as much as i can and if i had heard anything in my surroundings, i would tell myself that it was from my desired reality. i noticed that counting was helping me to focus my mind, so i continued to count to 100. as well as affirming that i have shifted to my hogwarts dr and that i have already arrived to my dr.

that's when i had stopped seeing the stars and had just been sitting in a sea of black. but it wasn't entirely black? like i can see shadows moving through my eyelids. i know it wasn't anything from my cr, because my lights are off and i had my blanket over my head.

for example: if you were to be sitting in front of something a bit bright with your eyes closed but the light is enough to see your hands moving in front of your face.

it kinda started to freak me out, but i didn't feel scared or unsafe. though i affirmed myself that i was safe and i blocked out negative energy while i try and shift.

thinking of it now, maybe it was my cat sage from my hogwarts dr? on my first day, i had scripted she is in bed next to me the morning i wake up to go to the quidditch world cup. or maybe it was my bf? (i scripted him in to wake me up). the slight light may have been coming from the windows that face my bed in my dr? i'm not sure what to make of it really.

anyway, i snapped out of whatever state that was and went back to seeing a galaxy full of stars and felt like i was floating there but still very attached to my cr body. i can actually feel my consciousness trying to pass through to outside of my body, but it was in a way stuck. (hopefully that makes sense). then someone opened a door in my cr, it distracted me, and i gave up and opened my eyes...(ughhhhh).

i don't understand or know much about the void state. i've read 2-3 things about it and i'm wondering if maybe i had entered that state? please, lmk! also, anyway is there a way i can help detach myself from my cr body more? i feel that would be my "final push"! thanks guys <3 Happy Shifting!

xoxo, c!

[charlotttte-427]

Anxious Woman -- Before you stands a mouse of a woman, in both stature and mannerisms. Her pupils dart in every direction as her hands hold tight to her shoulder bag.

Hand-Eye Coordination [Challenging: Success] -- Checking for nearby exits. Making sure she can bolt at a moment's notice. Watch this one.

Anxious Woman -- Her arm briefly detaches from her shoulder strap to swipe a few blonde strands from her head as she slowly lifts her head to acknowledge you. "Hello, officer. Sorry, I'm not in your way, am I?" Her hazel dots stare past your ear.

1. No, not all, ma'am.

2. Yes you are. I need to question you.

3. Not at all. Can I ask you some questions?

4. My apologies, I didn't mean to disturb you. [Leave]

Anxious Woman -- Her grip tightens. "Oh, okay. I'm not in any trouble, am I?" Her head lowering back down to safety.

Suggestion [Easy: Success] -- You have to reassure her or she will be uncooperative. Don't threaten her.

1. You're about to be if you don't answer my questions.

2. This is just routine police stuff. Nothing scary.

3. That depends, have you caused any trouble?

4. You're not a suspect, I assure you. I just need to ask you some questions for my investigation.

5. Actually, I changed my mind. I don't need to ask you any questions after all.

Anxious Woman -- Her shoulders soften. "Apologies, that was a stupid question to ask." She lets out a small sigh. "I didn't mean to waste your time, officer, I just..."

Half-Light [Medium: Success] -- You can practically taste the adrenaline on her breath. She's relieved.

Anxious Woman -- Head still, her eyes meet yours. Two hazel needles, surrounded by a creeping corona of blood lightning. They peek out from above the crescents of her eye bags, like retractable stingers.

"What is it you need to know, officer?" Her back straightens and she suddenly looks a lot less like a frightened rodent.

Composure [Easy: Success] -- She's trying to hold onto what control she's gained. But it's clear by her posture that she's not used to taking up space.

Inland Empire [Hard: Success] -- You can feel it in the pit of your stomach. Tragedy. No healthy person acts like this.

Empathy [Medium: Success] -- Be gentle. It's taken a lot to get us here. Don't push her or she'll retreat again.

1. Firstly, are you okay? You seem nervous.

2. Have you seen anything unusual around here?

3. Do you know anything about the Hanged Man?

4. What have you heard about the Strike?

5. I feel like something bad has happened to you. Is there anything the RCM can do to help?

6. That's all my questions, for now.

Anxious Woman -- "No, I'm fine. I'm just a bit worried about... stuff." She breaks her stare, as she mutters.

Authority [Easy: Success] -- She's worried about you. You're a cop and cops are scary.

1. Surely I'm not that scary? There must be more to it than that.

2. True, that must be it.

Authority -- You're right. There is more to it. You're not just a cop. You're a man. A big man. And she is a small woman.

1. Wait, so she thinks I'm scary because I'm a man, not because I'm a cop, then?

2. How do I make myself less scary?

3. No, I don't believe any of that. I'm a nice guy. Why would anyone be afraid of me?

4. Got it, big scary cop man. That's me.

Authority -- No. It's both. She would still be scared if you were a policewoman or if you weren't wearing a badge at all. People aren't scared of singular things, unless they have a phobia. Most rational fears are bound in precarious relationships to power.

In other words, she isn't scared of cops, men, or *you*. What she's scared of is the power that those things have over her.

1. How do I make myself less scary?

2. No, I don't believe any of that. I'm a nice guy. Why would anyone be afraid of me?

3. Got it, big scary cop man. That's me.

Authority -- Not happening. That would involve surrendering power over her. You can't do that without compromising your job or masculinity.

Again. Not happening.

Anxious Woman -- Glad to be done with your personal question, she straightens herself out for your more professional ones.

1. Have you seen anything unusual around here?

2. Do you know anything about the Hanged Man?

3. What have you heard about the Strike?

4. I feel like something bad has happened to you. Is there anything the RCM can do to help?

5. That's all my questions, for now.

Anxious Woman -- She tilts her head with an odd wince. "Huh, what do you mean? What are you talking about officer?"

Logic [Medium: Success] -- This was a bad idea. You have no evidence to support this. Just back off before you say something stupid.

1. You just seem a bit scared is all.

2. You're a young woman, something bad is bound to have happened to you.

3. I can feel your tragedy.

4. Are you perhaps on narcotics?

5. Do you also have an "ex-something" of your own?

6. Nothing, I just wanted to remind you that the RCM is here to help.

7. I have no idea what I meant. Let's change the topic.

Logic -- Great, now you've done it.

Anxious Woman -- For the first time in this conversation, she is looking at you dead on. Eyebrows raised in bafflement. She takes a step back.

"I'm sorry, what? I mean -- officer." Quickly correcting herself and grabbing her shoulder strap again. "Is this some sort of joke?"

Kim Kitsuragi -- The Lieutenant hovers his pencil around the last line in his notebook, as if searching for some sort of hidden meaning to your absurd words. He finds none.

"Yes, Detective, is this some sort of joke? I'm sure our interviewee doesn't find it very amusing." He flattens his pencil against the page. "Nor do I".

Rhetoric [Easy: Success] -- That's cop speak for "Smarten up and get to the point or drop this. You're compromising the interview."

1. This isn't a joke. There's something you're not telling us. Something tragic.

2. You seem different. Like me. My condolences.

3. Did someone close to you die? Did you witness a crime? Were you assaulted? Perhaps sexually?

4. Sorry, I don't know why I say the things I say. That was weird and rude and I apologise for it.

5. Yes, haha. That's what this is -- a joke. Nothing alarming, just good hearted fun!

Kim Kitsuragi -- The Lieutenant grips his pencil but doesn't write. Instead his eyes sway between you and the woman.

Anxious Woman -- The other foot retreats. Her demeanor of control gives way to confusion as she assesses you as if you just appeared from thin air.

With a brief, hopeful, glance at Kim, she responds, "I have no idea what you mean, officer. I'm sorry, but I really don't. I have nothing to tell you. I'm quite a boring person, really"

Drama [Hard: Success] -- She knows what you want to hear about. But she would rather smother the topic than discuss it with you, sire.

Enter her counsel and she may part with her secrets.

Anxious Woman -- She fiddles with her shoulder straps, not looking at you anymore. "Is that all, officer?"

1. Have you seen anything unusual around here?

2. Do you know anything about the Hanged Man?

3. What have you heard about the Strike?

4. I feel like something bad has happened to you. Is there anything the RCM can do to help?

White Check [Pain Threshold: Impossible] -- Comprehend the source of her tragedy

5. That's all my questions, for now.

Pain Threshold [Impossible: Success] -- You know this feeling. It's a black mold in your chest. A mix of mental and physical symptoms. A cocktail of sustained agony, buried below layers of numbness until it leaks out as a slow, trickle of dread.

There is something eating away at her foundations. As if her mind and body are at war with each other. It's like the surreal terror of holding your own severed limb. It's a silent scream.

1. Okay, but what the hell does all that stuff mean?

2. Did she lose a limb?

3. Have I ever lost a limb?

4. This is too vague, I give up.

Anxious Woman -- She turns her head from side to side, arms clinging to her bag, and legs shaking as she stands in the cold. All her limbs seem accounted for.

Conceptualisation [Challenging: Success] -- You don't know that for sure. She could have a *cyber-mechanical* skeleton for all you know.

1. Okay, but what the hell does all that stuff mean?

2. Did she lose a limb?

3. Could she possibly be some form of robotic future woman?

4. Have I ever lost a limb?

5. This is too vague, I give up.

Anxious Woman -- She does not present any signs of having metal, plastic, porcelain, or any kind of non-flesh-and-bood body parts. For all intents and purposes she is a human being.

Conceptualisation -- Idiot, if it was a *cyber-mechanical* skeleton then we wouldn't be able to see it. She must be pretending to be human, is all.

Anxious Woman -- She shivers to herself. Her eyes sifting through the shattered concretely at her feet. Completely unaware that she is apparently some form of secret robot spy.

1. Okay, but what the hell does all that stuff mean?

2. Did she lose a limb?

3. Could she possibly be some form of robotic future woman?

4. Have I ever lost a limb?

5. This is too vague, I give up.

Pain Threshold -- Hard to tell. It's somewhat foreign to you. You've only seen glimpses of it. There's probably a pattern here, but you can't see it. The pain and memory loss has taken its toll.

Maybe it would simply be better to ask her? There's a limit to how much of someone's life you can intuit from emulating their agonies. Not to mention, she seems more attuned to it than you.

1. Ask her? That's a terrible idea!

2. Hey lady, do you feel like you've lost a limb or something? Like there's black mold on your chest? Is your body at war with itself?

3. Forget it. This is too personal, I can't ask her that.

Pain Threshold -- It would hurt, but it might be worth it. She seems capable of managing all that misery. But it can't be easy handling it all alone. Tell her she's not alone, at least. She deserves that.

1. Hey, I can't claim to understand what you're going through, but I just want you to know that you're not alone.

2. No way, I don't want to come across as creepy.

Anxious Woman -- As the words leave your mouth, her face fixes itself on you. A subtle storm of confusion, anger, and curiosity stretches itself across her facial muscles.

"Oh... thank you, officer?" Her feet lower a little. She doesn't need to run. "I don't know exactly what you mean, but I think I understand what you're saying. It's appreciated."

Kim Kitsuragi -- The Lieutenant opens his mouth briefly before swallowing the words. Too intrigued to interject.

Espirit De Corps [Hard: Success] -- Well done, detective. I don't know what you just did, but it seemed to work. She should be more friendly now.

Anxious Woman -- Pushing a black curtain away from her eyes, she tries to get a better look at you. "I apologise if I was awkward earlier. I haven't had the best time with the police, is all."

Composure [Easy: Success] -- You surprised her with that one. Ask your question before she seizes up again.

1. Hey lady, do you feel like you've lost a limb or something? Like there's black mold on your chest? Is your body at war with itself?

2. Forget it. This is too personal, I can't ask her that.

Rhetoric [Godly: Failure] -- I can't think of any better or more concise ways to word that question. Or questions, rather.

Anxious Woman -- She's clearly overwhelmed by the number of oddly specific questions you've just unloaded at her. It takes her a moment to process the bizarre phrasing.

Then it clicks.

"Are you describing Gender Discomfort?!" Her mouth contorts as if she just said something that she really shouldn't have.

Encyclopedia [Godly: Success] -- Gender Discomfort was a medical diagnostic term invented in the early 20s and abandoned in the late 40s. It describes a unique and quite stigmatized condition that causes the patient great psychological distress with their natal anatomy.

Doctors remain divided on proper treatment practises and have a long history of performing experiments of deeply *dubious* ethics to determine the source and appropriate of the condition. Due to this institutionalised abuse of patients, most sufferers will simply try to live as close to the opposite sex as they can by medicinal and social adjustment.

1. Yes, yes I am.

2. No, I'm clearly describing something much more profound than that.

3. Huh, I don't think so? Am I?

Anxious Woman -- Her eyes widen. "I'm surprised an officer of the RCM would even know what that is. Hell, most doctors probably haven't even heard of it.

Empathy [Easy: Success] -- Perfect, you've earned her trust. Now don't lose it by saying something stupid.

1. Yeah, well, I know a lot of things. (Tap your forehead sagely)

2. You'd be surprised, the RCM employs all types.

3. Yeah, you're right, most cops are stupid.

Anxious Woman -- "Woah, I guess police work must require a sharper mind than I expected. That or you're just one really smart cop."

"Anyways", she readjusts her bag. Business-like again, though this time not as stiff. "How did you learn about such a niche condition?"

Kim Kitsuragi -- "Yes, I would like to know that, too." Tilting his eyebrow just above his glasses.

1. Oh, you know, it just came up during one of my investigations.

2. I read obscure diagnostic manuals in my free time.

3. I might've dated a girl like that in college or something maybe.

4. I've taken some strange drugs and ended up in even stranger places when I wake up.

5. My sources remain mysterious, even to me.

Anxious Woman -- "Oh, those are quite lengthy and clinical. What do you think of them?"

1. The obscure diagnostic manuals?

2. Transdressers themselves?

Anxious Woman -- A sudden tension. "Well, I wasn't going to jump immediately to that, but sure. What do you think of Transdressers?

Rhetoric [Easy: Success] -- A horribly mistreated minority group? Smells like politics to me. Give her your most radical take!

1. These people deserve the bodily autonomy to determine their anatomy for themselves. Biology is a Bourgeois Institution.

2. These degenerates are the reason Revachol has fallen. They've turned our warriors into filthy whores and our homemakers into disgraceful barbarians.

3. As long as they're willing to hustle for all that life-saving medicine they need then I have no problem ignoring them.

4. I don't really get this whole *gender* thing but I trust the professionals.

5. I view them more as a hypothetical than a real group of people, so I don't really care either way.