#also believing your thoughts can literally change material reality just by thinking them or repeating your list of meaningless little

[bbbetty]

not to sound harsh but those "law of attraction/assumption" blogs are the scariest fucking thing. just denial and toxic positivity masquerading as empowerment and self care. optimism is good, working to improve your life is good, believing generally good things about yourself is good, but plugging your ears and writing creepy ass mantric posts about how everything in the world is already perfect isn't actually helping at all and you're just going to crash when you realize you're not living up to the unrealistic image of perfection and ease, or when something undeniably bad happens and you decide it's your fault because you didn't 💅💖manifest💖💅 hard enough.

[vizthedatum]

Updated blog disclaimer

Please note: I am not communicating with my ex-spouse currently. We are recently divorced but have a no-contact order until the end of December 2023. Dec 31, 2023 Update: the order has expired but I DO NOT PREFER TO TALK TO THEM OR THROUGH A THIRD PARTY. I am not communicating with them through any third party (except for our lawyers). These posts are not at all an attempt to communicate - it is *art* and *expression* and my personal account of what has happened in our relationship. It does reflect reality. I want people to know. It's not just emotional processing for me - I think people need to know what domestic violence looks like. And you should tell your story too - there need to be more examples of all types, in all different relationships.

Dec 31, 2023: I also talk about non-abusive relationships. I strongly believe that I own everything that has happened to me. I can protect people’s privacy and respect boundaries, but I will not limit myself from talking about my own experiences, journeys, and thoughts… and those are often tied to real people’s lives. I obscure identities as much as I can, but I’m a writer and artist… the world and my life are my source material. This is a moral judgment call on my part, and you don’t have to agree.

This blog uses the phrase "narcissistic abuse" which is a hotly debated phrase amongst the neurodivergent and disabled communities. I am disabled, and I do not promote ableism. I do not think the usage of "narcissism" is ableist nor do I think it adversely affects those who have narcissistic characteristics. I am not discriminating anyone but I am sharing how I’ve personally made sense of the abuse. I have nothing against people with diagnosed disorders. The specific cycle of narcissistic abuse is Love-Bombing/Idealization to Devaluation to Discard to Hoover/Reengagement (and the cycle repeats).

If you find the content triggering, then kindly block/unfollow/ignore this blog - I will not change my mind until there comes a time when there is a term that better describes the specific cycles of abuse and patterns of behavior I've gone through in my life. I do acknowledge my own toxicity and my own patterns of harm in this blog. I am tired and offended by justifying my experience and my usage of a phrase that has literally saved my life in the past year. Understanding that what happened to me was specifically "narcissistic abuse" has made the context of my life more crystal clear than ever before. Please see one of my many posts that address this issue or search the internet about the debate yourself. If you cannot see the nuance in what I'm saying, then this blog is not for you.

If you choose to harass me based on how I word my experiences (keeping in mind that I’m not going to your blogs and invalidating your experiences (I have only done so in defense of someone else’s initiation but I will not anymore)) instead of advocating for a better term that best describes my experience (that is more nuanced than just emotional/physical abuse), then unfortunately you are harassing and silencing an abuse victim. Victims are already in a place of self-doubt and self-blame. They are aware often in a state of extreme reality distortion. And we often have an extreme amount of compassion for the people who have harmed us.

Before you call us ableist, try to understand why we're talking about it.

Future employers and anyone else: I am a queer and trans person of color who is a citizen of the United States of America. I have undergone a lot of abuse, and I am exercising my first amendment rights as a citizen of this country. I am sharing my experiences as authentically and honestly as I can. I am receiving mental and physical healthcare, as best I can with my resources. My training is in healthcare, and if I cannot be honest with who I am then it would be incredibly hypocritical for me to practice epidemiology or clinical data analysis in healthcare. If you choose to discriminate against me based on my identity or my emotional processing of the abuse I have endured (or even the poetry/art/writings I share), then you are willfully denying employment to a battered domestic violence survivor (and I have gone through domestic violence multiple times). I would not work for such an organization anyway. My skills and qualifications speak for themselves, and I will do what I want - and I'll do a good job of it too. Thank you. Addition as of Nov 6, 2023: I have an open call for a nesting partner and future co-parent. Read more here.

[celestial-heartbeat]

law of assumption: a basic guide

so you’ve probably heard of the terms “manifestation” or “law of attraction,” and maybe you became curious and decided to learn about what this means. or maybe this is your first time hearing these terms and want to learn more about it!

if you’re the first one, i want you to FORGET everything that you know about the “law of attraction” and any manifestation techniques you learned. if you’re the latter, i will explain what these terms mean...

( in this context), manifestation is the act of “attracting” specific circumstances, events, people, material objects and even physical/mental aspects about yourself.

the law of attraction (LOA) is the principle/ideology that “like attracts like.” what you put out into the universe (i.e vibrations, energy etc.), is what you will attract back to yourself.

so now that i’ve explained these terms, i’ll now explain why the law of attraction is incredibly faulty. while the inherent principle of the LOA is mostly true, how to actually manifest using the LOA isn’t as straightforward. most LOA teachers will teach their students a BUNCH of techniques on how to “raise their vibrations” or “align themselves with the universe.” they will say that scripting, visualizing, drinking water etc. is what will give them their manifestations. but that is NOT true at all !! you do not need any of those things to manifest. all you need is…

your thoughts

...ok so what does that mean?

what is the law of assumption?

the law of assumption (in the most basic terms) states that “your thoughts and assumptions create your reality.” what you assume to be true, is what will be reflected onto your outer reality (aka the 3D).

to understand this concept, you MUST understand that you are constantly manifesting, whether you are intentionally doing so or not. before you learned about manifestation, you were STILL manifesting!! think about it: you didn’t have to script or visualize to manifest failing a test or your SP not liking you. it just manifested unintentionally because you weren’t conscious of your thoughts!! with the law of assumption, you are consciously making the effort to manifest what YOU want, instead of leaving everything on “auto-pilot.”

you also must understand that you can manifest ANYTHING YOU WANT. anything. you want a million dollars? done. you want to marry your celebrity crush? done. nothing is impossible, at ALL!! you are the creator of your reality. you call the shots, no one else!

the reason why LOA teachers claim that their techniques absolutely work is because...they do work! but why do they work? because they ASSUME that they work. they are literally using the law of assumption while practicing those law of attraction techniques. they assume that scripting, visualizing, 369 method etc. is what gives them results and therefore it gives them results. however, you do not need to do ANYTHING whatsoever to manifest. you only need two things: your assumptions and persistence.

how to create an assumption

so what even is an assumption? the definition of the word assumption is: “a thing that is accepted as true or as certain to happen, without proof.”

we all have assumptions about something. whether it be about people or circumstances, we all have an idea about these things that we have accepted to be true, and often without proof. according to the law of assumption, what you assume to be true is what you will manifest. if you assume that you’re always broke then you’ll always be broke. if you assume that your crush never wants to be around you, then they will never want to be around you.

so the best way to manifest your desires is to CHANGE your assumption about your desires. that’s it.

example: let’s say that i want to date a certain guy. however, my current assumption about this guy is “he is not my boyfriend, he's not interested in me .” therefore, this guy is carrying out my assumption and is not interested in me at all. however, if i wanted to manifest him being my boyfriend, i would change my assumption from “he is not my boyfriend” to “we’re in a relationship together” or “he’s completely in love with me.” etc.

these short statements are known as affirmations. by repeating these affirmations consistently, you will change your assumption about your desire. and once you change your inner assumption about your desire, the 3D (outer reality) will reflect your assumption back to you. you also don’t have to believe these affirmations. as long as you keep affirming them they will still work. you may also be wondering: “how often should i affirm for my desire?” personally i would recommend every time you think about your desire, but some people like to affirm 24/7. the amount of times you affirm doesn't really matter, if you assume that a certain amount works for you then it will work for you!

however there’s another very important component in the law of assumption...

✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄*ੈ✩✧ ೃ༄

persistence: why is this important and how do we do this?

the whole point of repeating affirmations is to change your inner assumptions and beliefs about your desire. you want to get into the state of KNOWING that you already have your desires even if you don’t see your desire in the 3D. this is the key!!

example: let’s say i want my bf to text me more. so i decide to affirm “he texts me constantly.” however, in the 3D, i see that he didn’t text me. well instead of going back to the old story of, “he never texts me” i just ignore it and keep affirming “he texts me constantly” REGARDLESS of what i’m seeing in the 3D. cause guess what: it’s not real at ALL. your outer reality is just a collection of your old thoughts, beliefs, and assumptions. therefore by not reacting to it, you will manifest the change that you want. also, whenever i’m reminded of my desire for him texting me, i will affirm “he texts me constantly, he gives me all of his attention etc.”

now whenever you affirm, the most important thing to remember is to NOT let your thoughts slip back into its old pattern of thinking, even if you see that you don’t have your desire in the 3D. this is because the 3D reality is just a collection of your previous thoughts, beliefs, and assumptions. when you react to the 3D, you’re just reaffirming your undesirable assumptions. therefore, instead of getting discouraged and upset that you “don’t have your desire yet,” JUST KEEP AFFIRMING AND PERSISTING!! the 3D will conform to your new assumptions but only if you keep persisting in them. you must remember that you already have your desires the second you want them. the 3D literally has NO choice but to conform and reflect those desires. it’s literally the law!!

to summarize...

your thoughts and assumptions manifest

you can manifest anything

affirm as if you already have your desires, (because you do)!

your 3D is only a collection of old assumptions, an illusion. so don’t react to it as if it's the truth.

[theawakenedstate]

Ive had many dates with self sabotage, I GET IT. No amount of process, crystal, strategy or system will change the results When your mind is literally slamming the breaks It can make you feel crazy Like you're doing all the right things But its still not working successfully It can make you feel like there's something wrong with you and not them It can make you freeze in your tracks when it comes to taking the action you're taking It can make the voice of fear loud in your mind to the point where its hard to make the right decision or choice so you don't make any To the point where its hard to hear yourself The voice of soul is drowned out by fear

We often glamorize our success with highlight reels and pretty pictures but what were not seeing is the many moments of healing, crying from defeat, Exhausted from trying to figure things out, The emotional burnout that captures you, Screaming when you're overwhelmed, The feeling that no matter what you do isn't enough right now and you press on anyway.

And instead we say "high vibe only"

Just keep thinking a new thought, now forgive that thought, But the sabotage repeats for a reason And the pattern repeats until you heal it And it will keep coming up Until you deal with it.

And what is even worse is when you don't even SEE it but you know something is missing, you know something is there and your dear universe letters just simply aren't cutting it anymore -

But once you find the thread, the whole thing unravels and it all makes sense again.

Sabotage is often the elephant in the room for many people

We think its a process, tool, crystal, lack of time, or strategy, but in reality it's ALWAYS you and your energy that matters most.

And its also your energy that is stopping you

And it's your energy that can free you from the cycle of deflecting your results, allowing in your manifestations and essentially healing self sabotage.

Because it LIVES in you, which means you always carry the ability to shift it.

Exploring the Heart Chakra is Truly where we heal the blocks that are stopping us from seeing clearly and become unstoppable in our ENERGETIC CONNECTION.

It's like a force, a moment to recognize our Heart chakra is either giving into the feeding of the illusions or It's in Resonance - Alignment - Harmony towards our deepest truth and desires.

It's time to awaken your Heart Chakra,

THERE ARE 48 HOURS LEFT

Join me for a 10 day adventure and exploration into the Heart Chakra,

In This Workshop, I want to share with you what i've been learning as it connects deeply into AWAKENING your Heart Chakra and it's connection to our Self-Worth & self-Love.

I want you to imagine what it would be like to really step into your unapologetic worthiness and potential

To Feel into Unblocking what is causing the sabotage in your life - and Realize you can Oblierate it with a flick of a switch

To Open your Mind and see the way Magnetism is influencing your Relationships whether romantic or career or business or family or any of it.

To Go deeper into what it means to really love yourself from the inside out and how this can consciously uplevel your own Magnetic Attraction Power.

Across all Areas of your Life

This is what the Heart Chakra is truly about, it is more than just a healing practice of self care bubble baths, and saying I love you in the mirror...

mmm we must go deeper - Deeper into the core of who you are,

I'm honestly not sure if I can teach things surface level, ever - it is never the answer - so why focus on it, when you can go deeper and deeper into the Quantum of Who you are and unleash your Magnetism with How you're Giving and Receiving through all energetic conversations you're having with life, with yourself, with every aspect of you -

It all begins in the Heart Space.

The Heart Chakra is the Bridge between the Spiritual Self and the Physical self, therefore when we learn to bridge the gap between the Heart space - We Begin Naturally Allowing in more Receiving as the connection to the Spiritual self and the physical self are now Free-flowing as ONE - aka Alignment 😉

So What does it mean to really tap in fully to this space?

It means going BEYOND the Healing and into the Empowement of the Heart Chakra Space - which honestly feels delicious

As the Heart Chakra unlocks our natural ability

To feel The Full Acceptance of Ourselves

To Love more deeper who we are and our spiritual self -

To Feel more Self-Empowered - What would that look like?

To BE more Encouraged, To keep dropping layers and layers of Ego, as you walk forward in more Confidence and Certainty

To Believe Deeper in yourself than ever before and allow yourself to be Self-Led

When we're in the energy of Self-Love - We don't even begin to realize there's a CASCADE, a RIVER FLOOD of Unapologetic Receiving, Upgrading and unleashing as we continously drop ego, drop the noise, drop all the heaviness we are carrying to the point where it begins to UNLEASH, ooze out of you LOL and basically

The Flood gates are now open as abundance, receiving, knowledge, insight, solutions, creative epiphanies to your problems suddenly become available - because you finally got it - you finally stepping through and leaped

You finally said yes I am available for this because I love myself and I Accept myself fully -

Therefore the cascade opens and Floods of Truth come pouring out of you as you open up

To Unapologetic Receiving.

Or you can continue to feed the bullshit that is stopping you and sabotaging you...

I know because i did it repeatedly lol Until I got it...and I continue to apply it,

It's always only a choice away -

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___

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[kyleys-empty-mind-shit]

butterflies • i

pairing(s): marinette dupain cheng x adrien agreste || ladybug x chat noir

genre(s): angst; drama

fandom: miraculous ladybug

rating: g・t・r

rated t for language, violence

word count: 1.9k

warning(s): blood mention

chapter two || chapter 3

“…Bystanders have not been hurt, although Paris’ superheroes have not made an appearance yet…”

There was unrest among the students of Francoise Dupont High School as Adrien listened to his friends talk quietly amongst one another. Thunder rumbled in the distance as heavy, chilling rain poured down from the skies. There was a gloomy eeriness that clung to the air, a quiet that made the high schoolers feel like they were just waiting for something to shatter the silence. Grey clouds were collecting, casting the city in shadow-like darkness.

Another Akuma attack had been reported yet again. The Parisian superheroes were more than glad to help out, but it was obvious they were tiring: their moves became sloppier, their conversations shorter, and their patience thinner.

Adrien listened to the chatter exchanged between Alya and Nino, while Marinette remained quiet. She looked tired, which really wasn’t that uncommon, but her fatigue seemed to spill into all of her activities. She had less “pep in her step,” as Alya had said, and her eyes weren’t nearly as bright as they used to be. Not that he meant to pay attention to such things, of course, but it was hard to not notice. Even Chloe, who couldn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone but herself, had laid off on the harassment. Adrien chalked up his attentiveness to Marinette as nothing more than being a good, concerned friend, but as of late that excuse was becoming harder to sell, even to himself.

It started about four months ago when they came back from summer break. Everyone had gone back to school and while Adrien was physically there, he was mentally absent. Kagami had just gone abroad for school again after they’d broken things off. He would have liked to say it was a mutual breakup, but she was the one who brought it up. Kagami was wise beyond her years so when she told him that his heart wasn’t in the relationship, he knew she was right. He expected his first heartbreak to be gut-wrenching, but it wasn’t. He felt sad, sure, but not in the way that leaves you paralyzed in bed for weeks on end. At the time, he wondered why that was, but the answer was obvious: Marinette.

When he got to school, it was almost as if she could see the gloomy cloud over his head. She was there for him when no one else seemed to notice, her stuttering and fumbling hardly present in their conversation. In the beginning, he felt almost guilty for confiding in her. It would’ve been ignorant of him to believe she didn’t have problems of her own (who didn’t?), but it was a fact known by many that Marinette Dupain-Chang was one to do whatever she could to help the people she cared for.

It was then that he noticed it: the butterflies. It was like a tsunami of anxiety, excitement, and shyness all rolled into one whenever she did anything: the way her hair moved in the breeze, her clear laugh that dared him to smile, but most of all, her kindness. Marinette was one of those people that you couldn’t hate. She was that person who helped others even when no one was looking. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help himself when he started falling for her every move.

She didn’t know, probably never would, but she had him whipped.

The blonde was snapped back into reality when his best friend nudged him: “You coming?” Nino’s brow arched in question.

He looked across the street, where his bodyguard was waiting for him, standing by the driver’s side door of the sleek black Audi. Though it’s been the same car since Adrien was like thirteen, it still looked brand new.

“I forgot my homework,” he said to Nino, calling out to his bodyguard to repeat the same thing. With a barely discernible nod of approval from the bodyguard, Adrien turned back toward the school doors.

Adrien grumbled as he jogged away from his friend group: “Well, Nadia, Paris’ superheroes happen to have vaguely normal lives too if you weren’t aware.”

Plagg floated up from Adrien’s pant pocket and did circles around his owner’s head. “You put too much faith in humans, they don’t think about that kinda stuff. To them, you and Ladybug are untouchable.”

“Yeah, well we’re not,” he mumbled frustratedly. He pressed his palms into his eyes tiredly and took a deep breath before dropping his arms back down to his sides.

“Plagg claws out,” he muttered.

Plagg liked to think he knew his miraculous holder quite well. Despite the kwami’s demeanour and seeming distaste toward anything non-cheese related, he did have feelings. Yes, he loved cheese, but he also loved Adrien. He had spent the last two years with Adrien, and he knew something was terribly wrong with his owner.

He’d ask later. The cat-like kwami entered the ring miraculous, and with that, Adrien Agreste was gone, replaced by Chat Noir.

The leather-clad hero headed toward the disaster zone, the rain not doing anything to help his vision. He landed on a rooftop near the Akuma attack and swiftly surveyed the scene. Upon not seeing Ladybug anywhere, Chat Noir sent a quick message to Ladybug, highlighting the damage, before swooping in to hold off the Akuma.

xXx

To put it simply, Marinette was struggling. It had been the fifth Akuma attack that week and after two years of being Ladybug, her excuses were becoming weaker and weaker as time went on. Adrien’s abrupt exit was odd, but she didn’t have time to think about it as she felt the ground shake slightly. It didn’t matter how exhausted she was, she couldn’t put off her duties any longer.

“I uhm, I forgot I had a question for Miss Bustier. I’m going to go see if she’s still around and I’ll uh just stay here until Ladybug and Chat Noir get everything taken care of!” she flashed her friends a thumbs up and with that, she ran back inside the school, toward the locker room. She opened her tiny purse in order for Tikki to emerge. “This is bullshit,” she muttered to herself.

Tikki gasped in shock. “Marinette!”

“Sorry,” she mumbled half-heartedly, “You wouldn’t happen to care if I maybe just happened to not show up and let Chat handle it?”

The glare that the small kwami sent her way told her otherwise. “Something about this one tells me that you’ll need all the help you can get,” she told her owner.

Her stomach twisted with anxiety, both confusion and shock washing over her face. Tikki had never talked about the dangers of an Akuma before, which alarmed Marinette. Shit.

“Tikki, spots on.”

Ladybug swung with all her might as her trusty yoyo grabbed onto buildings and chimneys, the sounds of destruction nearing. A black blur, undoubtedly Chat, streaked the cloudy, grey sky as an akumatized villain screeched out. Her eyes skimmed over the cobblestone streets in front of her, but nothing could prepare her for the screams of terror and bloodied civilians that scattered the scene below.

Her feet had only touched down on the ground for a second when she heard him.

“Nice of you to drop in,” Chat purred, startling her. “You’re late,” he added, his voice icier than expected.

“Cry about it,” Ladybug responded coldly.

“Meowch m’lady,” he said in mock hurt.

“Sorry,” she muttered to her partner as she took him in. His blonde silky hair was plastered to his head from the pouring rain, the droplets permeating the black leather. If the suit wasn’t skin-tight before, it certainly was now. She had to tear her eyes away from the sight of him, her sensibility screaming at her to focus while her eyes wanted nothing more than to drink in every inch of him.

Literally what the fuck, she said to herself. Now was no time to pine for her partner.

The Akuma that stood before her was physically underwhelming in stature, but her clothing made up for it. The girl in front of them held herself at around 5’3 and couldn’t be more than 18, but her wicked smirk sent a chill through her spine. The girl was clad in an array of green from forest, sage, to mossy shades, the dress that adorned her body looking like that straight from greek mythology. It was made up of grand silks, almost entrancing Ladybug and Chat with the way that the fabric moved like rippling water. It was ethereal, really, but the closer she looked at it the deadlier it became.

From around the waist and shoulders, long strips of silk floated behind her like the snakes on the head of Medusa. They almost seemed to bend to her will, the fabric defying gravity. Not only were pieces of the dress floating, but so was her long dark hair. In her hand was a staff made from tree trunk like material. Resting atop her head was an obsidian black crown with spikes the length of Ladybug’s hand.

After looking around at the already distraught state of the street, their evaluation was over: she was not going to be another walk in the park.

“Shit,” Chat breathed out. It was at that moment that the villain opened her mouth to address both the heroes and bystanders.

“Citizens of Paris, I am Gi Mágissa. I am not here to compromise with your heroes. Others in the past have failed to retrieve what Hawk Moth desires, but I will not: today will be the day that you remember as the fall of Ladybug and Chat Noir.” Her voice resonated as if it was echoing off the walls. She shifted her gaze to the left, her eyes locking with the two of them.

“Give me your miraculous and I may decide to spare you and your city,” she said in a dangerously low voice. Her voice was smooth, yet it cut right through the two partners like a freezing wind in the dead of winter. Under any other circumstances, her words would be humorous, cheesy even, but this was not like anything else they faced.

Chat laughed as his trademarked smirk appeared. “Funny, because I don’t remember agreeing to that,” he said in mock thoughtfulness, almost like he was trying to recall a memory.

“Chat,” Ladybug hissed, “I’m starting to get the feeling that you won’t be able to joke your way out of this one,”

“C’mon m’lady, live a little.”

“Yeah, well I might not be alive to do so if you keep being an idiot.” Ladybug could feel the frustration rising in her as Chat continued to appear so casual and relaxed. How could he not sense that this was so much worse than before?

Chat turned to her and she could finally see his eyes. Despite his outward appearance, she saw the nervousness in his gaze. There was almost a buzz in the air, a metallic smell that made them wrinkle their noses: blood, iron maybe.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

[cuntess-carmilla]

The thing about the toothpaste flag (that shitty recolor of the lesbian flag) that some mostly white gay men are claiming as their own, is white gay men act like they're the most creative and innovative people in the world and then pull shit like that, always on the backs of wlw, trans women, and gay moc.

(Almost?) all the actually innovative and amazing things coming from "gay culture" (quote marks because there’s no UNIVERSAL gay culture; race, ethnicity and location change things) either comes from gays of color, or actually comes from trans women (also often trans woc at that, especially Black ones), and tbh many times also Jewish gays and trans women regardless of their race.

Then there's how much these white (and often gentile) gay men straight up steal the creative efforts of wlw or demand that the creative efforts by us include THEM, as if they ever did the same for us and as if we ever demanded the same from them. Such as the dudes who DEMAND angrily that things created by wlw MUST include them too. Like, these dudes demand from independent online wlw artists (such as my friend @orquidia) to draw mlm content when they're artists who've expressed, time and time again, that they make SAPPHIC art. Like, my friend Iv is bi, drawing m/f romance art is more personally relevant to them than content about only dudes lol.

But no, we must ALWAYS cater to them. When have they catered to us, though? Imagine if we went around behaving the same way.

The male entitlement is so bad that when wlw started making fucking moodboards for fun FOR OURSELVES dudes were ENRAGED that WE weren't making moodboards for THEM as if it was so fucking hard to just fucking copy our ideas themselves as they always do. But no, WE somehow were responsible that there weren’t fucking moodboards for them! Because they still see women as owing our labor to them! Incredible.

Same with shit like when the reclamation of "sapphic" became more popular and they were like QUICK, WE NEED OUR VERSION OF THAT and made up "achillean" which makes no fucking sense since it lacks the historical value of "sapphic" and Achilles wasn't even a real person. "Sapphic" was originally used to medicalize and brutalize wlw. WE didn't make up "sapphic", cishets made it up to insult and marginalize us and we reclaimed it centuries after it stopped being commonly used in that way. Not to mention, Sappho was an actual real fucking person. "Achillean" is literally QUICK, WE NEED A NEW SLUR THAT MIRRORS THE GIRLS'.

There's a reason most of the dudes using it are white. This obsession modern and usually younger AND WHITE gay and bi dudes have with being a perfect "male reflection" of lesbians and bi women is soooooo white gender binary.

You don't have to be! You can and SHOULD develop your own cultural elements independent from us, or if you’re gonna create things that have relation to us, it should be an organic result of you BEING IN COMMUNITY WITH US, like femme/butch was (which regarding its use in the ballroom scene, happened in Black and Latine LGBT communities, which isn’t surprising as LGBT poc tend to be less stupidly separatist).

But so many of you refuse to even consider us wlw as Actually Gay, even those of us who're lesbians (by the way, you shouldn't do it to bi women either), let alone to consider us as a valuable and important part of your communities. If you bitches thought of us as Actually Gay you wouldn’t constantly accuse wlw who so much as accidentally glance upon mlm media, of fetishizing you EVEN WHEN IT COMES TO LESBIANS LIKE COME ON, WE DON’T WANT YOU (let me repeat, still not ok and still stupid regarding bi women, they can and do relate to gay content in general because they’re a type of gay woman!).

You go so far to not consider us Actually Gay that you act like we face no violence, like corrective rape is "just" because we're women and has nothing to do with homophobia and thus it doesn't count as homophobic violence so wlw are still “privileged”, as if misogyny wasn't an INTENSIFIER of homophobia. Don’t get me started on how you all act regarding ~representation~, or, ykw? I will start.

You all act like there's more wlw representation in media than mlm representation when 1) that's verifyingly false, and ours mostly happens in fucking cartoons only, 2) the wlw rep in mainstream media is MOSTLY CREATED BY WLW OURSELVES after fighting for DECADES for our content to not be censored, both as creators and as fans. And you act like it's a privilege? We fought so hard to get scraps, and that’s a privilege to you. You disregard even our most defanged activism and believe we were gifted wlw rep because society loves us THAT MUCH in your eyes! We didn’t FIGHT for it, it was handed to us on a silver plate.

Did you see how much we campaigned for Harley Quinn (questionable a show as it is) to get a 3rd season just so we could actually see Harley and Ivy be an established couple, after the comics 100% erased their relationship, and you call that we got it PRIVILEGED? HQ is one of DC’s most successful pieces of media and according to the creators themselves it’s actually very fucking cheap to make, and it was still not certain that we were going to get a 3rd fucking season when, had it been a show just as profitable with a straight main couple you KNOW that would’ve been a given.

Even you boys' "analysis" of why we get to see wlw in cartoons is so stupid and exemplifies how much you refuse to understand our realities and struggles. It almost only happens in cartoons because love between women is never taken seriously and neither is animation, as it’s associated with kids.

You think we get it in animation because straight men get horny for us (which, by the way, they don’t when our love and lust are portrayed in a SERIOUS humane way, only when it’s a performance for men), when it happens in media that's mostly aimed at KIDS. Korrasami and HQ are the only examples I can think of that weren’t intended for a super young audience, but you fix your mouths saying it’s because we’re sexy to straight men. Do you REALLY think it happens in mostly children’s media because of our sexualization by men? Do you realize that would mean we’re being shown to children as a sexual product? Don’t be stupid. Other than Harlivy in HQ, none of them are shown doing more than kissing and holding hands.

If it were true that we get wlw in cartoons because of our fetishization by straight men, it would also mean that our fetishization IS A PRIVILEGE, because it'd be getting us humane and complex representation. Do you hear yourselves? Our fetishization gets us RAPED AND BATTERED. Gee, for people who got so passionate about being fetishized only after wlw talking about our own fetishization that also has way more dire material repercussions than annoying fujoshis started to get traction you sure do seem to think that when fetishization happens to YOU it’s a crime against humanity but when it happens to wlw it’s a fucking privilege.

Only reason we've gotten that representation is, again, because we've campaigned for DECADES to get ANYTHING, and some of us made the work of basically infiltrating the creative field and made + pushed for our content to be published/released with tooth and nail. It wasn't GIVEN to us, we FOUGHT for it.

Anyway, back to how white gay men (often the gentile ones) constantly take from us (gays of color, wlw, trans women, Jewish gays) but then turn around and think they’re the pinnacle of culture; I'd just fucking like it if you could at least treat us with basic respect and recognize our amazing creativity if you're gonna steal our creative labor constantly, OR if you refuse to do that, THEN MAKE YOUR OWN FFS.

Pick ONE struggle!

[razorblade180]

Sunshower. 10

[2 of 2 parts]

*Disclaimer,mature themes* Enjoy

It wasn’t long before they reached the forest district and the trees her house was in. As usual she flipped the sign on the ground from down to up. If Sun was really about to spend the night then she might as well look cool getting up to the door she pulled him to the outer rim of the clearing and faced right.

Sun:What are you doing?

Ilia:Getting a little workout in. You’re about to see why our races are always so close.

She bent her knees and took a deep breath. Then she took off sprinting towards a tree. Sun watched her run along it sideways then jumping to the next tree; repeating the process again and again. Each transition to the next tree got her higher and higher as she was essentially going counter clockwise. He almost got dizzy just watching. Finally she was close enough to the mass of leaves and materials supporting her house. Ilia lunged towards a patch of leaves that were a slightly different color and her hands went through it. Sun had a feeling if she did that anywhere else then her performance would’ve ended horribly. Ilia pulled herself all the way up then poked her head back through to look at Sun. Funny, he was easier to look at when she was upside.

Ilia:I hope you were paying attention. Now it’s your turn.

Sun:I could just climb up the one nearest to the entrance. Oh, it even has grooves in it.

Ilia:Yeah it’s for lazy people or emergencies. I won’t stop you from taking it but I’ll hold it against you.

Sun:So what you’re saying is I have no choice?

Ilia:That’s the spirit!

Ilia extended a hand out of the leaves and waited patiently. He wasn’t getting out of this. Not by a long shot. Sun dramatically started rotating his hips and stretching as if he wasn’t already limbered up. Ilia wanted to playfully roll her eyes but found herself paying attention to the way his buttoned shirt slightly lifted up. For the first time she was actually a bit disappointed it was buttoned up and she hated herself for it.

‘This is stupid. He’s stupid. I’ve been complaining about his banana breath for months and I know I suddenly feel….I don’t know what I feel! Why the hell is he getting to me? How am I getting to him? Are we filling the void or-’ “Heads up!”Sun shouted as he jumped at her. Ilia was glad he did or else because she had stopped paying attention entirely. She didn’t even know he stopped stretching and now she’s grabbing his arm and pulling him up. ‘Great, now he has me spacing out…’ It was difficult not to chastise herself at this point. Feelings are complimented but not this complicated.

‘I don’t even like men.’ She knew this part of herself very well and from a young age. Of course she’s tried a couple of hetero relationships but early on she knew for a fact that she just wasn’t feeling anything romantic or otherwise. Yet here she was, clearly feeling something. It burned like fire and made her chest heavy, but also made her feel like she was breathing better than ever? Her heart ached, but she didn’t want it to stop. Somehow, it felt….good? All these positives and negatives kept clashing. She felt like a walking contradiction.

Sun had noticed the girl was lost in thought while they entered her home. He chose to leave her be. He wasn’t sure of what to say anyways. Right now he was invested in looking around. ‘I wish my home was half as cool as this.’ He thought while removing his shoes. Living in a literal treehouse was already cool but the way everything was set up kept adding brownie points. Then it hit him, small talking about her home could break the ease. He touched her shoulder and Ilia jumped a little; realizing she had spaced out again.

Ilia:S...Sorry. You say something?

Sun:I was gonna say you have a nice place.

Ilia:Oh, thanks. *smiles* You wouldn’t believe how long it took to make this place. Worth it though. It’s out of the way and peaceful.

Sun:Yeah I’ve noticed you tend to like your space. Anyways...I’ll...see ya tomorrow?

Ilia:Umm yeah?

Sun:....

Ilia:...

Sun:*slowly walking to the futon.*

Ilia:What are you doing?

Sun:About to...sleep?

Ilia:Aren’t you forgetting something?

Sun:....covers?

Ilia:A shower Sun. You’re dirty from being out partying.

Sun:I don’t have spare clothes.

Ilia:I have plenty of big t-shirts and basketball shorts. There’s spare towels and washcloths already in the bathroom.

Sun:Thanks.

Ilia:I can’t believe you tried going to sleep filthy.

Sun:Listen, I’m playing this by ear.

Ilia:Well make sure you wash behind said ears.

She walked down to the end of the wall into her room. A circular bed filled most of the room with cabinets drawers built in underneath where she stored her clothes. Lights hung from the center of the ceiling and spread across the walls like vines; while a small hatch connected to a string could open a piece of the ceiling to maya sky light. Airflow was good too. ‘I’m glad I cleaned in here.’

…..

‘Why’d I think that? He’s not going to be in here.’ Ilia dismissed the thought from her mind and grabbed whatever she reached for first. Blue shorts and yellow shirt; it’s funny how life works out like that sometimes. Ilia left the room and tossed Sun the clothes as he walked into the restroom.

Ilia:To turn on the shower-

Sun:I can figure out a bathtub Ilia.

Ilia:(Okay Mr. Know it all.Is the day finally getting to him or something? Guess I shouldn’t blame him. He’s not the only one on edge.)

Rushing water and the change of the sound of it hitting the tub did indeed let her know he figured it out. Oddly enough, knowing that Sun was currently showered wasn’t as flustering as everything else. That was until she realized a cold reality. One of two things would happen when he wears those clothes. Option one, he realizes there’s no change in underwear and wears the pair he has; eww. Or option two, he’ll go commando. In her shorts. That first option was looking really good. It’ll give her a reason to knock him down a peg.

Instead of waiting for him like a weirdo; Ilia went back to her room to grab one of the dozen pillows on her bed along with a spare blanket. It didn’t take long to turn the futon into bed mode and set everything up. She actually finished right as he got out. The boy’s hair and tail were a bit damp and his clothes folded up. That was unexpected. It really was hard to pinpoint exactly what level of care Sun did and did not have for hygiene. Ilia couldn’t resist looking at all the layers of the folded clothes. Sure enough, his boxers were there and not on him. Another thing to add to her contradicting feelings.

Ilia:Those fit you surprisingly well.

Sun:Why do you have such baggy clothes?

Ilia:Lounge wear. I like to be comfortable.

Sun:Really? Judy told me the opposite. Something about wearing bras while at home?

Ilia:Why does she care so much about that!? What’s the problem with that!?

Sun:She said it had something to do with being comfortable with your body in a safe environment. I didn’t really get it either. Do you have a place to wash these?

Ilia:Yeah I’ll deal with it. Right now just-...

Sun:Ilia?

She didn’t answer him. For a second he had thought she spaced out again but no, she was looking at him? Ilia started walking forward and actually passed him to the bathroom to the sink. Sun realized he had forgotten the things that were in his pockets there. Then, his face went pale.

Ilia picked up his scroll, a pack of gum, some change, and the thing that made her shut up in the first place. A couple of condom packets. Sun felt like flinging himself out the tree as Ilia walked back to him and slowly put all the items on his stack of clothes. The two looked at each other. Ilia had a face of skepticism and slight embarrassment. Sun doubled down on the ladder.

Ilia:So...were you feeling lucky tonight? Confident? Dumb...?

Sun:I swear those aren’t mine.

Ilia:Yet you have them because…?

Sun:Okay, they’re mine now. But I didn’t ask for them. Neptune gave me those when you and Judy got food. He kept going on about being prepared and not knowing what tonight could hold. I was trying to give them back but then you showed up and I panicked.

‘Neptune.’ Ilia thought menacingly. ‘You’ll get yours.’

Sun:Still mad.

Ilia:Not mad, I’m just on edge. Sorry.

Sun:Trust me, I get it. Go take your shower and I’m gonna go to sleep. I think we both need it.

Ilia:Yeah. You’re right. If you got hungry then feel free trying to create whatever out of the fridge.

Sun:Will do; thanks.

At last, the night was finally over. It was fun, exhausting but fun. She had taken her shower then went straight to her room. Ilia’s body felt heavy yet her mind was still racing and her eyes fully open; sleeping was impossible. Her hands fiddled with the stitching of the black basketball shorts and her gold tank top felt off for some reason. She knew it was all in her head. What felt off was in the other room.

Ilia grabbed her scroll to check the time. Almost one o’clock; only forty five minutes has passed since she finished her shower. ‘This is ridiculous. I’m tired so sleeping should be easy.’ She tried closing her eyes to sink into sleep but it never came. It only took another five minutes before she rose from her bed agitated. ‘I wonder if Sun is up? One way to find out.’

Ilia walked to the door before stopping suddenly. The butterflies were coming back. It was almost unbearable. Still she persisted and followed through. Step by anxious step, she walked towards the living room. Ilia peeked around the corner as if this was someone else’s house and found him facing the wall and bundled up under the blanket she gave him. At first glance he looked to be completely at rest. However, the twitch of his nose and eyes seen thanks to faunus night vision indicated otherwise.

Ilia:I know you’re awake. Don’t try to lie.

Sun:Sigh...looks like we’re both restless.

Ilia:Scooch over. At least we have tv.

He did what he was told and sat up so she could sit on his left. The light from the tv lit the dark room with some anime Ilia seemed to like. Sun wondered if Blake influenced the girl or if it was the other way around all along? Now wasn’t the time to bring her up though. It would’ve killed the mood; whatever that might be.

Ilia wasn’t afraid to steal cover from him and did so without a second thought. After sitting on the bench from earlier, this by far was an improvement. There was a bit more space this time. However, she could still feel the heat coming from him; so warm and inviting. She couldn’t help but scoot a little closer; making her skin turn more than a little red. Sun tried to focus on the show but it wasn’t working. Whatever shampoo Ilia used on her long flowing hair was tickling his nose. Maple, somehow it was perfect for her. Sun might’ve been a patient person even if he had his limits, and right now morality and a bit of fear was the only thing holding them back. He wasn’t the only one. Unlike him however, Ilia had enough of the tension. Progress had to be made; for better or for worse.

Ilia:It was nice….

Sun:Huh?

Ilia:You asked me at the pier how it was when we...you know. It was nice, from what I can remember.

Sun:*red* Oh. Me- me too. From what I can remember. It’s still pretty hazy at some parts. I...still remember your rules though.

Ilia:Is that right?

Sun:Yep.

……

Ilia:You’re holding yourself back somehow for my sake aren’t you? Even after what Neptune and I told you. I...don’t mind if you’re a little greedy sometimes.

His heart skips a beat. Sun looked at her from the corner of his eyes. Ilia kept both eyes on the screen but her entire face was flushed. She tried stealing a glance but locked eyes with him for a second. His attention was fully on her.

His silence was getting to her something fierce. She was about to speak again but the sudden warmth of Sun wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer made her gasp in surprise.

She was more than warm now; Ilia felt like an inferno. She could feel Sun’s hands shake slightly as they began roaming her midsection and legs. He was nervous. Good, that means she wasn’t alone.

Ilia places her hands on his to let him know his touch was more than welcomed. It got a bit more firmer. More confident. Ilia closed her eyes and shuddered from the way his hands made her body feel like it was melting. Short breaths of air sucked through her teeth periodically the more he advanced. Pleasure or not, Ilia’s pride refused to let her express to Sun how much she was enjoying such a simple act.

It only got more difficult. Sun leaned in and pressed his lips against her neck; making the girl in his arms bite her lip a little rougher than she would’ve liked. Slowly he trailed upwards until Ilia could feel his breath against her ear. “Let me know if you wanna stop.”, he whispered in a husky tone that was new to her. She doubted it was gonna be the last time it was heard. Ilia didn’t trust herself to speak so nodded instead. Sun’s hand got busy. His left hand slid under Ilia’s shirt and towards her chest. While the right one took the plunge down into shorts; trailing the middle finger up and down her already damp slit.

Ilia wasn’t ready for the sudden surge of pleasure. Her body hunched over a little as a reflex as she let out a small whimper. The freckles across her started turning pink as Sun kept the attention on her left tit and mound. “F..Fuck…”, she said with a rasp in her voice. She was rarely this sensitive; this needy. Yet right now Ilia felt like she had just run a marathon and was starting to break a sweat. Is this what happens when you let tension build all day? It was kinda worth it.

“You okay?” Sun said with his voice more normal than last time.

“Mmmhmm” was all Ilia could manage in the moment. She leaned back into his chest and lifted her waist. Both of her hands went to the waistband of her shorts a little faster than she meant to do and pulled the unneeded clothing off. She bent her left leg and placed on the futon. Allowing Sun to have more room for his right hand to work. The feeling of something poking her lower only her head get fuzzier. Ilia didn’t really remember much about what Sun was packing but she was anxious regardless.

Sun couldn’t help but think how cute she looked right now.Not to mention how aroused he was. He wasn’t afraid to admit that seeing her like this was thrilling. He wanted more. “You know you don’t have to hold back either right?” His voice dripping with desire. “I wanna hear you…”

Yeah, that voice was going to be a problem. “Don’t get ahead of yourse-aah!”

Her protest went unfinished as she felt Sun’s middle finger slide into her. The digit rubbed slowly; exploring this new, soaked area. With each thrust the walls clamped and spasmed around it. Sun continued kissing her. The assault on so many areas at once crumbled Ilia’s resolve. Her chest rising and falling in excitement. “That wasn’t so hard, wasn't it?”

“I’m...totally getting you...back.” Ilia did her best to calm down but it wasn’t working. Being the only one overwhelmed wasn’t fun. She was the person with actual experience here. Somehow she gathered her thoughts together and managed to reach behind her and tug on Sun’s shorts. A chill up his spine and through his tail from Ilia’s nimble fingers run down his pelvis. Moments later a rush of adrenaline hits him as her hands wrap around his length and frees it. Slowly her hands start stroking it up down. Ilia was never an expert at this thing for obvious reasons but Sun seemed to enjoy it. Low groans invaded her ear as she picked up the pace. The hot and foreign object steadily getting harder with time.

The sounds Ilia got out of Sun only made her enjoy it more. When was the last time foreplay felt this rewarding? This intense? She wanted to keep it going but her body had other plans. Sun slid a second finger into her to add more fuel to the fire that threatened to burn her up. “Sun...Sun!” Being quiet was out the window. Every touch felt like electricity. Her toes started to curl as she teetered on the edge of her release. “Time out! Time out!” She shouted frantically before it was too late.

“Huh?” Sun was caught off guard but stopped as instructed. Was she hurt? Did she change her mind. A million worries started building up as she sat forward and turned towards him completely flushed. Her shirt clinged to her body from the thin layer of sweat that covered her. Even strands of hair stuck to Ilia’s face as she calmed down. She didn’t look hurt, not at all. So why stop? “Umm did I do something wrong?”

Ilia shook her head side to side. “No. I just… the couch. I didn’t expect so much to happen here. It’s...way harder to clean than my sheets is all.” She wasn’t lying. The bed was definitely a better choice to do this. What she didn’t admit to him was how hard that orgasm was about to hit. No way would she have any energy to return the favor if it had.

“Oh, phew, I thought I did something bad. I’ve kinda been playing this entire thing by ear.” Knowing that only made Ilia more embarrassed. ‘I gotta step my game up.’ She thought; her heartbeat finally calming down a bit. She took this opportunity to look at what she had been so feverishly stroking. It only made her entire body change red in surprise. It didn’t look how she’d expect. It wasn’t anything cartoonishly big like many people over exaggerate about but she had a hard time believing that fit in her before. Then again, she did have a limp.

“Umm Ilia, could you not stare. It’s a little embarrassing.” The boy said sheepishly. It was crazy how fast his attitude changed in the heat of the moment. “Sorry, just psyching myself up is all. Where are the condoms?”

“The counter. We’re going straight to that? No oral or anything?” A valid question that would’ve made Ilia redder if that was even possible. “Sorry but not really the type of girl to do that in a...straight scenario.” It felt a little rude to say that out loud. “I wouldn’t feel right if you did it to me because then it’s one sided.”

He got why she felt that way but it was a little disappointing. He’d never done anything like that before either; it would’ve been interesting. “Understandable.Guess we’ll skip right to the fun part then.” Without warning he lifted her up. Ilia gave a small yelp; instinctively wrapping her arms and legs around him. “Hey! Warn me next ti-aah! S...Sun..” Ilia tried to maintain some bite in her voice but it proved nearly impossible by the small bites and nibbles being placed on her neck. The fire she tried to quell was rising again. She could barely keep her eyes open while Sun took her to bed. His tail grabbing the condoms from the counter along the way. This was really happening.

Sun pushed open the door and laid her gently on the bed. Ilia watched the boy make a sincere smile that said “yeah, I’m nervous too.” The fact that he’s been so attentive to her needs was chipping away at her pride and slightly bruising her ego. He shouldn’t be doing most of the work. Time to step up.

“Hey…”

“Hmm? Yeah Ili-” She pulled him down onto her bed before he could finish speaking. Ilia grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off him; along with kicking off all the surplus pillows. Then leaned him back a little as she bit his neck; the feel of her left hand running across his skin frazzled Sun and left him speechless. “Relax for me…” her tone sultry and deliberately making things more anxious for him. Sun tried to control his breathing as her lips ran across his chest and her free hand pulled off his shorts; boxers and all.

Ilia finally removed her now soaked panties and straddled her friend right above his member. Sun was about to remind her about the condom but felt a chill as thin latex was being rolled onto him. ‘When did she take it from me?” He wondered in amazement and concerned. Being that sneaky in a situation like this is a dangerous skill. He wondered if it came naturally, or practiced?

“So, you ready?” His voice was shaking as he looked into her eyes. “Because I’m not.” Ilia pressed her forehead against his. Their bodies slightly shook and felt like pure flames. “Guess we’re on the same page. Second thoughts?”

“Not on your life.”

“Good, or this would’ve been pretty embarrassing.” Ilia raised her hips and lined him up with her entrance. Slowly she started to lower herself down. Inch by inch Ilia felt Sun spread her sensitive walls until he was nearly all the way inside. Full couldn’t begin to describe this feeling. It was like he was touching everything at once; sending pleasure from head to toe. How she did this drunk she’ll never understand.

Ilia leaned forward and hid her face in the crook of his neck and started rocking her hips. Raising them till the tip was all that remained before sinking back down to her limit. Gradually she got faster with each one and couldn’t stop the sounds of her own pleasure from escaping.

Sun was no different. His heart raced and his jaw was clenched tightly. She gripped him like a vice and felt hotter than imaginable. He didn’t know how he didn’t cum immediately. “Fuuuck! Ilia!” He groaned into her ear with a hunger in his voice. “You feel so good!” The bed began to creak as they continued to go at it; the only louder noise being their voice and the sound of wet flesh colliding.

Their minds became cloudy as they brought each other closer to the edge. Instincts guided their body’s now. Ilia felt her strength starting to wane. Annoyingly, her hips started slowing down. Nails dug into Sun’s back and her eyes closed as she tried to hold out just a little longer. “Close. I’m so damn close..”, she whimpered and mewled in a haze of passion.

“Me too. Ahh! Ilia!” He wasn’t going to let this moment fade, not yet. Not like this. Sun gripped the girls slender waist and started timing his thrust with hers. The way his fingers pressed into her reminded Ilia of last time. The added intensity and memories made her body rage and ache. Tension was building in the pit of her gut and her toes started to curl once again. “Sun I’m...I’M!!!”

Her lips denied her from finishing her sentence. Instead she let out a cry of pleasure while her entire body felt like it had just gotten zapped by a million volts. Sun felt Ilia’s soaked walls clamp down tighter to milk him of everything he had. The grip was too much for him to bear and Sun came, hard. Ilia felt the condom swell inside her. No doubt filling with ropes of cum from Sun’s frantically twitching length. Latex or not, she could feel the warmth from the loud and it made her shudder. She couldn’t even imagine the feeling of it actually shooting into her. The thought made her heart skip a beat.

Energy quickly left their bodies and Sun fell backwards with Ilia on laying on his chest. Sweat covered both of them and each struggled for a moment to calm their breathing. It wasn’t long after that Sun finally went limp enough to slide out of the gir. Ilia used the strength she had left to remove the condom and tie it up before tossing it to the side. Proper disposal can happen later. Right now was resting time.

Sun:Phew, that was...was…

Ilia:It really was….

Sun:So I did good?

Ilia:I’m...panting and was screaming. You tell me?

Sun:Good. I’m relieved. Not exactly experienced with any of this.

Ilia:You did wonderfully.

She groaned in blissful exhaustion. Keeping her eyes half open was a real struggle. Everything felt surreal. It had been all night. Both were about to pass out any minute.

Ilia:Time to rest. I can feel myself drifting.

Sun:Want me to go back to the couch? Give you some room?

Ilia:Idiot. You think I’d just kick you to the curve after this? I’m not getting off you and you earned this spot for tonight.

Sun:Good. Don’t think I would’ve made it there anyways. You think this will be weird tomorrow? Or you know, okay?

Ilia:You’re more than welcome to sneak out before I wake up if you can’t handle it. But right now..

She clung to him and willingly closed her eyes. “Rest…” those were her final words before drifting off into slumber. Sun followed right behind her. Letting darkness surround them as he held the girl close. It truly had been a long day.

Part 9 & Part 10(1)

[ardenttheories]

squarequeen replied to your post: “Thank you for voicing your thoughts on the HS^2! I feel all the things...”:

Criticism is fair, but 1) I think characterizing the team as a cult is more reactionary than productive and 2) I’m reluctant to pass judgement until we see how this plays out further. Homestuck has a long history of subverting expectations, and I’d like to give the writers a chance to do so

It is highly reactive, but it is also a fair comment to make. They are an exclusive membership seeking to explicitly hurt and belittle the fandom as much as humanely possible while gaslighting them into believing it is their fault. 

I no longer have ANY hopes for Homestuck^2 knowing that it is run by people who think so lowly of the fandom that genuine fandom criticism and upset over the shoddy way triggers have been handled was struck back with a complete fucking removal of content warnings entirely for an absolutely useless “overall warning” on the FAQ page.

Let me repeat that. 

The Homestuck^2 writers saw that they were handling triggering content so piss poorly that people were complaining more and more, and their response was to remove all content warnings entirely for a general blanket warning in a completely separate page on the website.

People who genuinely want to read the comic but might be triggered by its content no longer have explicit warning of what’s coming up. They have to crapshoot it and hope for the fucking best. Or, as the website itself says - they have to get friends to read the fucking thing for them to tell them if its safe. 

This, of course, completely ignores the natural human phenomenon of congregrating around people who share similar traits with you. As in, in a singular friend group, there are likely to be shared triggers. Which makes this attempt to put the onus on the fans to protect themselves fucking impossible. (It also disregards people who don’t have friends that’re into Homestuck, but like, lets ignore that shall we?)

It, mind you, is not up to the fandom to read and relate the triggers in your content. You, as the author, have a responsibility to admit what could be triggering to your audience. If you force your readers to “read and find out”, you are putting them through an explicit form of torture that could quite literally lead to panic attacks, dissociative episodes, and breakdowns that could have easily been avoided. 

At what point, as an author, do you genuinely look at your fandom with such disgust that you decide

And then, of course, the icing on the goddamn cake, is this:

No, actually, it really fucking doesn’t. You can tell a challenging and organic story while keeping triggering content in mind. You can write an interesting and developed world without having to rely on the shock-horror of unfettered triggering material. At no point as a writer should you ever have to decide that triggering your fanbase is better than changing how a scene is composed and written. Because, frankly? If you find it so fucking hard to write triggering content in a careful and delicate way, you are not a good writer. It isn’t hard. You can still get the reality of it through while also treating it well (you know - the same way Homestuck did?). 

Audience responsibility is crucial, yes, but that’s why you provide fucking triggers per chapter so that your audience can more directly decide if what they’re about to read will be harmful for them. However, it is also crucial that as a writer, you aren’t writing triggering content so fucking badly that you are triggering your fanbase month by month over material they could have otherwise handled. 

This is how they have attempted to explain it. This reads like every other big company’s “we have a diverse team of people working on this project, so any racist/homophobic/abelist content involved has complete validity and cannot be argued against in the slightest” memo. If you prioritise artistic intent over the actual health of your readers, knowing that you struck a chord with your fanbase because of your realistic but delicate handling of triggering topics in the main comic, then... you’re honestly just a dick. 

And this post? This is merely one comment of many that I have made on this blog over the past few months. The ask originally commented on? That’s only one ask of several that I’ve received on the Homestuck Epilogues and Homestuck^2 detailing why it hurts to much, why it feels like a betrayal, and what exactly has changed from the original comic. This has been worsening for months. While I understand that Homestuck is about subversion, this is not subversion. After a point you have isolated so many of your readers that when you finally flip it turnways, nobody’s going to want to fucking read it. 

These people are explicitly making Homestuck^2 as painful and hard to read as they possibly can. They have seen people complain that they are handling sensitive topics badly and have now reacted in such a way that it is “our” fault for having spoken out. That we, having the audacity to say it was bad and needed to change, are to blame for their reaction. 

Maybe calling them a cult was reactionary. But it wasn’t a far fucking cry from the truth when you combine everything together. 

[mithrilwren]

Closer Still

Shadowgast, ~5000 words. Also on Ao3!

This began as a discussion with @the-littlest-goblin about what the fantasy equivalent of the “trapped in an elevator together” trope was. Naturally, the answer turned out to be “trapped in a pocket dimension because we (two idiot wizards) decided to experiment with time magic together and got in over our heads” :) Where better to get to know one another?

Cw. panic attacks, minor self-harm and discussions thereof (nothing beyond Caleb-typical levels)

Also, VERY explicit hand-holding. Be warned.

---

“There isn’t a door,” Caleb says, as he stares out into the formless void. “There was supposed to be a door.” They had planned - in all their meticulous notes on interdimensional spaces and incremental trials, in every mutual assurance that we will start with the simplest scenario, for safety’s sake - for there to be a door.

“No, there isn’t,” Essek agrees.

In fact, there’s nothing at all. Which is… worrisome. 

Caleb is, to a certain extent, familiar with inter-planar spaces. He’s studied them aplenty over the years, both from books and his own intuition. Frumpkin presumably hails from a pocket dimension much like this one when not with Caleb, which should be a comforting thought. Given their actual circumstances, it is wholly not. 

The emptiness stretches on forever, in every direction - a phantom sea of black that lacks dimension and boundary, but still feels confined. The manner and shape of the confinement isn’t something his mind can fully wrap itself around, but his body seems to instinctively shrink back regardless, hearkening towards a non-existent center, which is merely the place they appeared. The only thing outside himself is Essek, still clad in his mantle and balancing an open book in one hand, that contains their notes for the spell they now find themselves trapped within: pages of calculations and predictions and copied phrases from Halas’s work.

The first step had seemed self-evident, at the time - obvious to both of them in the same breath, a singular shared thought. When their eyes met the spark was palpable, and away they went. It was a simple application, far simpler than what they attempted with Nott. Combining Essek’s knowledge of dunamancy with Halas’s successes on time dilation - along with Caleb’s own work on the vault of amber - had seemed almost too easy. It had taken less than a day to design the rudimentary spell, and less than two hours to collect the necessary components, and then... after all, why wait? They were ready, quicker than they could have believed, to test the results. Here, in a space all their own, they might begin to recreate a little of the Happy Fun Ball’s mystery.

Only, at every stage of this feverishly hurried plan, in every hastily sketched schematic and ink-stained diagram, they had always meant for there to be a way out. A door, back to the material plane.

And there’s nothing. Literally, nothing.

“This is certainly a… predicament,” Essek says lightly. Too lightly, and he is not such an accomplished liar that Caleb can’t sense the hint of unease beneath his steady words. “Perhaps we moved too quickly - there must have been a variable we missed.”

Caleb reaches his hand out, feeling towards the edge of… well, there isn’t an edge. The space has no frontier, and its absence comes as as much of a surprise as the missing door. When he’d read of such magic before - spells to create demiplanes, and things of that nature - the books had always included descriptions of rudimentary walls of stone or wood. Here, there’s only the endless expanse. It’s almost akin to the beacon’s limitless interior, if all the stars within had been snuffed out. 

There is a floor, however. That’s even stranger, because it certainly doesn’t look like there is. Essek still hovers a few inches higher than Caleb, but his own feet rest on a surface no more solid than the immaterial blackness above their heads. It doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing to be standing on.

The moment the thought occurs to him, Caleb begins to fall.

The terrifying descent lasts only a few seconds before Essek’s arm shoots out and grasps his shoulder. Gasping, Caleb jerks to a stop and finds himself… exactly where he started, the unseen floor beneath his feet yet again. He claps a hand over his mouth as his stomach heaves. 

Essek’s fingers uncurl from his shoulder as quickly as they’d snatched it, and Caleb presses his hand down all the harder, like it will keep his breath inside of him. He squeezes his eyes shut, which helps. His body can accept the emptiness when it can sense a reason for it.

“The vertigo will pass,” Essek says softly, but closer now. The vicinity around his shoulder buzzes, like something hovers there, unseen. “I’ve seen the same reaction in those unaccustomed to a dunamatic field. Your body will find equilibrium, once you accept the reality that cannot be seen.”

Mostly reassured by that logic, by any logic that his mind can cling to, Caleb opens his eyes. Essek is still a few feet behind him, like he hadn’t moved at all. No indication that he’d even gotten near enough to touch Caleb’s shoulder. No reason for why his voice sounded close by, only moments before. Abashed, he opens his mouth as he steps forward, meaning to thank Essek-

And immediately pitches forward onto his knees. Only his knees have nothing to land on, his hands have nowhere to scrabble towards, and he is spinning, the room- not a room, nothing- is spinning, and there’s nothing holding him together as he falls-

“Caleb!” Essek’s shout, unmasked and truly unsettled at last, rattles through Caleb, and he can’t stop moving in place, like he’s spiralling out of control, like his body doesn’t belong to him-

The buzzing returns, and tense fingers find his shoulders again, dragging him back up into something like a kneeling position. “You need to focus,” Essek is saying, reprimanding, voice harsher now for the worry that lies beneath the words, and the expanse is dark, and there is nothing, and as the panic reaches a crest, then a lull, he becomes nothing too.

Caleb knows what it means, to float away. It’s protection, like every other piece of armor he wraps himself with. But knowing what it is doesn’t mean that he can stop it from happening. 

Hands gone cold and numb, he curls into himself as best he can, turning his face down- there isn’t a down- every direction is down, oh gods- and tries to make himself small-

Essek’s fingers him release again. His breath comes out sharply somewhere above Caleb’s ear. “What’s happening, Caleb?” More quietly, “Talk to me.”

He doesn’t want to talk. Doesn’t like talking, in this state. Talking is… difficult, and he clamps his mouth down harder, determined at least not to be sick. He doesn’t know what would happen to the vomit, if he did. Would it even fall away, in a void like this, or would it hover in the air like Essek’s feet? He can’t help but giggle at the thought, and the laugh is a wrenched thing, short and torn. His mind drifts further still. 

Something dark and heavy falls over his head - thick material, soft but clinging. It catches in the strands of his hair, blanketing him from his forehead to the small of his back, and with slightly shaking fingers he reaches up and draws the fabric closer around him. The sensation is such an unexpected shock that his breath stutters, slowing to a less frantic rate as he centers on the feeling of the weighty mantle over his head, and the strangeness of it all.

“Does that… help?”

The buzzing. Essek is thinking of touching him, he realizes. Caleb reaches one hand out from below the cloak, feeling for Essek and still finding nothing. He draws it back beneath as the panic begins to build again. A moment later, there’s a solid presence at his side, and an arm wrapping around his shoulders - cloak and all - gripping almost too tightly for comfort. The pressure is unexpected, and exactly what he needs. 

“Is any of this helping?” Essek asks again, still so uncertain, and now that the feeling is returning to Caleb’s body, he can begin to sense the tension in Essek’s. At least he’s not the only one uncomfortable.

“You are real,” Caleb says hoarsely, which seems a sufficient answer in his own head. Something here is real. If Essek doesn’t understand his meaning, he doesn’t have the energy to explain. “Yes, it is helping.”

“...I’m glad.” Only then does Essek’s death grip on Caleb’s shoulder relax, and he steels himself to be let go of again, chest squeezing as he anticipates the absence, but Essek only changes position, readjusting the mantle so it drapes more fully over Caleb before settling back into the awkward, one-armed hug.

Beneath the cloak, the darkness of the floor could just be the lack of light. It gets a little easier to breathe, and Caleb leans his head against what he assumes to be Essek’s shoulder as he pulls his knees under the cloak as well.

“We should leave here, as soon as possible,” Essek says. “I did not expect you would have such an adverse reaction.”

“How do we leave? There’s no door.” Caleb’s words feel sluggish, slow, like they always do in the minutes after a bout like this. He’s probably repeating himself. Maybe. He doesn’t have it in him to care, at this present moment.

“I… don’t know. If we had simply gone to a remote part of the material plane, this would be easier.” Essek says, frustrated. “I have no experience teleporting across planes. I suspect if I tried, we would be ripped apart, or worse.”

“Could we dispel it?” Caleb says. This is a problem. A problem with a practical solution. That’s good. That’s something to focus on. 

“From the outside, perhaps. But the plane itself isn’t magic, only the spell that created it. And I’m not sure I want to find out what would happen to the creatures inside an artificial plane if it were dispelled.”

“I imagine we could be lost forever,” Caleb says. “Like Halas, trapped in his gem for eternity. Only not in a place that a group of merry assholes would stumble upon us.”

“What of your group of ‘merry assholes’?” Essek suggests. “Presumably they’ll come searching for you eventually.”

Caleb nods, only realizing belatedly that Essek can’t see his face. “Nott will wonder where I am. They all will, if I don’t return tonight.” Only, would the others think to worry right away? They know he spent the day with Essek, and that they’re both apt to work long into the night when engrossed in a project. How long will it be, before someone comes looking? “And what about your... coworkers? Will the Bright Queen miss you in court, if you don’t report in?”

Essek sighs, and the exhale flows into Caleb’s chest, the movement of his body moving Caleb’s as well. The back of his neck begins to prickle. He’s grateful now for the cloak for two reasons; his skin is too pale not to show a blush. Even if the situation is far from romantic, this kind of proximity to another person’s body is almost uncomfortably intimate. And it’s hard to separate his own embarrassment from embarrassment on Essek’s behalf. Neither one of them gives casual touch easily, and it feels too close to taking advantage, to ask it of him now, without allowing him a way to refuse. 

Caleb begins to shift away by millimeters. 

“I imagine, after a day or so. But she trusts me to use my time well, as I see fit. I’m generally left to my own devices unless explicitly summoned.”

A day or so. Well, if they’re to be trapped here that long, Caleb may as well start acclimatizing now. He doesn’t intend to spend countless hours wrapped in swaddling clothes, nor could he expect Essek to keep up the same treatment, centering as the touch may be. Even now, the arm that wraps around his shoulder is beginning to shake, and without being able to see Essek’s face, Caleb judges the tension to be discomfort on Essek’s part. 

Reluctantly, Caleb shrugs out of the half embrace and reaches up to draw the fabric down from over his head. Essek makes a soft noise of protest, but doesn’t stop Caleb from completing the movement. He drops the mantle in his lap and balls his fists into it, eyes still squeezed shut. 

No buzzing this time. Maybe Essek has finally tired of holding Caleb up.

“I’ll be alright,” Caleb murmurs. “The worst is past, I think.”

He swallows, willing his words to be true as he forces his eyes to open. The darkness is still waiting there, so he turns his head instead to Essek, keeping his gaze focused on the details of his garb - the gentle greys of folded cloth, the intricate embroidery along his belt, the slender line of his fingers, folded neatly in his lap and held there, meticulous in their stillness. Essek’s hands are stained with ink and chalk and golden flecks of dust, and Caleb had been thinking only a few minutes before they left, how very strange it was, to see such elegant fingers dirtied as much as his own.

Caleb doesn’t look him in the eye. It still seems too personal, for all of that. 

They’re both sitting now, in a way, and maybe that helps too. It’s easier to believe the not-there floor is actually beneath them when Essek’s legs, tucked neatly to one side, are also touching something seemingly solid. 

Caleb pulls the mantle over his lap like a blanket, not quite ready yet to surrender the comforting weight. Then he places his hands on his forearms and begins to scratch at the long sleeves. That pressure is soothing in a different way. It’s a more familiar kind of comfort, as he digs the nails in deeper. He thinks he catches Essek’s eyes narrowing, but it’s been a long time since he’s been able to stop the habit, no matter who watches on.

As a last ditch effort, Caleb snaps his fingers. Unsurprisingly, Frumpkin doesn’t appear. The cat is tethered to the material plane, not this pocket one. Mouth twisted in displeasure, he returns to the scratching with renewed vigour.

“Tell me if it gets bad again,” Essek says. Even if his words are unassuming, he’s still watching Caleb’s hands too closely.

“I will,” says Caleb, not quite sure yet if he’s lying, but eager to change the subject regardless. “After an hour, the spell will expire anyway. Who knows? Maybe we’ll be ejected when it does.”

“That’s certainly a possibility,” Essek says. “Let’s hope.”

“Let’s hope.”

Essek falls silent, almost meditative, and in the absence of his voice there’s nothing but silence either. At least the beacon had a sort of hum to it, a cosmic energy - brimming with what he now knows as life, unimaginable and vast. This feels more like the quiet rooms of the asylum, where they hung dark sheets against the wall, to muffle the sound of-

Caleb digs his nails in harder. The memory stutters and shifts, and he can breathe again, for a few minutes more.

“Forgive me,” Essek says, then reaches out and takes Caleb’s wrist in his hand, drawing it away from his arm. “I…” His mouth twitches, and he turns his head away. “I’m afraid you’ll break the skin. I don’t have healing magic like your compatriots, and we don’t know how long it will be before-”

“Essek,” Caleb warns, because by the quickening pace of Essek’s words, it seems like he’s not the only one in a spot of panic anymore. 

“I don’t enjoy watching you hurt yourself.” 

The instinct to apologize is almost too great to fight, but he manages to reign it in. It isn’t what Essek is looking for, what will make him stop watching Caleb so intently, after such a forlorn admission. No, what he needs is reassurance. “Well,” says Caleb. “I think you will like it better than the alternative.”

“Which is?” He still hasn’t let go of Caleb’s wrist. Caleb doesn’t try to fight him. He’s not sure if he wants to.

“Me losing my head,” Caleb mutters. “Trust me, I’ve learned how to cope with...  stressful situations. This is effective.” 

There. They’re both practical people. Rational people. An explanation like that should keep Essek off his case.

Then why hasn’t his hand moved?

“Just because it is effective, doesn’t mean it won’t hurt you.”

Caleb can’t help but smirk at that, the bitter irony sharp on his tongue. “You are more right than you know.”

Essek abruptly releases his hand, almost startled, like he hadn’t realized he was still holding it. “Forgive me, again. That’s three times now that I’ve touched you without permission.”

Oddly, Caleb finds himself more touched by that nervous courtesy than by the gesture itself. In a rush of reckless, unexpected affection, he reaches out and grabs Essek’s hand. Essek freezes. “There’s nothing to forgive. It helped.” He pauses. “It all helped. Thank you.”

Essek stares down at their entwined hands, and Caleb chances drawing a thumb across the smooth skin at the back of his knuckles. He half expects to be pushed away once more. But Essek endures the touch, and eventually even squeezes back. 

Breathless for a new reason, Caleb slides his fingers down, until they’re laced with Essek’s. It’s almost like a game, to see who will push the moment farther, first, and Caleb is so entranced that he nearly forgets where they are. 

Essek’s fingers are softer than his own, and darker. They’ve borne less days on horseback, weathered fewer storms, seen less battle and flame. The skin feels so different, yet it’s stained, same as his. 

All of this is so new.

“Alright,” says Caleb softly. “Instead, tell me something, to take my mind off this place.”

“What would you like to hear?” Essek’s voice cracks near the middle, a veneer of composure chipping away, and Caleb knows now he’s not the only one affected. 

Neither of them have pulled away yet.

“What was your childhood like? Was it happy?” Caleb flicks his eyes up to Essek’s, to find Essek staring right back, his eyes as wide as Caleb’s ever seen them, dark and alight from within. “Were you loved?”

“Yes,” says Essek. “And no. To all questions.”

Caleb smiles wryly. “That’s an answer, but not a very good distraction.”

Essek’s lips twitch. “I suppose you’re right.” He sighs. “My mother loved me, as much as any parent loves their child. But she had many responsibilities. And... “ The fingers between Caleb’s tense. He smooths his thumb down the side of Essek’s hand again. “Well,” Essek says, half-smiling, half-sad. “I think she was afraid to feel too much, before she knew for certain.”

Caleb’s own smile drifts away. He doesn’t know the direction of this story, but he thinks he knows the shape of it. “Knew what?”

“Who I was.” Essek shakes his head. “Everyone assumed I would start regaining memories of my past life when I reached adolescence, as so many do. She had no guarantee that by the age of twenty, I would still be the boy she raised. I believe she was… waiting. To fix her estimation of me, until she knew who I would become. I could have even been the vessel of someone she knew in a past life. How uncomfortable it would be, to feel a mother’s affection for an old friend.” Essek shrugs. “But her waiting was in vain. I never became anything, and by then it was already too late. I left home soon after it became clear that the memories were never coming - which did not please my father, I might add - and here we are. Still friendly, but distant.” 

Caleb purses his lips. He doesn’t have anything to say that seems adequate, but he squeezes Essek’s hand again.

“Can I ask you something in return? ...No, that’s not what I meant to- I’m sorry, my phrasing was poor. You need not answer if you don’t wish to.”

There it is again, that consideration. Wanting to respect Caleb’s boundaries. When they first met, Caleb had envisioned all sorts of things Essek might ask of him in return for the favours they owed. Familiar things. Dark things. Things that he would despise with every inch of his being, but would have had no choice but to endure without complaint, for the sake of his friends. 

It seems all so incongruous now, to picture Essek making those sorts of demands. Caleb feels… secure, with him. Safe, almost.

Safe.

He doesn’t use that word often.

“I’ll do my best to answer, if I can.”

Essek lifts his other hand and, after a careful look, places it just above Caleb’s wrist. He brushes back the sleeve, revealing a sliver of bare skin. “The scars you bear… where did they come from?”

Six months ago, the question itself might have sent him right back into a spiral of panic, but having shared the story twice now, he finds the thought of recounting it less fearful than it was before. 

It occurs to him that he could lie. And perhaps he should lie. Essek is, after all, still their handler, at least in name. Foolish, to give up something so personal to a spymaster. But Essek asked. And Essek has proven himself trustworthy before.

And Caleb finds himself very weary of lying.

“They were given to me,” he starts, “by my teacher.”

Essek, to Caleb’s relief, doesn’t flinch or grimace at the admission, but his eyes narrow a little more. “A punishment?”

Caleb shakes his head. “A means to make us stronger, and… hmm. To advance his own knowledge. An experiment.” He thinks of all the pages spread out over Essek’s desk, still waiting on their return. 

An experiment gone wrong, that’s what’s trapped them here.

How very far we mages are willing to go, just to learn that little bit more.

“You said before that you were trained within the Empire. Was this teacher employed by the government?”

“He was part of the Assembly.” Essek’s fingers twitch. “Trent Ikithon was his name.” Caleb glances up, and sees the mask of unreadable interest is beginning to shift. Bits of dawning realization live in the crease of Essek’s brow, the slight widening of his eyes. “But, of course, what he did was for the good of the Empire. Like you said before, few necessary choices are moral ones, and Trent made it his living to walk that line.” His words twist up with bitterness, and he can’t help the pointed barb. 

It’s been lingering in the back of his mind, Essek’s comments over dinner, all those nights ago. He can’t blame Essek for being drawn in by the allure of the moral grey that the Assembly exemplify. After all, he spent many years under the same spell. But Essek is not the same as Bren. He grew up under a different sort of indoctrination. He can still be reasoned with, made to see the Assembly for the danger they represent. Caleb needs to believe that.

“Back then, I believed he had my best interests at heart, and more importantly, the best interests of my country. But now… I cannot see any justification good enough to excuse all he did to us. The experiments... and everything else.”

Essek’s hand still rests above his wrist, fingertips grazing the first of the scars. 

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen, at least. Not a child,” he clarifies. It feels important, somehow, to make that distinction. To say that he was too young to know his own mind would be a justification for his own actions, and he refuses to make it one. Even if he has no intention of revealing the end result of his training, even if Essek never asks about his parents’ fate and he never answers, in his own mind, he cannot stand to make his age an excuse. 

Essek breathes out slowly. “Sixteen is still a child, in the eyes of the Kryn. At sixteen, life has only begun.” 

Caleb stubbornly swallows around the lump in his throat. Telling this story has gotten easier, but his body still betrays him, every time.

“Ja. Perhaps you’re right. I felt for a long time, that sixteen is where my life ended. Many things happened after that, and I would not call what I was for the years that followed ‘alive’. It’s only recently- since I met the others, that I started to wonder if there was still something left. Some life I could still live, after all of this is done. I don’t know yet if that is true. But… I want to believe it is.” 

Caleb looks down at their hands, still intertwined. He has thought, in scant moments, that there was something there between the two of them - something growing, inch by inch, in the shrinking space between. 

When they first met, there were so many barriers in that space. They were handler and subject, favour-giver and debtor, reluctant allies from two worlds at war. But now the platforms have shifted, and the ledges that seemed insurmountable have become, by nature of perspective, very small.

Something between them.

Some life he could still live…

“I’m sorry,” Essek says at last. There’s a husky edge to his voice that Caleb isn’t sure he’s ever heard from him before. “I’m sorry this was done to you.” Essek’s thumb starts to trace hesitant lines down the edge of Caleb’s hand - a nervous approximation of what Caleb had done for him. The rush of endearment that comes from the realization is almost overwhelming, and Caleb bites the inside of his cheek to keep his breath from stuttering out as he speaks.

“It was a long time ago.”

Essek’s thumb doesn’t pause, and eventually Caleb leans over and rests his head on Essek’s shoulder, feeling brave and exhausted in the same turn. His head is heavy, emotions wrung out from anxiety and release and too many hours of frantic work leading up to this moment. His eyes begin to close, and he lets them. After a long, long moment, Essek’s body begins to relax as well. 

He isn’t sure, after the fact, which one of them is the first to drift off to sleep.

---

Caleb wakes to the bright light of morning spilling out of the skylight above his head. He blinks, confused, up into the eyes of a familiar blonde-haired mage. 

“Welcome back,” Allura says, and her pleasant smile is tinged with just the slightest hint of exasperation.

Beside Caleb, Essek groans and curls over onto his side, pulling his hands up beneath his chin as if cradling a pillow and turning away from the light. So, Essek is not a morning person. He tucks that information away, still impossibly endeared. 

They aren’t holding hands anymore, but he can’t help but notice that Essek’s mantle is spread across them both. 

“I assume you are our rescuer?” Allura offers Caleb a hand and he takes it. As the mantle falls away from his lap and hits the floor, Essek startles awake with an undignified gasp. Off to the side, Jester giggles. 

He sees the rest of the Nein hugging the edges of the circular room, looking equal parts relieved and annoyed. “Maybe tell us next time you two decide to go traipsing off to another dimension?” Fjord grumbles, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re lucky Nott knows how to read your notes, or we’d have thought you’d just disappeared.”

“Which you’re totally cool,” Beau adds, smirking as she looks pointedly at the shared cloak. “You guys want alone time, that’s a-ok. Just like, let us know ahead of time, so we don’t send out the cavalry to find you.”

Nott rushes up and wraps her arms around Caleb’s middle. “The pages said the spell should only last for an hour, so we called Allura after Jester couldn’t reach out. ...We did good, right, Caleb? You wanted to be rescued, right?” She also eyes the shared cloak dubiously. 

“You did good,” says Caleb, rustling her hair. “Thank you for coming to our aid. And thank you,” he says, turning to Allura. “You must be tired of rescuing foolish mages from prisons of their own making.”

“All part of the job description, as I’m finding out,” Allura says mildly, dusting off her robes. “Next time, please double check your work more carefully.” She sighs, then gathers her bag to her side. “Alright, I’m off - hopefully, I’ll be back before my wife notices I’m missing and gives me an earful.” Essek, finally having picked himself off the ground, opens his mouth to try and offer his own thanks, but Allura is already gone. 

Caleb turns back to Essek, who is currently in the process of smoothing down his hair back into its usual elegant coif. It’s only partially successfully - a few strands still stick up at odd angles - and Caleb grins sheepishly.

“Not a great success, was it?”

“No, it was not.” Essek turns instead to brushing out the wrinkles from his tunic, which only draws attention to its current rumpled state. Jester giggles again, and Essek flushes, but resolutely does not look in her direction. “Still, at least we learned something?”

He offers his hand to Caleb for a congratulatory shake. Back to business as usual, it seems. There can be nothing more, before so many watching eyes. Even so, there’s a sort of tremor in Essek’s hand - an anticipation, that wasn’t there before.

I think we both learned more than we set out to.

Caleb gives Essek a small smile, and takes it.

[janevillanueva]

jane & rafael: telenovela loves & true love interests.

disclaimer: this post/essay will discuss michael, but it’s not meant to open the door to anger or discourse. he’s just part of the story. this is not an anti-anything post and he will not be tagged, neither will the ship. if you are gonna argue, please don’t. this is meant to be a civil post. thank you! ♡

jane the virgin is a cw show based on the 2002 venezuelan telenovela juana la virgen. while some factors are altered for american television, jtv carries the same key elements as it’s telenovela counterpart and for all intents and purposes is a telenovela. under the cut i’m gonna get into what that means and how/why it shapes the show and jane’s love story. this is long so apologies if you’re on mobile.

a common misconception among non-latinos is that a telenovela is simply a soap opera in spanish. while the two share similarities a telenovela is a condensed story told over the course of about nine months. it is usually a story of rivaling families and/or a love story in the vein of cinderella or pride and prejudice. a telenovela has to be a balancing act. it has to be unpredictable and ridiculous, but have a soft landing at the end. it throws endless drama and twists at you, but the ending is always fundamentally the same. you know the story - and that is not a bad thing.

because of this, if you are familiar with telenovelas, you immediately know that jtv is jane and rafael’s story. jane and rafael’s relationship being messy is what makes them the main couple. telenovela couples are a disaster, and we love them for it. we eat up their forbidden romance, their fights in the rain, their longing. now, with that comes a lot of “problematic” and “toxic” behavior. it’s a staple. there are age differences, power imbalances, fights, potential incest, MURDER. you name it, there is a telenovela plot. if you look at it from a telenovela pov jane and rafael are actually pretty tame. but they still are a telenovela couple. and some of those trademark things are part of their story because they are an ode to the genre. and the drama is their driving force.

for me, being team rafael was never about who the better man was or who “deserved” jane. it was “this is a telenovela and this is their story.” rooting for them was about the culture i know and hoping the show would respect that and the source material. it was “THIS IS THE STORY.”

what i love, however, is how they also challenge what that means. yes, they fight. jane is judgmental of other people and rafael shuts off emotionally. they scream at each other. they do all of that. and it turns some people off. but what they also do is is talk. they communicate.

think about early s4, probably the worst raf has ever been. he fucks up big time. but it’s a learning experience for him. the show does not excuse him. he gets hit by a car, he sits with jane on the floor and acknowledges that he fucked up. he cries to her, with her and realizes he has to do things differently. and this is just one example. later that season he reads jane’s writing and finds she wrote about michael, he feels shitty - but in the end they talk, he apologizes and gets her a private writing space. every fuck up, every choice, is something that brings jane and rafael closer and makes them change toward becoming right for each other. i have no doubt they were in love in season one, but they weren’t right for each other yet. 

this is where jane and michael come in.

i say this with no malice: michael was a false romantic lead. he was a plot device. i always knew this. it sounds mean, but i don’t mean it to. it’s just a fact. that isn’t to say people who ship them are invalid, but in no way were they ever cheated or lied to by the writers. they just misunderstood the story.

the very crux of the jtv love triangle is being practical and safe vs. following your heart and being brave. i’m not going to deny jane loved michael, just like i’m not gonna deny she loved adam. love often comes many times and teaches us things every time. but a lot of jane’s love for michael came from having a plan and it being simple. from what xo and alba wanted for her, not what she wanted for herself. it fit in a binder. with michael she had settled into the idea of being a teacher, which was not her dream, and by age 23 (a baby!) she was looking forward to marriage.

(sidenote: lbr, she wanted to have sex. from a narrative pov jane marries michael so early in the show so she can have sex in future seasons while still keeping the traditional telenovela wedding series finale. it’s a bridge and a way to extend the long journey to her finding her way to rafael again.)

none of this is to say a simple life is a bad life. but we know that in jane’s heart that is not, and never has been, the life she truly wants. she loves telenovelas because she loves the idea that two people are meant to be together, she loves romance novels and she loves writing. jane plays it safe because she has the catholic mindset drilled into her by alba, and has tried not to repeat xo’s mistakes. her life is about caution, but that isn’t what her heart wants. she has big dreams. but no one who pushes her outside of her comfort zone to follow those dreams, or even simply acknowledges her as a writer. until rafael. 

and rafael is not michael. they are very, very different relationships. raf is not simple. he is a complex character and a flawed one as well. he is a telenovela lead. “i’m your romantic hero. i may be flawed, but i’m yours.” in season one jane and rafael love each other magnetically. they love each other because of their destiny. and at that time, it’s not enough. they BOTH have to change. rafael more so, of course. but even rafael being the one who changes his reality to have a life with jane is foreshadowed in season one with alba’s story about grandpa mateo giving up his money to be with her. when you look at it from a telenovela lens, it’s wonderful to see rafael go from someone who is drowning in money and doesn’t know how to ride a bus, to someone who takes a real estate job and a one bedroom apartment to support jane’s dream because he WANTS to. because that’s who he has become. does he have selfish moments? yes. but everyone does. everyone on the show fucks up and is shady because that is the dna of the show.

but rafael is a character who is ironically overlooked by parts of the fandom because of his looks and how it’s “all we like about him,” when his looks aren’t what make him interesting. to understand rafael, you have to pay attention to his entire arc, not just parts of it. he’s someone who has carried trauma and abandonment issues since he was a child. his mother left him and his dad treated him like garbage. he fundamentally believes everyone will leave him. and as much as we adore her now, petra was his wife and cheated on him - after they lost a child. and he had cancer.

rafael has known loss and that shapes his behavior. it’s why he makes the mistake of pushing jane away end of season one. and it’s also why he holds on so tightly to the hotel. because for the longest time it was the one thing that was his. and the idea that he could lose that too drives him crazy. because what else does he have? that doesn’t make it okay, but it makes it understandable. and i think so much hostility for rafael/jafael comes from misunderstanding.

on the other hand, michael is probably the main character we know the least about. outside of being jane’s love interest we know basically nothing about him. we meet his family briefly and in passing. who is he outside of the context of jane? what was his childhood, what are his own issues? we never see them. the most he changes is in montana, off screen. this isn’t to talk shit, it’s to point out that he was never the true love interest.

when michael “died,” i knew there was no way in hell he was actually dead. it’s the oldest trick in the telenovela book. michael’s death was to bring jane back to rafael. but it’s important to remember that she doesn’t run right back to raf, and he doesn’t expect her to. jane mourns, she grieves, and dates around while rafael undergoes his own journey and growth. michael’s false death taught jane that life is unpredictable and can’t always be planned for. it’s only after years that she and rafael fall back in love. and those years of growth allow for them to become friends first and foremost. friendship is the most important aspect of a relationship and what they were missing season one. they really KNOW each other, which was the argument michael had before. that they didn’t know each other.

rafael is not the same person at the end of the show as he was in the beginning. we see that change happen. we know his family, his past, his issues. and that doesn’t mean he doesn’t backslide sometimes because of the fact that. 1. recovery and healing is not linear. and 2. again, telenovelas thrive on drama. but his core values have changed drastically to match jane’s. at the end of s5 they are at a place they can openly discuss their problems before they become bigger and we know they will have a life filled with joy.

jane and rafael’s romance is all interconnected. season two and five in particular. season five people thought rafael was being unfair, and perhaps he was a bit. but him shutting himself off isn’t just because michael came back. after all, he brought him back. it’s because michael came back, jane assured him nothing changed and then things… started to change. (and i don’t fault jane for having to explore.) he sees what happened in season two start to happen all over again and he’s scared. he doesn’t shut himself off to hurt jane, he does it to save himself and his mental health. he is, quite literally, triggered. because he’s mentally ill. and while they could have done it better, the show does address it. which would never happen on a telenovela.  where a original telenovela lead would say, “leave michael or i’ll just fucking die without you.” rafael says, “leave me so i can survive you choosing him again.” no one should feel like a second choice and it isn’t inherently selfish for him to put his mental health first. the fact is this: people contain multitudes. rafael did help jane through her grief, that doesn’t go away. but when circumstances change, they change.

after jane married michael rafael felt like a second choice. but i think he was always her first choice. if he hadn’t ended things in season one, things would be different. but he did. and she went back to what was easy, and chose to try to act like her old life hadn’t been changed. but it had. even if michael hadn’t died she still would have found her way back to raf. and if rafael hadn’t taken her back, she wouldn’t have gone back to michael. that doesn’t mean marrying michael was the WRONG choice at the time, but it’s not her choice anymore. michael coming back had to happen because it let jane have full authority over her choice and let her choice have meaning. jane had practical before and CHOSE to be brave. she grieved and moved on to find happiness again. she saw the life she wants to have and wants to have it with rafael because he has become her best friend and person that knows her reality best for four years.

i spent a lot of years thinking about what the petals falling mean. obviously, they were foreshadowing a wedding. their wedding song is “una flor” by juanes. but more so, flowers bloom naturally in miami, while snow had to be manufactured. jane and rafael are also centered around water. water symbolizes fertility,  freedom, change and rebirth. 

jafael is about them seeing each other, and loving each other. even the bad parts and even through the hard times. it was about them coming to KNOW and love each other and help each other be the best and fullest versions of themselves. it was about them finding even ground after the long struggle for it and finally finding commitment and compromise between two very different and stubborn people who were destined to be together but chose that destiny as one they want to live and make it a reality. in the end they are soulmates, lovers and friends.

what i’m saying is that you don’t have to like jane and rafael. but i wish there was more respect for the fact that their relationship is tied to a long and well loved culture. and they themselves are an ode to a very well loved relationship in an already existing telenovela. jtv is a retelling/remake. them ending up together and their journey getting there was made for a latino audience first and foremost, who (mostly) would know and understand the story in it’s messy glory. jtv is jane and rafael’s story, told by their son, with symbolism and foreshadowing the ENTIRE show. it is layered, and the opposite of “superficial.”

tdlr: they honor the telenovela couple by being messy, but they challenge them by always lovingly cleaning up that mess afterwards. and i love that. there’s nothing wrong with loving that.

[geejaysmith]

Wolf 359 Classpects, pt. 1

Soooo, while I was still busy with the last few weeks of my summer internship, I did keep thinking about classpecting the Wolf 359 cast. Possibly too much, because it wouldn't leave me alone until I'd solved my own God Tier riddle. Unfortunately, it got really long in the solving because I have many Thoughts and want to share all of them, always, so uh, a complete Classpect Analysis of Wolf 359 will be in parts? This first one covers Eiffel's, Hera's, Lovelace's and Minkowski's aspects.

DOUG EIFFEL: An utter no-brainer; ya boi Dougie Fresh is a Breath player if I ever saw one. For Chrissakes, he's the communications officer, and the first one to start complaining about the monotony of being stuck in a deep space sardine can. Breath is associated with communication, freedom, openness, and change - "free as the breeze", you might think of it, but that also leads to Breath players having trouble pinning themselves down to anything. They get skittish if they feel pinned down, and frustrated when stuck in place. Doug's noncommittal aloofness, the way he's off in his own little world (partially to hide from the fact he really does not like himself very much at all), and the way he's incorporated media into his self-perception all match pretty well with John and the Nitrams. But at the same time, he's the one playing mediator even as early as The Sound And The Fury. Being largely outside of the War Industrial Complex the other characters are so familiar with and thus mostly free from its dogmatic worldview of hierarchy and order, he's becomes the One Sane Man when he's the one to shout "what is WRONG with you people?" when "murder" shows up in the top 3 potential solutions to a problem, and he has no hesitation in saying what's on his mind. And it's not all complaints and bad ideas, either; he's got whole speeches telling the others how amazing he thinks they are and how in awe he is of their skills. A key catalyst in the plot of Wolf 359 is the reaching effects of his radio broadcasts. Also, there's something hilarious to the fact that for the aspect associated with communication, Doug *literally* cannot lie to save his life. I kept my ears open for the infamous Breath Hex on my second listen - that is, the strange little way in which things Breath players say tend to come to pass in reality. Cigarette Candy is basically 20 straight minutes of the Decima virus being Breath Hexed into existence, and he guessed Lovelace's situation in one - "Maybe she's a clone, or like a *really* good robot replica."

HERA: Another easy one. Although Hera is resistant to splintering as we've come to recognize it, Heart players are nothing if not determined to be an individual. They have a firm idea of themselves as a person and defend it fiercely, including compartmentalizing away pieces that don't fit their self-image. Maybe less actively putting them down like Jade Harley did to Jadesprite (the manifestation of the negative feelings she repressed out of fear they'd make her less useful) - that would mean attacking or denying a part of themselves - and more... "why yes, I put this part of myself in this box, and I may look at the box on occasion, the box definitely exists, but I don't go near the box and I definitely do not touch or open or interact with the box. And then one day, I will die." So that piece finds other avenues to express itself because it can't not do that. Hera's programming dictates she be "chipper and non-confrontational and always ready to help", but she actively resists being a mere utility and always has - her earliest know action was to attempt a jailbreak of the manufacturing facility she was made in, born rebel that she is. She will insist upon her name over her serial number unless you force her not to, and gets passive-aggressive at people treating her like a machine. And yet, even as she teaches herself to ignore commands literally written into the base of her personality, she doesn't reject her directive to be helpful, nor does she express a wish to be a flesh-and-blood human, or even really to have a physical form? She has a human self-image in mental spaces (we presume, I will semi-seriously point out there's nothing definitively stating she doesn't see herself as like, her fursona or something), but when she has to limit herself to a human-like view of the ship, her immediate reaction is "this is weird, I don't like it."  This is honestly something about Hera that I think may be unique among non-villainous AI characters; she seems to be content with being what she is in general, and she just wishes for people to treat her as a person and not a piece of equipment they can do with as they please.  

ISABEL LOVELACE: Arm-wrestled Hera for the Heart aspect and lost, despite Hera not actually having any arms, but that's okay because there's two aspects that fit her much better: Blood and Time. I ultimately went with Blood.

This is the part where you notice I'm onto the third of four characters in an aspects-only meta post, yet there is still a lot of post to go. This is because These Kinds Of Characters, the sort that're constantly on emotional lockdown, are a Challenge Mode, and for me to truly be satisfied with my classification I have to start drilling into the bedrock of what it even means to have an aspect in general, what it means to have a specific aspect, and what each aspect is really about. When you're on that level you tend to find yourself throwing out explicit expositional statements as incomplete, oversimplified, or unreliable, and looking at the text directly with a subtextual electron microscope. Brace yourselves. I have thrown the author out of the airlock, and I am about to get verbose.  

Lovelace's character sheet describes her in contradictions, and we get to see two different sides to her that resolve into the complete picture by the time Lovelace Mk. III wakes up. There's Captain Isabel Lovelace, goofing around in her earlier logs, and The Terminator. She does things Her Way and is very much prepared to fight you if you object - the whole reason she was picked for the Hephaestus mission was her willingness to go against (in her words) "stupid orders" and do what she thought was right. She's also fiercely loyal; The Terminator is the end result of her anger and grief for her lost crew and at her failure to get them home alive. Her backstory episode has her summing up her complicated relationship to the Air Force with "I owe a lot of who I am to them." And even before she and Minkowski have completely stopped butting heads, Lovelace shoves her out of the way of an exploding wall panel that would've killed her, and takes a near-fatal bit of shrapnel to the gut in the process. At her best, Lovelace is a fearless, boundlessly determined, dedicated firebrand of a leader. At worst, she can be impatient, stubborn, shortsighted, and ruthless. I dunno about you but that reminds me of a certain... angry crab that I know.

"Time" was what a few people chimed in with for Lovelace and while I see some of the connections (her awareness of the time loop, "Variations on a Theme", her multiple selves and multiple deaths, the repeated motif of clocks and pocketwatches) I don't think she quite fits in with the other Time players. Unlike most Time players, she doesn't have a fixation with historic context, the "Why Things Are The Way That They Are." This manifests in Dave's paleontology and his taking of source material for ironic twisting, Aradia's archaeology and knowledge of The Nature Of The Game, Damara's... /noises and vague gestures bc I don't want to go back through Meenahbound but her role as The Handmaid fits the pattern, and Caliborn's own warped, thoughtless replication of narrative archetypes. Context. Decisions. What came before and how it shapes the now, where your decisions will take it from here. The consequences those decisions will have. The details versus the larger picture. Even failure has its place in that scheme - that's the Time aspect. Lovelace doesn't like to dwell, she's a very "barrelling forward momentum" kind of person.

Side note: Aradia, Dave, and Damara all face hesitation to take action they had to learn to overcome. Also, all of them had to be pushed to use violence except in self-defense; Aradia let Vriska cross a series of lines before beating the everloving shit out of her, and Damara snapped after what, years? Of Meenah's abuse. Dave, on the other hand, never raises a hand to another person except as a complete necessity. Caliborn is, if anything, an aberration here in that he's outright homocidal and self-doubt is something that happens to other people. Caliborn is an outright aberration to a lot of Time player patterns, and to SBURB in general, because it's SBURB, so the rules are made up and the points don't fucking matter, except when they do, because Fuck You, The Author Said So.

No, Lovelace's approach to decision-making is that regrets are for afterwards, and "if I fail I deserve to be out of this picture; also, this situation has gone entirely pear-shaped, time to fling myself into the sun." (and that sounds an awful lot like someone that I know very well, but I'll deal with that royal mess when I get to the crazy whamma-jamma that is Classes). Impatience and railroading of other people can be her undoing just the same as assertiveness and decisiveness are her gifts.

...aaand then I went ahead and watched the live episode and yeah, major Karkat vibes there. However, I note that I don't believe we have ever hit hard evidence in Homestuck that Blood players are capable of Chilling The Fuck Out - this is part of the limitations of classpecting characters who weren't made for this system, you really have to dig into how much of their behavior is situational and where you see the kernel of individual perception shine through, the Rosetta Stone by which you begin to see the constants. "Where the object becomes the subject", to quote Memoria.

Finally, I think it's also worth noting that while Lovelace has a lot of connections to Time motifs, she also has connections to a lot of Blood motifs that arguably become more important to her story. Personal bonds and social justice are two of the Blood aspects strongest associations - see Lovelace's loyalty to her crew, and extending her desire to avenge them out to everyone Goddard Futuristics has ever used and tossed aside. The physical body and literal blood are other strong associations, and gee, how many times does the O-negative Cure-All Alien Juice in Lovelace's veins become a critical plot point? Not to mention the implication that her new friends all pulled through the finale because all of them now have her blood in their system. I'll accept that she's closer to the line between Blood and Time than some, but I'm holding by ground here: 

(Also, here's some irony for you, she may share an aspect with the Cancer trolls, but her birthday is August 11th, making her a Leo.)

RENEE MINKOWSKI: Minkowski was the hardest of these 4 to come to a decision on. My first inclination was Mind. Her general disposition put me in mind of a Life player. But then, I sat down and thought my way past the Commander's layers of emotional armor and ultimately settled on Light.

First off, by being a stickler for protocol and procedure as well as an Actual Responsible Adult, Minkowski is a kind of character that Homestuck straight-up just does not have, so snap judgements aren't gonna cut it here.  This is, again, another limitation of the classpecting system - all the examples we have to draw from are teenage disasters stuck in a lawless hellscape of some description or another, and written by an author allergic to boxing himself in with hard conclusions. But I digress.

Commander Minkowski is also stubborn. When she sets her mind to something, she digs in her heels, cranks the dial to 11, and then breaks off the knob and pockets it so you can't turn it back down. We see this as soon as episode 2, and at it's most hyperbolic when she Captain Ahabs the plant monster. Her's is iron-willed, bloody-minded, unstoppable, Determi-fucking-nation - when she sets her mind to it.

The submarine thought exercise is what had me initially lock her down as a hero of Mind before I mulled it over. The exercise is meant to provoke thought about priorities - what you think your role's purpose is in that situation will determine your priorities, and thus, your decisions. Mind heroes' most prominent skills are in riding the flow of causality, watching decisions, their causes and their consequences, and directing that path. They know people, and how to direct people. But the need for this means that they can get a little co-dependent. Other people are understandable - it's themselves that Mind heroes have the greatest struggle with. Without that vehicle of another person, Mind heroes may find themselves adrift and struggling to define themselves. This is fitting, given Mind is the most direct counterpart to the Heart aspect.

However, upon further examination, I found that this framework of priorities setting your decisions can also be extended to the Light aspect. What is "lucky" in a given situation? What do you define as a fortunate outcome? Rose arguably gets Grimdark'd by something like this, she asks the cue ball "are the horrorterrors evil?" and in doing so attempts to pry into the motivations and intent of *indescribable eldritch beings existing on a nigh-incomprehensible plane* and wedge it down into a relative human understanding of morality, which is sort of like trying to fit the Pacific Ocean into a water bottle. She was trying to deduce what impact the horrorterrors would have upon her and her friends, but asked the wrong question and got an answer she couldn't handle. She didn't recognize Doc Scratch was baiting her into this by leading her into a specific framework through which to ask the question. Vriska died because of her failure to recognize she was in a situation where luck didn't matter. Aranea got trounced because of her inability to recognize that reshuffling reality to prioritize herself and her preferred outcomes still didn't overcome the fundamental nature of timelines - you try to take over the alpha timeline with an insubordinate branch? That's a doomed timeline no matter how you slice it, and we know what happens to those. Luck and knowledge are both used by the Light-bound to give themselves power, whether in showing themselves off as The Smart One or the The Helpful One or The Unstoppable One, but their limited viewpoint often leads them to overlook the limitations of their own framework, or in other words, missing the bigger picture. I'll point out here also how Minkowski has the entire DSSPPM memorized and is the one who wants to get to the bottom of whatever the hell is really going on up at Wolf 359. Additionally, one of her other ambitions, at least once upon a time, was writing musicals. The verbal arts are one of the domains of Light players.

So while on the surface, Minkowski bears the most resemblance to a Life player, Life players tend to have an element of conformity to them. Unquestioned assumptions they've internalized have about the context in which they exist. Light heroes, on the other hand, need conformity so they have something to defy when they jump up and down screaming LOOK AT ME!  

So after much pontificating, I came to a decision. In the end, what Minkowski wanted more than anything else was a stage. Maybe to direct rather than hold the spotlight, but still; that's a Light hero if ever I saw one.

[positivlyfocused]

Prison: The Best Place To Destroy Ignorance

Everyone will realize true freedom when they die. They return to nonphysical. From there they see all their worries and concerns were about nothing.

Sometimes, people get that before they die. Realization comes at different times for different people. You might have an argument with your spouse, for example. You might become awakened in prison. Or it might come through repeated experiences. Experiences repeating because you’re not getting the message.

Perry is telling more of his stories now. But we'll still chime in from time to time. Today, we are sharing what happened when Perry recently had all three of these.

His story shows how your larger self (that's us to Perry) organizes life so you can let go of beliefs holding you back. For Perry, letting go sometimes takes longer than we’d like.

He comes around eventually. Sometimes, as you'll read, we go through extraordinary measures to get him there. He can be stubborn.

Hard Times Are Unnecessary. But They Serve A Purpose

Perry and his wife have been strained as of late. His wife is exasperated with Perry's focus on everything other than creating an income. It's been a while. To Bridget, his wife, it's been too long.

Bridget knows, as Perry does, whatever a person puts their attention on enlarges. Even if what you're attending to is something you don't want.  Such as your spouse not bringing in an income, that thing will get bigger. Or in this case, take longer.

Sometimes, people don't get the message until the circumstance gets unbearably difficult. This was the case with Perry's wife. She was beside herself in frustration. In literal agony at times. And she took it out on Perry.

But Perry, knowing what he knows ignored his wife's protests. He has seen too much evidence what he's doing is working. “Working" meaning leading to more and more prosperity, plenty and joy for him, but also for his wife. Even though that doesn’t include manifested income...yet.

So when her frustration boils over, Perry goes Missing in Action (MIA). He gets as far from her as he can. Until the boiling stops.

Sometimes that’s a long time.

· · ·

Several weeks ago, things came to a head. Bridget was trying to use her anger and frustration to goad Perry.  She hoped that would get her what she wanted: for Perry to get a job.

Goading is a terrible way to get what you want from someone. The person digs in their heels. You get more frustrated. Nobody wins.

Perry wasn’t changing course anyway. Instead, he let her know what we had been telling him all along:

From Perry's perspective, he is 100 percent responsible for how his wife is treating him. In fact, as we have said to him, his wife's anger and frustration about his lack of income is a reflection in Perry's physical reality of his own beliefs about money, success prosperity and how to get it.

Everything in Perry's reality reflects back to him his own beliefs about reality. Including how other people treat him.  Perry is long down that path of getting that. But he’s not an expert yet.

Yet, when Perry realized his wife’s frustrations reflected back his own, he shared it with his wife. That created a breakthrough for her.

The next day, Perry's wife sent the following:

^^ Wisdom seeming coming “coincidentally”. But it wasn’t coincidence.

This card is part of a deck Perry's wife bought that day. Buying the deck was an act inspired by her larger perspective. They were communicating a way out of her frustration and pain and struggle. A way that didn’t rely on Perry doing anything different.

After getting that message, things between Perry and his wife have been on the mend. The story isn’t over. But for now, some peace has returned.

· · ·

To get where he wants financially, Perry must let go of past hurts and transgressions. Hurts and transgressions he believes his wife caused him.Afterall, everything his wife “did to him” is a reflection of something going on inside Perry. It’s hard to hear when you’re on the receiving end of what you think is vile behavior from someone who says they love you.

But it’s 100 percent accurate. How someone treats you reflects something going on inside you.

An Miff Over Text Sets It Up

Some time back, a friend of Perry's sent him an email. This friend met someone while recording a podcast about entrepreneurs in prison. This person, let's call her Joy, is transgender. This friend thought she'd make a great guest for Perry's YouTube show.

So Perry got this email in his inbox.

He set up time to visit Joy in prison.

The day of the visit came. Perry got ready. When he got in the car, which he and his wife share, the tank was on empty. One day late last year, when Perry left the car in a similar state, his wife raked him over the coals. He had a reasonable explanation. But she wasn’t having it. When a person rakes you over the coals, especially disproportionate to your “offense”, there is always something more going on than what you’ve done.

In Perry’s case back then, Bridget’s anger comprised all her frustration with Perry over the years. And her own personal issues which were particularly strong that day. But Perry too played a role in that. His focus on his wife’s negativity is well-practiced. So his focus momentum matches both Perry and Bridget when they’re not at their best. Relationships are always 100 percent. Each party is 100 percent responsible for what’s happening.

Perry was holding onto that past empty-tank raking over the coals experience. So when he saw the tank was near empty, two things happened.

One, he didn't get mad, which was good. But he didn't think about what he did next. Well, he thought about it. But not long enough to avoid doing what he did. What he did was send his wife a picture and text message:

He was not mad. But he couldn't let go of what happened before. He still held onto his anger and outrage that his wife would get so bent out of shape over something so trivial. He didn’t realize there was more behind her frustration than an empty gas tank.

So he sent this text out of his past hurt and frustration.

Like Perry had, Bridget too had a good reason for leaving the car empty. Perpetrators have reasonable explanations. Reasonable for them. Not the “victim”: the person who now must put gas in the tank.

Perry went to fill the tank, then headed to prison. Little did he know he was already imprisoned. Imprisoned by his old ways of thinking and being. Thankfully, that was about to change.

A Big Surprise Behind Bars

Perry has never been to actual prison. The experience fascinated him. He checked in, got a visitor badge. He had to leave his phone in the car. He also had to dress a certain way. He needed to stand out from inmates, in case there was a problem.

People’s kindness on the inside surprised him. Unlike the movies, people were friendly and conversational. Security was there, but minimal.

Joy participates in a special discussion group. It was the only time Perry and Joy could meet. Perry hoped Joy would be an open book as a guest. He knew she’d have great stories. But he didn’t know if Joy would be willing to share them.

What happened next blew his mind.

Inmates filed into the chapel's meeting room. About six, all men except Joy and Perry’s escort.

The escort also leads the discussion. She briefly mentioned Perry then asked people to introduce themselves. That’s when it happened.

Each person, to a person talked about “insights" they were getting. They talked about realizing their thoughts create their reality. Each described how calm and peaceful their lives became from participating in the group.

"What is this group?” Perry thought.

It’s called Insight Alliance. Group members take part in experiential learning. They talk about taking responsiblity for creating their reality. And how that reality shows up from the thoughts they think. Thoughts that if left unchecked, will run amok. Which create lives run amok.

Not only did this surprise him, but Perry also felt self-conscious. That’s because he realized something sitting there listening to the inmates. He wasn't taking responsibility for thoughts creating the reality that is his wife.

Perry was chagrined (I was!).  "If people in prison were realizing their reality is their creation, taking responsiblity for that and letting go of the past, what excuse do I have?” He thought. "Why am I holding on to something Bridget did months ago?"

When his turn came, Perry gave a lengthy self-introduction. Including information about the economic system he expects will replace capitalism in the future, his work with the transgender community and his blog Positively Focused. He didn’t mention the epiphany he had just had.

Then the meeting got underway.

While listening, Perry also saw that "inmates” are people. They are smart. They are thoughtful. They’re not bad. Perry’s preconceived notions evaporated.

And, Joy turned out to be just that. Perry was right: she had a ton of great stories. And, she said, she is an open book. Totally willing to share pretty much everything.

But wait! We’re not finished. More surprises were in store.

^^Perry in prison having an epiphany

The Best Conversation About Capitalism Happened In Prison

After 70 minutes or so, the sharing petered out. That's when one inmate said something Perry wasn't expecting.

"I am dying to hear about this new economic system of yours," he said.

All eyes were on him.

"Go ahead," his escort said. “Tell us. I'm dying to know too!"

What followed was one of the most inspiring, fulfilling conversations about Perry's idea.

He described how the system works. Then participants started telling Perry how it would work under various scenarios. Everyone was leaning in. They talked about how the transition could happen. How raw materials and supplies used to make things would be given to people making things (at no cost to anyone). How everyone on the planet could get their food, clothing, shelter, all their education, and all their healthcare at no cost to anyone...with no one footing the bill for those things. And how all that could transform life on Earth.

One guy didn't get it. He dreams of becoming a rancher. He couldn't understand how anyone would give him cows for free to ranch. The others tried explaining, but he couldn't put it together in his head.

Still, Perry's surprise was obvious. Never had a group got possibility so fast. And these were inmates, Perry thought.

By the time Perry got to his car, he felt far different about inmates. He also felt different about his wife. So he sent this:

Your reality reflects your beliefs. This happens so you can expand into greater harmony with your larger perspective. That is what life is all about.

Perry's day in prison shows how we coordinate events so he can see what he can't see. Many humans can't see what's happening inside them. And they don't know why physical reality exists. So the go through their lives significantly handicapped.

Being Positively Focused brings back ability. You start seeing life as it's mean to be seen. From that, you can live as intended. With joy and real freedom.

It doesn’t matter when or where you are. Joy and freedom are available. Some people get it in prison. Some get it visiting prison. Others might get it fighting with their wife. Everyone gets it when they die.

But you don't have to wait until you die to get it. You can get it starting today.

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

a language that i never knew existed before - Day 15

For @varksvader, who asked for a modern AU “ where Rey and Ben come out of the movie theater, and one of them is highly emotional after watching it”.

This ended up becoming three times Rey and Ben come out of the movie theater and it’s the longest prompt fill so far, but I hope you like it all the same. Thank you for the prompt, and happy holidays!

If anyone else would like a Reylo ficlet of their very own this holiday season, I’m still accepting prompts!

25 Days of Reylo Also available on AO3

It’s her fourth time watching the movie, but Rey finds herself just as overwhelmed as she was the first time around. The last minute of the end credits is still rolling, a slow score pouring out of the speakers as she and Rose get up to join the crowd filing out of the theater in the kind of zombie-like crawl that’s to be expected after a midnight showing.

It’s that one precious moment between fantasy and reality, that small window of time after two hours of escapism and before real life returns with a vengeance, and Rey is content to savor it in silence until–

“A total and utter waste of time,” a man boldly proclaims in a sharp accent as he and his friend join the line, exiting from the aisle just above her and Rose. “At least the originals had a proper villain instead of this wannabe–”

Before Rey can lunge forward and correct the shallow idiot, a hand wraps around her forearm and holds her back with surprising strength. “Don’t,” Rose mutters as her blunt fingernails dig into Rey’s skin. “Just… let it go, okay? They’re probably just casual viewers who don’t know what they’re talking about anyway–”

“I can’t believe they threw away decades of expanded universe lore for this bullshit,” the man’s companion agrees, his voice heavy with disdain. “Kylo Ren is probably just based off one of the writer’s Sith personas from when they were thirteen or something,” he scoffs dismissively just as the group of them step into the blinding lights of the outside world, and Rose wisely lets go of Rey’s arm with nothing more than a defeated sigh.

“Just don’t get us banned,” is her final request as Rey steps forward to tap the second man on his shoulder. He turns around without her having to speak up to get his attention, and regards her with a look that’s part wary, part weary as he crosses his arms over his surprisingly broad chest.

Rey should’ve seen that coming when she had to reach all the way up to tap his shoulder.

“Can I help you?” the man asks, and the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips is enough to snap Rey out of her observation of his dark locks and thick lips. She offers him a sickeningly sweet smile instead, one meant to unsettle rather than charm.

“Well, first of all, they didn’t throw away the whole EU,” Rey informs him, keeping her customer service smile on, “which you might’ve known if you had bothered to read the full announcement when it was released rather than skim the headlines and immediately head over to Reddit to whine with your fellow purists.”

The man’s hands fall to his side as his flame-haired friend with the grating, carefully affected accent continues to walk away, either not realizing that he’s leaving his companion behind or not caring.

“Second, Kylo Ren is nothing like Darth Vader because he’s not a Sith,” she points out a little smugly even as a part of her realizes she’s gaining steam a little too fast. “In fact, he’s not even fully Dark, which might be why he doesn’t check off all of your traditional, basic boxes of what a villain should look like. And by the way, hating Kylo Ren doesn’t make you a better fan than the rest of us; it just makes you one of the literal dozens of whiny gatekeeper fans I’ve had this conversation with in the last two weeks–”

“I don’t hate him,” the man cuts in quite unexpectedly. If anything, Rey had been prepared for a sneered dismissal of her as a fake fan; the explanation that follows instead is unlike any reaction she’s gotten over the past two weeks. “I think he’s an emotional mess and he makes for a weak villain, but as a character there’s obviously layers to uncover and room for him to grow so…” he trails off with a shrug that disturbs the hair resting on his shoulder and causes a thick lock of hair to flop into his face.

It’s… surprisingly adorable.

“Oh,” Rey mouths to herself, still trying to catch up to the fact that she’s no longer in attack mode. “Oh,” she repeats audibly, and then tentatively adds, “Actually, if you are interested in him, they released a pre-movie novel that covers his early childhood and some of the factors–”

“Solo!” the ginger friend snaps from down the hall, near the counter. “Please don’t tell me you’ve gotten into a debate with your fellow nerds, I simply don’t have the patience for this childishness–”

“Fuck off for one minute, Hux,” her unexpected stranger calls back with a dismissive wave of his hand before turning back to Rey. “So I, um, I’ve got to go but… would you maybe want to talk about this some other time? You seem like you actually know your shit, and believe it or not, the Reddit purist crowd gets kind of annoying after a while,” he grins, as if she hadn’t lumped him in with them just minutes ago.

Rey doesn’t usually like surprises – a childhood filled with instability and unexpected changes will do that to you – but something in her gut tells her that this man might just change that.

Gut feelings – now those she likes and trusts. So against all reason, Rey holds out her hand and says, “Give me your phone, I’ll give myself a call and we’ll see how I feel about this in the morning.”

She texts him a list of pre-movie reading material as soon as she gets home.

“I’m just saying,” Rey shrugs as they walk out of the second movie two years later, hand-in-hand like the touchy-feely couple they’ve been for the past eighteen months, “I called it right from the start. Rendemption, here we come!” she declares a little too loudly for the rest of the midnight crowd, judging by their glares.

Or maybe they’re just the kind of haters she would’ve gotten into a fight with two years ago, and it’s only her giant hulk of a boyfriend that’s keeping them from debating her now.

“Okay, so maybe he’s not as hopeless as I thought he was,” Ben concedes with a soft smile that doesn’t belong on the face of someone who’s just lost a long-standing disagreement with his gloating girlfriend. But then again, Rey’s always gotten the feeling that Ben has been rooting for Kylo to turn his life around just as much as she has; maybe even more, given the parallels he sees between them that he’d once confided in her about.

She stops short just outside of the doors, much to the displeasure of the other grumbling moviegoers, and pulls Ben aside. “Hey,” Rey says gently, reaches up with her free hand to cup Ben’s jaw. “No one’s hopeless. Not Kylo Ren,” she whispers, lets it linger for a beat before she works up the nerve to add, “and definitely not you.”

There’s a terrible beat of silence, a moment suspended in time as their lives fork out into two paths, and Rey has no way of knowing which one they’re taking until–

Ben smiles, turns to press his lips to her palm. “You’re my own personal Kira, aren’t you?” he murmurs gently, bringing his other hand to rest over hers. “The only one who believes in me no matter what.”

Rey nods and stretches up on her tiptoes to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Does that mean you’ll leave the past behind for me?” she paraphrases the movie, hiding her nerves behind a teasing note.

It’s been two months since he left Snoke’s company, two months of him trying to decide if he wants to keep going down the dark road he was on when they first met or if it’s time for him to reclaim old noble intentions which have been gathering dust ever since Snoke hired him right out of law school.

“It means I’d give you the whole galaxy if I could,” Ben promises her with that boyish smile of his that lights up her world and warms her from the inside.

“I don’t need the galaxy,” Rey tells him as she draws the hand still in hers around her waist instead and tucks herself against his side as they begin to walk again. “Just you.”

Ben laughs quietly, his warm breath tickling the shell of her ear before he presses a kiss to her temple. “Sweetheart, you’ve had me since the very first moment.”

They linger in their seats long after the music ends and the screen goes dark, taking some time to process the end of the trilogy that’s come to mean so much to them.

“Ready?” Rey eventually asks when she notices that they’re the last ones left, and Ben merely replies with a nod and a squeeze of her hand as he helps her up and they begin to leave the darkened hall behind.

“God, that was perfect,” she sighs as they leave the theater, disposing of her empty extra-large popcorn bucket before she turns to Ben to see if he’s smiling as hard as she is now.

He’s not.

In fact, Ben’s the farthest thing from smiling right now, what with his bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“Baby!” Rey gasps in concern, doing her best to reach up and cup his face with both hands. “What is it, is something wrong–”

Ben turns into her touch, nuzzles her palm before he reaches up to take her hands in his and lower them back to their sides. “It’s okay,” he assures her after a beat, and Rey watches with slow-dawning relief as his lips curve into a smile. “It’s okay, I’m okay,” Ben says with a little laugh, a confusing note of wonder in his voice.

“Then why…?”

“I just… you were right, it was perfect,” Ben agrees with a sigh of his own. “And seeing Kylo at the end there, with Kira by his side and their whole lives ahead of them… I guess it just reminded me of how far we’ve come and how lucky I am,” he shrugs, still wearing that beatific smile that reminds her of the one he’d worn as he watched her walk down the aisle towards him.

“Oh, Ben,” Rey says softly, shakes her head with a fond smile before she tips her chin at him in a gesture he’s grown all too familiar with in the last few months of her pregnancy. At eight months, it’s gotten significantly harder for her to reach up on her tiptoes; any vertical kissing is only made possible by Ben bending all the way down to meet her.

It seems like a waste for all that effort on his part to result in a chaste peck, but they are still in public.

“Let’s get you home, Mrs. Solo,” Ben murmurs against her lips before he stands upright and wraps a protective arm around her.

Rey leans into him with a sigh, rests her head on his shoulder as Ben shuffles them forward. “I say this with all the love in my heart,” she prefaces as they step out into the chilly December night, “but I can’t believe I’m the pregnant one yet you’re the one who cried over a movie.”

Ben huffs as he pulls the keys out of his back pocket and unlocks the car parked just a few feet down the street; he’d waited nearly half an hour to get a spot right outside for her sake. “Hey now, you know better than anyone else that Star Wars isn’t just a movie to us.”

It really, really isn’t. They’d met because of these movies, bonded and fallen in love over them, used their understanding of these fictional characters as a shorthand to communicate their deepest fears and wildest dreams with each other. Every fiery defense of Kylo Ren that Rey has ever delivered was in part inspired by and meant for Ben, and it was his chance at redemption that helped Rey finally convince Ben that there’s no such thing as the point of return.

In a way, Star Wars is as real to them as anything they’ve actually lived through, as fundamental to their relationship and their life together as any other experience they’ve shared.

Hell, if it weren’t for these movies, they might never even have met.

Rey places a hand over her stomach, thinks of everything she’s been blessed with ever since a chance meeting at a midnight showing of a sci-fi movie about space and lasers and hope.

“Yeah,” she tells her husband as he helps her into the passenger seat and carefully secures the seat belt over their daughter. “Yeah, it’s definitely more than just a movie.”

This is more than two thousand words. I don’t even know what happened, you guys; I sat down to write two ficlets and ended up spending all my time on just one. This isn’t even a ficlet anymore, technically.

But... I’m kinda happy with it? It’s not perfect, far from my best work, but it ended up closer to my original outline than anything else I’ve written recently, so I’m okay with it. I hope you are too. Thanks for reading, and please don’t hesitate to like/reblog/comment!

[donnnoir]

Dallas, TX                                                                          June 30, 2019

Well Friend’s, although currently I suspect there are no readers of my crude blog.  Other than those that may have an interest from the Shadow Government’s perspective.  They always keep tabs and monitor my actions and interactions at large or singular.  An annoying fact of Life as me.  So hopefully at some point and time in the future an interested party will have numerous pages to sort through.  I am trying to get all my material under one or two roofs / forums which can and are accessible to everyone.  At least that is my hope and the intention of all this.  Granted it also allows me an outlet to vent some of my frustrations and the various events, occurrences and histories with this and more that I have Lived and experienced throughout my Life.  Now in such a spirit I am posting a electronic log entries after I arrived back in Austin TX, following the events I experienced in Southern California.  Which events culminated in my being shot twice in my left leg and subsequently ran over by an F-350 dually pick-up, running me over from toes to my head being dragged under the dual tires on the driver’s side of the vehicle.  Needless to say it was an interesting evening.  I was run over on East Anaheim St. about one hundred feet from the intersection with North Henry Ford Ave., on the south bound side of East Anaheim heading back toward Long Beach, I believe the location is still in Wilmington. With the location of my being shot some distance from there and that being approximately 325 North Lecouvreur Ave., Wilmington.  These events happened on or around the 5th of March 2018.  I was transported to St Mary’s Hospital at 1050 Linden Ave. Long Beach, CA..

The following are a series of electronic entries to an ad hoc journal at the time.  I Post this ad hoc journal in its raw form, the only editing being for the most part that of correcting some of the major spelling mistakes.  Hopefully I  have retained the jagged nature of my mind set at the time.  I freely admit that upon my return from California for the first time in my life I was showing signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.   I still have on occasions bouts associated to this PTSD.  I trust as coming events unfold and I have New Obstacles and Challenges to focus my attention and thereby forestall the elements of the Disorder.  Thus I Post this warts and all.  Without regard to its chronological or content of order. Because of this I will no doubt be covering much of the data, information and stories at a later Posting.  I will also be Posting the images of my hand written journal, as the loose leaf entries that I have adopted as my handwritten format.  Since every log or journal I have started has been stolen repeatedly.  So I now write on whatever loose leaf papers I have before me in the moment.  I hope to Post those as packaged folders Postings in their chronological order.  There is a degree of overlapping entries between this Posting and those of my handwritten entries.  Bear that in mind should you actually elect to read all of these.  Most of the entries some date and location headers.   I hope that in doing this that no seeming contradictions arise, especially since I am the source.  I welcome any inquires from any reader of my material.  Thus I submit the following:

Welcome, seems it has come to this. I am going to attempt to compose my thoughts and histories via electronic medium. My reservations must give way to practical realities. Not to mention the fact that each and every one of my previous logs / journals has been stolen from me. A immensely annoying recurring theme.

Thus I am going to try and make a virtual journal. Presumably I will augment this with the additional paper journal. Which will then be uploaded into a file of images. The hope being the combination will effectively accomplish the task. Towit that of providing a record of my life including events in the extreme. Additionally I wish to leave behind in some convoluted fashion my diverse understanding of things. By far I would consider the latter to be a far greater contribution to the brain wealth of humanity. I would like to think that should any of this writing come to light. It does so some time in the future . When the more fantastic elements can be seen in historical context. Such that what would otherwise be seen as speculative ventures into science fiction writing, will be known as simply fact. Because believe me when I say I truly wish and hope to be / will be wrong, regarding that which is to come. For a change!

Sigh… I must take a break, now. Necessity requires I consider many issues, not the least of which is where to start, and how best to proceed. Besides the fact I have not developed the requisite manual dexterity to type with my thumbs.

Monday July 2, 2018 … Killeen Texas

Sigh… damnit all to hell! I am having one of those rare days when I feel anxious, overwhelmed to the point of feeling trapped. I do not know if it is possibly PTSD related. I suppose I have to accept that as a issue with in me from now till the day I die. Regrettable not to mention humiliating for me. Granted, I suspect that the the cannabis Jade bought had a little something extra in it. So she could anesthesias more effectively giving her a reprieve from the increased infra-sound, ultrasound, microwave along with the entirety of the electromagnetic emissions I am at present enduring. I am concerned for her and her son Joey's well being. Despite her being one of the girls / operatives / victims of our government’s illegal covert initiatives know as MK Ultra. She is a bundle of contradictory issues and personalities. Your typical Golem. Her biological father is Warren Causey. He was George Bush Sr. right hand even prior to Sr becoming head of the Central Intelligence Agency. Causey was Sr's go to man for wet works and deep black bag operations. Especially if the back side had a tail which could be exploited for control of any or all parties involved. Causey is a true satanist and worse. He recently developed a rapid onset of Alzheimer’s. Not quite as sever as my own father and name sake Donald Paul Williams. But the timing of both though separate is suggestively coincidentally to events associated to me and those involved in FOXing me. I suspect brother Magnus of being petty. Grinding and hammering on old grudges. Along with becomingly increasingly punitive in operational objectives concerning breaking me to the point of my “losing” it. At which point and time my only anticipated options would be to appeal to their overview and / or full capitulation to their agendas. Thus far I have successfully thwarted their attempts. Yet it has come at an immense cost to me, across the board. Okay in anticipation that I may never acquire the journal I started last year upon my departure from Long Beach, California. A long walk beginning by The Queen Mary and which ultimately landed me in Salt Lake City, Utah. It is becoming increasingly incumbent that I reiterate elements I previously wrote down back then. You would think it would be a simple straightforward process. Naturally such is not the case, for a variety of reasons. Not the least of which are context and my desire to avoid sounding narcissistic, or worse disillusion. Yet failing to do so will ultimately end in me portraying myself as such, even more so. Besides I really hate repeating myself, sorta a pet peeve of mine.

To the uninitiated this is going to sound ludicrous and insane. However, any comprehensive primer would require volumes of esoteric information, along with accompanying commentary and should include appropriate citations. All from tomes that are closely guarded. That I am denied access to permanently and utterly. Thus it is best to proceed directly into the matter wading through the initial convolution, realizing by degrees it will work out becoming about as clear as mudd. The luciferains according to their Canon refer to me as “The Dark One”. It is an appellation pulled directly from their actual scripture as initially iterated  to Cain from lucifer, himself.

Obviously atheist may take exception to these concepts, especially the language used. There is not much I can say in response to their misgivings. Because their beliefs lack the framework from which to attach this model. Hell most individuals beliefs also in like fashion lack similar mental framework. Yet most have allowances or the tools where with the modular architecture of their minds are able to “build out” an additional wing to the mansion in their minds which houses their understanding of “reality”. At the very least they can entertain the blueprints to an “add-on” to their mansions. Similar to the operations of our minds “cognitive consistency”. Dr Richard Alan Miller is fond of noting “I would never have seen it if I hadn’t believed it”. Or by extended reference the belief that if you have enough information to postulate a coherent question, you already have enough to know the answer. You just have to convince yourself of it. The implications are profound. Stretching into metaphysics and the issues of faith preceding the miracle(s), and even magick! All topics I have and will continue to touch upon in my ramblings. But I go too far afield of my primary focus. Simply, I am The Dark One. This is both metaphoric and literal. For the few people whose sight allows them to to clearly see into the underlying spiritual realm of our world. Because all things that “are” where first created in spirit. Elsewise they would not exist or remain lifeless sterile elemental at best. There are also at worst case possibilities, but we will forego any such dialogue for the moment. Everything we see and interact with has a corresponding spiritual aspect providing impetus to the whole. Usually the spiritual aspect even resembles the physical expression, although at times the proportions differ. A fact that I know I will touch upon in other areas as topically necessitated. Nonetheless if one was to see our spirits they much resemble the physical form of our bodies, though a bit taller (note this is a foreshadowing hint, to a vastly different topic I Will Be Addressing. At times I may interject future foreshadowing hints, though sans the extensive explanations). Depending on the scope of vision applied a person may / can see many other things. For my current model I am going to stick to issues of direct correlation to what we perceive as the physical world.

Okay, yes I do know I tend to take a long round about, seemingly loquacious manner, almost tediously so in my explanations. This is due to the fact that words are nebulous, our ability to effectively communicate was fractured becoming compromised long ago. As a consequence, for clarity's sake I find this too wordy manner necessary to minimize confusion later in the discussion. By degrees we lose our way, or perpetuate our lost condition. Therefore it is by incremental degrees I am trying to more properly realign the various skewed beliefs we all hold. It is simple geometry, trigonometry or if you prefer vector math. If your initial bearing line is off by a few degrees, as you proceed further down its vector, or direction of travel where you end up will be considerably different than you meant to be. I wish to be aptly clear as to this fact early in my shared discourses.

Back to the proximate relationship of the spirit to our physical nature / condition. Also know that our spirits are gender specific. The entirety of humanity in this expressed Creation, the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve. Have migrated to this plane and place from Our Heavenly Home. That being a higher plane of existence, a organized realm of Love and Light. We, being all of us from Adam, Lilithe, and Eve till the last child of Eve is born, we are they that kept our first estate. Thereby earning both our right and place to be born here in this that by our common assent / consent / agreement we agreed would be real, thus we call it reality, simple. Wherefore, this being real by our mutual assent, means by extension that our actions here shall have real consequence to our station thereby effecting our progression. Those within Our Divine Family that rebelled and failing to reconcile back into the Family are denied participation in the progression of this estate and the subsequent assignments as to which paths we are to be assigned to in our individual journeys to progress back home.  Meaning, i.e. lucifer and the one third that fell (more properly “that were cast down”) with him. At times I will refer to lucifer as lucy or louie a small affectation I have over the years grown fond of as pet names for he who would seek dominion through his lies. Know that for my part I have always viewed our existence as an ongoing extension of the war in Heaven. Even as a toddler this was simply the nature of the world, in both a literal and metaphoric sense. Lucy is playing an end game gambit. As to our day to day offenses he for the most part cares little, seldom choosing to involve himself.  As I try to tell people; we can do bad all on our own, we don’t need the devil or louie's help. Matter of fact regrettably this particular Creation is an aberration. Most Creation’s do not have a Lucifer, who refuses to repent and reconcile, and worse yet becomes Satanish.  In so doing thereby becomes completely nonredeemable. Fit only to be cast out beyond the dark realms / dimensions. So far that not even a god could ever hope to make it back to Our Heavenly Home. Heady fanciful stuff, with a touch of discordance due to conflicting superlatives, I already know. From the presumed position of our understanding as a whole it is the best I can do with our shared mythos. The presumed contradictions fade as our understanding increases. Please accept I know little, next to nothing. What little I may grasp, has been fought hard to obtain over a tumultuous lifetime.

One of the hopeful eventualities concerning our collective situation in this Creation which I try to communicate to those that appear to show potential for understanding the following idea. Is that, Once we “eventually” progress through this Creation. As our then on going progression continues through multiple future Creations we will in all probability never encounter another such circumstance / Creation wherein any of those will again be with the added burden of a Satan / Lucifer persona to add complications to our individual, group, and familial progress. Who would threaten to usurp Creation from G-d and all of us. We can do bad all on our own. We really don’t require an objective excuse or archetype on which to pin our failings. If you are acquainted with the Book of Revelations, in its pages are the clues to understanding Lucy’s actual focus / agenda for our Creation. For we are eternal beings, Children of Divine Parentage. We live through infinite eternities, progressing and striving to Perfect Ourselves unto the Image of Our Heavenly Mother and Father. Now I sound like a some traveling revivalist preacher. Might as roll out the tent and tambourines, hahaha.

Wednesday July 4, 2018 – Killeen, Texas

Well happy 4th of July, U S of fucking A. Not to be cynical, but here we are celebrating another Independence Day in the Land of the Free. The irony is inescapable. Sadly too many individuals become distracted and lost in the perpetually shifting landscape of dysinformation. Yes the horrors these people revile against are very real and indefensible. Except in the losing of perspective, failing to see that these innumerable struggles are purposely being generated to engage the population to distraction. Usually these horrid distractions are set cross ways of social and cultural lines. This formulaic tactic is meant to ferment hostilities, hate and conflicts across the associated strata. This has been repeated throughout history to create wars, fracture our social structure, warp our values, and indoctrinate the population en mass with beliefs such as to reshape our view of reality shackling all of us to a diminished image and sense of self along with the entire human race. Once we accept this warped view as the archetypal potentiality of us all. We are guaranteed to sell ourselves and our brethren into slavery. In due course I will be discussing at length the geopolitical history within the framework of our limited knowledge of what we recorded since the flood. Rather what we have been permitted to know of said records. The fact that much as been redacted from the common brain trust passed on to us via academia. Those alabaster halls occupied by self appointed guardians of the approved versions of knowledge and information released to us vulgar unfortunate masses. So burdened, I shall pass this Holiday celebrating the antithesis of its traditions.

Continuing in the same vain as previously began prior to the day’s celebrations, in much the similarly convoluted fashion as before… I, The Dark One of Occultic Lore. I have been told; that I have done things no one in the history of the world has ever done previously. Personally I can only cite one quality as being demonstrative of such high praise. Though in all honesty I am more often than not being chastised for lacking focus, being lazy, acting the fool in the face of my enemies, or being cavalier in my affections, or placing myself at undue risk of life and limb, and the list goes on and on ad nauseaium.  This from the select few who know and understand who and what I am.  Those who may actually care about me, and would see me fulfill that which I have been foreordained to do whilst sojourning here. The totality of our circumstance here, now at this moment, we soon shall enter perhaps the most critical and precarious point of our history and that of this Creation.  I am all too well aware of this along with that which shall soon come to pass shortly.  This awareness, I experience across multiple vectors while being cognizant of a sea of permeations which ultimately stream toward a specific Crux in Our Familial Aggregation (I am trying to develop appropriate nomenclature – wherein I avoid certain more readily common labels or descriptors and/or appellations. Whose usage has been subverted into the double speak practiced by the various satanic and blood occultic families which run the world. Who have ritually (via trauma) conditioned and indoctrinated their acolytes, golems / victims to hear and respond to accordingly, never in a positive manner. Wherefore it is incumbent upon me whenever possible to avoid affirming these, even to the point of reinventing the ascribed nomenclature.) within this Creation. As a consequence I must stumble through idiomatic constructs, ungainly though they be. Believe me if you knew and understood the actualities ascribed to words and the double or multiple meanings applied to them within the Families. The evils, the pain, the denigration of the individuals / victims usually by those nearest them; ultimately by extension it eventually infects and corrupts societies unto the world at large.  You would weep an endless river of tears unto filling the seas, if you could see this in your minds eye properly.  As long as this perniciously malicious spiritual / familial / multi-generational / social / cultural pathogenic practice continues, our struggles will end in naught. Hence into this morass I must seek to keep my appointed task. How best to explain this? I have spent the majority of my life in the haze of denial.  Avoiding my differences.  Putting off my preparations for that which is to come.

Since approximately twenty four plus months prior to Operation Jade Helm our covert Intelligence apparati, including elements of the ruling shadow government began a concerted effort at Foxing me. The on set of Operation Jade Helm and its scope marked an exponential increase in expanded efforts against me.  Now, let me make clear Operation Jade Helm’s purpose was not solely to target me, there where many targets across the greater portion of the United States of America.  Death dealers and various squads of assassins executed / murdered an increasing number of American Citizens, most had been identified for some time to be exterminated.  Impunity seems to have become the operational by word.  The extremes demonstrated continuously since that time defy all reason. Defining the architects of this action as being criminals is almost quaint.  This level of criminal insanity goes beyond the point of being treasonous. With the majority of resource allocation comes from “military Intelligence” which then utilizes other military resources and supplies.  Thus it is that we have been duped into financing our own demise.

For purposes pursuant to their agendas, they have labeled me a domestic terrorist.  Thereby presumably justifying illegal exercises and persecution of my person.  Rationalizing by extension similar acts against my family and anyone I may care about and or Love. Death for them would be preferable to the horrors their personages have been and are being subjected. I know I sound ludicrously paranoid with delusions of grandeur in the extreme. Hahaha….  gosh how I wish, hope and pray such were the case. I make this record in defense of myself and my actions. Naturally I fear all my good intentions with their accompanying actions are for naught. I realize that upon my death as allotted to the sons of man, as to the first part, my character will be maligned in the worst manner possible.  A issue I will address at length later in this on going exposition of myself and my misadventures as they may be.

Thursday July 5, 2018.  Killeen Texas

Despite my misgivings it seems I survived all the pops and bangs of our nosiest of American Holidays. A joyous circumstance to be certain. From now till my last day of my allotted life as unto the children of men, my life hangs in the balance. The ante to live my life as it were.

My current accommodation over the past almost six weeks has been with an old flame and friend Jade Causey – Chamlee, and her 18 year old son Joey, whose given name was Freddie. Bless their souls for extending to my worn out arse a place to stay and recover. Regrettably my physical recovery is taking much longer than I anticipated. I am fully aware my expectations regarding the time necessary for a complete recovery was / were unreasonable. But I need to set the bar high to keep from being complacent. Now had my situation been inclusive of adequate financial resources I would be at least relatively close to my timetable. I would have had access to better medical, dietary, living and therapies. Hell my injuries would have been properly tended to at the hospital in my initial admittance. Instead I continued to be the object of curiosity and experimentation. With little consideration to trying to give me appropriate medical care. I have come to know what to expect, due largely to my younger brother's general attitude. Wherein he rationalizing what him and others do to me, as simply a matter of effect associated to the who and what I am. It is rationalized that if  I, Donn am this special chosen person than he/I should be able to survive everything, whatever it may be.  Because if he/I don’t than obviously he/I am not that special and thus not protected from on High.  Horrific logic used to rationalizing a growing list of atrocities committed against my person. A ugly fact of my reality, one I anticipated. What issues make this whole fucked up process unacceptable, malicious, acutely painful and unforgivingly egress is the manner by which they have targeted and used others. Especially my younger brother, father, son, Tiffany, Revaka, Heather, Angie and numerous others. They have been tortured, abused and treated as disposable commodities. All are scared and precious, some are very unique with abilities reaching into arenas not generally accepted or understood in today’s world view. Yet these individuals are denigrated, abused in some of the most deviantly sordid manners. Most are ultimately destroyed, first robbing them of their minds, bodies and in some final insult of their very souls. As it appears that they are being harvested for physical vehicles to have demons placed in their bodies. Yeah, I suppose I could say it in some sort of more politically correct parlance as “aliens” from a lower resonating dimensional reality / realm. Somehow I find that by doing so it fails to communicate the malicious evil inherent in the process. I find the old nomenclature to communicate the Truer meaning. Though some eras of our past carry their own obvious failings magnified exponentially by ignorance while fueled by misguided zealotry. They were not called the Dark Ages for nothing. Similarly different cultures, societies, periods, places and times have fallen to various abysses of Darkness. We have this false mental image of life on Our Earth proceeding in some linar fashion from primitive man (including Adam, for those of a theological inclination) struggling out of caves. Fighting against their own primitive brain / mind which was trapped in a diminished brain pan capacity from questing for fire against ignorance and superstitions. With us being the cumulative beneficiaries of this on going process. Peoples of those ancient times could not have been as intelligent as those today. Therefore they could not have grasped the concepts we do. Some of the most ridiculous fallacies of logic ever presumed to rationalizing and justify conduct or beliefs. Matter of fact the inverse is actually True. But what the fuck could I possibly know!

Sadly my frustrations are rearing their collective heads as it were in my writing. I wish I had been more diligent in securing my journal I started last year upon my departure from Long Beach towards Utah. I was more focused recording relavent issues in a contemporaneous fashion. Not to mention a considerable investment in explanations dealing with a variety of associated topics. Grrrrr… all I did then was walk and write. I may soon be in a recurrence of such, shortly. I can no longer abide where I am. All the more so under these conditions. Deep in my mind I am aware of happenings which require my attention. Not to mention my friend’s household is not psychologically conducive to my state of being. At least not in a healthy way, good intentions not with standing. My largest obstacle to my leaving believe it or not, is my need for acceptable footwear. Flip-flops aren’t going to cut it. Hell they are wholly inadequate to even walk just up the street a block or two. I must admit the sidewalks and streets of California were well suited for walking.

Monday July 9, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

As Pooh would be apt to say, “Oh bother”. I feel for the most part Tigger. Bouncing all about spinning, twisting, flipping… as well on my head as my tail. I am most acutely wanting to find my focus once again. My communication skills seem heavily compromised. Not that I was ever able to write as effectively as the great Nobel Laureates. Generally speaking I could at least maintain some linear cohesion in my writing.  Physically, emotionally, spiritually and mentally I am shaken.  Much as if my being was trapped in the tremors of advance Parkinson’s. In similar fashion my expressed thoughts and experiences lack focus, my abilities at lucidly articulating my larger life occurrences is choppy at best. Failure is NOT an option! No matter how I feel or how events are or may effect me, I must regain my composure and find my center. While reacquiring my skills of teaching and sharing what I have learned.  Please excuse me if I don’t edit the foregoing entries. As convoluted and murky as they may be, their relevance contemporaneously can not be diminished. Hopefully they will in due course provide a benchmark to juxtaposition future writings and notes thereby effecting a glimpse into my state of being at the time of writing.  Grrrrr…….

They have done a very good job of isolating me. All the more so, as I try to come to terms with the potential cost to those I would seek commerce with across all levels of our socioeconomic strata.  If what I endured while being the object of a Foxing protocol by our shadow government’s covert intelligence community are any indication. Anyone who associates with me, either at mine or their initiation is subject to become targeted for retribution as punishment to me. Too high a cost to blindly impart with out consideration to finding possible means of mitigation. Or at the very least terms whereby I am ultra selective with whom I interact. Along with the rationale for said interactions. Soon enough our social dependency will require I abandon all such pretext or attempts at shielding anyone from consequence. I fear that time shall be upon us/me far too soon. Perhaps I am again being exceedingly naive. My efforts are most probably for naught. An on the at large canvas of the bigger picture my presumption at damage control will only result in a larger area and impact of effect upon our society as a whole. Not that I am some savior or prophet, far from it actually. In the grander scale of things, I might best be referred to as a “wild card”.  Meaning that in any analysis of the interaction of variables, one may with a degree of certainty predict the outcome of any issue, contest, conflict even war. However should certain individuals or a very small dynamic group of individuals enter the forum. Suddenly the landscape of the matter shifts radically to the point that the original outcome no longer applies or is meaningful. We have numerous examples of such occurrences throughout our histories. Of salient import to us here in America is The Battle of Thermopylae, and the 300 Spartans. We all learned about continents in school. Did you ever notice that Europe and Asia were counted as separate despite being one land mass. The reason is that Western Culture and Asian (Oriental) Cultures being vastly different it was traditionally ascribed to them being two separate continents. We may naively presume to ridicule such a blatant indulgence as arrogance. Yet there are fundamental reasons for this error being valid. We as the heirs of Western Culture, need to understand the mythical / legendary impact of these distinctions upon our mameic memory, especially those of us of the West. From Greece to Rome, then following our Angelo – Dutch (Iberian) roots it is transmitted to us. The importance and permanent impact of the actions and sacrifice of Leonidas and 300 Free Spartans against over a 1,000,000 servile basically slaves to a potentate deemed quasi divine, carved out a legacy of Freedom which stands even today. An Epic “wild card”. There are many others, most are lost to us today. With the occasional exception that survives in our Epics, our Mythologies, our Legends. Most such stories are the blending of factual events with older religious or semi religious traditions. Which aliteration was a common and accepted means of teaching the lessons of both convanents in a factual and metaphoric means. Much the way Jesus Christ taught using parables, allegories composed to have layers of meaning dependent upon the degree of understanding had by the student. So a natural continuation of this is to be inclusive of many historical events, along with the trans literal substitution of the individuals to those of prophecy or the the Divine or Angelic intercession of some ancient history. These depending on circumstance would be iterated and reiterated in verbal traditions to be celebrated in the retelling, usually in association to particular annual festivals. Such as the case with the Saga of the Norse Kings. A subject I hope to have the opportunity to entertain at length later in my writings, scribblings. The vast majority of my ideas, concepts, models and histories can generally be attributed to greater minds than mine. As has been said before, the reason I / we can see so far is that we stand on the shoulders of giants, those that have come before us. Yes I paraphrase taking a degree of liberty. More particularly to hopefully retain its original meaning.

Funny I have been much as I am, the entirety of my life. Before I commence an in-depth sharing of many of the somewhat unique occurrences and events that have brought me to this proposition in time. I wish to clarify and reiterate some postulates. Elsewise a portion of my own records and logs may well be used against me. Principally by interests who would wish to call my lucidity and grasp of reality into question, in the hopes of indicting or coloring my character via my words. No doubt they shall do so nonetheless. I only wish that my original is sufficiently vetted in the sane understanding of reality has to be a defense to my honor and mental facilities. Thus, again – I am No prophet! Nor am I an Alien. Hahaha… Nor am I some savior! As far as religion – I will say as was told to me by what would be termed alien contactees, or more specifically those that I felt and believed we’re genuine. Of the many I personally met back in the 1970s. According to these individuals as to the subject of religion and the Bible when broached to the various aliens these contactees interacted. All the aliens responded that yes the Bible was more or less correct and that it was wholly applicable to us, our Creation, and Our G-d. I know not at all what they say on the popular shows in the media today. Hmmm,…. As to my personal religious beliefs and inclinations, I am Mormon by conversation and have been excommunicated for many more years than I care to mention. By the way my excommunication was due wholly to personal moral matters not issues of doctrine or beliefs of Faith. So if somewhere in my upfront acknowledgements, you find me wanting of naïve. Fine, do or do Not as is in you, or as is your want. I make no apologies, nor seek to compromise in some misguided attempt to achieve an accord or consensus. Rather quite to the contrary, I share, present, seeking dialogue broader than an account of the happenings surrounding my life. Simply because I am appalled by the amount of lies and disinformation being used to indoctrinate the populace. Add to this the lack of corrected and broader views from the dreadfully homogenous perspective droning from damn near every sector. The present modalities disgust me, breaking my heart such that I would to weep day and night for Our collective Family. Yet better spent are my efforts in defense of the Truth and an improved accounting of our histories and circumstances. In pursuit of same I find I must submit my private life and experiences to general scrutiny. The majority of which I have never shared with anyone prior to the last six to eight years. I have desired to live a rather conventional life, for the most part. Realizing that soon enough I will forever be denied the Joy of such.

To this end and the accompanying process I submit some of the earliest memories and events of my life and childhood. One of my earliest, if not the earliest is being in my crib prior to the age of two. My father was working for numerous government and governmental contractors at the time. Naturally I don’t recall those details. Our family had just moved to Southern California. We were living with my mother’s sister somewhere in East Los Angeles. Their home was the typical Spanish Colonial. Anyone familiar with the style and form of such. Know that hallways usually converge into a common room, you cross to the hallway leading to the room you have as your destination. In this pass through common room is where my crib was stationed. Probably the best location for it and me. So the various women could occupy my attention should I become fussy. An many times this common room was an area where the women would congregate as my recollection is. Well across this room was a pantry closet, with selves and full of the sundry items found in such for the time. In the coming and goings of my family and relatives there were numerous occasions that would find me unattended, alone in my crib. It was during one such interlude that the commencement of a reoccurring vision / dream began. I having been left alone to my own devices (parenting back in the day). When the door to the aforementioned pantry slowly opened wide. A beautiful female Golem, her physique had the appearance of red bricks. Yet the contours of her form were singularly female. Rather she had distinct curves with aquiline sculptured features. Most hauntingly she had these striking blue eyes. She never spoke a word, her eyes spoke volumes to my initially shocked mind. As the sounds of returning relatives approached, she gracefully returned from whence she came. On the first couple of occasions I witnessed this I raised a bit of a commotion. I was not yet verbal, and in all honesty I was a late talker. Well the relatives thought I might have seen a rat. So they dutifully opened the pantry to inspection. The pantry was then as it always was, with neither a rat or exquisite Lady Golem. This parade continued off and on for the majority of the our short time residing at my aunt’s house. Usually the Lady Golem had those blue blue eyes, though green and grey versions are among the visits. Each and every time she would come to the side of my crib, moving her head, or tilting (cocking) it just so. Always her eyes full of questions and disbelief. Her eyes seemed to express; You? You are the one sent? Hmmm… You don’t look like much! Look more like a little wet rodent, but who knows?. This was more or less the sentiment expressed in her eyes. Following my first encounters I became accustomed to her visits and would actually miss her on the rare occasions of absence. Needless to say from early childhood I saw the “world” differently than others around me. I also learned to accept this altered perception without fear, understanding its validity within the accepted context of what is “actual” or the “concrete” reality of our existence.

If you may recall back in the haze of school days. During various lectures the teacher's would sometimes use what is commonly referred to as an over head projector. Depending on what was being taught, it was also common practice to layer over lays. These would either complete the image or at times super impose other images as needed. Sometimes even as multiple layers of over laid transparencies. Some of you more contemporaneously educated individuals may never have seen such primitive presentations, having known only power point. For those so blessed what I describe next may be Greek to you. For the dinosaur amongst us most should have some recollection. This model is the closest I can use to illustrate how the world appeared to me growing up as a child. Usually I would see what could best be described as up to two transparencies overlapping the “real world” in general. I could even lift these overlays to get a clearer view of what was being presented before me. At times these would both be at in the foreground of “reality”, other times both would be in the background, while at other times it would be split one in front and one in back. Yet there were numerous other configurations, sometimes completely unrelated to the happenings around me (foreshadowing alert). Gradually this ocular affect of the world began to diminish till it no longer was within my field of vision. By the time I was around sixteen to seventeen years of age this effect was effectively gone. Since then I have experienced this only a handful of times. I usually take a different approach, I will address momentarily. One of the proximate results almost immediately of perceiving my world in this manner is that I usually know the scope and degree that anyone is lying. As an adult it is not quite as prominent as in my childhood. Though there have been exceptions. As a direct consequence my earliest life lesson was in due course the hypocrisy of the adults around me. Everyone would profess such devotion to “the necessity” or importance of always “speaking the Truth”. Yet I would be punished to no end for pointing out the hypocrisy of the fact the adults more often than not lied as suited them. I learned to keep such to myself. Something I still do to this day. I tend to filter or make allowances far too much now as an adult. Invariably leading to greater complications. Besides transparencies certain images or objects would “float” across my field of vision in similar transparency manner. Some of which I could not decipher any context or meaning at the time or since. To begin to place elements of this visual experience I need to explain tangent events of recent.

The advent of the Internet and the information highway is as with most such paradigms, both a blessing and a curse. Dependent largely upon the nature and supposed inclination of man. We are all no doubt familiar with the media platforms of Facebook and YouTube. Like everyone else to some degree I have had occasion to surf around doing research or simply for mindless pleasure. Back prior to Jade Helm, when my Old Lady (though she was substantially younger) Tiffany and I were keeping house in Austin, Texas. I noticed a YouTube video regarding the Apollo 20 mission. Oh by the way according to my histories the Apollo lunar missions went up to 20. I wanted to see what was been discussed along with what twists and turns the disinformation specialist spin their distractions. Which if you can determine it sometimes conclude what they are trying to hide or if their direction of spin is a “z” vector you can sight 180 degrees opposite to determine the landscape they don’t wish you to see. You may consider all this a large investment of mental energies, it is just how my mind works at times automatically. Back to the Apollo 20 video. In the video there was some general discussion of aliens, their nature and origins. During this open dialogue, there was a series of various old clips. I presume were some how removed from the archives of NASA. Many of the older non-defined clips I was quite familiar with the images. Not because I have ever seen them as photos, images, clips or video. At the time I was floored, since previous to that moment I was unacquainted with their context or related meaning. These objects I use to see in the exact same configuration and involved in the exact motions approximately forty years earlier as I was growing up. Matter of fact judging from the age of the imagery I would have to conclude I was witnessing them contemporaneously as a child. Without the context of outer space or NASA I had presumed I was watching some complex interactions of some sort of strange protozoal life from. I even remotely as concerned they had some how become infected to my cornea, so prevalent we’re the objects across my vision. So striking was their imposition upon my sight that more than four decades later their association was immediate and most assuredly certain. One less mystery to worry about. Yet the implications are troubling profoundly. Both of myself and the world at large, considering how maliciously the world's population has been lied to and manipulated. The ends of which are too shocking and horrible to ever discuss. Although in previous conversations at moments of weakness I have divulged a greater portion than may have been prudent.

Wednesday July 11, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

You may right so wish to ascribe or diagnosis me as having a form of delusions inclusive of all types of hysteria, grandeur, psychosis with severe religious obsessions. For what passes for psychiatry today within the public ledger domain, you may be correct. I would offer in defense a extensive lifetime containing a ongoing accounts of a similar or even greater note. Although I am not a Moses, peoples of another time would recognize me as being touched by The All Mighty, as it were. I will at least own any such appellation. Am I some righteous man deserving of beautification unto sainthood, I would argue Not. At best I have tried to be a descent man, who speaks the Truth as much as possible. I am burdened by an additional commitment.

Back in my youth, being around nine years old. I had a singularly profound series of visions / dreams. I repeatedly dreamt my death, accompanied by the various permeations associated to reaching same. The process took several days (nights) between three to five. Being so young I didn’t think to take particular note of the days my dreams were thus occupied. They obviously had a unique feel with a equally sensational intensity, they still abide with me today. I distinctly recall a voice of sorts coming to me following the last night of witnessing this panorama of my life's end (as are the days accorded to the sons of man). Now this voice which came unto me, I presume it was within the precincts of my mind. Not that it would have mattered greatly since I was alone when it came unto me. Nor did I think to ask from whence or whom spoke. I knew and could feel the light of our Divine Home as I heard the intent along with the presumed words. It was a simple dialogue, stating; “this is how it ends, this is what you have come to do. You need not do it. You have the right to choose. However if you are to complete this task. You must choose to do so now.”. Being a precocious and arrogant child, I immediately presumed that if I had been sent to do such, than the obvious was that I was the best candidate to accomplish the prescribed task. Armed with such infallible logic, I whole heartedly accepted my calling understanding it would come at great cost. Now granted, an understanding of the true scope or magnitude or the enormity of the cost or suffering I fully lacked. I have spent my life preparing. I have come to know that even at the prescribed time I will lack of my own what is necessary. I shall present to the task my all, trusting in Our G-d to shore me up to complete that which I would do. Subsequent to acceptance of this appointment I am to keep in the near future, my sight / vision increased. The frequency and quantity began increasing dreams, visions, revelations, transparencies along with my general perceptions increased. I now openly own the fact that I see the world through the eyes of the mystic. Only recently was my sight dampened. A heart breaking topic the occasion of which surrounds losing my Love Tiffany. The subject of which shall also be laid upon the alter for examination by the modern day augers. Find what fault if you will, I care little. Only know that matter and its accompanying are for later. I must at present attempt to continue in this established vain of thought recounting events long past in my short life. Besides the notations contemporaneous to me and my circumstances or any of the other tripe I have need to spew forth. Believe this, if I could accomplish my foreordained task without sharing, discussing or placing ultimately for public review any of this – such would be my desire. Painfully I have had to come to terms with the ugly reality I must prostrate myself to assure I am able to do what needs be done. Onward thru the fog, as it were.

Without going into specifics too much, early on I displayed another aptitude. Sometime around first to second grade. My Dear sweet mother recognized I somehow had a hand in the going ons of the other children that back then composed the group of children who had commenced to being around. Now my mother was blessed with a keen intellect. Which included the wisdom to not over think somethings. Instead wherever possible if there was a direct and simple solution to apply one's efforts to the solution. Thereby allowing life to continue on as meant. Almost elegant in its simplicity, usually quite effective in solving any problem, a quaint provincial version of Occum's Razor. Consequently the solution was simple, as she noted; “son, I don’t know what you are doing. But it is wrong. Apparently you need my help understanding that.”. There after I regularly got my hide tanned. Until sometime around the age of seven plus the realization that just because you could do something; does not mean you should. And that everyone is entitled to make their own choices. Afterwards the occasion necessitating my tanning ceased as a consequence to those particular actions. By no means did I fail to earn other occasions of corporal punishment as befits a young boy trying to find his wings, so to speak.

Growing up making my way through our education system of public schooling. I never cracked a book. Now one should not presume schools and childhood were smooth sailing. Quite to the contrary, in second grade my school in southern California labeled me “retarded”. Lacking a separate facilities or classes you were simply shoved to the back of the class with similarly challenged children. Nor did they have to test the child or give notice to the parents. Following a few weeks at the back of the class I began to demonstrate “odd” behavior. Which my always observant mother was quick to question. She went to the school and raised holy hell. In actuality it was more of a racially motivated issue. My parents being divorced, the school only saw my Hispanic mother. Being profoundly dyslexic, their initial assessment was that I was a Mexican, and you know you can not teach their kind. I was going to a all white school at time. Not to mention kindergarten in Watts. During the riots in 1965. I had to have police escorts to school. While I still have very distinct memories of the entire family sleeping in the living room with all the doors and windows blocked and barricaded against the rioting blacks. A sort of difficult time growing up. Believe me I know what racism is like. I am not going to hold my tin cup up on that lame ass subject. The fact that there are those in this country that hold onto this issues as the reasons for all their troubles. Or that there are groups and individuals who exploit this history for their enrichment. All this does is allows an ever expanding rifts in our society. The age old axiom of divide and conquer. Yet we all seem oblivious to this, instead we rush to our own deaths.

Thursday July 12, 2018,. – Killeen, Texas

Aaagh, fuck, damnit…. I fucking swear. Why do I even try to help anyone. Generally they hold to their own practices of appeasing the least common denominators by which they live. What can I say. As gracious as my hostess and her son may be. I doubt if I can tolerate much more of their dysfunctionality sans any self realization or objectivity. And they wonder about Joey meeting someone (female). I can’t imagine the woman who would find any of this manner or lack of is appealing. I try to maintain perspective because I do recognize the roots of most of the antisocial behavior. Even if it expresses its self differently than one may anticipate. I just don’t have the tolerance I usually do. In my current condition of convalescing from my injuries, makes me subject to the vagaries that define the lives of normal people. Due to the obvious singular quality of my life I have had to come to terms with the fact that I do not process anything in like manner as my peers. An before everyone thinks I am trying to sound all superior or some such, please note that I am continually making stupid mistakes principally due to my own naivety. We all have this aspect wherein we judge our circumstance and that of others from the pigeonhole perspective. Everyone else's view though differing from each other falls within a given area, or a few degrees of each other. Mine falls a extreme distance outside of what could be considered the norm. Nonetheless being very human I continue in the belief I perceive “reality” much as the other person from a similar understanding and values system. Invariably this attitude finds opportunity to smack me in my face by its differences. Each and every time I am recalled that, oh I knew better because I am fully aware of the differences and should have factored accordingly. Even now at this more venerable point in my life I find one of my biggest failings is naive belief in the character of my fellow man. Yet if my assertions as to my last day as are allotted to the sons of man be True. For the greater part I will be doing so for the entirety of Our Familial Aggregation. Even for those who seek only to cause me and those I Love and care about, harm or maliciousness. Because that is the way of things in our Creation. Soon enough the vile evil shall reveal itself, the kid gloves shall come off and life will never be this peaceful again. If it be the will of he who sent me I will seek to balance many scales of injustice. Till then I must endure and prepare as best I can.

Well enough complaining about friends who do their best given the circumstances. I appreciate all they have done on my behalf. Especially since to a large degree they grasp what potentially may be the cost. Even if in some small ways they may have been influenced by the same malicious or “Bees”, that seek to be the cause of my failure. For such is the nature of things in the abyss. Especially considering the length of time I have elected to spend wrapped in the confines of twisting throughout what we commonly refer to as “reality”. I generally feel more comfortable surrounded by its miasma and ickor than anywhere else. As much as it may appear to be a contradiction it ultimately is fact. Sigh!!!

For the time being I guess I will change the temporal focus of my entries. I can seldom stay focused on any particular time frame for an extended period. Doing so usually causes me to shift to the associated memories which become very visceral in nature. Soon it begins to become a tad overwhelming. All the more so once framed in relation to the present context. I sincerely hope that suffices and is remotely coherent. I am usually deconstructing my conceptual models and ideas into a form more acceptable to being understood. Sometimes I become lost in the process to the point I know what I mean despite the fact that the words and or syntax are nonsense. In conversation I sometimes have to stop and ask if what I have postulated or presented in the dialogue makes sense. I know it all made sense and sounded good in my head. Aaah but I can’t always presume to have effectively communicated the same.

Saturday July 14, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

Well here it is the weekend, somewhere in Who-ville are working stiffs cheering at the arrival of the ritual with its time off. It has been interminably long since I have have lived a life so constrained as to include the simple Joy of a defined weekend of days off. Hell I am usually engrossed in my vocation daily. With my ever prevalent purpose always driving me. For the most part I have become unfit to be amongst civil company. Yes I am conversant. I am genial enough when in mixed groups. I tend to empathic of those around me. I genuinely give a damn as to the well being of others. Even so, the inescapable Truth is that the darkness is too imbued into my being. Because of the darkness of my spirit, I have become rolled into the ubiquitous abyss of our “reality”. Though it does not effect me quite the same as others its taint has woven into my fibers. Not being much of a liar I lack the necessary tools to hide it from general view.

Wednesday July 18, 2018  - Killeen, Texas

Well damn, I sometimes really get fucking frustrated.  At one level I am perpetually detached from the day to day focus and obsessions of everyone around me. I can’t bring my mind to focus on the general ideological concepts propagated by the geopolitical theater. Which resembles an episode of the moppet show as far as I what it appears. Are the offenses and injuries less or non-existent to my sympathies or moral indignation; not in the least. They still represent injustices and crimes which need to be effectively dealt with and hopefully the scales will balance. Even so, I just can not seem to get all worked up over these slight daily travesties. All the more so since I tend to view all these for what they are within the larger perspectives and plans of globalist / occultic families. Typical divide and conquer, or simple distractions from their primary objectives. I can appreciate everyone’s sentiments and attitudes that the scenarios of what is to come are not perceived as real or likely. Hell even I given enough distance and time begin to feel as though none of it is possibly factual. Except for the fact that I have lived a life associated to these eventualities. Even when I was in the thick of things all those involved would tell me bold faced lies as to what was occurring. As if to make me question the obvious, because the obvious Truth of the matter was outside any social norms. I guess there are those for a convenient lie is preferred to Truth too extreme to accept. I have been at this life, spending the majority of my existence living in the abyss. Which is everywhere, it co-exists with whatever social or cultural conventions occupying our realities of the moment.  It is ubiquitous yet invisible to all but those who have had the misfortune to have grown up in its mists, or the uninitiated. Due to my unique occular abilities I am sort of self initiated. It took me a little while to come to understand the meaning of this subset of our world. I have always seemed to rub against this sub culture, even as a child. A odd fact which has taken me many years to come to terms with it. Even then it was a process of educating myself to be able to grasp the entirety of the concepts. Though outrageous beyond belief, it is nonetheless part of a larger pool of knowledge I have fought long and hard to achieve. We are a phenomenal expression of life, even across the multiverse. For all our uniqueness, we are seemingly determined to trivialize who and what we are. More importantly the processes and manner whereby we are to accomplish our purpose “here”.  Truly phenomenal!!!

Yet I digress. I am simply getting on my soapbox, whipping the horse, so to speak. Grrrrr…

How best to convey some of the basics back into the discussions and open forums in our sea of opinions. A perplexing problem one that has vexed my soul for almost three decades. I suppose the real source of my reservations has principally revolved around my own reluctance to be centrist to any reintroduction in a general dialogue. Much to my consternation it is plain that to accomplish this and thereby facilitate me being able to keep my appointment in the future, I must find the where with all and means to personally become directly a part of our social dialogues. I can freely admit to my own megalomania. I try not to buy into it myself. I shan’t feed such feelings or Mali-adpted inclinations. What ever a person's tendencies, we fail our own interests in doing so. To the point of it becoming a all consuming psychosis. Our histories are replete with the villains who are consumed by base desires at the cost of all else. Not that such is my fear. Rather I prefer to do what I can from a position far from the limelight. We don’t always get to choose how best to accomplish our goals. My non-object oriented way of thinking I suppose. Aaagh, this is an area I would deeply desire some assistance. Not to mention the realities of presently being impoverished. I had best get used to my condition, I fear I shan’t know any other for some time to come. I guess I need to find the way and means to broadcast my ugly mug on to the internet. I guess I will start some YouTube type of series. I need to really get my act together!

Amazingly as we and our solar-system has traversed the apogee of its elliptical orbit with its sister star. This having occurred back in December 2012. We are now accelerating towards our sister star on the side closest to our Galactic Center. We will soon be re-entering the flows of Magick. They are part of the natural order of things. Think of it as a higher order of physics. We conveniently suppose a posture of superiority over some earlier more organic beliefs or systems of interactions within our realities. Although witchcraft, paganism, shamanism, and various other practices have been collectively maligned for associated practices related to satanistic practices (which Are very evil). In many such cases we have throughen the baby out with the bathwater. I am not trying to condemn nor make excuses, only to ask for a broader open review of these strangely different beliefs and practices.  Many times they are simply corrupted versions of our Judaeo-christian thought, beliefs and practices. Sometimes I even find missing pages of our religious histories amongst these. An to borrow a quote;  “We are too hasty when we set down our ancestors in the gross for fools for the monstrous inconsistencies (as they seem to us) involved in their creed of witchcraft.” - C. Lamb.

Friday July 19, 2018.  – Killeen, Texas

Now as to my disjointed quaint manner of writing, I am recalled of yet another quote from Webster’s,  “Prolix, Diffuse. A prolix writer delights in circumlocution, extended detail, and trifling particulars. A diffuse writer is fond of amplifying, and abounds in epithets, figures, illustrations. Diffuseness often arises from an exuberance of imagination; prolixity is generally connected with a want of it.” [1913 Webster].  As to which, my confused manner may be likened, I leave such determination to those who due to some pathological compulsions decide to continue on through the disjointed tediousness of my log.  Excuse my quoting, it but appears the best and most eloquent descriptive means external to my own critiques. Wherein Webster provides what I believe is a more accurate description of my loquacious manner and style of communication. Bleck, ugh…

On to more relevant matters. As I continue to play my game of catching up to the current state of affairs in my existence. Jumping back to around August last year, at the time I elected to take my leave of the Long Beach / Wilmington area of the LA Basin. The majority of occurrences I previously wrote down in a contemporaneous log as I walked out of LA ultimately reaching Salt Lake City, Utah. With a brief momentary stay in Las Vegas, Nevada. My mind aches at the memories from that time. Regardless, there may in the retelling be wisdom or beneficial information for myself or others. Sorry if some of this has a choppy feel to it. There are mountains of unresolved emotional context and histories, which continue to elicit extremes within me. I hate sounding apologetic from the get go. Not that any of the vacillating diminishes the importance of the material or what I endured.

In July of last year, my younger brother was arrested and placed in presumably Twin Towers downtown Los Angeles. It was involving drugs and a handgun. I saw him and the P.O.S. , earlier that night. I already knew there were going to be problems. Additionally I had been indirectly informed my situation was about to become difficult. No more niceness regarding my treatment, operational dictums were changed. Initially I was was acutely aware my younger brother was not in police custody. I figured he was being held some where on or around the federal facilities of Terminal Island in the Port of Long Beach. Later parts of my sight of his circumstances were confirmed to me, though the exact location never has been (foreshadowing). Sometime during the second week of his presumed incarceration. He digitally appeared in the system with the appropriate arrest date, and information. To this day I am not convinced of the terms and conditions accompanying this purely “staged” event. No doubt there were days he was in the Twin Towers facility. Anything else is highly suspect at best if not solely manipulated data for the purposes of the Op. Nonetheless, I was sorely put upon. Due to the determinate fact that whatever had previously as well as on going to date are the proximate results of his being “my brother”. I was aware my brother was not my brother. I later would describe the fact as, “my brother was murdered on the mesas of New Mexico 4 (5) years prior”. I freely declared the fact, even with my younger brother present. At the time of his arrest I had invested two years trying to awaken and heal his soul. During this ordeal, he was on goingly conditioned (subject to various satanic trauma assisted by ultra high technologies deployed by our Shadow Government for the purposes of mind control). I can not escape a degree of culpability. Many may seek succor in the belief that I was not responsible, nor the individual inflicting these horrors to my younger brother. I acknowledge the physical reality as being so. However the moral reality is that, We are our Brother's keeper. An for myself it has a immense literal quality. We are all part of Our Larger Familial Aggregation, what we do, say or do not effects all. While in my particular case, he is my younger brother – same Mother and Father. I have known what to expect from the future all my life. I have even attempted to convey this knowledge in abstract to my brothers. Granted I did Not know that in recent times the evil practitioners of these vile satanistic rites had made a huge technical breakthrough. It use to be, if an individual attained adulthood free of these practices or influences, then they would die free of its chains. Obviously a person could freely elect to cultivate any base desires or perverse inclinations. By “choice” being the operative mandate, those chained to the MPD / DID minds of victims of Satanic Ritual Abuse (SRA) are forever robbed of any choice in the matter. Not even I can “set” them free or the chains forged in their infancy and childhoods. I can only unlock the gates and offer them the means to heal. The process is long and painful, requiring more years than anyone can live to hopefully heal. Sadly as each victim is considered chattel to the perspective heads of each “family”, who is in turn property of another. Hence there are functionally twelve Satanic Patriarchs seated at the heads of their “family”. Under Satanic Dogma they consider themselves “gods” of their worlds. According to their beliefs you exist as titled property, if not than you are of no consequence thereby you do Not exist. The worth of you and yours is less than the trash sent to the dump.

Sunday July 22, 2018 – Killeen, Texas

Continuing with similar point of fact as discussed, it may all sound or would be considered linear, a straightforward affair. Appearing almost orderly, locked in some strange perverse dance. When it is anything but. Take into consideration the matter of succession. You might be inclined to infer that being Patriarchal, it is a matter of patrialinacal father to son. The reality is far from such Familial Sensibilities. Simply put, upon the death of the head of any household. He, who inherits is the male gains control of his clan by right of arms, or force. Basically if you are not yet feared enough to demand your seat as the heir to the estate. The one who rules does so because he has murdered and killed all the opposition by blood rite according to Antediluvian Law. Meaning you not only kill your opposition, the action is inclusive of all males of immediate consanguinal association. The wholesale murder also removes any potential blood retribution by those who possess an immediate claim to do so. Secondly it demonstrates to clan members at large the vicious response dissent will meet. Terror then substitutes conditioned context within their trauma-based mindset vicariously confirming that male's natural right to head that Family’s Branch of the Larger Familial Group. If you can remotely rationale order from such chaotic slaughter. You more than likely were raised under such paradigms, or your values are perversely twisted and I recommend you seek professional help from any school of thought practicing a highly structured value system, preferably based on some well established benevolent religion. Notice I qualify said using the word benevolent. Cause if you use the most liberal definition to the concepts of religion you could quietly slip satanism or luciferinism in as established religions. The distinctions are sufficient as to invite debate. One I feel is much a waste of time for all parties. Generally I ascribe it principally to a matter of semantics shackled to vastly differing modalities of operations defining values. Our time can be better spent educating ourselves up and out of overly cerebral arguments designed to trap us in artificial concepts posing as reality. A overwrought process favored by Academia in defense of entrenched theories dressed in the ideology we refer to as the “Scientific Model”.  Yes, I have great disdain for what passes for education and schools of higher learning. They have long since been co-oped into the problems they were meant to free us from being slaves. I will tuck that soapbox away now, thank you for your indulgence.

What is even more incredible is the fact that this insanity is governed by their own set laws and rules. They even have a court system with defined jurisprudence. Not any sort you or I could consider properly legal. Rather it is more a system to maintain the “status quo” based on traditions, precedence, along with a strange quasi religious tones from Antediluvian Laws. Even known lies are acceptable if left uncontested but those who have standing and recognized Familial context. Elsewise the stated lie will stand as fact, enforceable to the fullest extent to which the system can accommodate.

Now if you followed that loose explanation, allow me to attempt to give an overview of some of the semi-societal interactive relationship between myself and these psychopaths. Especially above the standing rank and file victims constituting the entirety of the Families. I have a singularly unique interactive connection to them, their Families, their politics, traditions, religious dogma, technologies of the Shadow Government, including possible contingencies for what is to come. It is a chaotic and confusing dynamic paradox. Perpetually in a state of change, in recent times there has been much difference of opinion concerning how to acknowledge or interact with me. Technically I am a nonentity, because I exist outside the direct consanguineous relationship, nor am I amenable to joining their point of view. I remain in opposition to them, their practices, beliefs to the extent of being fundamentally adversarial to “them”. It is worth noting I have been at this so long that everyone I know or deal with daily belongs to this subset of our society. Almost all my friends, associates, girlfriends or anyone else comes from some blood occultic families. Some even to what capacity they are able seek to support me in my efforts. I am alive today because some evil bastards simply decided not to do as they were instructed. Knowing full well the consequences for siding with me. Try to understand these individuals have lived corrupt malignant lives, they hate themselves but are forbidden to take their own lives. There is virtual nothing they can do to truly cause those over them to flip out or take offense. Yet they do recognize that my stumbling about is upsetting. Having run around everywhere doing what I do. I have always done so without a net, so to speak. It is a source of boarder line amazement, more particularly they think I am “bat-shit” crazy! Nonetheless I am still here. You may know people who collect body art, fashionably tattoos these days. I sometimes joke of my own collection of scars and injuries to my body. Thankfully I heal exceptionally well. Most of my scars heal to the point of being almost unnoticeable, if you did not know my histories. It is an exhausting hobby, painful too! A frequent refrain I hear while being admitted to the ER or ICU has been, “Mr Williams, you are very lucky to be alive”.  “Yeah Doc I hear that allot. Do the best you can.”.  It has become somewhat of a ongoing joke, amongst friends and family. These days those groups have become ultra thin. Another reason I make this record of events in my life including improved contemporaneous writings. We can all hope for such. Believe me if it was up to me, no one would know much if anything about me, or my life. I have been, or more correctly I have allowed myself to be forced into a dreadfully unpleasant set of circumstances, as I have whined concerning previously.

Okay Sherman set the way-back machine to the 80’s and 90’ of the last century. Seeing patterns across the country in the minds of crazy ass bitches, now I do Not mean that in a bad way. I have a immense affinity for beautiful crazy ladies. Now as I was saying, the imagery within their minds was too consistent to be coincidence. The language of our sub- conscience is imagery, archetypal, motifs, iconography, mythical, dreams, visions, will of the wisps and whimsy. I believe we all “see” much more of one another than we choose to accept. The largest hurdle to understanding is this compulsion to read or understand what we “see” before the picture is finished assembling in our minds. This tendency has been increasingly pushed into smaller and smaller bits. Which as a negative exponential inverse function has become more and more confusing as to be nigh meaningless with each subsequent reduction. Hence at a time when we should be more connected to everyone. We find increased feelings of isolation and alienation. No matter how much we communicate with our neighbors next door or abroad we have less consensus or feelings of commonality. We sequester these feeling with their accompanying anxieties, less we inadvertently offend anyone. Like what the Fuck! It is part and parcel of the Adult World. Being offended or offending others is how things get done. Usually for the best interests of everyone. Granted we should strive to be engaging to achieve our goals, short of violence or intimidation. Yet as any honest government would gladly concede. Once negotiations by normal means come to an impasse then comes negotiations by “other means”. The debased conduct of sordid persons is best met with our best foot forward, right up their ass! Like most animals, immediacy tends to be the most effective in correcting Mali-adpted conduct. Back to the horse I rode up on, hahaha.

At any rate, over the years I began to solve the underlying issues. I actually came to my own work arounds prior to fully grasping the centralized source or the impact of its implications. Years later I did begin to hear limited bits of information over the internet. Although it did take me a while before I started to correlate the “conspiracy theory” data with what I was “seeing” in women throughout the country.  Largely because few had any real coherent information. Eventually, information concerning Project MK Ultra and our government's Psy-Ops programs sufficiently surfaced to flesh out the details. As a child, young teenager I was familiar with the government’s LSD experiments for a variety of reasons, mind control being one aspect. Frankly I can not believe there are people today who do not know or refuse to believe that our government conducted such experimentation on the populace. It was just common knowledge in the circles I travel. If you read the Program Outline for MK Ultra it has an extensive list of lines of “study” information was to be explored, accumulated with a focus of deriving paradigms of control on individuals, groups, countries, cultures, and from that to the world at Large. The Globalist, New World Order, G-7, Trilateral Commission, Illuminati the individuals and their constantly shifting panorama of institutions and foundations are continually sifting beliefs and cultures in an multi-generational game of Three Card Molly. Degree by degree all the world’s various societies and Cultures have been manipulated via global misdirection with large quantities of restructuring of values and beliefs. Till everyone on Earth thinks good is bad; and bad is good. I should think we have all heard these arguments before, usually framed as the delusions of conspiracy theorist. All rather convenient as a means explaining away any descent or even an open fair discussion. Our social structure has drifted far from where we should be. Starting in 2020, everything is going to change and never be this pleasant or nice again. Well at least not till after the Second Coming. Hahaha, despite sounding …...

[clumsyprophet]

Cinderella Phenomenon as Tarots

Welcome, welcome!

So, as the title said, this is an analysis that attempts to link each Arcana to someone (or something) from Cinderella Phenomenon. Why? Well...I like tarots, I like Cinderella Phenomenon and I like rambling, in no particular order. It's not an original idea by any stretch of the word 'original': pretty much every fandom has done it, but it's still an interesting analysis to make! The Arcana are archetypes, something ancient and universal...and their message can be found basically everywhere, assuming you are willing to reflect a bit to notice the links.

I'm not an expert Tarot reader (or scholar) by all means, so I'm more than willing to hear critiques, suggestions and whatever you think might improve my analysis. Also, I would definitely not object if someone wanted to use this as a base to draw the deck/an Arcana: if you want to go ahead, this is not private property, it’s just something I made for fun and then decided to share.

With that being said, some final notes:

I am only considering the Major Arcana...it would be nice to have a full deck, but I'm afraid there's not enough material to fill 56 cards in addition to the 22 described below.

I tried to include all named characters without repeating them. Lucette is an exception, since she appears from 2 to 4 cards...but she's the protagonist, so that's kinda expected. Another exception is Rumpel's ex (which doesn’t appear), a bit because I forgot about her and a bit because when I remembered she still didn't fit anywhere. Village man #2, Child #1 and their faceless friends are also not included, for rather obvious reasons.

This will contain SPOILERS, no way around that. So, if you haven’t finished the VN what are you waiting for, go and finish it read at your own risk.

So, without further ado, let’s start!

THE FOOL

Lucette (riches to rags version) / Lucette (w/ Mr Broom)

Ah, the Fool, number 0 (or XXII) of the deck, the child, the wanderer, the...well, fool. This card is a card of beginnings, of a journey that is about to start with all the wonders and perils (often dictated by inexperience) that such an adventure brings by default. So, who else other than the Ice princess, who has just woken up having lost everything, can represent this card? While she lacks the enthusiasm the fool usually overflows with there's no denying that she has a long journey in front of her, one full with danger but promising a shining happy ending. Hopefully...have you seen how easy is to get bad ends?! *Ahem* Anyway...another option would be having the scene where Lucette is swept away by Mr Broom...same reasoning (journey just started) with an emphasis on the 'Fool' part of the Arcana.

THE MAGICIAN

Waltz

...I swear not all the cards I chose are this literal. Ahem...either way, the Magician is a card of potential applied, will shaping reality as the Magician desires, the male (or active) principle of creation, the Yang to the High Priestess Yin. Also, even if I'm rather reluctant to bind powerful cards such as the Major Arcana to rather mundane elements (but hey, someone does) the Magician can represent a young, willful man. So...well, Waltz. He's even a witch, what more can you wish for.

THE HIGH PRIESTESS

Delora

As I mentioned above, the High Priestess is the counterpart to the Magician: where the Magician is a willful, active force of reshaping reality the High Priestess is an intuitive caretaker of hidden secrets and intimate knowledge of the universe. So, why Delora, you ask? The High Priestess knows, but she will reveal only when the time is right, when you are ready to accept the truth she is offering. I considered Parfait for this card, but I believe Delora fits better (and we have the nice symmetry of two witches, one male and one female, holding the complementary positions of Magician and High Priestess).

THE EMPRESS

Ophelia

The Empress is a feminine card like the High Priestess but, unlike the third Arcana, the aspect she focuses on is not intimate, intuitive knowledge but rather 'motherhood': creation and nurturing. She is Mother Earth, offering to her children endless affection and sustenance, forgiving their slights when they hurt her because her love is just so deep. So, well, Ophelia might be a Queen and not an Empress, but she has all the other characteristics of this Arcana.

THE EMPEROR

King Genaro

...Okay, maybe quite a lot of cards are rather literal, but it's not my fault they fit so well. The Emperor is the Father to the Empress Mother, to no one's surprise: he loves his children no less than the Empress, but the gift he gives are rather different. The Emperor is a card of unbreakable will, like the Magician, but this time applied not through creation but through laws. He is strict and can appear, at times, rational and cold, but that's his way of protecting his children...and have no doubt, he will protect them. He wields power, but he will never be corrupted by it. So, well, here we are, our beloved King.

THE HIEROPHANT

Alcaster

The Hierophant, much like the Emperor, is an Arcana of law and order. Unlike the Emperor, however, his domain is far more focused on the society as a whole, his objective being upholding a system of belief and/or traditions. If that system is fair, just and peaceful then good, if it's not...well, you get Alcaster and his plans for a 'better' Angielle.

THE LOVERS

...Too many to count, TBH

Aight, this is one easy card to explain, since it's exactly what it says on the tin: an union (90% of the time a romantic one) between two persons, working harmoniously together towards a goal. Said goal can be living together, bettering themselves...you name it. Sometimes it's a reminder to choose between two persons, but the usual meaning it's the first one I explained. The problem with this card it's that there are simply too many couples that can fit even discarding my first idea, Garlan and Jurien, since they are already taken for another Arcana. Candidates are Viorica and her fiancee, or Lucette in her Evermore outfit framed in a way that makes ambiguous who the LI is. No shipping wars, thank you.

THE CHARIOT

Rod

The Chariot is an Arcana of emotional control. Much like the driver depicted in all decks is guiding the horses in front of them to lead them to their destination, a person blessed by the Chariot will (ideally) guide their emotions without suppressing them but instead using their tumultuous strength to reach their goals. Of course, this card could also means that you are controlling your emotions too much...don't look at me like that, I never said the Arcana have only a favourable meaning. So...well, Prince Rod, case closed.

STRENGTH

Fritz

Much like the Chariot, the Strength is a card dealing with controlling oneself. With quiet determination and unwavering patience most cards depicts a maiden taming a lion, animal representing the wildest, darkest side of her. If you aren't getting what I'm implying go back playing the game, because seriously, just replace the lion with a wolf and the symbolism becomes as subtle as a punch on the nose. Fritz, full stop.

THE HERMIT

Hans Grimm

I'll admit it, this was an hard Arcana to assign, but I believe I found a rather nice match. The Hermit represents, unsurprisingly, the need for a withdrawal from the world. Maybe it's because you need to reflect alone on your life...or maybe because you feel extremely guilty because your stories (unwillingly) caused a war and countless death, who can say!

THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE

You

Yes, you read that right: you (the player) are the Wheel of Fortune. Chances, situations shifting, choices with uncertain outcome: all are the domain of the Wheel. You are fate, you are the force that sways the path of the Fool, you are, in the end, the difference between a bad and a happy ending. Sadly, it's a bit hard to represent 'the player' in a tarot, so I'm proposing the closer thing that can be easily put down in visual terms: a stained glass wheel (or, well, circular window if you want) with all the routes' symbols (referencing the main menu), maybe with Lucette's slippers in the middle, to represent the biggest choice a player makes while playing (that is, which route will they follow).

JUSTICE

Jurien and Garlan

Remember when I said that I considered our favourite knight couple for the Lovers, but in the end I changed my mind? That's because they equally fit the Justice...and no one else does fit this Arcana like them. Justice is the herald of Judgment, a reminder that Karma (not, not him) exists and will reward you as you deserve. Alcaster, dear, thought you could get away with your coup? Bitch, please! Also, the Justice can represent a fair and just attitude, doing the right thing no matter what...well, I don't need to say anything else, right? That's our noble knights, right there.

THE HANGED MAN

Rumpel

The Hanged Man, like everybody who has some knowledge of Tarots symbolism will tell you, is Odin, hanging upside down from the branches of Yggrdrasil so he could gain the knowledge of Runes. Rumpel and his quest for knowledge (well, memory, but it's still some form of knowledge) fit nicely. The Hanged Man also warns us that in order to gain something it's often necessary to give up something else: in our case, give away his old habits that ruined him so he can gain a true happy ending.

DEATH

Parfait (end of Waltz' route)

Death is, probably, the most misunderstood card of the whole deck, though I have to admit lately its true meaning has become more and more known. Death is a card of endings and change (and, unlike the Hanged Man, this change is often forced instead of voluntary), but with the promise of a new beginning. Death is winter, with the implicit promise of a new spring. While Parfait dies at the end of Waltz' route, hope is still alive: her niece will uphold her legacy and a new era will be born, one hopefully devoid of the hate that destroyed the last one. It's sad, to see her go, but she has no more regrets, her story ended: now it's time for a new tale to be told.

TEMPERANCE

Annice

Temperance is, by definition, a card about balance and restraint. What does that mean, you ask? Well...other than the obvious meanings, it's a card that encourages solving conflicts with grace and diplomacy. Life will slap you hard in the face (life, and people), but it's (usually) not a good reason to fly off the handle. Keep your wits with you, stay calm, breathe: you will find a way to go on. Don't bend backwards, of course, but do try to let hatred flow away like water in a stream. I have to admit, I had a lot of trouble with this card...then I thought about Annice. True, she can't remember Lucette firing her for something she didn't do (thus she has no reasons to 'fly off the handle'), but she is still a composed, hard working girl. Also, I considered the Lucis and the Tenebrarum for this card (emphasizing the whole 'balance' aspect)...but, in the end, they got roped as candidates for another Arcana (more about that later!) and besides, I wanted Annice to be somewhere in the deck, too.

THE DEVIL

Varg

The Devil is, in short, a powerful reminder of our dark side. Our inner desires, our negative: the Devil appearing in a reading often means that, right now, your worst enemy is none other than yourself. With that being said, this is still part of you and you have to accept it: both stubbornly ignoring your dark side or being completely dominated by it are harmful; that's the message of the Devil. So...that's literally our wolf man, here.

THE TOWER

Hildyr

The Tower is known as the card of ruin and, to be honest, this reputation is often well deserved: like a lighting bolt striking a previously (apparently) intact tower, this Arcana warns about sudden, violent changes often revealing flawed bases. Death can be seen as the natural conclusion of a situation: maybe the ending itself was rather sudden, but there were very clear signals about the outcome...not the Tower. Mind you, this change can be a positive one (and since it tends to let everyone see how flawed the previous status quo was it's not entirely harmful), but it's sure shocking! Now, with that being said, if Hildyr and her resurrection is not a lightning bolt destroying the apparent peace in Angielle I don't know what that is!

THE STAR

Emelaigne

The Star is one timid Arcana, it's message one of quiet optimism but boy how much strength can the maiden of the Star bring! Thanks to her strong heart and her unwavering hope she can walk through the night unharmed: maybe she will stumble, from time to time, but she will never give up. She will face darkness both external and internal but she will still go forward, her heart unwilling to even just consider the idea of giving up. Even if Emelaigne's trust in herself is far lower than the Star would suggest her heart and faith in others make her an almost perfect fit for this Arcana.

THE MOON

Mythros

The Moon is a card of illusions. Things aren't like they appear, maybe because someone is pulling wool over your eyes or even because you are doing it, unwilling to see the truth. Still...never trust what you are seeing in the light of the Moon, because it's distorting reality. Of all the character, Mythros immediately comes to mind: he fooled the entire court for years and played Lucette like a fiddle in Fritz' route...with disastrous results (for Angielle. His plan was rather successful). He's not the only manipulative character, but he's surely the one who has 'deception' as his whole modus operandi.

THE SUN

Karma

You survived Death, the Devil, the Tower, you endured the deception of the Moon...but you have won. This is a card of victory, and surely not a quiet one! Forget the timid light of the Star...the Sun is full of life and confidence (someone may say full of himself...not entirely wrong, I'd respond), blazing in the sky for all to see. Even reversed this card promises that setbacks are only temporary, no matter how bad things look. After all the night seemed to be dark and full of terrors (cit.), but look at the sky now! So, Karma. Yep.

JUDGMENT

Lucette (breaking the curse)

The Justice warned you that a reckoning would not be postponed indefinitely (cit.)...and now the moment has come. You are about  to reap what you have sown, buddy. So, if you are a bad guy Karma is about to kick your ass (no, not that Karma. ...Maybe? I mean, Karma kicks a lot of ass)...but what if your efforts were put into, say, being a better person? Well, your reward is going to be great indeed! Lucette is no longer the Fool she was at the beginning of the journey: through sacrifice and pain she has earned an happy ending.

THE WORLD

The Lucis and the Tenebrarum, in harmony / Lucette (Queen)

The World is, like the Sun, a card of victory. The journey has ended and you have found whatever you were searching for: sure, you will probably depart again soon, but for now you are complete. This equilibrium is not the unstable one we saw being destroyed in the Tower: it's an hard fought victory that is destined to last. Bask in the joy of the World, accept its message of harmony: you deserve the prize, after all you did to obtain it. With that being said...I can't still decide which one of the two proposals I like more: both are the symbol of the end of Hildyr's reign of terror and generally a big fat 'CONGRATULATIONS, YOU ARE GREAT', but other than that...eh. I'm slightly leaning towards the Crystal, to represent in the deck that important part of the story, but I would not object to either choice.

[eligray]

2020 Reading Review

With 2020 coming to a close, here are my top 10 favorite books (by alphabetical order) out of the 136 read this year, with some selected highlights after the list. Enjoy!

Be Still and Get Going by Alan Lew

Don't Burn This Book: Thinking for Yourself in an Age of Unreason by Dave Rubin

It's Garry Shandling's Book by Judd Apatow

Just Love Them by Yisroel Besser

Mindfulness by Jonathan Feiner

Morality by R’ Jonathan Sacks

Rabbi Chaim Segal by Devora Gliksman

Rav Noach Weinberg: Torah Revolutionary by Yonosan Rosenblum

The Psychology of Money by Morgan Housel

You Ought to Do a Story About Me by Ted Jackson

Be Still and Get Going by Alan Lew

For God is never encountered in either convention or habit. God is encountered in reality, precisely the ground of being—the present-moment reality that convention and habit obscure.

The way we really are is more powerful than the way we thought we should be

There is no need for us to identify only with the most vulnerable, unstable part of what we are

Don't Burn This Book: Thinking for Yourself in an Age of Unreason by Dave Rubin

Censorship is not a solution to bad ideas. Silencing people never reforms them—it simply pushes their bad ideas underground, where they’re allowed to fester and grow, like a tumor. It also makes those censored believe that they are victims, which can fuel paranoid delusions. The best approach is to allow people to thrash it out in public.

In their continued bid for utopia, progressives still demand we enforce more laws—even though they don’t necessarily work. You’re not gonna believe this, but generally speaking, good guys follow rules while bad guys don’t. This creates a bit of a problem for those who think laws and legislation are the answer to everything.

Practice the art of being diplomatic. Just because we can voice our opinion on every little thing doesn’t mean we should. Sometimes, tuning out is just as important as tuning in.

It's Garry Shandling's Book by Judd Apatow

I used to use drugs but I had to stop because I’m Jewish, and as a Jew you can only feel good for so long

My friends tell me I have an intimacy problem. But they don’t really know me

Expect no results. Expect nothing back. To do just to do is the highest spiritual path. Never attach importance to results - only the doing. Remain nothing during the doing -1987

A friend of mine said, "You should get married, Garry, you'll get a lot of new comedy material out of it." That's a huge risk. What if I don't

I love The Sopranos. It's a fantastic show. Here's what flipped me out: In the first episode, Tony Soprano's mother is literally planning to have him killed. That's why I admire Italian women. Jewish moms drag it out a whole lifetime

You don't need to be happy. You don't need to be anything. You can just be - 1999

Humor comes from an objective place, which is where the meditation is: the silence. Everything else becomes objective. People who aren't funny, or don't have a sense of humor, they are not in the moment. That's why they are not humorous. They're constantly in here (points to his head) so they take everything literally 

Just Love Them by Yisroel Besser

Years later, someone commented to Rabbi Trenk "Look, you got the problem kids and you sent out star." the person remarked. "No," said Rabbi Trenk emphatically. "I got superstars and gave back superstars; what I did do was not get in they way. No one else realized it then, but they were stars all along."

A young man was considering joining the yeshivah and he came to spend Shabbos in Adelphia. On Shabbos afternoon, one of the boys came around looking for batteries. The visiting talmid was astonished, and concluded that this wasn't the yeshiva for him. Later, he told the menahel why he couldn't stay in Adelphia. "A boy was mechalel Shabbos." Rabbi Trenk shook his head. "No, it didn't happen. It can't be." "But I saw it happen," the teenager argued. Rabbi Trenk met his gaze. "You're right; this might not be the best yeshiva for you." He said it in his way, forceful and kind and laced with love, and the visiting bachur understood the message. If you're seeing chillul Shabbos as the reality, then this isn't the yeshiva for you. In this yeshiva, we look at people differently

A bachur in a particular yeshiva had been mechalel shabbos by turning on a light, and his rebbi, at a loss for how to address it, approached Rabbi Trenk and asked what to do about it. "What to do?" Rabbi Trenk repeated the question, and grabbed the mechanech's arm. "You should do nothing. That's what you should do." And then he leaned forward and said, "And, my friend, do you know how hard it is to do nothing?" He had evolved in this area, training himself not to react to perceived wrongdoing over many years

A newly hired rebbi came to solicit advice before starting his chinuch career. "I asked around and the other mechanchim all said that I have to start firm by laying down the law, and once the bachurim know I mean business, I can soften up." he told Rabbi Trenk, "No, no, no. Just go in and love them, teach them, listen to them, and build them. That's all you have to know." said Rabbi Trenk,

A young Lakewood father passed away suddenly, and the funeral was painful and heart-wrenching. Speaker after speaker addressed the son of the niftar, a struggling teenager, telling him how he would have to raise up to the occasion and continue his father's way. Unasked, Rabbi Trenk jumped up after one hesped and gave a derasha of his own. "The niftar had a zechus, what a special young man he left over, what a great boy, I know how he learns, how he davens... his father was so proud of him and he is so proud of him and he will be so proud of him"

A talmid once blurted out the question: What's the secret of the Trenk's marriage? What was the ingredient in the tangible feeling of harmony in their home? "We try not to let ourselves get hurt" Rabbi Trenk said simply. It was one line, but it expressed so much of what he taught them: The people around you are good and mean good, and if you're capable of not letting yourself get insulted or hurt by small mistakes, you can appreciate the flow of goodness

A huge crowd accompanied Rabbi Trenk to his final resting place. After the burial, a relative found herself standing near Rebbetzin Trenk. "Oy, what a bad day this is" the woman said. "No." said Rebbetzin Trenk gently, "not a bad day, just a hard day." sounding very much like her husband

Mindfulness by Jonathan Feiner

A common metaphor used to describe how mindfulness helps manage thoughts and feelings is to think of someone driving a bus with different passengers. Even if the passengers are screaming and telling the driver to go in a certain direction, it is ultimately up to the driver to decide where he wants to go." Similarly, we can slowly learn to treat our thoughts and feelings like passengers. They may be disturbing, but they are not in control. We can learn to make space for them and move forward with doing what is important to us.

We say in prayer, "God is the King, God was the King, God will always be the King." Instead of going in chronological order, we begin with the present. Why? Because, to be aware of the past and future, we need to first be present. "The past is joined to the future, and both are reflected in the present."

Someone came to Rabbi Elyashiv complaining that throughout his lifetime he had worked hard to elevate himself in avodas Hashem (serving God) but with very little to show for all his efforts. He remarked, "I am afraid that all it will say on my tombstone is, “Here lies someone who tried. Rabbi Elyashiv responded, "If I were walking in a cemetery and saw a tombstone with such an inscription, I would stop and pray at the grave of the tzaddik."

"And now, Israel, what does Hashem, your God, ask of you but to fear Hashem, your God" (Devarim 10:12). The midrash states: "Now is a language of teshuvah." The way to do repentance is to focus on the now. Teshuvah entails focusing on what we can change and do in this very moment

midrash teaches that when God gave the Torah and there was total silence, the sound came forth, "I am Hashem your God." Rav Shimshon Pincus explains that it was not that everyone was quiet so they could hear the voice. Rather, the midrash is teaching us that when there is total silence, the preexisting truth comes forth...that Hashem is our God

Morality by R’ Jonathan Sacks

Freedom itself will be at risk from the far right and the far left, the far right dreaming of a golden age that never was, the far left dreaming of a utopia that will never be.

Social media have given everyone a voice, and often it is a shrill one.

Moral hazard occurs when one party is involved in risk-taking but knows that, should the decision turn out to be a bad one, someone else will pay the price. When this happens, there is a distortion in the decision-making process. Because the potential gain is high and the cost of potential loss will be borne by others, there is an incentive to take high-risk decisions that would not otherwise be justified.

Rights have ceased to be restrictions on the scope of the state, and have become instead entitlements, demands for action by the state.

identity politics is a clear and present danger to liberal democracy. It fragments the body politic and balkanizes society. It discourages talk about the common good. It can quickly turn into the politics of grievance and competitive victimhood

unintended consequences will always defeat our best intentions

it is hard to see how the concept of micro-aggression can be made morally coherent. If I do not intend to offend you, how can I be held guilty for disturbing your hypersensitivity that reads into my words something that was neither meant nor would have been so understood by most people?

What is the fundamental difference between an argument for the sake of heaven and one that is not? Following Meiri and other medieval commentators, the sages were distinguishing between an argument for the sake of truth and one for the sake of victory. Hillel and Shammai were arguing for the sake of truth, the determination of God’s will. Korach, who challenged Moses and Aaron for leadership, was arguing for the sake of victory: he wanted to be a leader, too.

Science per se has no space for empathy or fellow feeling. That is not a critique of science, but it is an insistence that science is not the sum total of our understanding of humanity.

I said to Richard Dawkins “Richard, you are just tone deaf. You can’t hear the music beneath the noise.” Richard replied, “You are right, I am tone deaf. But there is no music.” How, if you are tone deaf, can you know that there is no music? For some, the negative certainties of the modern world have removed the very possibility of hearing the divine music, the call, the voice of the beyond-within.

Abraham Lincoln wrote a note in his diary, meant—one of his secretaries later said—for his eyes alone. He headed it “A Meditation on the Divine Will.” It contained the following paragraph: The will of God prevails. In great contests each party claims to act in accordance with the will of God. Both may be, and one must be wrong. God cannot be for and against the same thing at the same time. In the present Civil War it is quite possible that God’s purpose is something different from the purpose of either party.… An exceptional idea was taking shape in the mind of one of the greatest leaders of the modern age. Convinced as he was that ending slavery was the right and morally necessary thing to do, nonetheless Lincoln in this note to himself refused to blame the other side for the war. None of us, he intimates, can fully understand the divine will or the purposes of history. Even if we are sure that our opponents are wrong, they may be serving some necessary role in the moral drama. Far from this leading him into indecisiveness, it moved him to something quite different: humility and a refusal to demonize his opponents.

Rabbi Chaim Segal by Devora Gliksman

"The first rule of education is that there are no rules." ~ Rav Hutner

"The Torah treats a 13-year-old boy as an adult. What right do we have to treat him as a child?"

"We say in the morning and then at night: vishinantem l'vanecha, vilimadrem osam ess b'neichem. Why twice a day? Because the approach we took in the morning has already expired that night"

"Hochei'ach to'chiach ess amisecha v'lo sissa alav cheit. When giving tochacha, don't 'raise the sin' raise the person!"

"Never corner anyone. Always leave a person a way out. The nicest person can become an animal if he feels trapped."

Rav Noach Weinberg: Torah Revolutionary by Yonosan Rosenblum

Shimmy Kaufman, the son of the founder of Aish-NY, was a struggling fourteen year old when he first met Rav Noach. "Shimmy, do you know Hashem loves you?" he asked. Shimmy answered affirmatively, but without much conviction. Rav Noach stared at him for a few moments and then banged his fist on the table, "So, if you know, then why aren't you dancing dummy?"

The different perspectives of Aish and its critics is captured in a powerful story witnessed personally by Rav Aharon Lopiansky. One of the Mirrer roshei yeshiva used to learn morning seder with one of the kiruv stalwarts from Aish. The latter asked him one day what he thought about using a powerful movie on the Holocaust that had been shown to jolt viewers into thinking more deeply about their Jewish identity, but what contained a few scenes of questionable tzniyus. The Rosh Yeshiva replied with a smile, "Why can't you just draw them close with a little Eilu Metziyos [the second chapter in tractate Bava Metzia], instead of in wild and inappropriate ways?" His chavrusa became visibly upset. He grabbed the lapels of the Rosh Yeshiva's frock and asked him, "If your sister was married to a gentile, and this movie was the one hope to awaken them, would you still be so smug? Well, my sister is married to a gentile, and my nephews go to church. Jewish children crossing themselves. This is my first crack at doing something that might really make a difference. Tell me the truth, if it were your sister and your nephews, would you not drag them to the ends of the earth to see such a movie, even if there were questionable scenes?" The Rosh Yeshiva was shaken to the core, and slowly nodded, "Yes."

Yir'as Hashem meant recognizing the seriousness of life - the significance of every moment and everything we do, and the need to understand the message behind every event. The essence of fear of God, in Rav Noach's lexicon, was recognizing that our choices have consequences

Fulfilling one of Hashem's commandments should fill a person with joy. Rav Noach taught. That joy can be measured by the amount of energy one feels. If you do a mitzvah and do not have more energy than you did before, you are performing the mitzvah incorrectly

To love one's neighbor as oneself, Rav Noach explained, means to define him in terms of his virtues. Every person has both virtues and faults. When we look in the mirror, however our self- assessment is primarily based on our virtues, while we attribute only secondary importance to our faults, So too, with our fellow does our focus have to be his virtues and not his faults

A movement like Aish, the Rosh Yeshiva taught, must always maintain its firm relationship to God. Planning in too minute detail left out His input. Any plan had to leave room for adaptation to changing circumstances, for such changing circumstances are inevitable. Thus, strategic plans could at most be directional, but not a "blueprint of what to do in the next year." 

The Psychology of Money by Morgan Housel

We all think we know how the world works. But we’ve all only experienced a tiny sliver of it

focus less on specific individuals and case studies and more on broad patterns.

“It’s not whether you’re right or wrong that’s important,” George Soros once said, “but how much money you make when you’re right and how much you lose when you’re wrong.” You can be wrong half the time and still make a fortune

Savings can be created by spending less. You can spend less if you desire less. And you will desire less if you care less about what others think of you.

Something can be technically true but contextually nonsense.

Daniel Kahneman was asked how investors should respond when our forecasts are wrong. He said: Whenever we are surprised by something, even if we admit that we made a mistake, we say, ‘Oh I’ll never make that mistake again.’ But, in fact, what you should learn when you make a mistake because you did not anticipate something is that the world is difficult to anticipate. That’s the correct lesson to learn from surprises: that the world is surprising.

When a commentator on CNBC says, “You should buy this stock,” keep in mind that they do not know who you are. Are you a teenager trading for fun? An elderly widow on a limited budget? A hedge fund manager trying to shore up your books before the quarter ends? Are we supposed to think those three people have the same priorities, and that whatever level a particular stock is trading at is right for all three of them? It’s crazy

pessimists often extrapolate present trends without accounting for how markets adapt

Sandy Gottesman, a billionaire investor who founded the consulting group First Manhattan, is said to ask one question when interviewing candidates for his investment team: “What do you own, and why?” Not, “What stocks do you think are cheap?” or “What economy is about to have a recession?” Just show me what you do with your own money. I love this question because it highlights what can often be a mile-wide gap between what makes sense—which is what people suggest you do—and what feels right to them—which is what they actually do

things change—both the world around you, and your own goals and desires. It is one thing to say, “We don’t know what the future holds.” It’s another to admit that you, yourself, don’t know today what you will even want in the future. And the truth is, few of us do. It’s hard to make enduring long-term decisions when your view of what you’ll want in the future is likely to shift

You Ought to Do a Story About Me by Ted Jackson

“Laughter is spiritual warfare.”

For someone like me, who’d never dabbled in illegal substances, the solution seemed too simple. Just stop making bad choices. Ray Anderson, the chaplain at the New Orleans Mission, a recovering addict himself, explained how frustrating it is for addicts to be told by their friends and families to “just stop using,” as if it’s a switch they can turn off in their heads. He also pointed out the hypocrisy of simplistic advice coming from people who have unresolved issues of their own.

Johann Hari argues that addiction may not be about chemical hooks in the brain at all. Instead, addiction may be an adaptation to a negative environment or situation. He argues that addiction is more associated with a lack of strong human connections than to the substances themselves.

Hari suggests that we’ve been treating addicts the wrong way by isolating them. The opposite of addiction is not sobriety, he says. “The opposite of addiction is connection.”

Full list of the books I read this year can be found over on my Goodreads 2020 Challenge Page