#I hate myself and everything I’ve ever created

[mercifulstate]

⋆.˚ 𖥔˚ DECIDE. JUST FUCKING DECIDE. (CW: RANT.)

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Today was supposed to be a win. And in a lot of ways, it was and is. I got recognized. I won a silver medal. A 96 on my card. I’ve worked hard, and I deserved to be celebrated. So when my mom’s best friend offered to treat us to a cute little café we hadn’t tried before, I was genuinely excited. The food was incredible, the ambiance was peaceful, everything felt like a reward. Until she started talking.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Out of nowhere, she (my mom's best friend) brought up my dream college course—multimedia arts. My passion. My calling. My decision. And instead of encouragement or even basic respect, I got a lecture disguised as concern. She started with the whole “Why is art even a course?” angle, then sprinkled in the usual “It’s just a hobby, not a career,” and wrapped it up with “We’re just worried about your future, okay?”

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎The amount of rage and discomfort I felt? Immeasurable.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Do you know how dehumanizing it is to have your passion—the thing that lights your soul on fire—reduced to a hobby in the middle of what was supposed to be a celebratory lunch? And the worst part? My mom was nodding. Agreeing. And I just sat there thinking, Why am I being made to feel ashamed for knowing who I am and what I want? Why do so many adults think that just because they struggled, we’re required to choose struggle too?

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎No. Not today.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I told them flat out that this was not a conversation I wanted to be having. Not here. Not now. Not when I’ve just been awarded for excelling. Not in front of good food and good vibes. Because I will not let anyone ruin my shine, especially not in the name of “concern.” Thankfully, they backed off. But that doesn’t mean the words didn’t sting.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Still, I refuse to shrink myself just because they don’t understand. I refuse to mold myself into something more “convenient” or “acceptable” just because that’s what worked for them. The world they grew up in isn’t the world I’m building. I’m not meant for a life where I wake up every day and dread my job. I’m not meant to just survive. I am meant to create, to lead, to thrive. And they don’t have to understand it. Because I do.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎I’ve already succeeded. I’ve already won. I decided, and that’s all it took. That’s all it ever takes.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎What most people don’t realize is that this world? This entire reality? It listens to you. It listens to your thoughts, your beliefs, your decisions. I know about the Law of Assumption. I understand the Void. I work with subliminals. I manifest. I shift. I am not just living in this world—I am shaping it with every breath I take. I have access to truths and techniques that the vast majority of the population don't know about, let alone practice. That is not something I take lightly.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎And with that knowledge, I made a promise to myself: I will never live a life I hate. I will never settle. I will never chase someone else’s version of success while abandoning my own. I would rather burn every bridge than walk down a path I know isn’t mine.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Because I have that power. And so do you.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎You don’t need anyone’s approval to pursue your dreams. You don’t need the world's validation to take your place in it. You don't have to wait for the "right moment," or the "right opportunity," or someone else's green light. You are the only one who gets to decide what’s right for you. That’s it. That’s the whole secret. You want the life you dream of? Decide. Just fucking decide. Claim it. Live it. Embody it. Let reality catch up to you.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎People will project their fears onto you. Let them. That’s not your business. Your business is becoming everything you’ve ever wanted to be and embodying that. And if that threatens them, so be it.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎You are not here to beg for a life you love. You’re here to choose it. Loudly. Unapologetically. Irreversibly.

So do it. Decide.

[salemlunaa]

INDUCING PURE CONSCIOUSNESS FROM AN LOA STANDPOINT ᥫ᭡

it should be self explanatory, but i’ll explain it for those who need…

Many people have been in my asks and dms requesting that i explain the void/pure consciousness/ “I Am” state but make it loa based.

so i want to tell you something: you’re already living your dream life, in fact it is no longer a dream.

you have already induced the void and you’re so happy

it’s so easy for you to induce pure consciousness

those things are true for those who claim.

i will repeat this again.

one man says: “inducing pure consciousness is soooo easy, i’ve done and i have everything i’ve ever wanted”

another man says: “the void is so hard, idk why but i just can never enter”

both are correct.

why? because whatever you say is correct, and this is why i barley give attention to self-pitying dms and asks talking about how “they try so hard and it just doesn’t work”, because i’m just like, “okay if you say so” and guess who also says that? your subconscious mind. Of course intrusive thoughts don’t manifest so one thought of: “what if i dont manage to induce?” won’t mean that you wont be able to enter. But constantly wavering is what confuses you subconscious and constantly speaking into the idea that you can’t do it doesn’t make things any better.

Honestly, you guys come on here, get a rush of excitement and happiness after reading a few motivational posts and then you go back into your slump and the cycle repeats. But you must stand firm, and those who have induced pure consciousness always take time to rave about how easy it was all along, how effortless, how simple and why? because it is, reprogramming your mind doesn’t have to be this 4 week long character development arc, it doesn’t have to be at the hands of some blogger’s challenge, you can change your assumptions now.

Your subconscious mind has no eyes, just ears, so if you tell yourself that you’re a master at inducing the void, it will happen. And i’m not saying to be delusional, because there’s nothing to be delusional about, it’s a fact that the 3d isn’t your true reality. You’re not “tricking your subconscious mind” it’s just fact.

“i hate my life so much why didn’t i stay awake and induce pure consciousness when i had the chance”

NO.

tell yourself, “this isn’t real, I have everything I’ve dreamed of because I have induced the void and can whenever I feel like”

“i didn’t induce again, another day in my shitty reality, time to wake up to go get ready for the school/job i hate”

NO.

tell yourself “i did induce the void state and im so good at it, i manifested everything, im so happy”

“shit. why did i have to procrastinate the void, i hate myself so much”

NO.

“I’ve already induced, it’s already happened and I love my life”

you create your reality you create the rules, assume that it’s already happened and it has.

assumptions = reality

so why can’t you just give it to yourself. no matter what you see.

🌺🎀 IGNORE THE 3D, YOU’VE ALREADY INDUCED THE VOID

[chongoblog]

Been reflecting on my older work since coming out as trans.

I remember a long time ago, this must have been almost 10 years ago, I had this idea for writing a story that essentially followed a super-randomized Nuzlocke of Pokemon Platinum. The details of the plot I had planned don't matter too much, but the characters I had written for it were.

I had always enjoyed naming conventions when it came to characters, and I wanted to name the main characters after recurring items in the Pokemon series. This led to characters such as Berry, X, Candy, and Stone, but the two characters I'm focusing on here are Fossil and Disc, two names that people following my work closely enough may recognize that have had incredibly different and interesting futures.

Fossil was the protagonist, while Disc was the name of the rival. Looking back, it's fascinating how different I had made them. Fossil's entire character was kinda summed up by "generic white guy". That was really it. He was obviously kinda confused about his whole situation, and maybe he would have gotten more character traits if I ever wrote more than an opening chapter, but that's about all the character development I thought of for him. Granted, he very much was meant to be the self-insert.

Then there's Disc. She was far from generic. I loved her so much that I ended up revitalizing her for another story idea a couple years ago that also ended up not going anywhere (at least not yet) and then pulling her into NCCT. When I did I even convinced my boyfriend to draw her.

Yes, Team Magma Grunt. Her personality was a lot more memorable. She was listening to classic rock songs. I remember having her singing along to “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” idly at one point in the little bit I wrote about her. And I also kinda imagined her being a bit of a flirt.

For Disc, like I said, I brought her back for a story I was working in called “Cross-Stitch”. It never got past the intro because the gimmick is a logistical nightmare (a story where the characters are all interacting, but the order in which you read the chapters are different depending on whose point of view you’re following), but I had a lot of fun writing her, especially since I wanted her goal to be to use the aforementioned gimmick to create a time paradox and fuck up the entire space-time continuum.

I even put her in NCCT, assuming that the story before would have ended with her getting arrested by a secret government agency and put on parole for trying to destroy the fabric of spacetime, and RPing as her was always a blast.

Meanwhile, Fossil went in a very different direction.

Fossil went on to star in an incredibly interesting stream series I did, in which I pretty much tried to make my original story, but in an actual Nuzlocke of Pokemon. I edited the dialogue of the rival to directly speak to me, the player, which I responded to on stream. He would also fuck around with my files and record me talking to my therapist. I also made a lot of cool premade video stuff for it. It was called Iggylocke, and it’s worth checking out, deadname and all.

But I never got to reveal the twist, although I’ve talked about it since then. The twist was that they found my notes in planning the series and cross-referenced it with listening in on my therapy sessions and found out I had subconsciously made Fossil everything that I hated about myself. And they were upset about that.

And looking back on that is very interesting now.

[glowettee]

✧ if i’m so dramatic, why am i always right? ✧

✦ intuition vs gaslighting ✦

hi lovelies, it’s mindy 🌷🕯 i’ve been off tumblr for a few days, things have just been really overwhelming lately, and i needed a little breather. but writing always brings me back to myself. it’s my favorite kind of comfort. the glowettee x pll series has seriously been such a joy to create… every post, every idea, every digital piece for my gumroad has been healing in its own way. this next post is something close to my heart. it’s about gaslighting... something i’ve experienced a lot, especially from people i thought i could trust. it’s such a common thing, but so many of us don’t realize it’s happening until way later. i used to second-guess my intuition constantly because people convinced me i was being “too much.” but every time… my gut was right. so i wanted to write this to help you tell the difference between real intuition and someone twisting it. if you’ve ever felt that quiet confusion or started to doubt yourself after talking to someone, this post is for you. i hope it brings clarity. and softness. and maybe even a little validation if you’ve been there too. - mindy 🤍🩰

sometimes i wonder if girls like us were born with a sixth sense or if we just got so used to being hurt that our bodies evolved. hyper-awareness as a survival trait. intuition as our most sharpened weapon. people love to call it being “dramatic,” but let’s be honest... i was right every time.

𓆩♡𓆪

❝ if you’re so emotional, how come your instincts always come true? ❞ they never have an answer to that, do they?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ the 'dramatic' girl dilemma

there’s a reason why every group chat has a girl they secretly call “too much.” the one who always has a weird feeling. the one who picks up on tone shifts and changes in energy and tiny inconsistencies like it’s her full-time job. she’s the one who says, “this doesn’t feel right,” and gets labeled a buzzkill. the killjoy. the overthinker.

but i’ll let you in on something i had to learn the hard way: they only call you dramatic when they don’t want you to notice what’s really happening.

girls like us don’t get the luxury of being chill. we’re watching. always. we had to learn to be. we’re the first ones to feel the shift in a friend group dynamic. we clock the fake laugh. the silence in the hallway. the DM left on read. and when we bring it up? “you’re imagining things.”

they say "you're too sensitive" like it's a flaw. like feeling deeply makes you unreliable. but being sensitive never meant being wrong. it just meant you felt the betrayal before it became undeniable.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ trauma turned my gut into a siren

there’s something about growing up being ignored, bullied, overlooked, or manipulated that turns your whole nervous system into a radar. suddenly, you’re the girl who notices everything.

like, i still remember being 14 and realizing that one of my friends always laughed at my jokes in front of boys, but never when it was just us. or how she'd call me pretty but then immediately ask if i was wearing makeup. subtle stuff. stuff that sounds dumb when you say it out loud. stuff that makes people go, “you’re reading too much into it.”

but i wasn’t. i never was. that’s the exhausting part.

emotional intelligence feels like a superpower until it starts to drain you. like being psychic, but without the option to turn it off. you don’t just read the room, you analyze it, archive it, cross-reference it with past data.

i used to hate this part of myself. now i know it kept me alive.

you’re not paranoid. you’re perceptive. there’s a difference.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ you knew, even when it didn’t make sense

sometimes your body knows things before your brain catches up. your heart races before he lies. your stomach drops before the betrayal hits. you get that pit-in-your-stomach feeling and then brush it off, until the truth slaps you a week later.

trust me, i’ve been there. i once had a gut feeling that a friend was turning people against me... but there was no proof. just a weird energy. until one day, someone accidentally sent me a screenshot that wasn’t meant for me. and suddenly the feeling made sense.

they call it “bad vibes.” i call it early intel.

start decoding the patterns:

the too-long pause before answering your question

the “i didn’t mean it like that” when you call it out

the subtle digs framed as compliments

the way people say your name when they think you’re not listening

you noticed for a reason. trust the noticing.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ what gaslighting actually feels like

gaslighting doesn’t always sound like “you’re crazy.” sometimes it sounds like “you’re overreacting,” or “you always assume the worst,” or “why do you make everything a problem?”

but the worst kind of gaslighting is the kind you do to yourself. when you feel the red flags and immediately shut yourself down. when your first instinct is right, but your second thought is “i’m just being dramatic.” that’s emotional self-betrayal. it hurts. a lot.

i once told a guy that something felt off, he’d been cold, weird, distant. he said i was insecure. i said sorry. two weeks later, i found out he’d been seeing someone else the whole time. lesson learned: don’t apologize for what your body already knows.

you can’t logic your way out of a feeling that was never lying to you in the first place.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ intuitive doesn’t mean irrational

“dramatic” is just a word they use to discredit girls who are too emotionally accurate to manipulate.

your feelings are data. emotions are not the opposite of intelligence, they’re the early warning system. they tell you what’s not being said. they tell you what the energy in the room is doing. they tell you the truth before the truth shows its face.

what if you’re not “too much,” what if you’re just always one step ahead?

what if the real problem isn’t that you feel too deeply, but that you feel accurately, and that makes people uncomfortable?

i’m reclaiming the word dramatic. to be dramatic is to see danger before it arrives. to feel something shift before it collapses. to be emotionally clairvoyant. and i think that’s beautiful.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ how to protect your knowing

your intuition deserves protection. here’s how i keep mine sacred:

✧ journal your gut feelings ~ even if they don’t make sense yet. time-stamp them. track patterns. ✧ make a screenshots folder ~ for receipts, subtle shifts, digital clues. memory gaslights too. ✧ create a ‘weird vibes’ note in your phone ~ no explanation needed. if something feels off, log it. ✧ meditate or walk after intense conversations ~ let your body process what your mind can’t yet. ✧ check in with your inner child ~ would 13-year-old you trust this person? she knows. always.

𓆩 ritual for the emotionally haunted 𓆪 › write down a time you were right, but told you were wrong › throw it away, or rip it up › whisper “i trust myself now.” › repeat every time the world tries to confuse you.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

✧ you weren’t crazy, you were correct, and ahead

they’ll tell you you’re crazy until the moment you’re proven right. they’ll call you dramatic until the danger becomes undeniable. they’ll gaslight you until the truth surfaces, and then pretend they never doubted you at all.

the girls who trust themselves become the women no one can lie to. so feel everything. sense everything. believe yourself.

being dramatic is how you survived the world they tried to confuse you in.

and if you’re always the first to notice the danger, maybe it’s not a flaw. maybe it’s your gift. maybe it’s what will save you.

✧ love always, mindy

[vintagetvstars]

Alexander Siddig Vs. Jeremy Brett

Last Poll of the Quarter Finals!

Propaganda

Alexander Siddig - (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine) - The very first actor I ever had a crush on.

Jeremy Brett - (The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, The Three Musketeers, BBC Play of the Month) - "Listen, I fell in love with One Man when I was 16 and have never regretted it. Jeremy Brett is Everything. Handsome, charming, sweet, amazing voice, delightfully eccentric. Shakespearean actor best known for playing Sherlock Holmes in the 80s, he is widely considered the definitive Holmes and for good reason. Bisexual and bipolar, devoted husband, he was known to serenade friends at restraunts and hold scavenger hunts in his home, where he hid the plunger in a chandelier. Often pigeonholed into period pieces, he owned them. He was a pretty young man who became not just handsome but arresting. He was one of those people who walked into a room and instantly commanded attention, and I for one have never regretted giving him my attention." Full text propaganda included below the cut

- No Negative Propaganda Please -

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Alexander Siddig:

“At my first meeting with Garak I became visibly flustered. That was entirely my choice. It wasn’t written into the script. So I set off in that direction right from the get-go. And Andy (Andrew Robinson) obviously loved it, and that character became a series-long character because of that first scene. It’s an innocuous little scene on one of the little replimats on the station, and it only lasted like five seconds but it packed a punch because of the visible, kind of a charged, discomfort. That really made it. [...] I subconsciously keep that door open with just about every character that I play, and I always keep it as ambiguous as possible. One of my first roles was in [the TV movie] A Dangerous Man: Lawrence After Arabia with Ralph Fiennes and I played Feisal and again, not in the script, but that was charged with homoerotica and implied homosexuality. I’d just come fresh off that project. And I’ve done it numerous times since, characters that are written straight I just make sure are not quite straight. That’s just one of my things, probably because I’m not quite straight myself and that’s probably perfect." - Alexander Siddig in a recent interview with comicsbeat.com

Jeremy Brett:

“The superbly handsome Jeremy Brett, the regularity of his features made dramatic by a broken nose, the mellifluousness of his voice made arresting by a slight vocal impediment, presented a ravaged and romantic Holmes, a man who had suffered deeply and whose recourse to the syringe was the compulsion of a self-destroying temperament. His relationship with Edward Hardwicke’s transparently decent Watson was that of a drowning man clinging to a raft. The authenticity of the performance was unmistakable.” — “The man who created a monster; Conan Doyle hated the fame of his suave hero, but he couldn’t kill him”, Simon Callow, The Times, 18 December 2009.

Listen, I fell in love with One Man when I was 16 and have never regretted it. Jeremy Brett is Everything. Handsome, charming, sweet, amazing voice, delightfully eccentric. Shakespearean actor best known for playing Sherlock Holmes in the 80s, he is widely considered the definitive Holmes and for good reason. Bisexual and bipolar, devoted husband, he was known to serenade friends at restraunts and hold scavenger hunts in his home, where he hid the plunger in a chandelier. He also practiced archery in the middle of London. He could sing, he acted alongside Audrey Hepburn twice. He wanted to be a jockey when he was young but then grew a foot too tall. He had rheumatic fever as a child and was told he would never climb stairs. Dear Reader, he jumped over couches on film. In War and Peace he is very clearly the only actor riding a real horse, and is one of few actors who played both Sherlock Holmes and Watson. Often pigeonholed into period pieces, he owned them. He was a pretty young man who became not just handsome but arresting. He was one of those people who walked into a room and instantly commanded attention, and I for one have never regretted giving him my attention.

[inkspiredwriting]

Seven Years Lost

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N: This was a request. I really hope it's not that bad. To the lovely person who sent me this request, please contact me and tell me what you think about it, even if you don't like it, then I really want to know what you don't like. So that I can do better next time

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6, angst

Y/n sat on the worn-out couch in Diego’s living room, the sound of muted conversation from the kitchen drifting through the house. The weight of her growing belly reminded her that she wasn’t alone, that there was a small life depending on her now, a life she had been overjoyed to create with Five. But that joy had turned to a hollow ache since she had discovered the truth.

She absently ran her hand over her stomach, trying to find comfort in the small kicks and flutters that had once brought her so much happiness. The baby was all she had left to cling to now.

Diego had been the one to tell her, his voice low and hesitant as he explained what Five had confessed to him. Seven years. Seven years in a different timeline, trapped with Lila. Seven years that had only been hours in their timeline. And in those years, Five had been unfaithful. It was a betrayal Y/n couldn’t understand, a wound that cut deeper than any she had ever known.

“Y/n,” Diego’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she looked up to see him standing in the doorway, concern etched across his face. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to. We can go somewhere else.”

She shook her head, forcing a small, tight-lipped smile. “It’s fine, Diego. I just… I need some time to think.”

He nodded, understanding, but didn’t push further. “I’m here if you need me,” he said softly before retreating back into the kitchen, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Y/n closed her eyes, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. She had been so happy, so content in the life she and Five had built together. She had believed in their love, in their future. But now, all of that seemed like a cruel joke.

How could he have done this? How could he have betrayed her, betrayed their love, even if it had been in another timeline, in another life? And yet, as much as she wanted to hate him, to push him away, she couldn’t ignore the part of her that still loved him, that still wanted to believe in the man she had married.

But the reality was inescapable. She had to protect herself, and more importantly, she had to protect their child.

Just as she was about to get up and leave, the door to the living room creaked open, and she looked up to see Five standing there. His face was drawn, pale, with dark circles under his eyes—a man broken by his own actions.

“Y/n,” he said quietly, his voice trembling with regret.

She stiffened, her heart constricting as she met his gaze. “What do you want, Five?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, though it trembled slightly with the weight of her emotions.

He took a tentative step forward, clutching a leather-bound book tightly in his hands. “I’m so sorry, y/n,” he began, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t begin to tell you how much I regret what happened. I know I’ve hurt you in a way that might never heal, but I need you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”

Y/n looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze. “You say that, but how am I supposed to believe you? You were with her for seven years, Five. Seven years, while I was here, pregnant and thinking about our future.”

“I know,” he whispered, pain evident in his voice. “I know, and I hate myself for it. But right now, we don’t have time. The cleanse… it’s unraveling everything, y/n. And you… you’re the only one who can survive this.”

She looked back at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

He held out the book, his hands trembling slightly. “This is the key to the train,” he explained, his voice thick with desperation. “It contains all the paths to different timelines—places where you can be safe, where you and our child can live a normal, happy life. You didn’t take the Marigold, y/n. You don’t have to die like the rest of us. You can survive this.”

Y/n stared at the book in his hands, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew about the train, a mysterious force that could take you to alternate timelines, but she had never imagined she would need to use it.

“And what about you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Five’s expression crumpled, and he looked away, unable to meet her eyes. “I can’t go with you,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “If I leave, it’ll only make things worse. But you… you and our child… you deserve a chance at a life, y/n. A life without this madness.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized what he was asking of her. He was asking her to leave him, to walk away from everything they had built together, everything they had fought for. But more than that, he was asking her to survive, to protect the life growing inside her.

“Five…” she choked out, her voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know if I can leave you.”

He stepped closer, gently taking her hand and pressing the book into her palm. “You have to,” he said softly, his eyes pleading with her. “This is my last chance to do right by you, to protect you and our child. Please, y/n. Let me save you.”

She looked down at the book in her hands, feeling the weight of the choice before her. It felt impossible—leaving the man she loved, the father of her child, to face whatever fate awaited him. But she also knew that Five was right. She had to survive, for their child’s sake.

Finally, she nodded, tears streaming down her face. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’ll do it. I’ll take the train.”

Relief washed over Five’s face, but it was tinged with sorrow. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, y/n.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if he could somehow imprint the memory of her onto his very soul. She clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder, knowing that this might be the last time she would ever hold him, the last time she would ever feel his arms around her.

After what felt like an eternity, Five gently pulled back, his eyes red and swollen. “We need to go,” he said quietly. “The train won’t wait forever.”

They left Diego’s house together, and blinked to the subway station. It was quiet, only the shallow breathing of Five could be heard, but y/n barely noticed. All she could focus on was the man beside her, the man she loved despite everything, the man she was about to lose.

When they reached the station, Five led her to the hidden platform where the train was waiting. It was a strange, thing, its doors open and waiting.

“This is it,” Five said quietly, his voice trembling. “This is your way out.”

Y/n turned to him, her heart breaking as she looked into his eyes one last time. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “No matter what happened, I want you to know that I love you, Five. I always will.”

Five’s eyes filled with tears, and he cupped her face in his hands, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. “I love you too,” he whispered against her lips, his voice breaking. “And I’m so sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry for everything.”

She kissed him back, pouring all of her love, all of her heartbreak, into that one final kiss. Then, with a shaky breath, she pulled away, clutching the book to her chest as she stepped toward the train.

Five watched her go, his heart shattering with every step she took. But he knew this was the only way, the only chance they had to save their child, to give y/n the life she deserved.

As the doors of the train closed behind her, Five’s knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, sobbing as he watched the train disappear into the ether, taking the woman he loved more than anything away from him forever.

He had done what he had to do, but the pain of losing her was more than he could bear. He had saved her, but it felt like he had lost everything in the process.

And as the world around him continued to crumble, Five knew that he would carry the weight of his betrayal, his mistakes, for the rest of his days—however long or short they might be.

But he would take comfort in the knowledge that y/n and their child were safe, that they had a chance at the life he could never give them.

Even if it meant he had to face the end without her.

[samkerrworshipper]

beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader (wobbs as coparents)

reconciliation … the final part in this series x

2 months later:

“My name is y/n Williamson-Nobbs, and I am an addict.”

There are things you appreciate nowadays, more then you did before. Fresh air, the flowers blooming in spring, a strong coffee, smiles from strangers, a warm bed, hugs, being told you are enough, a classic movie, the sun, fruit, water, being clean.

“I didn’t ever take drugs to hurt anybody, or hurt anybody knowingly. I didn’t take drugs to have fun, or party, I didn’t get addicted because I liked it.”

You like taking your dog on walks, going and getting your hair done, floating in the ocean, lying in grass, being sober.

“I took drugs because it made me feel whole. I’ve never felt whole in my entire life, everyday in my life I’ve used something to patch that hole up, during my childhood I tried to fix every single problem, I fixed myself by fixing everybody else in my life, my mom, my non existent dad. As I got older it changed, I seeked validation to patch the hole, it was healthy, but I think I’ve always been an addict and I always will be. I’ve been addicted to filling that hole, it was disguised as being healthy for most of my life until I switched the validation for drugs.”

You don’t avoid peoples eye contact as you walk along the street anymore, you don’t avoid your moms, you don’t lie to people anymore, you don’t put yourself in danger.

“It started with nicotine, because my mom enabled it. I think she was more scared for me then anything. I was spiralling, who wouldn’t be in this day and age? I mean any parent of a teen must be terrified in this day and age, I know I would be. The nicotine was good, but then I got introduced to weed, and it felt like every problem I’ve ever had was fixed.”

You talk about your feelings now, you identify every single thing that you feel and you talk about it with as much detail as your moms and therapist want to hear. You don’t study the different chemicals entering your body every time you shoot up anymore, you study the intricacy and meaning of what you are going through. You take medicine for your depression and anxiety, not drugs for your hopelessness.

“They say weed is the pipeline drug, it’s true. After weed, I felt on top of the world and there was no stopping me. Molly, LSD, coke, heroin, benzos, fentanyl, ketamine, oxy, speed, and eventually meth, which I now know to be the worst of all of them. I didn’t know it at the time, there wasn’t anybody in my life, or in the life I’d created forn myself that was willing to tell me how dangerous what I was doing was.”

Jordan moved back in, whilst you were in rehab. It had been two weeks, that’s what you agreed to. It was the worst two weeks of your life without any doubt. But when you were picked up, both your moms were there, both of them were there for you. They both took time off, time off to take you away, across to France for a week.

“Meth will always be the thing that destroyed my life. My parents don’t trust me anymore, I get why. I lashed out, I became devoid of everything, I was convinced that everybody hated me, and that I was the cause of everybody’s pain, including my own. I convinced myself that the people who loved me the very most didn’t, and that I was the bomb that had torn all of my relationships in my life apart. I was a kid though, I still am, and I’m trying to be better.”

The trust was a hard thing. Your therapist saw Leah and Jordan twice a week, and that was when they would discuss the things that they could start reintroducing you to. School was a no, for now. You were yet to be permitted to stay at the house, alone, for longer then an hour, so every training session, gym session, appointment, media duty, catch up with friends, you were dragged to. It had been tough in the beginning, but you understood, trust had to be earnt. Every week there was something to look forward to, Jordan had been teaching you to drive after you’d gotten out of rehab, and as of a week ago you were permitted to drive yourself to and from your NA meetings.

“Meth made me feel like I was on top of the world, even though i was at my rock bottom. I had bad friends, I fell into a bad group of people, people who took advantage of the fact that I was so vulnerable and hurt. I’ll never forgive them for that, I’ll never be able to forgive them for taking advantage of a girl nearly ten years younger then them. They were hurting too, but that doesn’t excuse manipulating another person. They hurt me, they enabled me, they assaulted me, they took things from me that I’ll never get back.”

The first thing your mothers had wanted when after you’d come clean to them about everything was for you to get a rape kit. You’d outright refused, you were protecting the people, you didn’t want to relive what had happened to you but also a part of you didn’t want Matt and Maya to go down, even if you could now recognise that they’d done unforgivable things to you. Eventually, you agreed to it. You were glad you did, Matt had passed on chlamydia to you, which you thought was some kind of sick joke, that even after he’d deserted you there was still parts of him that were hurting you from the insides. Karma came in the form of a sexual assault report, one which had the policemen heading to his home to arresst him, only to finds thousands of dollars worth of illicit substances.

“I’m not proud of what I did to get a fix, I don’t think any recovering addict is. A couple of months ago I would have ruined every single relationship I had with all of the people I loved just to get a hit of what I was craving, and nowadays I would probably do the same, but I don’t need to. Meth was the love of my life, I think it always will be, or maybe the craving for something to fill me up is what I crave, I don’t really know, I’m still working everyday to try and figure that out.”

Sometimes, as you drove home at night, around every corner towards the house, you considered taking a stop at a side street, one that you knew a dealer would be sitting on. Somedays, you considered driving the car off of the highway and into a tree. Somedays, you considered taking a blade to your throat so you didn’t have to do rehab. Somedays though, you felt so incredibly blessed to be alive. Sometimes, you would sit outside, in the sun and just feel, allow yourself to feel everything that you’d always pushed down out of fear that you’d be deserted if you let any true emotion show.

“We’re all human, we all have the same dignity, no matter who we are. I made some stupid choices, choices that I won’t ever be able to reckon with, choices that for the rest of my life will haunt me. Don’t we all though? Don’t we all lie awake at night worrying about the things that we’ve done, that are out of our control now?”

You’d come to not fear desertion, the people who you’d hated most in the world but also loved most in the world had deserted you. Your parents had deserted you, you closest friends, people you would have considered your found family, deserted you. It was something you had no control over, something that you would never have control over and focusing all of your energy on trying to fix that had become something that you’d give up on.

“I’m not perfect, I never have been, I never will be. I can guarantee though that nobody in this room feels like they are perfect. We’re all hurt people, everybody has something that they keep hidden from people because they are scared that somehow it is going to make people see them differently. I’m guilty of it, my whole life i’ve been hiding, I still am. I’m not ashamed to admit that coming here every night terrifies me, that somebody I’ve known at some stage of my life will walk through the same doors I do and I’ll be put face to face with that, but it’s life. We all make our own mistakes, we all pave our own ways.”

Leah and Jordan still fought, you were secretly glad. It was clear that everything between them was done, which you hated to be happy about, You weren’t ready for that to be back to normal, you weren’t ready to feel like you were able to go back to the way life was when they were together. Lia mediated them, she balanced everything out and the two of you had managed to build a relationship. She was like the older sister you’d never had and you were happier to have her around knowing that she was happy to support you in the same way your moms would, even if she wasn’t living in the same house as you all anymore.

“I will never be able to properly apologise for how I acted, I’ll never be able to repay the people that found me at my lowest and still showed uo for me. I owe my life to those people, and I will spend every single day of my life being so thankful for the opportunity they have given me to have a second chance.”

Life was better, everything was better, you were recovering, you were learning. You felt more connected and loved by the people around you in your whole life. You didn’t feel like you had to seek out love anymore, you didn’t feel like you had to do something to earn it. Leah spent every minute of everyday doing small things to make you feel loved, dragging you out of the house to get coffee with her, reading with you every night before bed, sitting through you when the cravings were making your day harder, driving you to the beach when you felt like you needed fresh air, dragging you to physio appointments so you could hang out with your aunties, buying you fresh flowers to put in your room to make the dark memories of it a little bit nicer, helping you redecorate the space, letting you sleep in her bed when the tendencies started to burn all over your skin.

“I have a disease, I have a terminal illness that will forever impair my ability to live life normally. I will forever be attached to my past, and that’s really tough, I won’t ever be cured of my past, I won’t ever be able to say that I am free of my addiction, I will forever be tied to my decisions.”

Your therapist was helping you weed out all the bad, helping you to identify the different patterns of self destructive behaviour that you chose, helping you to make better decisions for yourself, decisions that didn’t end in you destroying everything you’d worked for.

“I’m an addict, we all are, we all know what it feels like to be plagued with our past. We all get up here every week and speak about our demons, because we all get it. We get what it feels like to lose everything, we all understand the terror that crosses over a persons face when you overdose, or tell them that you’re using, or when they wake up across from your hospital bed. We’re all going through our own shit, we’re all struggling everyday. I struggle everyday, because I’m an addict, for the rest of my life I will struggle because I’m an addict, but there isn’t anybody who understands me better than all of you. I’ve been sober for two months, there have been relapses, there have been struggles, there has been pain and so much for me to be ashamed of. There has been so many positives though, there has been so much good, so much happiness, so many good moments. I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason, there is too much bad in this world for me to believe in that, but I do believe that this experience has made me a better person, it’s made me stronger, its made me more resilient. The past two months have been some of the best parts of my life, and i intend for the rest of my life to be the same. This chip means a lot to me, but it’s the progress that makes all of this better, knowing that I’ve left parts of me behind that will now stay behind me forever.”

You looked down at the chip in your hands, the little bronzey coin that was so small but felt like it was bigger then the world to you. You smiled at the group of people around you, nodding your head once again before walking towards you sponsor and giving them a hug. It felt good, like a big weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You’d never spoken much in meetings, you were more than happy to hear other peoples stories, but tonight had been special to you. You’d thought about what you were going to say, much of it being what you’d talked about with your moms earlier in the week during family therapy. It had been hard, talking to your moms so openly about how you felt, but it was something you were becoming better at as the days passed.

You stayed around for the coffee and biscuits, talking with the people that you’d grown close to over the past month and a half in the mildewy church which smelt a little bit too similar to your great grandmothers living room.

You stuck around until the first few people started to trail out, before you made the decision it was time to get home. You said your goodbyes, farewelling your friends before dismissing yourself and making the walk out to the carpark, towards Leah’s car.

Driving had become your one piece of real freedom, it was the only time where you got to think to yourself. A couple of months ago, you would have found solace in continuous loneliness, you would have sat in the car for hours and been happy. Now though, you found yourself navigating your way back home as fast as possible, whilst still abiding by road rules.

The gravel driveway underneath the wheels of a car used to make you nervous, if anything it now made you feel anticipation.

You jumped from the car with a hop in your step, the bronze chip still clutched in your palm, the metal now warm against your skin after the acclimation of the metal to your body temperature.

You used your key to enter the door, smiling at the warmth and scent that you were met with as you untied your shoes and left them by the front door.

Leah was waiting for you in the kitchen, she always was, every night you decided to go to a meeting. You knew that she still worried, that she spent nights awake worrying about you. You’d lost count of how many times on the nights you spent in your own bed how often she’d come to check to make sure you were still lying there. She probably always would worry, you wouldn’t blame her if she did, you’d put her through a lot.

She brought you into a hug, the same hug as every night, it always lasted for a little bit too long, but you never brought it up.

She would hug you tighter every single time, it was clockwork.

“Lia’s come over for dinner, she’s cooked spaghetti for everybody, but she made bangers and mash for you special, no pasta.”

You smiled at your mom, letting her press a chaste kiss to your forehead before you followed her into the dining room, where dinner was already plated up and Jordan and Lia were already seated at the table.

Jordan sent a smile your way as you sat down, things were still rocky between the two of you, it was never going to be perfect, it was never going to be as good as before, but you were both doing the work to heal bits of it and that was what mattered.

“Hey bubba, how was your meeting?”

Most nights you answered the same, with something simple.

“Good, I got this today.”

You pushed the chip onto the table, pulling your phone out of your pocket so you didn’t have to witness their raw reactions.

“Bubba, we’ve talked about this, no phones at the table.”

You frowned, pushing your phone back into your trackpant pocket, and looking up at your moms.

“This is awesome bubba, we’re both so proud of you.”

Jordan had picked up the coin, looking at it with glazed eyes.

There had been a lot of that since you’d come out of rehab, a lot of crying, a lot more than you were comfortable with.

“I want you to keep it.”

Jordan looked up at you, mildly confused.

“Bubba, it’s your token, your progress, your hardwork, you should keep it.”

You shook your head.

“Mom has my one month one, I want you to keep this one. I’m doing it for you two, I’m trying to be better for you two, and I want you to know that I’m committed to it and that without you guys I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

You could see tears pooling in Leah’s eyes from the other side of the table, jordan’s own ones beginning to drip down her face.

“Anyways, it’s not big deal, let’s have dinner, I’m sure whatever Lia cooked up is better than anything you and mom could have managed.”

You tried to pass it off with some lighthearted humour, but based off of the tears on your parents face, it wasn’t doing much.

Jordan and Leah both reached over, taking a hand in each of yours.

“You know that no matter what happens, no matter where you go, who you become, what you do, how you live your life, you will always be our beautiful girl.”

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

I don’t think I’ve ever had such a love/hate relationship with a character before like I do Shauna. On one hand, I empathize with her because she’s been through so much. But on the other hand, she’s constantly stirring up trouble , and I lowkey need her to die.

Shauna’s character is really challenging (in the best way). She can seem completely unsympathetic/irredeemable and she has hurt so many people, but at the same time I understand her and know why she’s doing what she’s doing. I love her as a character. I wouldn’t call myself a Shauna Defender because her actions aren’t at all justifiable, but I can confidently say I’m a Shauna Enjoyer and a Shauna Understander, if that makes sense.

There’s something almost subversive about the way the show refuses to let Shauna remain traditionally likable just for the sake of audience comfort. It challenges us to contend with a version of survival that doesn’t result in heroism, but rather in stagnation/regression, dysfunction, and harm. The fact that the writers allow her to make selfish, cruel, and at times even violent choices—without softening the blow or offering easy redemption—feels like a deliberate rejection of the trope where trauma automatically yields wisdom or virtue.

I also love that there are brief, fleeting moments where you can see that softness and vulnerability Shauna has buried coming to the surface. I know a lot of people have been pointing this out, but that brief moment where Shauna looks back at Melissa after Lottie suggests doing another card draw hunt is genius. It’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, but the concern on Shauna’s face as she grapples with the idea that Melissa might draw the Queen— before she quickly replaces it with indifference and agrees to the card draw— is so telling. Shauna does care, but she’s terrified to acknowledge it, even to herself, because everything she’s ever allowed herself to care about has ended in loss or destruction.

The “Be safe” “You too” interaction in the caves with Nat is also great because you can tell some part of Shauna is surprised and maybe even a little touched at that display of concern and care. That’s what’s underneath everything Shauna does, she just wants to be loved! But she’s also terrified of being loved (and loving others). That final breakdown scene in the adult timeline this season, where she’s left to confront the reality that she’s once again driven away everyone who cares about her, broke my heart, even in the midst of all my frustration with her this season.

These moments of nuance, along with how deeply we know Shauna’s trauma history at this point, are what keeps Shauna’s character from tipping into villain caricature territory. It’s a delicate balance, and this season came dangerously close to crossing that line, but ultimately, she remains grounded in something real and human. That said, it’s also important to acknowledge that not everything Shauna does can be chalked up to trauma. There’s a part of her, selfish and unapologetic, that genuinely craves violence, control, and power. She doesn’t just act out—she takes pleasure in the chaos she creates, and that complexity is part of what makes her so fascinating.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Grishaverse knitting update

I FINISHED THE SIX OF CROWS BLANKET

Okay maybe ‘finished’ is a strong word; all the ends need weaving in (there are so many of them 😭) and I haven’t bought anything to back it with yet but I CAST IT OFF THIS EVENING I’m calling it finished I’m taking the win

The lighting in the photo really isn’t great but here she is in all her glory:

I’m so freaking happy with it

I know a few people asked about the pattern but I don’t have a written one as I just drew up a chart myself and went for it (my second fair isle project ever, and the first was a bauble. I was not ready for this but man I’m glad I just decided to jump I to the deep end because I am obsessed with the result), however I did put up a screenshot of the drawing I used to make my chart a little while ago and if anyone would like me to repost that with my grid superimposed over it and to explain how I did it and what size yarn and needles and everything I used then let me know and I will try to create an explanatory post

I AM SO EXCITED

In other grishaverse knitting news: I haven’t worked on the Kefta in ages tbh but I think I have one sleeve to go before the embroidery I just hate sleeves lol so I’ve been procrastinating and also just generally busy to be fair, and also did I tell y’all I knitted Wylan’s toy crow? I can’t remember, but yeah in my collection of toy crows of the Crows I now have Jesper and Wylan and they sit on my shelf together looking so damn cute. Jesper has a lil hat that he wears at a fun angle and Wylan has lil goggles on his head and a bomb tucked under his wing hehe

[myokk]

✨ELOISE APOLLONIA BABBIT✨

My sweet and entirely too introspective girl🥹

She was born the second child of Oberon Babbit and Elladora Black in 1874. Her older brother, Leonard, has been prepared from birth to inherit everything and carry on the family name. (I love Leo so so so much too♥️). The Babbits are one of the oldest, most powerful wizarding families and quite reclusive, being able to trace their lineage back to pre-Roman times. If the Babbits had been around in the 1930s when the Sacred 28 list was created, they DEFINITELY would have been on it.

Her relationship with her mother is quite complicated. I made a huge post (for myself and @elliecutte 😭♥️) about Elladora, which I think shows her loneliness and loss of control. She put too many expectations on her daughter - the women of the Black family are known for being exceptionally powerful (& unstable😶) and was unable to handle the shame of having given birth to a squib.

As Eloise got older and older, without any sign of magic whatsoever, she was slowly isolated until the day came and went when she SHOULD have received her letter to Hogwarts. When it never arrived, she was burned off of the family tree and made like she never existed à la her great-nephew Sirius. HOWEVER…for reasons I haven’t explained yet in my fic (so I don’t want to spoil too much🤐) her parents decided to take advantage of her situation and enrolled her in a muggle boarding school and pulled strings to betroth her to a prominent muggle landowner to take advantage of connections and make it so that her life wasn’t a complete waste.

Eloise HATED living with the muggles. When she arrived at the school, she was clearly from an important family, and yet none of the girls had ever heard of her. She didn’t know who the Queen was, she didn’t know the basics of etiquette that had been drilled into them from birth, etc. the only enjoyment she got from that time was learning to play the piano and learning about muggle literature♥️ she especially loves Satie’s gnosiennes and Chopin, and reads anything she can get her hands on.

Her parents were actually FURIOUS when she was accepted to Hogwarts at the age of 16. They were counting on exploiting her future connection with her muggle betrothed’s family/wealth, and they lost their chance. Now, they’re trying to take advantage of her in other ways, working to prepare her for the life she had always been denied before.

My girl is STRESSED THE FUCK OUT !!!!!!!!! She hates herself so much for how badly she wants her parents approval; they threw her aside without a second thought, so why in the world is she bending over backwards and going along with all of their demands, hoping for a tiny scrap of affection?????????😔😔😔

She has a LOT of growth, character development, maybe not always for the best. She is imperfect and fallible and just a teenage girl with too many emotions roiling around inside of her to know what to do with.

My fic includes a lot of horror, blood rituals, sacrifice, magical theory, mythological references, lots of romance & slowburn, making all the wrong decisions, arranged marriage to the wrong person, complicated family dynamics and conflicting emotions that are all existing simultaneously & a very sweet girl who is going THROUGH IT😔🙏 my masterlist links to all of my Eloise posts, my fic, PLUS she is the unnamed MC in my two oneshots, clumsy and note-taking🫶

Thank you so much @bookie-bookdust for starting this & for tagging me🫶🫶🫶

The MCs of this fandom are just all so very amazing and creative, and I genuinely love seeing every post I come across during my morning coffee scroll♥️ lately I’ve been more of a silent lurker (all of my likes come from my main blog @oerflink), but hopefully I can be more active again 🤞 If you see this and haven’t done an introduction post yet for your own, PLEASE DO !!!!!!

[omgfangirlland]

Hello hello hello, I am here!! My life is not that insane, I’ve just been obsessed with Hello Kitty Island Adventure and Drag Race, so sorry😭

🔱-anon, omg stopppp (don’t), also I LOVE greek mythology and history so THE ODYSSEY REFERENCE THANK YOU

Author: two more ideas perhaps? Thanks to 🔱 anon I thought of it, but if you’re into or have been into Percy Jackson, then maybe a Demigod Batsib, who Bruce sent away very quickly and like none of them ever visit or see, and she quickly becomes a year round camper or a camper staying with other campers because every time she’s home she’s been attacked by monsters? And then when they finally see something maybe she’s gotten on the news for something (not good of course, it’s the curse of being a demigod) and they go to see her and are like holy shit you’re huge and muscular and scarred and tatted up with a sword wth 😨. Idk food for thought😻

2nd: I genuinely can not remember if I’ve asked you before or not, but have you seen YellowJackets, and if so, YellowJackets Batsib?

Sorry these are always so long when I send them jfc, can you tell I talk too much lmao. Anyways LOVE YOU TONS -🫀

Special mention that this specific reader is Tall and Buff-

I have not watched YellowJackets, but it seems interesting. I'll put it on my watch list!

Now- I have four Percy Jackson books- my first mistake was buying them in my native language, the second is my unabridged hate for first-person POV(it was very impulsive and my dad's money so I don't really feel bad about it), BUUT, I know enough from memes and the musical that I should do relatively okay :)))

The question, however, is- who is the goddess or god who's the other parent? I'd personally go with the war/mischief/misfortune related gods- Ares, Aphrodite, Athena, Eris, or Enyo, depending on what depiction you follow, Ate, Apate, Oizys, Kakia, etc. I'm going the Eris route purely because of the chaos it'll create for both humans and Gods.

I'm also used to writing about Dionysos(the greek god) as Dionysus(the Thracian god), son of Bendis, which the greeks associated with Selene, Hekate and Artemis, so I may slip in that aspect-

You don't remember who your mortal father was, not anymore, or not like you thought you did- maybe glimpses, some Bruce guy- or maybe Alfred? Did it even matter? All of that, and all you remember of him is telling you it's better if you stay away for a while.

A while turned into as long as you lived.

You also remember finding out the truth- well, half of it. Your mother was a goddess. That's all you knew. Dionysos had strict orders to not let you know, for now. A special case, prophecies and legends everyone knew about, prophecies that the higher-ups wanted to see how you'd play out without anyone's interference.

The God couldn't bring himself to tell you even if he could, your mere presence brought a moment of clarity the drunk wasn't used to. "I don't want to prove myself to someone I haven't even seen, let alone to someone who left me here." Dionysos was accustomed to teenage angst, tween rage, and childish hopefulness.

You just accepted it. Took it for what it was- a mortal parent sick of the stuff you unintentionally attracted, and a godly parent who didn't give a fuck, who just wanted to create problems. He drank so much that night, like he had never done before.

And you just started doing your best to help around, to learn everything and anything, so that no one would have another reason to throw you out like some sort of useless toy.

And Dionysus did something he's never done before- took you under his wing. Or so Chiron would say, the god would have a few choice words against it, which he did, whispered as you were passed out on a bed in the medbay. No, he wasn't there because he was worried for you, he had work- around- that particular side of the cabin where you were, and he was just making sure you were still breathing.

No, Chiron, he did not cry when you gave him a happy mother's day card as a joke, fuck you, slandering his name like that. Despite that, he keeps the card in the drawer of his desk.

The peace and quiet didn't hold forever, Percy's arrival seemed to be the reason for it- or maybe you two being in the presence of each other lit the fire. Either way- shit went down. Discord started, and you left with the kids and disappointed in yet another parental figure.

You ended with the kids in Central City, in the middle of the Justice League fighting some monster, and while the kids watched the fight at your side your eyes were on the map. "We could take the train to Kansas City and then take another to Las Vegas."

"... We could also help them." Percy muttered as he watched the Flash get grabbed by the monster while Superman was sent into a building. "They're fine." You shrug. "The Flash just got eaten by the thing." Annabeth said.

It was a moment of silence before you sighed and turned to look at the fight. With a flick of your arms, the wrist cuffs turned into two one-handed Dacian falxes. You pointed one at Percy. "Stay. Out. Of it." The falx turned to Annabeth. "You too."

Wonder Woman gasped in shock as the monster's ankle got cut clean through. Her weapons have been the only ones to be able to slice through the thing's skin, the thing was clearly affected by godly weapons, and you weren't a god, that she was sure.

For a moment, as Barry clawed his way out of the slit you created at the things neck, she thought you were an amazonian, you sure were built like one of them, but the buzz of your presence as you got closer and closer after the beast went down told her everything she needed to know.

"You know her?" Clark asked Diana, but Bruce answered for her. "She doesn't," and the two turned to look at the bat, the implication that he knew being loud and clear.

"Thanks-" Barry tried to show his appreciation to the lady who saved him, but Bruce interrupted him. "What are you doing here?" You were supposed to be in NY, being safe at the camp made for demigods, not here creating trouble again. And he sure as hell didn't expect to see you like this- as tall as him, biceps bigger than his head, arms and neck tatted with all kinds of spells and depictions of myths- were you even old enough for that?

"Watch your tone, bat-boy. One of these days your sugar daddy's money won't be able to take you out of the grave you dug yourself-" Barry chokes on a laugh, and Clark's nostrils twitch as he bites back a smirk. "And if you want to thank me- you can be helping me-"

"US." Annabeth smiles up at Wonder Woman, her eyes shining with admiration. "Hi-" but you interrupt her. "What did I say?" you grumble, and it clicks for Clark as his eyes slowly turn to Bruce, who remains stoic. "We did as told! We stayed out of it-"

"Yeah- see we can listen." Percy smiled up at you. "I saw you throw a rock at it." You raise a brow. "... It distracted it." Grover whispered with a pout. "Not the point." It also clicked for Barry, his neck almost snapping as he turned and looked at Batman with pure shock.

But Diana only senses Eris claim over you, and she can only blink at the gentle way you are with these other demigod kids. Damian, on the other hand, was fuming as he stomped past a shocked Nightwing, standing tall at Bruce's side, eyes looking up at you.

"Help with what?" The boy hissed, and you just looked at him. "We need to get to Las Vegas." Grover shrugs. "Why?" Damian presses, and Percy snorts. "Why do you care?" You sigh as the boys get into a smart off, redirecting your attention to the adults. "Work." Diana tilts her head. "What kind of work?"

" ... Work." Diana's eyebrows raised, glancing at Bruce, as it clicks for her as well. And she just sighs, already done with this man and his million kids.

----

MEMES!!

Bruce, trying to math out how old Reader is:

Diana, smelling Eris magic on Reader:

Barry, traumatized after being swallowed whole, trying to phase the saliva off:

Reader, while Percy and Damian get into it:

[lookingfts]

Enjoy media again

This is a bit of a long one, but if you want to change your relationship to technology in a manageable but effective way, you might find this interesting.

Over the past year or so, I’ve realized how exhausting technology has become. I’m a Millennial, so I grew up with CDs and VHS/DVDs. I was attached to the hip with my iPod and I have fond memories of browsing video stores to pick something for family movie night.

Then came smartphones, and streaming. And I was happy with both for years, until I realized:

I hate my phone. And I hate streaming. And I hate, more generally, what modern technology has evolved into.

Everything is designed to die quickly, to hoard your attention, to screw creators and suck your energy and joy dry.

I’m not alone in this, of course. At the end of this post, I’ll link to some great videos that helped motivate me in making changes.

This is by no means a comprehensive guide, but I wanted to share a bit of the journey I’ve been on and the changes I’ve made to fix my screwed-up relationship with technology.

First up: my phone is a black hole.

If you asked me, I would say I’m not addicted to my phone. I rarely use any social media except for Tumblr. I don’t need to use my phone much for work. And yet, somehow, my screen time was consistently seven hours or more.

How? Where was that time even going?

So I started taking suggestions from other people and applying them to my smartphone. Here are the big ones, and how well they worked for me.

1. Deleting games

This is pretty self-explanatory. If there’s a game on my phone, I’ll blink and suddenly be on level 400. It’s what I do while I watch TV. And I never feel like I have anything to show for it. Games are not inherently the problem; but without any kind of tangibility, it just all washes over me with no impact.

So I don’t keep games on my phone. If I’m really itching to play something, the Google browser has some free games without ads, like Solitaire. But even that I have to tread carefully with – it’s too easy to keep shuffling. I have a hunch that if I broke out a card deck and played Solitaire the old-fashioned way, I’d get a lot more out of the experience.

2. Hiding apps from the home screen

Some apps just stare at you. If you hold down until the app wiggles, and press Remove App, you have the option to remove it from the home screen but keep it in your app menu. I find this extremely helpful for apps that often distract me. For me, that’s email and Tumblr. Those are my “slot machine” apps – the ones that I refresh to get the hit of dopamine from something new. The point is for me to have to work slightly harder to get to them. To create friction between me and my time wasters.

The first day after you move something, you will compulsively click on that slot 100 times. And then you'll realize how much you were reaching for it.

3. Setting time limits for apps

The first night that I set a 45-minute time limit for email, Tumblr, and Instagram (which I rarely used to use, but had recently found myself checking mindlessly, even though I can barely see the actual posts from my friends anymore) – I was already over the limit for the day. That felt like a wake-up call. Why was I on my email for 45 minutes? There’s nothing critically important in my email. Ever.

I find myself with a different mindset when I open these apps now. The ticking clock in my head makes me view each moment I spend on there as precious. The goal is to see everything I want to see before I’m blocked. This artificial scarcity makes it more interesting and less compulsive.

4. Changing my phone to black and white

This. THIS. This is the single thing that brought my screen time from 7 hours a day to about 1 hour a day.

Putting my phone into black and white did something to my brain. Almost immediately, I could feel that my eyes were less strained and my mind was quieter. I did not expect that.

It’s an accessibility setting, and it’s not easy to get to, for obvious reasons (Apple doesn't want you to). For iPhone, you can go to Settings > Accessibility > Display & Text Size > Color Filters. I used the Grayscale and there’s an option to control the intensity of the filter. I have mine at about 85%, since the full 100% grayscale is a little hard for me to see.

I’m not kidding. This is game-changing. It takes away 90% of the temptation of your phone. I can still do everything I need to do – and for the things I want to do, like looking at pictures in color or watching videos, I use my iPad or my laptop or my TV. Those devices have never had the same issue of overuse for me; I think phones tend to be the easiest to abuse. But whatever device causes you problems, you can probably use some variation of these tips to help.

Second: streaming sucks now.

Not just the cost, or the ads, or the fact that you need 7 different services to watch everything you want.

For me, it was the decision paralysis. Every time I booted up Netflix, I felt overwhelmed by choice. How do you wade through all the low-quality filler to find something interesting? Nope, nothing here. Move to Amazon Prime. Move to YouTube movies. Move to Disney+.

I not only found it exhausting…I felt as though the endless choice was making media meaningless. Movies, TV shows, and music were all blurring together in my brain. Once in a blue moon did I actually get excited about something I saw on a streaming platform.

There are other issues: streaming movies and shows can be altered. They can be deleted without warning; even for things you bought. Algorithms control what you see, and you lose the feeling of choosing for yourself.

Now, I kept Netflix, mostly for its original shows. I’m on the lowest ad-supported plan, which is about $9 a month. I may cancel it and only keep it for a few months out of the year, to catch up on everything at once. It’s not hard, with seasons being like 8 episodes.

But I canceled everything else. I canceled Sirius, I canceled YouTube Premium, I let it all go.

Here’s what I did instead:

1. I got a library card.

I’m privileged to have a lovely library very close to me, and I was embarrassed that after 13 years of living in this town, I didn’t have a card. I recently started getting back into reading physical books as well. So I got my library card and checked out some books.

I had no idea how much libraries offer now. With my library card came completely free access to Freegal Music, Hoopla, and Libby. Those will probably vary depending on your library.

Freegal Music is basically like any streaming music services, only you’re limited to five downloads a week. But you can stream almost anything, and I find that the curated playlists take me out of the "sameness" that I felt with my YouTube Music playlists.

Libby and Hoopla have e-books, movies, TV shows, audiobooks, music, and binge passes that you can check out to binge content on other streaming services.

I’ve barely scratched the service of what’s available. Of course, the selection is slightly more limited, and you have to “borrow” things electronically before you can use them. But that only works in favor of my quest to feel more connected to the media I experience. There’s a time limit on it, and that creates some kind of urgency.

If you’re lucky enough to have access to a library, please use it. I wish I hadn’t waited so long. Even if you go literally one time, just to get a card, you can enjoy so many of their digital offerings. (Though my library does also offer fun in-person events, like reading clubs and craft classes. And you can check out 50 things at a time. 50!!!! For a month!!!!)

2. I bought DVDs.

Recently, I went down a rabbit hole about physical media. Like everyone else, I tossed all my DVDs and CDs years ago. Waste of space. It’s old tech.

But it’s true: you can’t own digital media. It’s not yours – you’re only renting it, even when you buy it.

I’m a pretty avid thrifter, and I had always seen the tons of DVDs and CDs and vinyls at thrift stores, but I never bothered to look.

So that was my first stop. I went to my favorite thrift store and found a Blu-ray player for about $9 and a DVD player for $7 (in case one of them didn’t work). Let me tell you – I had a BLAST picking out DVDs. It was so much more fun than clicking through a streaming menu. Right now I have a little over 30 DVDs (at a couple of bucks each – each one was literally cheaper than me renting a digital copy), including tons of my all-time favorite movies. I was shocked that I found so many of my A-list faves on my very first trip – Sunshine, Pride & Prejudice, the whole LOTR trilogy.

Feel free to judge my taste...I don't mind.

(You can also rent DVDs at the library.)

I made sure to buy players that came with the cords so I didn’t have to buy any (I’m only moderately tech literate) and it works great.

Beyond the fact that DVDs and Blu-rays aren’t compressed like streaming and so might actually look and sound better – I was just excited about media, for the first time in a long time. These are my favorites. I own them. I get to look through this collection and decide what I’m in the mood for. I get to keep hunting and find even more of my favorites.

I also got a handful of CDs. I love the way they look. I love interacting with media again. Fortunately, I have the space to display them, but you can also remove them from the cases and put them into a CD sleeve.

A huge used physical media store opened down the street. I’m so excited to see what they have. It might become my new favorite place.

I can still stream on Netflix. I can still buy a movie on Vudu or whatever if it’s something I’m really in the mood to watch. That option isn’t going anywhere. And if you like streaming certain things, go for it. I am not against streaming as a concept. I just felt like streaming had become this draining, chaotic maze that I was lost in, instead of something that made my life better and more convenient.

Maybe we need a little inconvenience. Maybe having everything in the palm of our hand only devalues those experiences and lessens the impact.

Maybe some of these things that I did aren’t available to you – but hopefully some are. I hope this is helpful to anyone who feels like I do. This is just part of my journey, and I want to continue finding a way to live more actively and intentionally in this world that is trying so hard to make us isolated, tired, and passive.

A big shoutout to all these creators who inspired me. Here are a few videos that really helped me:

Only Consuming Media from the Library

The Importance of Inconvenience

Using This iPod for 30 Days Changed My Life (a series)

Replace all of your subscriptions with a library card

[anti-anti-vents]

All this discourse has me remembering things

Like, how as a young kid, before I had the words for it, I was writing HELLA darkfic. Like at 10-12 years old, I was writing the most fucked up shit I could think of. Stuff antis would consider “pedophilic”, such as (real example, trigger warning) a world in which young girls were raised in isolation, given numbers instead of names, sold to adult men as soon as they hit puberty, and losing value with each year they gained, ABS eventually being killed at 17 if they’d not yet been bought.

Yeah, it’s really not any wonder that I ended up destroying all of these writings, never sharing or completing any of them. At 10 years old, long before I was aware of this debate, I was already ashamed of myself for exploring these topics and thoughts in the only way I knew how. Possibly the only healthy option for me at the time. I feel so bad for kids like me who are growing up on the internet, seeing confirmation of their fears that people will see them as a bad person for creating that type of fiction. For even entertaining those ideas in your head. I hope they turn out okay and reclaim some creative liberty for themselves.

And honestly? I may need to nourish that ashamed little kid inside me too. I haven’t written in years; I lost all motivation some time in 2020. And when I think back on everything I’ve ever written, when I think of those dark fics, I hate to admit it, but they’re the only thing I truly ever wrote for myself and myself only, without showing anybody else. And that’s important I think. I want to rediscover my creative process, and uncover all the little things about myself I’ve been pushing down for years.

Art is healing and art is discovery. Antis can stay mad that we’re doing these things through obscene means. It only encourages me more. And I hope to do the same for others.

[cream-and-tea]

this entire book might actually be unprecedented levels of bad but that does not. mean i will. stop. that does not mean it shouldn’t. exist. (<- said hoarsely while bent over like i just finished vomiting)

oh wow oh gosh these chapters are BAD!!!

[delicateperspective]

The truth is I’m not great at expressing myself. I’ve had a thousand thoughts running through my head for quite some time now, but I’m going to try to put into words what I feel. English isn’t my first language, so please be patient with me.

There’s been one question I can’t stop thinking about: why?

I think in this fandom it’s necessary to stop for a second and ask ourselves if we might be wrong. And that’s okay. I’ve always liked to look at all sides, even the ones I don’t agree with. I think it’s necessary to understand the full picture.

I’ve chosen to support two boys who, I believe, loved or love each other, and who are in the closet. Not because I want to believe it, but because even after hearing the antis and seeing their “proof,” I still find more truth in what’s being hidden than in what’s being shown.

I’ve been in the fandom for about five years. I didn’t live through 1D in real time, but I’ve done my research. And even though in recent years Louis has been presented as a strong, straight man, a father, a family guy — I can’t ignore everything that came before. The signs are there. They’re not made up. They happened. They’re real.

So why so much effort to deny something that once was so obvious? Why deny it so aggressively? Why erase such an important part of his story?

I understand that if you only look at the last three years, all of this might sound ridiculous. But you can’t just erase the rest. You can’t deny a whole decade of glances, lyrics, silences, symbols, gestures.

You can see how far they’ve stretched this stunt. Louis commenting on Z’s post triggered all kinds of reactions — people saying he’s never been so emotionally open, that he was never like this with Eleanor. So why now? Why like this? Why so many denials of Larry lately, and done in such an aggressive, defensive way? Why did his team — I think it was the hair stylist, I don’t remember her name — speak badly about Larries? Why did his sisters deny it too? Why so much effort to erase something so big?

I understand that some people only see the recent image, but I can’t. And I believe many of us can’t either. You can’t erase what’s happened over more than a decade. You can’t reduce everything to “Louis is straight and the best dad ever” and just keep pushing that endlessly, because it doesn’t make sense. Social media exists, and whether we like it or not, everything is documented (even if some things get deleted).

You can’t tell me he’s dating a reality show influencer and also say he hates that whole world.

You can’t paint him as the straightest man alive while he sings “It’s a church of burnt romances and I’m too far gone to pray / It’s a solo song and it’s only for the brave,” surrounded by flags, saying he feels safe, wearing coded clothes.

You can’t say he hates Harry Styles and that the fans destroyed their friendship, and then watch those glances, those stolen touches, those songs about a love he met at 18 and a lasting relationship.

You can’t sell me the idea that his son is his top priority when he hasn’t even protected his privacy, when he hasn’t been there in key moments.

And you can’t say he’s homophobic or uncomfortable with gay rumors when he’s been in gay bars, has a triangle tattooed on his skin, and has written “be proud” on a flag.

You can’t erase who they’ve been. Who they’ve been for more than a decade.

You can’t just cling to what’s convenient now and forget what once was so evident.

Stories don’t disappear just because no one talks about them anymore.

Gestures don’t lie. And sometimes songs scream what voices stay silent about.

You can’t reduce someone full of layers and nuance into just one thing.

You can’t say it’s all black and white when there are thousands of colors in between.

Maybe this message doesn’t make much sense, but I needed to let it out.

Thank you for reading. And truly, thank you for creating a space where we can think with calm, with critical thought, and without losing empathy.💞

oh my heart — you say you’re not great at expressing yourself, and then you go and write something that’s so clear, articulate, and deeply moving. ♥

i agree with you 100%: it’s crucial to stop and check ourselves sometimes. to ask if we might be wrong. to stay open to being wrong. to look at every angle, even the ones that don’t match what we want to believe. that’s how we stay grounded, and that’s how we keep our integrity.

the truth is, we probably are wrong about some things. that’s just the nature of piecing together a story we weren’t meant to see. there are things we missed. things we misunderstood. things we only understood in hindsight. but at the same time — as some details have fallen away, so many more have been confirmed or made clearer with time. blocked interviews, old footage, behind-the-scenes leaks, deleted clips, unreleased lyrics — they’ve only made the picture sharper.

so when people ask, why the cover-up? why so much denial? — the answer is, because they never had another option.

this started in 2010. long before they were ready. long before they were famous enough to push back. and once the narrative was in motion, it had to keep going. the more their fame grew, the harder it was to untangle. one direction was the first social-media-made boyband, and that changed everything. before that, hiding things was easier — call up a tabloid, pose with a girl, plant a story. but as tech evolved — camera phones, twitter, stan culture — the control had to evolve, too.

and when you’re dealing with artists who can’t speak freely — who are bound by contracts, management, NDAs, and brand deals — sometimes the only option left is to erase the past and replace it with something easier to swallow.

and the truth is: most people don’t remember

they weren’t here for the beginning. they didn’t see the shift happen in real time. they’ve only seen louis post-2019. they don’t remember the glances, the lyrics, the tattoos, the interviews, the way he lit up next to harry. they never saw the subtle rebellion, the patterns, the coded language. they don’t see the full picture — because they were never given the full picture.

and unfortunately, context does disappear. media gets deleted. clips get scrubbed. narratives change. and unless you’ve spent years watching, researching, connecting dots — you’ll probably miss the nuance. and most people don’t want nuance. they want simplicity. they want red carpet kisses, instagram stories, public drama. they want what’s entertaining — not what’s true.

when your career depends on a public image, and you’re not allowed to tell the truth — you give the public a truth that works. and right now, that version of the truth is: louis is a straight, grounded solo artist dating someone who’s relevant and visible.

is it real? no. is it frustrating? absolutely. but is it strategic? without question.

if you're part of louis' team, and you're trying to keep him in the media, keep his name trending, or build a “palatable” narrative for the GP — you lean in to the image that works. and if you’re family or friends, you might go along with it (or stay silent like mark) because you know it’s not your story to fix. you know he can’t say what he wants to say — not yet. and maybe not ever. but like you said: you can’t erase a decade of truth just because it’s inconvenient now. you can’t erase the glances, the lyrics, the silences, the symbols. you can’t reduce layered, complicated people into one flat narrative.

and you absolutely can’t convince someone who’s been watching this unfold for 10+ years that their instincts, their memories, and their research are completely imagined.

[jupiterhours]

Scorpio Rising: from a scorpio rising

this is my struggles as a scorpio rising, libra in 12H.

just highlighting some experiences that I don’t see many astrology accounts discuss when talking about scorpio risings. It sometimes seems like they haven’t read a single thing about this placement and i don’t relate to most of what they are saying; do take in account that i have a 12H scorpio mercury, and 11H libra mars (due to my rising being at 5°) that may hinder my experiences. (this is unedited and unrevised btw don’t flame me, just my thoughts on screen)

-inability to maintain/create friendships

i find this a hit or miss. most of the time it is really hard to make and maintain friendships and i’m not sure why. i find most of them have so much to say about my looks and how i present myself. they are far more worried about these things and how others perceive me than im worried. i find they try to be controlling of it like, “don’t do this around my parents, they don’t like it” as if i am not an adult? or they don’t say anything but stare at parts of your body that you’re insecure about. like… i can literally see you staring at my thighs, do you have something to say?? seems like a lot of people want to paint you as the bad guy. they say that you are hurtful in your actions but never elaborate.. lots of projection. they treat you like shit and the minute you turn your back on them or give them even the tiniest flick back of what they’ve done to you: all hell breaks loose. on the other hand, they become OBSESSED???? why are you still following me after i’ve removed you form socials; why are you calling me after telling me you never wanted to speak again 5 years ago?

-Never letting anything go: ever.

i honestly hate this aspect of scorpio placements (i have many) i cannot seem to get over anything that has happened to me literally ever. sometimes it feels good to hang onto that kind of pride of knowing when someone did you wrong, other times it’s very hindering in growth and healing. you can 100% know that everything is okay, you’ve gone over it with a therapist/friend/journal etc and STILL have it affect you DAILY if anything it just festers and boils underneath, making you a very mean person who you don’t want to be sometimes.

-The craziest dreams!

why do i involuntarily astral project in my sleep???? probably my mercury sitting in its little 1° in my 12H but maybe, MAYBE other scorpio placements can agree, i know pisces placements do too bc well duh 12H… but it’s a very hard thing for me to grasp my brain around. why do i know things in my sleep, why do i SEE things happen before they actually happen. i have dreams about celebrities and the people they know and their business before it’s even public, MONTHS before anything is public and it’s so fucking scary to experience. like why do i know what a sports player’s new gf looks like before they’ve broken up with the current one? i don’t know these people! but somehow i just am given this information. it feels like a curse sometimes, to know but to not have any real connection to speak out about it. i’m given information in metaphorical terms sometimes. and sometimes the people in the dream are helping me to wake up? i feel alone in this one so if anyone experiences it to this extent PLEASE dm me! i am so curious!!!!

-not knowing how to distribute energy efficiently

i find it hard to be able to focus my energy into certain areas. like how do i order these tasks/items of importance, how do i know what is worth my time. i feel like our 12H being in libra, the scales just dramatically bounce back and forth and it affects our mental state, this also might just be my libra mars in affect so i don’t have too much to say on this. but it feels like the scorpio risings i’ve met irl have this horrible sense on when they are putting too much time and effort into something that won’t flourish (including myself) we have been creating this false image of the end result and we work diligently to get to it, thinking the interruptions are a part of it since we experience that ALLLLLLLLL the time as the placeholder of death and rebirth. but once again, might just be my detriment placement of mars..

well that’s all i can think of off the top of my head. maybe a pt.2 if i think about it some more but yeah:)