#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]

.

[lukolathoughts]

Dearest Gentle readers,

I have been a member of Tumblr for a while without posting a blog entry. I suppose I have been getting the lay of the land and trying to formulate my thoughts. As most of you know, I am a tarot reader on YouTube and I also share my thoughts on X. I am a Lukola through and through and no amount of bullying, intimidation, nasty comments etc. will deter me from my mission. The last few weeks my trolling comments have increased exponentially from what I can only assume are desperate Jakehole's, (apparently I am credited for making the term 'Jakehole' up, I actually have no idea if it was me or not, but I like it) trying to convince me that Nicola is with Jake and Luke is with Antonia. I will come to my thoughts on this in a moment.

I do realise that a public tarot reader, I put myself at risk to exposure and criticism from these types of people. I am fully aware of that. What I underestimate sometimes is the sheer vitriol they come with. I am an empath also and I absorb a lot of a energy, not just from the fandom, Luke and Nic and adjacents, but from my own life as well. I am a teacher and I am surrounded by a lot of people daily. I have always used my television shows as a coping mechanism to detach from reality and 'switch off'. I never thought this time last year I'd be sharing tarot readings on YouTube about a real life celebrity couple that I was barely aware of in January 2024. But here we are. Bridgerton season 3 took hold of my brain and injected some sort of magic crack into it and I haven't been the same since. Don't get me started on the press tour. I've never seen anything like it and it was honestly like a spiritual awakening.

But I digress, I have been reading for a few years and learning the tarot cards and their meanings. I have watched countless YT videos by other readers and I came into this fandom watching the OG tarot readers of the fandom. I do not see myself as any different or special, I just read the cards as they come out. I also repeatedly say 'this is for fun and entertainment purposes only, I do not personally know Luke and Nicola'. And the fact of the matter is I don't know them, none of us do. I do not follow them around all day like some weird little psychic Martha from Baby Reindeer. I merely read the energy of the cards and I observe.

Why I love teaching English so much for me, is there is never a right or wrong answer in English Literature. It is up to your interpretation and all about reading the subtext of what is really going on. Now you might call me delusional, but I have always had an uncanny knack for predicting who the murderer in a story is before the end of a novel. It's called critical thinking. This drives my husband mad because he is very black and white and for him 2+2 = 4. Simple as. For me, I'm like wait a minute, what if... My brain is like a whimsical, magical unicorn sometimes, but I always go with my gut and my intuition. I will NOT waver on my intuition because I believe it is stronger than my rational mind.

Ok, so here we go. In my opinion haters!! Nicola is not now or ever has been with Jake Dunn romantically. My readings tell me he sees her as mother figure and mentor. Jake is clearly gay and most likely in some sort of relationship with Dylan. I think the Jakehole ship is a dead, rotting corpse. Nicola and Jake have reached the end of their agreement where she provides him with networking opportunities in exchange for some possible PR diversion to take the heat off Nicola's real relationship. William Tell is out. Luke is home from Rome, there is no need for Jake anymore. I also get the feeling from my readings that Jake is tired. Nicola is tired and Dylan is doing his best to set the narrative straight. I do not need tarot cards for this, it's blindingly obvious. As far as I know, Jake has no straight male friends. It is extremely rare in UK culture for straight men to hang out with all gay men and feel secure about that. It's just the way things are. I am not saying Jake and Nic are not friends, of course they are and I won't begrudge them that. I think he has a lot of genuine affection for her, but he also sees her as someone who can get him places and opportunities which we have seen time and time again.

And now we come to Antonia. I know she is only 23/4 and young and whatever. I have taught students older than her. But I will be truthful and say I don't like her energy. I don't like reading on her. I don't trust her little dancing self. I did have some sympathy for her in October as I had big crushes on boys when I was young, I get it. Luke is hot. But that pasta video she shared in Rome (a video she could have got from anywhere and shared an hour after she had seen Luke had been there) by her was mean, malicious and intentional to hurt the fandom. Her flouncing around with a shitty red bag always implying she's in Luke's vicinity is also callous and calculating and she's shared so much pasta stories now, it almost puts me off eating it. Almost, I love pasta. The biggest takeaway for me is she was not with Luke this Christmas and NYE. It is well documented where she was. We do not not know where Luke was, but we do know Nic was spotted with a lovely tan at the WT premiere. Could Antonia be PR? I sigh, because I think it's more complicated than that. In my readings, I do pick up a delusional obsession from her in regards to Luke. But she is convenient to bring up when they need her. I know the haters will call me delusional for thinking this and as my husband would say if 2 + 2 = 4 then it's 4.

But is it 4? Is it so straightforward as that? My intuition is telling me no, it's not. We have had no sign of Luke being anywhere near Antonia since July in Sorrento when he jumped on a plane and left two days early alone. All Antonia has are literally pasta videos and photos, that I am convinced, enraged Luke. She is giving me serious Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction vibes.

Let's address the elephant in the room. The comment by 'Luke's mum' on her private FB account to a relative. I think it's bullshit. I have three boys and I'm telling you now I would walk through fire if anyone touched a hair on their heads. I will go to prison for my kids. If I was Luke's mum and some 23 year old dancer had systematically tried to ruin my son's career, and she did folks, I would not be writing on a public page outing her as my son's girlfriend. It is all too suspicious and convenient. I could speculate for hours on what has happened, but you guys have group chats and your own brains for that. As one ship falls, another one rises in an unexplained manner.

In conclusion, yes I do believe Nic and Luke are together and this is a very important time for them right now. The silence is LOUD for me. I keep getting the four of swords for Nic. She is resting and taking care of herself in the way that she should. Luke is in a besotted Emperor mode. All is good. Until Nic and Luke specify otherwise, that is what I am sticking with.

[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.

[radiodormouse]

Tries to Cook and Eat Girl (old art based on this passage from American Psycho)

Dawn. Sometime in November. Unable to sleep, writhing on my futon, still in a suit, my head feeling like someone has lit a bonfire on it, in it, a constant searing pain that keeps both eyes open, utterly helpless. There are no drugs, no food, no liquor that can appease the forcefulness of this greedy pain; all my muscles are stiff, all my nerves burning, on fire. I'm taking Sontinex by the hour since I've run out of Dalmane, but nothing really helps and soon even the box of Sominex is empty. Things are lying in the corner of my bedroom: a pair of girl's shoes from Edward Susan Bennis Allen, a hand with the thumb and forefinger missing, the new issue of Vanity Fair splashed with someone's blood, a cummerbund drenched with gore, and from the kitchen wafting into the bedroom is the fresh smell of blood cooking, and when I stumble up out of bed into the living room, the walls are breathing, the stench of decay smothers everything. I light a cigar, hoping the smoke will mask at least some of it.

Her br**sts have been chopped off and they look blue and deflated, the ni**les a disconcerting shade of brown. Surrounded by dried black blood, they lie, rather delicately, on a china plate I bought at the Pottery Barn on top of the Wurlitzer jukebox in the corner, though I don't remember doing this. I have also shaved all the skin and most of the muscle off her face so that it resembles a skull with a long, flowing mane of blond hair falling from it, which is connected to a full, cold corpse; its eyes are open, the actual eyeballs hanging out of their sockets by their stalks. Most of her chest is indistinguishable from her neck, which looks like ground-up meat, her stomach resembles the eggplant and goat cheese lasagna at Il Marlibro or some other kind of dog food, the dominant colors red and white and brown. A few of her intestines are smeared across one wall and others are mashed up into balls that lie strewn across the glasstop coffee table like long blue snakes, mutant worms. The patches of skin left on her body are blue-gray, the color of tinfoil. Her vagina has discharged a brownish syrupy fluid that smells like a sick animal, as if that rat had been forced back up in there, had been digested or something.

I spend the next fifteen minutes beside myself, pulling out a bluish rope of intestine, most of it still connected to the body, and shoving it into my mouth, choking on it, and it feels moist in my mouth and it's filled with some kind of paste which smells bad. After an hour of digging, I detach her spinal cord and decide to Federal Express the thing without cleaning it, wrapped in tissue, under a different name, to Leona Helmsley. I want to drink this girl's blood as if it were champagne and I plunge my face deep into what's left of her stomach, scratching my chomping jaw on a broken rib. The huge new television set is on in one of the rooms, first blaring out The Patty Winters Show, whose topic today is Human Dairies, then a game show, Wheel of Fortune, and the applause coming from the studio audience sounds like static each time a new letter is turned. I'm loosening the tie I'm still wearing with a blood-soaked hand, breathing in deeply. This is my reality. Everything outside of this is like some movie I once saw.

In the kitchen I try to make meat loaf out of the girl but it becomes too frustrating a task and instead I spend the afternoon smearing her meat all over the walls, chewing on strips of skin I ripped from her body, then I rest by watching a tape of last week's new CBS sitcom, Murphy Brown. After that and a large glass of J&B I'm back in the kitchen. The head in the microwave is now completely black and hairless and I place it in a tin pot on the stove in an attempt to boil any remaining flesh I forgot to shave off. Heaving the rest of her body into a garbage bag - my muscles, slathered with Ben-Gay, easily handling the dead weight - I decide to use whatever is left of her for a sausage of some kind.

A Richard Marx CD plays on the stereo, a bag from Zabar's loaded with sourdough onion bagels and spices sits on the kitchen table while I grind bone and fat and flesh into patties, and though it does sporadically penetrate how unacceptable some of what I'm doing actually is, I just remind myself that this thing, this girl, this meat, is nothing, is shit, and along with a Xanax (which I am now taking half-hourly) this thought momentarily calms me and then I'm humming, humming the theme to a show I watched often as a child - The Jetsons? The Banana Splits? Scooby Doo? Sigmund and the Sea Monsters? I'm remembering the song, the melody, even the key it was sung in, but not the show. Was it Lidsville? Was it H. R. Pufnstuf? These questions are punctuated by other questions, as diverse as "Will I ever do time?" and "Did this girl have a trusting heart?" The smell of meat and blood clouds up the condo until I don't notice it anymore. And later my macabre joy sours and I'm weeping for myself, unable to find solace in any of this, crying out, sobbing "I just want to be loved," cursing the earth and everything I have been taught: principles, distinctions, choices, morals, compromises, knowledge, unity, prayer - all of it was wrong, without any final purpose. All it came down to was: die or adapt. I imagine my own vacant face, the disembodied voice coming from its mouth: These are terrible times. Maggots already writhe across the human sausage, the drool pouring from my lips dribbles over them, and still I can't tell if I'm cooking any of this correctly, because I'm crying too hard and I have never really cooked anything before.

[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.

[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.

[goodluckclove]

Writing Third-Person Subjective POV (A Guide?)

So earlier I asked if anyone wanted me to attempt to give writing advice on anything else. Shortly after that, my editor @xarrixii asked me to provide some insight into what I'll tentatively call third-person subjective POV, which is essentially just third-person limited but with the internal characterization of the narrator baked into the prose itself. They used an example from chapter one of my book Blind Trust, which I'll show below.

I don't really see why Arri suggested this particular passage, so I'll compare it to a bit from the sequel Migration Patterns that I think might showcase the style better.

So this was a strange request to get. Mainly because it never occurred to me that this narrative style would be something anyone would want advice on how to do. It kind of goes against what a lot of other people - online, at least - say about 1st vs 3rd-person POV. I've heard people say it's sacrilegious to have a lack of objectivity in third-person narration. Which is fine. I get that's the thing for some writers.

I'm also certain I didn't invent combining the goals of both POVs like this. I am absolutely a product of all the writers I've ever loved. I will say I've been doing this particular style since I started writing at 12, so when I saw Arri's request my second thought was shit man I genuinely don't know how to explain how I do this or how someone else could do this.

Uh, but I'll try? I'll try.

(No one is allowed to point out the typos in the excerpts below. It's a first draft and I've now analyzed my own work enough that I simply must put away the manuscript for a while)

What draws me about third-person subjective is that it has the personality and character of first-person, but with an added sense of dissociated detachment that I enjoy and relate to. I enjoy the way multiple people can be in the exact same place at the exact same time and take in their environment in entirely different ways.

I'm in a cafe right now, late afternoon. It's a little warm. Sunlight through the windows. Wooden chairs, wooden tables. It's mostly empty. There is a mural on the wall of what I imagine to be an Italian shore side.

This is an objective description of my surroundings, but what I enjoy doing is seeing how they change depending on who's experiencing them. If I were wearing different clothes it would probably be too hot, and mixed with the hard chairs and the height of the table I might end up fidgeting a lot - perhaps creating some slight sense of anxiety. The mural might provoke an unpleasant or wistful memory in me. Maybe I got drunk the night before, so drunk that I'm no hungover to the point where the unobtrusive light and conversation the next table over are unbearable to me.

Maybe everything is fine in the cafe, and it's a beautiful blue day, and the barista gave me a second free cappuccino because the first one she made didn't have the white chocolate syrup I suggested. But all of it feels vacant and lifeless because, just the night before, my wife was sacrificed to the Outer God Nyarlathotep. There are plenty of circumstances, external and internal, that might change the way a character perceives the settings they're in and the people they interact with.

And I just personally think it's fun when the narrator at the time clearly isn't addressing that their inherent bias plays a role into this. It's literally baked into their perception of reality, so much so that the prose doesn't treat it as an exclusive thought. it's just how they see the world. They either don't realize it, or they know and either accept it or decide not to think about it too hard.

I can use Songbird Elegies as an example. I truly don't like when writers use their own work as examples while giving advice, but since it's in the context of something I specifically do, I'll give myself a pass. Uh, in Blind Trust, the central POVs are Edgar, Scott, Katy, and Tenzin. I refine this a little more in Migration Patterns, with each chapter showcasing an Edgar and Scott POV pairing or a Katy and Tenzin POV pairing. I'll occasionally throw in a moment where the reader can follow Regina (Scott's mom) or Ollie, mainly in a particular sequence where I think breaking the existing rhythm creates a striking effect.

It's definitely possible another reason why I do this is because I don't feel super confident in the distinction between characters in terms of dialogue. I'm sure it's there. I've at least been told it's there. But I think the separation in terms of narrative style is far stronger.

So far Edgar Gallows (POV in the first excerpt) tends to perceive things a little more poetically. A lot of the way they see the world is sort of - grumpy brooding? Like angsty, but not in a sexy way? There's definitely an undercurrent of a severe anxiety disorder. They will also get really into describing food.

The second excerpt is following Ollie Goose Bergeron, the Head Distiller of Bluerose. It's the only part in the series so far that is directly from her POV. I think what I posted is a decent example of how her brain works - at least while she's in Professional Adult mode. She's got a sharp, focused eye and picks up on details quickly. In a crisis situation (Which is what her excerpt absolutely is) she jumps in to take action while still keeping a fairly cool head.

Someone like Katy Delaney is kind of a cross between these two previous mindsets, as maybe seen below.

So Katy's a career server, and she also has an eye for detail - though for entirely different purposes (Mainly to scope which patrons will tip well and which would start shit). She's also kind of snarky by nature, and on this particular day she's in an extra kind of shitty mood.

Writing Tenzin Onyliogwu in third-person subjective is definitely when things start to get a little more complicated. She's very much the most objective narrator - she tries to be, at least. There are moments of poetry, mainly in the many moments in Migration Patterns where she struggles with no longer living in the past and actually interacting with people and moving forward in life. This is incredibly difficult as, unless you're someone she has an established relationship with, she is just terrible at reading body cues and usually has no goddamned clue what to do in certain social settings. As seen below.

Uh. What else? Scott Skylark Kaufman curses more. He swears the most because he decided as a kid that it's a great way to express strong emotions. He also is occasionally very confident about things that are either arbitrary or straight-up incorrect. In Migration Patterns he definitely has the most abstract relationship with the narrative, but I. I don't really know how to get into that.

So I don't really know what else to say. At this point I've analyzed my own writing to the point where I have now started to think that all of my intentions might not actually be expressed on the page at all. But I imagine someone has to think otherwise, otherwise the person on Tumblr who has read Blind Trust twice wouldn't think to bring up how that's a thing I know how to do.

In short? The way I see it, in a multi-POV story, it's cool to express that different narrative characters notice different things. They have a background that effects what they interpret day-to-day events to a degree so profound it might go entirely undressed. This can be depicted through detail choice, word choice, and even sentence structure. They can know they do this or they can not know. Doing this creates a lot of opportunities for contrast as their reality is implied to be different from how they perceive it. It's also a cool way to show the silent growth of a character. It's wacky and free and not usually a crime.

[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

[crookedcatruins]

I shifted !!!

Ok, sorry I just got back so this is going to be all over the place😭. I shifted, I said full shift I was there for 3 weeks guys (I've shifted before but it was like a mini shift or it was not to where I actually wanted to go.)

And it was to my better CR. I saw my dad.... you guys I saw my dad☺️☺️. He has passed away when I was seven in this reality and I saw him there. The 2 years i have spent trying to get there is nothing compared to what I felt when I saw him. I don't even know why am back, everything was like I imagined, and there was all the food I scripted, trump was not there too, that ugly cybertruck was never made🤧, there were no bigots, there were more blackpink songs, I had the stuff I wanted.

Ok ok I'm yapping too much I'm sure you just want to know how I shifted.

How it happened

Again I just got here so my mind is a mess. but what I remember is that I laid down and I told myself that I deserve this, again and again and again. like I didn't even think about shifting I just said I deserve the greatest things in the universe, and then I started thinking about my DR. when I was losing focus I kept bringing back my focus to the back of my head and not the front (sort of helped me to detach idk why) and then I started hearing voices and it was my DR Brothers.

My heart beat got so fast but I focused all my attention to the voices of my brothers and after that there was a blinding light. Then I felt like I was there, that I have shifted. but I couldn't adjust my eyes for some reason and almost took me what I assume at least 4 hours to adjust my body.

I'm not kidding it took me hours to adjust to my body and my surrounding because my mind was screaming at me, something was banging in my head. I don't know if this is normal but I've never felt like this before, regardless after that I was starting to feel normal and I started getting back my memories and that's how I shifted.

NP

I don't know if this works for everyone but something that works for me is that I notice that once I get to a "big symptom" I stop saying affirmations because it kind of sets me back and makes me repeat the process instead of getting me there. so I change whatever I was doing (so if I was saying affirmations as soon as I get symptoms I stop doing that and do something else cuz I feel like it will just repeat the process from the beginning) the reason I'm adding this is because it made a huge difference in my journey. it's just for me though I don't know what works for you.

Pls excuse my grammar or any mistakes as I said Idk what am typing right now. I just felt like I need to put this out there because please, please don't give up it's all worth it. I promise with everything that I have and love it's all real!!!!!

(probably going to edit this later when I'm in a better State of Mind lol)

Remember all you need is yourself

[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?”

[rin-and-jade]

Hi. This is more looking for advice than anything.

I am a suspecting system- I have almost all the symptoms. But what's really, really distressing is the memory problems. I don't really 'forget' things- it's more like the memory itself becomes disjointed (fragmented amnesia). And the memories basically tie themselves together- and it makes it really, really hard to understand what happened and what is happening.

How do I make that easier to manage? (I journal- like a lot. I have a memory journal now, and although it's helpful I can't really bring myself to trust it? Like I know that I (or an alter I suppose) wrote in it- I don't understand why I irrationally do not trust it.)

and then how should I bring this up to my therapist-(the memory problems. not the DID, I'm not gonna bother with that yet haha)?

I have a guide of amnesia including their possible fixes right here!

And for advices that is not listed in either posts (since the guide and fixes are considered as two parts of one), fragmented/disjointed may have a deeper issue with being grounded in real life,, since your brain must intake external information and convert them into pieces of mental data, which then will be consolidated as memories,, pieces that you can revisit whenever you need.

Now the thing is, many factors can contribute to poor consolidation or recollection of these memories. Things from focus, attention span, how grounded and connected you are with the external world can be described as general guidelines to what could be causing the issue.

So let's do some checklist that helps you find out why your memories were not linearly recalled:

Do you find it difficult to be aware of time progressing? What does it feel like? This question helps you understand wether you could percieve the passage of time, which is one of the important things in preventing disjointed memories.

Have you been mentally cluttered or physically busy? Due to how your brain could only keep up with a few information and external activities, focus becomes scarce which leads to slower memory consolidation, if not partially successful. A more relaxed mind can extract and consolidate memories better.

Are you physically present and grounded with your 5 senses? Or are you more detached and things feeling less "real" oftentimes? Outside of internal workings that creates a functional continuous memory, it is also heavily dependent on how well you could be aware of your surroundings and what activities had happened. If someone is dissociated throughout a time period, then it'll result in poorer memory of that time period. This can be done with ground techniques.

That's all to it, i hope these questions help you reflect on what could be improved next or give more clarity to your situation if journaling doesn't appease you on what actually happened when you struggle to recall them!

--

Now, on how to bring up the memory issues to your therapist, you could use this conversation starter sentence:

"Is there any solutions for disjointed memories? if that's the word for it; as i am now more aware of how i couldn't recall them in a linear timeline and unable to tell when or where things happened?"

- c