#contemplating whether I should keep trying or let life take me where it will.

[avocodas]

This is a long ass post.. I don't if i am back as my senses for joy are paralyzed. But I wanna thank you for each like, reblog, or reach out message💖 If you read this, ily

Where am I?

I am in my 20s crisis... that's what is fueling this anguish post.

But i wanna point out first how, lol, how soothing opening this hellsite again.. All the memories played back like my skin cells are giggling bro.. how pathetic haha

Now for my crisis.. I left my job

No i wasn't laid off, i didn't resign at once .. but some of you caught up with my random thoughts, you knew I worked as a teacher. From grade 1 till grade 10...... that's 10 classes at my first fulltime job and I will spoil you it was a terrific experience and i mean that in two directions. So i asked to be a part-timer ( since i was teaching 2 subjects) and stay the Design teacher for Middle Schoolers- and High schoolers ( younger kids are nightmare) . A month and a half the HR and my line manager sat and a meeting and informed me that my request isn't in the prestigious-expensive-only-rich-fams-register-their-kids school's budget. So I politely quit! My health withdraw, the psychopath manager i had to work with, the unpaid overtime, last minute meetings, the whole chaos weren't the reason to quit. I quit because i don't wanna stay in the same classroom telling a kid to quit licking the mouse for 40 years straight.

I got a chance to work in Qatar, despite I didn't wanna go i accepted to go to the interview *after mom scolded me too lol *, and everything went great till the interviewer learned I don't have a teaching diploma which is a mandatory requirement in Qatar.. Another piece of crap paper that costs-lots-and-adds-no-values, is once again controlling my life..

I didn't want teaching or the "safe" job title to be my prison for my abilities and for my ambitions...

Right when I quit, an initiative to teach 2D animation opened for applications, it was a full year program from 9-5 ( unpaid lol) but you are gonna learn from local artists who worked internationally and who wanna revive Lebanon as a creative hub for digital productions! the only downside that they accept only 5 students, and you have to be a good in digital art!

and guess what this girl is at least great at? splashing colors on pixeled canvas!

So I applied, waited a month and a half for applications to close and another 15 days waiting for a shortlisting email for an interview which was in couples of days!

I arrived before 20 minutes, scanned the greeny, clean, prestigious, occupied by western-woke locals neighborhood, till my interview starts in 6 minutes!

I tried to stay calm, but my heart was beating fast from this random jogging around the neighborhood haha, one of the juries approached me and said " don't worry, they are monsters inside *wink wink*" and jokingly replied " Ohh no, i was a teacher, so ig i am too a monster myself haha" and we shared the laughs..

In the interview.. they asked the typical questions why i wanna learn animation, have i tried, bla bla bla and i basically repeated my cover letter and shared my experience with students when we learned to storyboard and film simple stop motion animations...

" But why haven't you created your own universe?"

Excuse me ?

The founder himself, along with the children book illustrator asked me this question.

Folks, my portfolio consisted of variations of work, from commissions, to studies, to typographic illustrations and many many more.. at the end i put 4 illustrations from my KNY fanwork to prove my rendering abilities

Just to be asked why I don't have a concept.. an attribute that needs a lot of research and year of observing, experimenting and documenting to achieve.

I replied that i am indeed in my journey to learn and discover my concept, I kid you not drawing my favorite shows is what drove me to learn art, dragon ball helped me get through my parents divorce, i ve been drawing KNY for 2 years straight and there where my technical skills got honed.

But what do you wanna do? you were a teacher, game developer, do you see yourself a game developer? you did VR game, you drew comics, you studied CS at uni bla bla...

and I simply replied " I still in my journey to learn what do I actually wanna do for living, committing to a title isn't a wise choice for me as you stated I am good at multiple fields. I am applying to this program to add to my table and see how my past expertise would contribute into elevating the skills i am gonna acquire - if selected- here"

"But if you wanna give a title for yourself what it would be ?" asked the first juries that i met "A Digital Artist . As it joins the multidisciplinary fields in the digital medium in general"

and there where it ended. Do you know what shocked me the most? It is the skeptical looks on the founder of the program, and the weird vibes in the room itself as if i was brought here to be humiliated.

Because what didn't make sense at all, is asking why I don't have the vision of a 30 yo painter when i am still 24? I mean i am here to learn ani-.. well who am lying to...

the only reason I wanna get applied to this program wasn't just to learn animation purely, it was to work on the last project which is a 15 minutes movie.. I want to be seriously involved in a professional production of a movie where i finally can feel belonged to, and use my skills in concept art, visual development, narratives, designing and developing the storylines.

A week pass by, and it passed horribly. As my eyes were glued to the gmail app, and my ears waiting for the notification sound sat to important emails only. And just for my luck i got insomnia and i couldn't sleep well. What adds to it my mom cooked mjadara in both colors for the whole week.

On Thursday, When i was with my friends, I ordered a roasted potatoes from the Al-Turki restaurant, called the restaurant twice to confirm bringing changes so i can avoid unwanted tipping. Food arrived, my friends are jealous cause of my big fat potatoe while they got humble shawarma wraps which was also high in calories unlike my order.

Right when I forked the first hot, cheesy sweet and salty bite, the important-email notification knocked, so did the result..

"Bla Bla Bla

I am writing to let you know that we won't be able to take you with us for this year's program.

Bla Bla Bla. Bla Bla Bla Bla Bla 2025.

Bla Bla, Bla "

All the week of eating bland food and meals, and this appetite killing news came just after i paid 8$ for a delightful meal..

I did the usual, called my mom, she comforts me, tells me Allah knows the best, peeps in Palestine fought for 75 years and they still fighting and it will be free... maybe you might need a part-time job first so you can handle the transportations and don't feel less than others.. bla bla bla.. and don't cry

Yeah i didn't cry, I desperately wanted to, but my mom asked me to not.. even when my friends asked what's wrong I cracked jokes instead.. at the shower i wanted to cry but my eyes stayed dry..

Cause now I am lost, this what I visioned my year gonna be.. i planned to have my name travelling in the movie credits in the MENA annual festivals... and what went wrong is something i didn't have control over, i crafted my application perfectly, i contacted the first edition participants, and took their opinion. All what i planned and worked heartfully through just didn't blossom at all..

the seeds were rotten to begin with ...

Chin up, accepting faith and trying to move on... i am trying to apply to full funded masters program in CS, couple of programs opened and amma apply... Colleagues, friends and online strangers are saying a the perfect candidate and shower me with compliments ..

But at this point, does anything I plan to matters? I don't recall the last time i put huge efforts and got fair results..

Highschool? I was kicked off the team cuz my teacher misread the number 3 to 4.. and that was right after i did half of the project

University? Always were with the outcasts, the cool ones tho. Covid, inflation, stress eating me alive, Doctors opens the pandora box for unholy questions, effortless teammates, woke teammate, love triangles i was forcefully registered in...

Even After University, when i had an interview with an alumni to work online in his gaming company, he calls me at night and tells me he got me job as a teacher - a position he previously worked in- and he wasn't gonna pay for three months anyways so this better for me...

Only to have my views of whatever-positive-delusions-i-had crushed and turn on my survival instincts to escape this toxic-controlled-by-psychos-work place....

I really wanna stand by and watch where the waves of life throw me at. DO nothing at all, and see where Allah's plans throw me at... I have big faith in Allah but ... this wallah frustrating... soul crushing... i don't even know what job i can apply to now...

I am afraid to not get anywhere and be another story of those who faded in the morphine of corporate and safe redundant jobs.. or worse to end up as a beggar who couldn't move on, yet finds out that the market is already saturated and competitive too.

[screamsortega]

i won’t let anyone hurt you;

summary: as news of a new ghostface arises you get painful flashbacks from the year before, luckily, your boyfriend ethan is there to comfort you.

warnings: cursing, mentions of blood, murder, all that stuff.

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

*lowercase intended*

“what’s going on?” sam spoke, rushing in not too long after chad called for her.

“…where the mutilated bodies of two students..” the news reporter on the tv spoke.

“cute boy, nice.” quinn said, pointing to the guy that followed in after sam.

“their names have just been released by the police, jason carvey and greg bruckner.” the reporter continues before mindy chimes in.

“holy shit,” she began, “that’s that chode from our film studies class. the one obsessed with argento.”

“Also found at the scene were various ghostface costumes, a character popularized by the stab movie franchise.” as soon as the reporter said those words, you could feel your face grow pale before you all looked at one another.

“Pack a bag, we leave in ten.” sam spoke, walking into the kitchen to grab a knife.

“sam, wait, sam!” tara spoke up, walking over towards her sister.

“we’re getting out of the city.”

“what?” the guy, danny, that followed behind sam said.

“thank you, suspicious new guy, but we got it from here.” chad says, slightly pushing danny back out of the apartment. “have a good night, get home safe.”

“sam.” tara said, “sam, wh- hold on, no, wait, let’s talk about this for a second. cause this might not have anything to do with us.”

“are you serious?” sam asked.

“it’s a big city! it’s halloween, everybody’s wearing masks!” tara defended.

“tara, this isn’t a coincidence.” sam spoke, hee voice slightly raising. “you knew him!”

“barely.”

“chad, mindy, y/n? back me up.”

“i mean, it is a little bit..” chad started as mindy finished his sentence. “close to home.”

“see?” sam said, turning back to tara.

you had been sitting in silence, blanking out, ethan had taken notice of this. “y/n?” he spoke, his voice low enough to where only you could hear.

ethan’s voice caused you to bring yourself back into reality, you get up and walk into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you which causes the group to stop in the middle of their conversations.

“is — is she okay?” anika questions, looking from one person to another.

“this is bringing shit back for her,” tara began, “everything that happened last year traumatized her for like, life.”

“didn’t it happen to all of you, though?” quinn asks, trying to keep up.

“well, yeah, but it just had a way harder hit on her. she hasn’t been dealing with it well either.”

ethan glances at the ground, contemplating on whether or not he should try and comfort you.

he gets up, heads to your bedroom door but before he reaches for the handle mindy chimes in. “she probably doesn’t want to be bothered right now, dude.”

ethan rolls his eyes, ignoring mindy’s comment as he walks in your bedroom and closes the door behind him.

“hey, you okay?” ethan asks, sitting besides you as his hand rests upon your shoulder.

you shrug his hand off, “go away, e.”

the two of you sit in silence for a moment, ethan deciding on what to say. “do you wanna talk about it?”

you just sit there, knees up against your chest as your head hangs low. “i know this must be hard for you, and i’m sorry that you have to go through this again.” ethan began.

“i care about you, y/n, and i’m here for you. so, please, talk to me.”

for some reason, tears just start to pour onto your face, your head falls upon ethan’s shoulder. “i can’t do this shit again, e, i can’t.”

“i know, it’s okay,” ethan began, his hand crept up to your hair, brushing through it. “just take deep breaths, okay? in and out.”

“ethan,” you began, finally controlling your breathing. “you have to get out of here, okay? if ghostface is really back then that means they’ll come after everyone, and that includes you and i can’t lose you, e.”

“yeah, well, you must be crazy if you think i’m leaving you.” ethan spoke, “i won’t let anyone hurt you, okay?”

“just let it all out, y/n”

[suckerforcate]

Is it ok if you do one where yn /Larissa's s/o / is always the brightest and happiest person,they may seem off sometimes but they shrug it off easily

But when left alone they're really depressed and has been thinking about doing it

So in her separate bedroom she was contemplating whether she should do it whilst on a chair with the gvn in her hand and she's like

Head down,gun in faced down,elbows on thighs sitting situation if yk what I mean

And Larissa walks in on her in that situation and panics and helps her and she says it's fine but doesn't open up at all, I'd like it to be angst with alotta fluff too please,

If you can't,totally understand but pls do tell me so that I could request another person and have a great day ❤️

Bottled up

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Reader

Word Count: 766

Warning: mental health issues, suicide attempt

A/n: hope you like this, I'm so so sorry this took so long!! <3

You had been excellent at hiding emotions and how you really felt all your life. With a little practice, it wasn't that hard. Even though you were a grown up person now, you still did it. Not wanting to talk about, rather pushing it away.

But at some point you just can't push it away anymore. It gets too much, and that point was now. You sat on a chair in the guest room, gun in hand, elbows propped onto your knees.

In all honesty, you didn't want to die, you just wished to be happy. But after having tried to be happy for so long, without result, you were tired. Your life was tiring. The only thing keeping you going was Larissa, but for some time now, you felt as if not even she was enough.

You had been sitting there, in that position for at least half an hour now. Just staring at the gun, overthinking everything. How did they make this look so easy on TV? It certainly wasn't.

Just fucking do it, (Y/n). One pull, and it's over. You're free.

Still contemplating, you heard the wooden floor creak. Looking up, you were shocked to meet Larissa's eyes. Concern and panic was written all over her face. She fell to her knees, slowly crawling closer to you. Right in front of you, she stopped. Hands reaching out for you, but not really touching you. Afraid, of what you'll do. Pulling herself together she reaches forward and takes the gun from you, unloading it and throwing it far away. You don't even protest, mouth shut, staring at her, you were still trying to understand what was happening.

"Love, what's wrong?" Larissa's voice was thin, trembling. She was afraid. You weren't sure, you had ever seen her like this before. Scared.

Finally, having found your voice again, you cleared your throat and sat up straight.

"It's fine, dove. I wasn't going to kill myself." You laughed, wanting you shrug the matter off. But Larissa knew you too well, she saw in your eyes that you were lying. A gasp, nearly sob escaped her.

"You did, you wanted to kill yourself." Her whole being trembled now, shaking her head in disbelief. She reached out, to touch your cheek, but you pulled back.

"That's ridiculous." You stood up, turning your back to Larissa. You knew, you'd cave in if she interrogated you further.

Feeling gentle, soft hands on your shoulder, you take a step closer to her. Your back was still turned towards her, but you easily leaned into her touch. She pulled you into a hug, holding you as a sob escaped you. A gut-wrenching sob. Never had you let this out, pushing it back felt much more convenient.

You grabbed her hands, holding onto them for dear life, as she held you and kissed your hair. Crying your heart out, you felt it was good to do that surely you weren't healed now, but it felt freeing.

For quite some time the two of you stood there, tangled up in one another. As your tears ebbed down, Larissa pulled you over to the bed and sat you down across from her. Looking at her, you saw puffy eyes, her cheeks wet from tears. She had cried as well. Silent though, careful to not upset you more.

"Love, please talk to me. You always seemed so happy?" You chuckled sadly, looking down. You couldn't look at her, it'd break you.

"I- I guess I'm good at hiding emotions." Your voice was hoarse, from all the crying.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you felt like you couldn't talk to me, if any of this is my fault-" her voice broke, a new tear falling down her cheek. Hastily your head shot up, and you brushed her tears away.

"No, stop that. You, Larissa, were the only thing keeping me alive. If it hadn't been for you, I would be long gone." Larissa's breath hitched, slightly smiling at you. She felt extremely guilty, for not having noticed how you felt.

"I'm glad, you're not gone. Talk to me?" You lightly shook your head, Larissa already opened her mouth to convince you otherwise.

"I will talk to you, but not now. Maybe after a cuddle and a nap, I need to swallow all this first." She nodded, pulling you down to lay beside her. Holding you close to her, her scent and the warmth of her body calmed you. Never would you want to lose this, this feeling of being in her arms. This feeling of heaven on earth.

[archivalofsins]

So, before I watch the short music video and analyze the hell out of it let me put up my thoughts on the thumbnail and the gifs. I haven't been in the best mood for a minute and have been physically sick as well. So, I've mostly been talking to friends in private about my thoughts on the information.

Good news for all of those reading discussion is how I flush out ideas and opinions. So, I now have a lot.

First the thumbnail,

We believe that the thumbnail is a direct progression of the first one and meant to mirror it. Better highlighting the nuances of the situation.

The window replacing the mirror behind him in the original thumbnail.

The mannequin parts take the place of the broken walls.

The train seats taking the place of the couch and support bars taking the place of the armrest, while being vaguely similar to the staff we see The Fool card carrying-

this continues that caged in or surrounded feeling from his first music video thumbnail. Making the audience contemplate whether he's stuck in here with us or if we're stuck in here with him. A feeling that both of his thumbnail images subtly give off well.

The mannequin is split into pieces but there only seems to be pieces enough for one. Something I and @doctorbunny discussed. At which point I brought up that the thumbnail can be taken as a visual reference to the line,

"Maybe it’s ok to try to keep on living split in half, make that heart beat."

As it visually shows, trying to live his life as normal by doing his commute with these, possibly disjointed/at odds aspects of himself, constantly at his side. Reminded him of the division within himself. A good illustration of how living with a dissociation can be in my opinion.

Mikoto's clothes here are different as well. I do believe this is the other one going to work, and we will be seeing the trauma that Mikoto suffered to lead him to this point. Just as we did with Amane. I also spoke briefly about enjoying how the series confirmed this hinted at concept all the way back from trial one.

We've also discussed dissociative identity disorder here in regards to the other characters before. The information from that post can be applied here in regards to Mikoto's new outfit. As we've gone over before alters can have different body language and speaking habits. However, in that post we went over the myths around switching being incredibly noticeable and how the changes are not as drastic as one would believe.

Now of course, the problem can be exacerbated by how much stress one is under. However, for the most part the point is not having people notice a change has occurred. So, alters try to mirror the one who fronts the most when out depending on who they're around or where they are. Of course, this is different for everyone.

However, a change of clothes isn't enough to really make someone go oh you've changed drastically anymore. Unless the change is really out there, which it's usually not. So, using clothes and accessories to give a better understanding of the other we haven't seen is a great stylistic choice.

However, this isn't the only differentiating feature. There are also eyebags. As we discussed in another post people with dissociative identity disorder tend to be lethargic or really tired.

X

However, just because people with dissociative identity disorder are tired and probably would rather not bother with getting in a verbal argument let alone go through the trouble of killing another person, they'll still defend themselves if necessary. Because dissociative disorders form as a response and defense to trauma. So, there's no saying what will happen when some is exposed to that trauma that caused it a second time.

Also, literally anyone is capable of committing murder even though no one should do it. The bags could be being used to differentiate between them throughout the second mv.

We can also see he has his bat in his hands here in the thumbnail. This is all important when it comes to discussing the gifs that have been released. Ah, almost forgot many have been saying that the thumbnail is a fisheye shot but we believe it to be an arc shot because Mikoto himself does not have the distortion that would come with a fisheye lens shot.

Here's some information on the arc shot.

In the gifs we see that instead of the diamond shaped earring Mikoto is wearing earrings that more so resemble tires. It would be cool if all the objects within the tarot cards were variations of things associated with each of them. Explaining why the deck was split in half near the end of MeMe.

As the tires are reminiscent to the wheel of fortune, and as such, could be being used to highlight how little control over their life the other had. Yet that's not the only interesting thing. Instead of wielding his bat like in the thumbnail, Mikoto is shown holding his tote bag with no bat in sight within the gif of him sitting on the train.

This implies that he won't only be stuck within the train in his mental space but displayed on it in reality. Something that goes into what we speculated about the train being related to trauma they may have experienced. I discussed this with @candckirby in private.

Where I posited that the space in MeMe was as destroyed as it was because Mikoto had a problem with enclosed spaces for one reason or another. Plus, the fact that his mental space may be taking on the form of this train could imply that he's been forced to relive that trauma in a way. In the gifs from today that I saw I noted that Mikoto's swing looked odd with them.

We both ended up agreeing it could be a one-handed far back wind up swing. Yet, I still had some doubts because the bat being used is clearly not Mikoto's at least not the one he uses in the thumbnail. As it seems to be drawn with rust on it and the one he has in the thumbnail is devoid of that. The bat could degrade over the course of the video though. Just from that and how the bat was angled behind him along with his posture it didn't seem as though he was swinging it in that way.

All in all, it's too short of an image to fully parse out. However, at first glance it appeared he was being attacked from behind while attacking forward. The gif where Mikoto is yelling out shows that they'll more than likely be using the lack of eyebags and presences of them to differentiate between them. Something I find interesting mostly due to the lack of them during most of MeMe and he very intentional covering of eyes in certain scenes during that mv.

Which leads me to believe that the other one was there, and the eyes were obscured for that purpose. Outside of that my favorite of the gifs was personally the chase scene. I really liked the expression work throughout all of them. Yeah, that's it.

It's not really a lot but I'm tired and sick so cut me a bit of slack- they said making late excuses for their weak delivery hours if not days after all this information dropped. Well at least we wrote something.

[jamespottersmixtape]

september 16: binge 1,173 words @rosekiller-microfic

It’s their movie night! just rosekiller being in love tbh (ft. Regulus freaking out)

After careful contemplation, in which he heavily weighed the pros and cons of each day of the week, Evan has decided that Saturday is his favourite.

This isn't that surprising—Saturdays are great. No work, no school, no need to wake up early or go to sleep before dawn. Pure unbridled bliss to spend a day however one pleases.

But that isn't why Evan loves them.

No, Evan has become rather fond of Saturdays because for the past year or so since he and Barty started dating, they've made it a goal to host a movie night. Just the two of them.

It started off as a complete accident—Saturday being one of the only days the two were free, unburdened by Evan's university classes and Barty's part-time job. So one night they found themselves sprawled over Evan's couch, watching a movie and eating takeaway because they hadn't felt like leaving the flat. Then the next week found them in a similar position, only at Barty's place, completely by coincidence.

By the third week they realized the pattern and made a truce—every Saturday that they could manage they'd stay at one of their flats, order in, and put on a random movie or show to watch together.

It quickly became a favorite date night for the both of them—choosing to ignore the rest of the world for one night a week and keep each other company. It was more than enough. Soft, tender touches under a blanket and rowdy laughter directed at a particularly shitty movie Barty had picked out. They would always end the night with their limbs tangled together, whether that be on the couch or one of their beds.

Now over a year later Evan still feels the same excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach as the clock hits 5pm—their official designated start time.

He figures Barty will arrive any minute now and let himself in, so he turns the TV on and grabs some blankets from the closet, setting up the couch as comfortably as he can.

He's in the kitchen looking over menus when he hears the turn of a key and the click of the front door closing. He smiles to himself, soft and hidden, as feet patter across his wooden floors.

A warm presence ghosts along his back as steady arms wrap around his waist. Barty tugs him closer and hooks his chin over Evan's shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

"Hi Ev," Barty mumbles; he sounds tired. Evan knows he went home to see his mother today, a visit that usually leaves Barty drained no matter how much he loves her. He tries his hardest not to be so reserved around Evan; he's definitely gotten better with opening up about his home life, but it can be hard.

Evan has learned to be patient.

"Hi baby," he hums, turning his head and capturing Barty's lips in a kiss. It's sweet, chaste.

He turns around fully so he can run his fingers through Barty's hair, cupping his face with his free hand. "How was today? Your mum's well?"

That's another thing they've worked on: communication. Sometimes just a simple How was your day? or a Can we call later? I miss you, makes all the difference when both of them lead such busy lives. The two of them are far from perfect, but they try their best.

Barty shrugs, but smiles nonetheless. "She's good, not very busy these days. Father wasn't home so we went out for coffee," he wrinkles his nose at the thought of his father, and Evan laughs. He can't say he disagrees with the sentiment.

Barty tugs Evan closer where his hands still rest on his waist. "And what'd you do today? Other than wait for me to grace you with my presence, of course."

Evan rolls his eyes. "Actually I was dreading this. I'd much rather go back to studying like I've been doing for the past 6 hours. It's very fun," he loops his arms around Barty's neck, staring up at him with a devilish grin.

"Oh I'm sure," Barty nods along. "I should make my swift exit then, don't wanna take up too much of your time Mr. University."

"Shut up and kiss me, idiot."

Their lips meet again, warm and slow under the yellow lighting of Evan's small kitchen. It's unhurried, no intention other than re-familiarizing themselves with each other. Still, kissing Barty always makes his entire body light up—fireworks or tingles or electricity; whatever you want to call it—and he shivers from head to toe at the feeling.

God, he's painfully in love with this stupid man.

They pull back, Barty's hand never leaving Evan's hip as they go about chattering aimlessly. They choose a restaurant and Evan forces Barty to call in—pizza, even though Barty complains that his mother sent him home with enough Italian food.

They laugh at nothing as they wait for the food, Barty recounting to Evan how Regulus called him at 8pm the previous night to freak out when he found a ring in James' sock drawer.

Honestly Evan's surprised they're not married with two kids yet. They've been dating for ages, and James looks at him like he built the solar system. It's gross—and also about damn time that man proposes.

The food arrives in record time and they make themselves comfortable, Barty laying half of his body weight on Evan's legs. Not that he's complaining.

Barty chooses a show for them to watch tonight—some random sitcom he's been binge watching the past few weeks—and they settle into a comfortable silence, munching on their food.

"Hey, B?" he asks halfway through the second episode; food long gone and plates piled in the sink. He's wrapped in Barty's arms now, a blanket thrown over the both of them.

The chatter on the TV is low enough that he knows Barty heard him, but he doesn't make a move to acknowledge it.

Evan pokes one of his hands. Nothing.

He sighs, long and drawn out. "Baby."

Predictably, Barty turns his head to face Evan. He looks smug, the bastard, and raises a questioning eyebrow.

"Rosie?"

"Ugh, you're horrible. Why do I tolerate you again?"

Barty smiles, a bright and open gesture that radiates even more warmth under the soft blanket. "Cause you're just as bad as I am," he wraps his arms tighter and noses at Evan's hair.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am n–"

"Watch the show, Ev," Barty interrupts, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

Evan scoffs but resigns himself to sink into the surrounding warmth, the rise and fall of Barty's breathing a comforting lull. The domesticity of it all makes his chest ache.

They go through another episode before Evan begins to feel the effects of sleep taking over, his brain peacefully blank and his eyes struggling to stay open.

"Sleep, Ev. I'll wake you later," he hears Barty whisper lowly next to his ear. Evan smiles, and lets his eyes close.

This, he thinks. This is perfect.

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

The Gym Membership - Part 18 (Crosshair)

Summary: Crosshair reacts to Tech's statement

A/N: Hello Lovelies,

I hope everyone is doing well. I know things are getting rough for all of us, but just keep in mind that we all love you. Just keep swimming. Keep moving, keep pushing, even if it's a millimetre, just keep trying.

Love oo

Warning: Grief, emotional hiding, anger, annoyance, flower buying, mentions of hospital, and cardiac monitor. I think that's all of it, if I miss anything please let me know.

AO3 Link   |   Words: 1,011   |   PREVIOUS - -> NEXT

Gym Membership Master List  |   Main Master List

“What could you possibly know about grieving? You’re not Hunter, you’ve never lost a wife or a fiancee! You’ve never loved anyone!” Tech’s voice echoed over and over in Crosshair’s head, he rubbed his hands on his pant leg, doing his best to control the anger brewing within him. He stood from his seat, his fists clenched by his side.

“You have no idea what I’ve lost” Cross’ voice was cold and menacing as his jaw clenched. “Just cause you’re my vod doesn’t mean you know my life!” 

He moved away from Tech, grabbing his keys, he didn’t exactly know where he was heading at that moment, what he did know was he needed to move away from Tech before he hit him.

He took a deep breath and turned to look at Tech one last time, “I may not know what you are feeling Tech, but if you don’t learn how to deal with Kamarie’s loss, it’ll eat away at you more than you can imagine.” It was all Cross wanted to add before he headed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Time passed as Crosshair drove his car in a daze, before he even realized it, his car was headed towards the Veteran’s Army Hospital. He sat in his car staring at the hospital for a good fifteen minutes as he contemplated whether or not he should get out of the car. 

He hadn’t been there in a week, his schedule got thrown off the whole thing with Tech stressed him out if he was being honest. As he sat there, he realized he hadn’t even brought any flowers with him. It was too late now to go and get some from his usual florist, he let out a frustrated sigh as he got out of his car and headed in.  He would need to make a stop at the gift shop, he hated getting gift shop flowers, they were always leftovers and scraggly bits. His jaw clenched as he looked at the stems that were being offered, they were pathetic and not good enough.

“Can’t find what you’re looking for?” The shopkeeper asked as she stood beside him, a smile on her face.

“Do you have … I don’t know, any fresh flowers?” He turned to the elderly lady who had been there taking care of the shop for the past twenty-five years. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while, kid” she mumbled as she walked to the door behind the register.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to get my flowers at the shop you recommended.” He answered absent-mindedly, “Plus there was a death in my family … so my schedule’s been a little hectic”

“Sorry to hear that, kid.” She gave him a sympathetic nod, before she disappeared into the room she opened, she walked out with a rather large bouquet, “Here you go, lanky.” She placed the bouquet on the counter as she patted his hand, “Just remember, I always keep a fresh batch just in case.” Crosshair looked at the bouquet of roses and tulips that oddly went together, “Was it someone you were close to?” Cross quirked his eyebrow, as he tried to understand her question, “The family member that you lost.”

“Somewhat, she was my brother’s fiancé.”

“That poor man, are you being supportive?” She always treated him like he was her son, he wasn’t sure why, or what she was hoping to get out of being so kind to him.

“As much as I can be, but he’s hiding himself” his voice still had a hint of anger and annoyance as he thought back to Tech.

“Much like you are?”

“I’m not hiding”

“Oh no? Tell me, since the last time we talked, have you told your family why you come to the hospital every week?” Cross didn’t answer her, “Well… have you?”

He let out a sigh, “They don’t know anything”

She lifted her eyebrow in derision, “Isn’t that a form of hiding? You can’t be angry and annoyed with him for hiding when you are doing the same thing, and a lot longer than he has.”

“I’m not angry … or annoyed.”

“Yeah, and I’m not a 65 year gift shop cashier.” She held up her hands in surrender when he narrowed his eyes at her, “Alright, so you’re not annoyed or angry…” she rolled her eyes, “then how do you feel with the way he’s acting?”

“Aggravated” he smirked as he looked at her, “See not annoyed or angry”

She silently laughed as she shook her head, “Kid, pretty sure, aggravation is a mixture of both.” He just shrugged, as he listened to her explanation, “Anyway, young man, try not to be too hard on him. Just remember how you felt and how much pain you went through when you first started coming here.”

“Thanks Bethany. I’ll see you around.” 

He took the bouquet and nodded his thanks as he headed towards the seventh floor. His feet followed the familiar path he’d taken over the past several years, he headed to the room he had gotten to know like the back of his hand. 

His feet froze as his eyes focused on the woman’s back sitting in the chair by the bed, his hand gripped the bouquet a little tighter, as he walked in, placing the bouquet in the vase beside the bed getting rid of the old flowers that were there, “Why are you here?” He mumbled without looking at her.

I glanced up to look at the man who vexed me to no end, I didn’t even bother responding to him as I focused my attention back on my book, glancing at my sister’s bedside cardiac monitor. I don’t know what was more vexing his voice, the fact he always showed up and usually brought her favourite flowers, or that he didn’t say much and still managed to get under my skin. My eyes glanced over as I watched him grab one of the chairs in the room and slid it beside mine. 

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[mystery-moose]

Someone in my life posed some interesting questions about stories recently! In considering them I figured I'd keep a record of my thoughts here on my tumblr web log, because what void should I holler into if not this one?

First, how I think about stories. I try to avoid thinking about them as morality plays or parables (mostly because this can keep me from engaging with challenging art) but I also don't like thinking about them purely as escapism. Each story has a reason it exists, whether that's entertainment, communication, or contemplation. They're designed to draw out our empathy, communicate a feeling, create a mood. Sometimes that's in service of something important to the author. Other times, it's something meant to distract. I don't judge a story based on its pretensions, or on its naked commercialism -- I try to judge based on its execution, how it's doing what it's doing, and how well it succeeds. There are great artists right now working solely with other people's licenses, doing work-for-hire gigs, and their skills are just as worthy of praise and appreciation as the latest semi-original high-concept novel hanging in the middle of the New York Times bestseller list.

Basically, I think about stories like stories! Or, if I absolutely have to be metaphorical, like buildings. Are the foundations strong? Is it doing anything special? Can I navigate it easily? How accessible is it? That last matters a lot to me, because it doesn't matter how cool the interior is if most people can't find their way inside.

Second, what do I need a story to do to recommend it to someone else? I'm gonna go with "accessibility" at the top, not in the disability sense but the populist one. Yeah, playing to the cheap seats can hurt a story a lot, and you obviously can't please everyone, but ignoring your audience doesn't make me appreciate your story much myself, let alone get me to recommend it to anyone else. You have to find a balance where what you're communicating isn't absolute nonsense to most of your audience. Not all! Just most. Effective communication of your thoughts, feelings, and ideas to a layman is something I think a lot of storytellers could stand to care about more when it comes to honing their craft, and that goes for folks outside of the arts especially. So if I find a story with a big concept, beautiful craft, intense emotion, and it's not too esoteric or inaccessibly written? That's great art in my book, and I'll tell everyone about it.

Next, what do I look for in stories? Now that is a tough one... I guess, beyond sheer execution (if your prose is good enough you can take me almost anywhere) I look for something that makes me care about its characters as it introduces me to their world, and does so without me feeling like I'm being told why I should care about the characters or what their world is like. This goes for everything from period pieces to stories set in places or communities I'm unfamiliar with, just as much as it goes for fantasy or science-fiction. I do generally have to care about the characters in a piece to really devote a significant amount of time to a story, though. If I don't, the other elements of the work (craft, originality, feeling) have to carry a whole lot more of the weight in order to get me to finish something.

What are red flags for me? Honestly, a big one is feeling either preached or condescended to. Even if it's politics or perspectives I agree with, if I feel like I'm being told what to think rather than thinking it on my own, or if I simply think the author doesn't trust me to understand what they're trying to say? I check out. Beyond that, when a story excuses terrible behavior in the interests of forcing me to sympathize with a character the author clearly favors, I also check out. There's other stuff too -- I don't much care for certain tropes when they feel obvious or sufficiently undisguised (at least try to put some kind of spin on it!) -- but those are the big ones I think. If I see those, my desire to continue drops real sharp.

A recent example of a story I really loved, because I try to stay positive: earlier this year I finished a book called A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine, which almost instantly became one of my favorite stories. I had to sit with my feelings for days before I really settled on that, too! I worry about recency bias sometimes, that an impact will dull with time, but Empire has lived in my head since I read it. It's a well-told and compelling yarn that dips into a number of my favorite genres (science-fiction, murder-mystery, political intrigue, thriller) told from one of my favorite POVs (first-person) that also happens to dig into concepts that I find super cool and interesting! Things like history, how it's recorded, who makes it, what matters versus what historians only think matters. Things like the colonialism, cultural imperialism, and the politics of empire -- the pressure of being a small community being subsumed by a larger, more dominant one, the complicated nature of being a person from two worlds, whether by choice or by birth, and so on. It's got a lot of thoughts about that stuff, and it can't touch on all of them with the depth that they deserve, but it knows enough to know there's no easy answer for a lot of its questions, and it manages to make that feel like a natural conclusion rather than a copout. A great novel, and one I recommend to most everyone I know!

One I'm still in the middle of that I need to get back to: Gene Wolfe's Book of the New Sun. That's a work that I think is a bit inaccessible, with characters that I don't necessarily love (the protagonist is a professional torturer, if that tells you anything) but the sheer craft on display... my god. There are whole sections I've read, passages that describe a feeling that I've had before but never put to words, and it expresses them so effectively and with such excellent language that it carries me forward on those passages even when I'm unsure what this person's quest is or whether or not I even like them. And that's to say nothing of the depth of the text itself -- Ursula K. Le Guin famously called Gene Wolfe genre fiction's Herman Melville, and that's been borne out in what I've read so far. I've been listening to the Shelved by Genre podcast as I've been reading the book, and their own insights and analysis illuminate whole sections of the text that I would never have noticed otherwise, or would have without knowing exactly why! Awesome stuff.

[xxhanachanxx]

🥂🎊💋can we stay up all night~

Fuck a jetlag~

So, um… there’s so much that I have to say regarding what I’ve been through throughout this entire year - as I’ve said before, and making fun art aside, 2022 was a shitshow for me. What was it that made me back out with fulfilling my expectations and projects that never happened this year? I’ve had my fair share of speaking about focusing on my college classes and personal life, and trying to do better before, and I know you guys have been appreciative of me in putting that first before art, but where I had to step away from everything and being myself for a bit was taking and retaking intermediate calculus to the point I’ve never felt the same ever since the first attempt in taking it and failed. (Instead of having the post filled with a lot of text and overwhelm everybody, I encourage you to click on the “Keep reading” tab - tl;dr: there’s a happy ending, I’m my happy and normal self again (...at least for now-), and I did this drawing for the sake of my self-indulgence~)

Let the tangent begin - at that point during the pandemic and with taking online classes before going back on campus in late 2021, I was an absolute perfectionist in making sure that I can be able to pass my classes - taking a calculus I class back in spring 2021 was my first math class after taking precalculus/trigonometry back in spring 2020, and there was stress building up on me whether I would fail or succeed at it. I got a B in that class, and I would take calc II over the summer for 8 weeks afterwards; that class was even stressful with me doing classwork nonstop and no free time for me whatsoever, and as I thought that I did pretty badly with the performance I had in that class, I passed with a C! And then calc III came around that fall, and my first attempt was bad; some stuff in my personal life was eating me up and I’ve been too focused on getting things done for other classes. And when I had my second attempt in that class back in spring of this year, I made sure that I wouldn’t fail again but oh was I wrong - stress and focusing on other classes were eating me up again, and I failed again. Leading to my third and final attempt, I took everything steadily for this year’s fall semester and I truly made it clear that I will pass calc III; there were a few bumpy roads, but in the end… once my final exam for the class got graded, and went to go on Canvas to see that my overall grade for the class was a D, I was iffy for a few seconds and then I check my grades in my student services for the college I go to just to see that my final grade for calc III for that semester was a C! I’m happy that I finally passed, and I’m beyond fortunate to at least get a happy ending after a shitty year! So yeah, if you’re wondering why I haven’t been my happy and usual self, I kept retaking calc III to the point it drained me and made me question how to move forward with me majoring in mathematics (I really don't know how much I would talk about this kind of stuff, but I do need to take it easy and limit myself)! And for the time being, I’m going to celebrate passing the class with some R&R after carrying the bs on my back and self-indulgence! 😌💅🏼

Alrighty moving on from all of that, onto the drawing! Well, self-indulgence aside, I may or may not have been contemplating drawing this for a while now, and I just want to try capturing the happiness and celebration of what I’ve been feeling lately - and given the fact that last year’s New Years drawing was done on FireAlpaca and you guys enjoyed it, I figured that I should do it again, and it’s for the best anyway as I need to get end-of-the-year projects done instead of getting this (…and another drawing 👀) finalized! One thing’s for sure, I’ve at least fulfilled my promise in getting out of my comfort zone by sharing drawings done in FireAlpaca instead of doing full rendering on SAI this year - thank you for that! 💖

And most importantly, and maybe I should try getting out of my comfort zone to say ‘thank you’ more, despite everything I’ve been through, with love and gratitude I’m forever grateful for the support and appreciation you’ve given me and my content; thank you for taking your time and day in acknowledging and appreciating with what I can do - to my followers, friends, and mutuals, this one’s for you!

And that’s all I have to say - so so long 2022, you nasty fuck! Hoping that 2023 will come with and give us all greater things and happiness! Here’s to 2023, thank you so much for everything~ ♡♡♡

[irresistiibles]

shi qingxuan self para

trigger warnings: this is basically a drowning self para wanna be one hundred percent real so read at your own risk. drowning tw, death tw

i don’t want to die.

it wasn’t the first thing to pass through qingxuan’s mind. the first thing they noticed was the temperature. at first frigid when they were first forcibly submerged, or maybe it was just the shock of the situation that made it seem that way, after all it was summer. it shouldn't have been that cold. qingxuan let out a yell as they hit the water, mouth filling up with water that they couldn't even properly cough up. had anyone heard? would anyone come to help? someone had always come to help qingxuan before. why wasn't there anyone around? things were quickly warming up as qingxuan thrashed, feeling the need for air starting to quickly push up. it was a searing uncomfortable heat, burning from in their chest as his lungs worked desperately to find oxygen that wasn’t available. it felt like she might burn to death before actually managing to drown, and only got worse as they hopelessly physically fought to try and get above water. 

i don’t want to die. 

it was almost a jarring thought as qingxuan’s body attempted to gasp for air, to push towards the surface, do anything to get a little oxygen in his lungs. as the physical fight continued the thought did come through. after everything that has happened at black water manor qingxuan had contemplated their death. he had wondered if it would make things better, or just, or at least give them a break. it hadn’t seemed like such a bad thing at the time, like maybe he should have gone with his brother and they both could have called that the end of their miserable story. qingxuan had been a fool, and now, on what felt like the bring of death they felt pathetic and ungrateful, wishing they could desperately grab just one more day of life. one more hour. five more minutes. 

i don’t want to die. 

maybe if qingxuan hadn’t been alone this wouldn’t have happened. she had tried to stay with company, really she had, but the small party had been drunk and wanted food, whereas qingxuan wanted air. it hadn't seemed like such a big deal to break off and go for a small walk alone before meeting back up with the group. would more caution have saved him? maybe if qingxuan had shown more caution as a child they wouldn’t have been found, he xuan could have ascended with qingxuan in the middle court and nothing would have happened. maybe she could have defended herself a little bit better today. 

i don’t want to die. 

i’m sorry ge. i wasn’t careful enough. i never learned my lesson as a little kid. there was no need with how well you looked after me. you fought my fate as long as you could. you did a really good job of keeping your stupid little sister along way longer than it should have been.

i’m sorry he-xiong. i didn’t get the chance to text you more. i wanted to fix things. i wanted to figure out how to be us again. i wanted to figure it out with you. i thought we had time. i would have rushed back if that wasn't the case. i wish if someone had to force me under like this it was you. you wouldn't like it, but i think you'd be gentle about it. 

i’m going to die. i can’t stop it. 

there was almost a comfort in accepting it, feeling the current start to pull him under and letting it, even as qingxuan had more apologies to give. to xie lian, he had died too and hadn’t deserved that. to the nice drunk qingxuan would go back and forth on drinks to. it was their time to buy next and he wouldn’t be able to do it. so many more. the world was starting to fade though, black spots dancing in qingxuan's vision, whether it was from the water or a steady loss of consciousness, and qingxuan’s dialogue was puttering out.  the tide pushed them down and who was qingxuan to fight against nature? they could hardly handle a simple fight on their own. such a weak fool, but as qingxuan gave up and let the water take her where it wanted there wasn’t any anger there. the fire that burned at qingxuan’s lungs became a more settled warmth, and the water almost felt like a comfort wrapped around them. this was her brother’s domain, her lover’s as well. oxygen deprived and perhaps a little delirious qingxuan could almost feel like there was some presence of the two of them here to help, to be with him in a final moment. they had lived a good life, warm and loved. one of them would find him. if they had the strength left qingxuan would worry about the way that they would mourn, if they’d be okay, but in the moment she was just content to know someone she loved and trusted would probably still find her in the end, that she'd wind up home in one way or another. if he woke up after this someone would help her. there were always enough good people in the world willing to help. if she didn't wake up there had already been so many more years than what qingxuan was supposed to have. the tide pushed and qingxuan let themselves sink.

[araisbored]

Wizards of words.

I was contemplating whether to write an album review for NIKI, unlike Sabrina’s (emails i can’t send), I didn’t like Niki’s new album as a whole but I have some specific songs that I would choose over Sabrina’s in a heartbeat. I have Niki’s song imprinted in my personality. I am a Niki girl second. (Swiftie first, Niki second then Ara, me, myself). It’s just the whole album doesn’t click with me(the recent one). But you know what, I am a complicated person, maybe I was not in the mood for the album by the time I listened to it. But I have some of Niki’s songs that I would put in a customized vinyl for the ‘Ara’s coming of age playlist’.

To start this, I would like to say that Niki is a good songwriter. She is undeniably good at that department. To quote one of her songs she is a ‘wizard of words’. She first got me hooked with the infamous Lowkey. The beat, especially the songwriting, was so good I had nothing else to do but to stan. And after that it was just hits on hits. Lowkey, followed by her EP: ‘wanna take this downtown’ (which is her Magnum Opus EP/album, in my opinion) Indigo, Shouldn’t Couldn’t Wouldn’t, and her collab song with a Thai singer and the song that I might exchange my swiftie card for: La la la lost you. Both the track and the acoustic version. THAT was her MAGNUM OPUS song. If I was God, I would give her a house with a big yard in heaven for writing that.

I was really convinced that I didn’t like her self-titled album. Because her past album was a miss for me. But she kinda enjoyed that era so I let her be. But ever since she announced that she’ll do another album after that album, I begged her to release something similar to her first EP, let’s go back to that. So I was a little disappointed when she released that album, but I figured this was the real her. I believe the songs in her recent ones are the ones from the vault. Music she deleted because she was trying to make a name. Music she releases and writes during her times in Indonesia and while she’s making a name in America.

The reason why it didn't click for me in the first listen was because it was too pure. See, it always depends on my mood every time I listen to music. My first listen wasn’t always reliable. It’s so pure and so vulnerable that if I listened to it and put it to my heart, I would break.

There’s only a few tracks that I listened to but they were definitely added up on the ‘soundtrack of life’-playlist. 

Of course, the song that hurt me first was Ocean and Engines. OooOOHHh that music video hits too close to home. And the lyrics, it's like putting salt to an open wound. It hurts.

Then I got hooked on Milk Teeth, but I think the best track to me was Backburner. I also love The apartment we won’t share. And before. AND keeping tabs. So to rank these songs I would say:

Backburner. 

Favorite line: ‘Cause I don’t feel alive ‘till I’m burning on your backburner. THE WHOLE SONG actually. I also love the part where she sings ‘The Goo Goo dolls are dead to me, the way you should be too’ and the ‘But I know in a week or so, you’ll fade away again. And I wish I cared. (then she followed it by:) Hey, are you still there? Good. – This. OMG. When you’re always the second person, you will always tell yourself that, ‘Ah, Okay, I’ve had enough.’ But then when you’re in a middle of that situation, the fear of losing someone, it’s a thin line whether you’ll push through or eat your words and go back to that sad, pathetic position. It’s usually the latter. So I think she really nail the whole emotions there. The confusion, fear and relief that he was still there.

Reason for liking this song: Just like what I said, I am a resident Martyr. The second option. The safety blanket. The backburner. I will settle for less than what I deserve and I will be thankful for it. So imagine when something finally kicked in me when listening to this. Shoot me straight to my heart. I know I should change this about myself but I’m scared. 

2. Ocean and Engines.

Fave line: ‘How is it now that somehow you’re a stranger? You were mine yesterday.’ I don’t have to explain why I love this line. It’s too personal. 

3. Milk Teeth

Fave line: This love’s but a newborn, so why does it bite?, We breath for different reasons, you for your,  “well done’s” and me for, “You’re welcome.”

I really like Milk teeth as a title. So creative.

4. The Apartment we won’t share

Fave line: “The demons I won’t meet, now someone else’s to keep. I’m sure she’s beautiful and sweet. Not what I wanted but what we need’

I fee like this could be a good closing song for the album. Maybe right before or after Ocean and Engine’s. 

Sorry, I haven’t decided what’s my 5th entry. So you’ll have to settle for this. 

I really want to do a whole Niki song ranking but I know for a fact that I would wreck my brain for that and I need w whole lifetime to decide which one is first. So, let’s not put me through that kind of misery. Maybe next time if I’m really, really, really bored.  For now this would do. To Niki, I love you. Take a listen to Niki's album and some of her songs:

A xx

[coffee-at-annies]

Excellent essay about what it means to be required to perform social media for jobs and why it can be exhausting.

A couple quotes stood out to me (and I’m quoting them below) as someone who struggles with wanting to participate in fandom whole-heartedly and also feeling like I have to participate in specific ways or I’m doing it wrong.

“I, on the other hand, have never desired a life lived out loud. I wish to put my energies into spaces that reward the quieter contemplations I find comfort in.”

I’m not gonna lie, it’s nice to see number go up on posts and notifications in my activity tab. It can feel disheartening when number doesn’t go up and I put effort into something. It’s hard to be loud and to do it constantly.

Idk there’s an evil little voice in the back of my head that says if I was just doing xyz better I’d have more followers. It’s evil because while I like interacting on tumblr I don’t have it in me to shout or post in the way that gets hundreds of thousands of followers. I’m happy with a quiet group of mutuals and chatting with whoever is online during game days like we’re hanging out at the same sports bar. I struggle sometimes with wanting to be big when really I’m much happier being small. This isn’t even for a job like the article, it’s just for me, and I still have that voice saying you should do more.

…”another of “performed” online interactions, where I must sift through the messiness of my not-so-great-for-the-interwebs feelings, thoughts and behaviors, in favour of something re-constructed, wiped down, pristine. “Succeeding” on a social platform (i.e. mapping onto their growth pathways) requires a steady stream of performance: whether that is goofing off in a short video, shooting off pithy or incendiary missives, or offering a treadmill of How-Tos in exchange for coronation of various titles—professional, scholar, activist. Whether this self we present is a curated version of our IRL selves or a completely made up one is moot. The game is performance.”

This right here hits at the root of some of my messy feelings about blogging. It’s all a performance. That’s not bad since all self is a performance anyway. The question is who am I performing for and am I happy about it? I struggle sometimes with the guilt I feel if I’m not performing; if my queue runs out; if I skip a game; if I’m not here participating in the group sad. I take a lot of my negative feelings offline and go quiet for a reason. That feeling of needing to perform, especially after bad games, makes the bad feelings linger and doesn’t improve my life. The need to be creating content constantly can be stressful. Letting my blog go quiet is self care.

One of my boundaries is I don’t owe my followers my feelings and if I don’t want to blog about it I simply don’t. Of course sometimes people get testy if you’re not talking about the issue of the week. (Sometimes that person is my own guilt complex because brains suck). Idk. There’s parts of me that feel like I owe the performance. That if I’m not creating or reblogging content then why am I on here? That by following me, my followers are obliged to get some sort of behind the curtain inner thought process or I’m required to comment on every little scandal or tragedy that comes out of fandom or the news or whatever. That’s exhausting. It’s so exhausting.

Idk. Getting a little bit personal and a little bit venty but it feels like fandom has a “you must be this active or creative to get noticed” goalpost and I’ve never felt like I could hit it. Even when I felt like it was in reach it’s always been further away than I think it is. The older I get and the longer I’m in fandom(s), the more it feels like something that’s not worth trying for. I’ll keep my 10 notes and getting yelled at (positive) by 5 mutuals cause “ouch how could you” and I’ll leave the performance to someone else.

Worth a read.

[alrissamariam]

On the Day I Turned 21; A Month to Forget but Also to Remember

On the day I turned 21, right before my candles could be blown just as the clock strikes midnight, my life took a drastic turn. Way too fucking drastic for my comfort.

Within the span of one week, I had lost more than I gained. 

I made friends and lost them. I pushed myself to apply for a spot I know would be too far out of reach and got rejected. I heard from my mother, whom I haven’t heard from since moving out and I deflated despite not giving a fuck. And with all that I needed to burden and shoulder, I also lost the love of my life.

What a birthday week, huh?

I kept thinking to myself, why did all this have to happen? Did I do something that was so horrible that I deserved this? Was it all my fault?

Nights were spent in the darkness of my room, alone as I weeped and bawled, desperately trying to cover my mouth so that I never made a sound–because that was how I taught myself to make sure I didn’t get a beating at three in the morning if my mother had heard me.

Mornings were spent in two different ways. One, I’d wake up drenched in sweat, sunlight pouring on the side of my face, salty tears mixing with desperate panting and shaky hands. My heart would hammer too harshly against my ribcage and I’d be absolutely sick to a point of stumbling into the bathroom that sat two feet from my room door.

Or two–I’d jolt awake in cold sweat but find it extremely difficult to get out of bed, my body unwilling to move as I stared at the ceiling and contemplated whether or not I should go for good.

There was a moment in that point in time where I completely lost it. I was too shattered to be put back together, my pieces were scattered all over the world as it was stomped on by everyone passing. 

In the moment of crumbling, I fell to my knees and planted my forehead on the ground, begging and pleading to God to take my pain away for I don’t think I could go on. I felt selfish, wrong to beg for Him to take the challenges He wanted me to face. I knew this was a test from Him, but dear God, it was too excruciating.

As I had my head down, my tears slipping the marble floor, my voice broken and my body falling on its side, I solely expressed how much pain I was in. How much I wanted it all to end and how much I just needed it all to stop.

The hurt, the ache, the nightmares, the constant need to look over my shoulder for the next person to fuck up.

And then, I stopped.

I was numb, too hurt, too dead. I came to a conclusion I could never control it, I could never rid of the nightmares or the pain that buried itself far too deep within the cracks of my broken heart–of the crevices of my broken self.

I accepted the pain and let it consume me as I broke away from a family that was finally forming, choosing to swallow the bitter pill that is the truth of my emotions and burdens, rather than allowing them to help me dissolve the pill in water to make it easier to drink.

I faked my happiness, my giddy and witty self–in hopes that they would not question me and keep asking the same damn questions everyday that will trip and break me further. 

I had to get better. I had to. I had to do it for myself.

But it was so hard. It is hard.

Some part of me wishes that I could pluck my heart out and cage it in a box that I’d keep locked away for eternity, but that would be selfish of me. 

Perhaps, my heart would always beat harder than the slippery hands that will never turn to a pedestal quick enough.

[racingtoaredlight]

Saturday Night Recap

Jason Vieaux on the left coming out for an encore, the headliner of the night Lorenzo Micheli on the right...Lorenzo's reaction is how most classical guitarists react when they're around Vieaux.

Rarely have I had the feeling of being the worst guitarist in whatever room. Even in college, whenever I felt like I couldn't keep up, it was more due to experience or practice than being outclassed. Which is why it was such a treat to feel like a little piece of shit on Saturday night.

***

My main guitar teacher invited me to go with him, and my other teacher was there as well. I looked around in the surprisingly packed audience (prob north of 150 people), and saw the entire guitar faculties of the Cleveland Institute of Music, Cleveland State and there were probably facutly from the other surrounding schools too. There were guitar cases from students coming from practice rooms (Saturday night, party night, am I right?).

I can confidently say, with exceptions to the unfortunate spouses and friends dragged along to this, that I was probably the worst guitarist there.

Listen, I'm no slouch, I recorded this earlier inthe day...

...but CIM is a globally elite classical guitar program led by arguably the best active classical guitarist the world (Vieaux). I have doubts whether or not the playing in the above video would have been good enough to get a sniff, let alone a scholarship, for freshman undergrad. These aren't normal students (let alone the faculty, of which my main teacher was part for 20+ years before retiring).

These are freak people. And I mean that as a compliment.

***

It really shouldn't be a surprise that the guy playing for all this was a boss. A weird, unorthodox boss, but a boss nonetheless. Micheli is a winner of the Guitar Foundation of America's international competition...the most cutthroat competition in this little niche of the world.

And I'm going to be honest...my guitar teacher certainly was, bailing halfway through...half of the program I did not like. It was well performed and I learned a bunch (more in a second), but the material was so far out of my wheelhouse I just couldn't dig it. The half I liked was the Castelnuovo-Tedesco stuff.

But man, this guy...listen I know what I'm doing and know where I'm going...but fuck. Humbling isn't even accurate. I spent the drive home and rest of the evening contemplating why do I even bother? The standard he set was so far beyond things I can...not conceive or relate to...but like, I can't ever run a metaphorical four-minute mile here. I'm not built or wired right.

I'm not talking speed...I could keep up with him just fine. It wasn't necessarily technique either, but it kinda was? I know that doesn't make sense...but the way he manipulated the guitar to take advantage of dynamic ranges I just can't even fathom, was jaw dropping.

Let me try to explain here...the absolute softest played notes of mine are barely audible...yet somehow, he can barely brush his fingers on the strings and produce this pillowy soft note that is full and rich and projects to the back of the room. That's not the guitar, that's technique.

Here's another thing I...just...can't.

When you move your right hand closer to the bridge, you get a brighter, more distinct tone. Closer to the soundhole, warmer and richer, yet less clear. It's a spectrum.

Personally, I can't control my volume well at moderate distances from the middle point. If I'm closer to the bridge, it's gonna be loud...just loud, the whole time. If I'm by the soundhole, it's either gonna be really loud or really quiet because my touch just isn't anywhere, anyhwere, close to his...which should be obvious given he's played more professional classical guitar concerts in his career than I've played classical guitar days in my life.

His mastery of dynamics, and I'm talking at extreme ends here, was just breathtaking. You might be thinking this is some meaningless shit, but it's not...not only was he taking advantage of the whole instrument, he was doing so with mastery. It just sounded...it just sounded better, man.

His right hand technique was incredibly unorthodox, but that allowed him to do things that most orthodox guitarists (like myself) couldn't really think of, let alone master. I'm really rambling here so I won't go too far into shit like attack angles BUT MAN HIS ATTACK ANGLES WERE WILD.

To sum it up, this guy's program might not have been up my alley, but his playing sure was.

***

I'll speed this along so I don't spend hundreds of words explaining things I can't explain again.

My teacher and I were sitting directly behind this woman, who I'm seeing tonight (Sunday - EDIT: she was awesome). I highly, highly recommend watching two minutes of this video above, played on a 1926 harp guitar.

She's one of the world's finest guitarists. She's also quite small in stature, and after seeing her in person, I have absolutely no idea how she's able to do this stretch at 4:45.

If any of you have a guitar laying around, try putting your hand in that position. Just try it, you'll get it. It'll probably feel like you're putting some effort into holding all those strings down while stretching, but just give it a try to see how it feels.

Now watch 4:45-4:52 and see how she gets there. That's not a chord that she's spending a few seconds getting into...that chord is a passing note. She breezes by it like it wasn't even an obstacle, chopping down a bunch of convoluted shit that you would think require NFL WR sized hands.

And that's one example...just look at some of this shit.

These next two pics are the exact same chords...

...I've got big hands, and me getting into this chord takes some effort. It doesn't feel natural, you have to cover a good amount of real estate while barring multiple strings at the same time. Note, I could probably comfortably hit the next fret by the way my pinkie is curved (and the next one too if I supinated my wrist like she's doing), but that's not the point...

The point is, if this chord takes me considerable effort to get into with large hands laying in a natural position, for her it's much more of one. And yet, she handles shit like this with more than just ease...it's routine ease.

She has such extremely gifted dexterity and flexibility, I can't really physically relate to it. From a horse's mouth...chords like that? It takes a day or two of practice to get those down. Those are the types of chords that get pencil all over them from notes and fingerings, the types of chords even the metronome is sick of hearing over and over. For her, they're just another dead body.

Whatever you want to call the notion of God, they gave her some of most gifted pairs of hands I've ever seen.

***

Lets finish this up.

Then this guy...

...came out for the encore to do a duet of a song by this guy.

***

Anyways...

[letmeoutofthebasementt]

hiiiii hope you're doing great, I'm SS (♑) and i would like to get a free reading. my question is how does AK ♓ feel about me? we've been friends for a year now and i want to know if he has any romantic interests in me. thank you in advance!!

So to begin, he definitely feels like you put others above yourself. He feels like you prioritize others and because of that, you never really do anything purely for yourself. Everything you do is for other people, and he thinks you're a people pleaser. He thinks you sacrifice a lot for others, and that you have trouble letting things and people go. I think there's a mother figure here that's pretty much stopping the answer from being revealed. Unconsciously, he's going through a period regarding you where he's trying to figure out how exactly he feels. He's contemplating that, and looking for the right answer within himself. Has he pulled away from you slightly lately? It doesn't explicitly say he has or anything, but I feel there may be a slight possibility. He's trying to sort out his feelings regarding you. In the past, he's definitely worked hard to get to the place he's at with you, and because of that, he may have done a lot to keep you close. Maybe he even sacrificed some things to get to the point in your friendship you're at. He also thinks you should probably be kinder to yourself. Though he also feels HE needs to be kinder to himself as well. Consciously, he's definitely grappling with traditions. Like maybe he himself is a traditional person, or significant influences in his life are. And somehow, some way, this is affecting his thoughts and feelings on you. In the future, something between you and regarding how you feel about one another will change. You'll enter a new chapter of your lives, and that'll make things between you change for better or for worse. I can see that right now you two are very united. You feel you complete one another, and I feel very strong love, though it's entirely unclear if that love is platonic or not just yet. You depend on one another, and your bond is just natural. Right now, you're both at the end of a chapter, and whatever happened between you will begin a new one. There'll be a lot of change. Regardless on whether he has feelings for you or not. I feel you need to move forward and just go for it. That is what the energy of this reading is giving me. You need to move forward and take control of the situation, or else it could easily fall apart. It can get wild if you don't, and it may even get wild if you do, but you need to maintain control of what is happening, and strive toward your goal without hesitation. The outcome of this is unclear, as are his feelings, but you need to listen to your own intuition. It will not fail you.

Sorry if this was unclear, but this was all that the cards and his energies were giving me.

[c00kiejar]

I've been thinking

I've thought about this for a good, long while, and I just need to get it out there somehow. I have a journal, but nobody I know can see that. I know it's very unlikely anyone I know will see this, much less talk to me about it, but I want it out there so anyone who asks can know. As mentioned in the tags, warning for suicide and depression.

For a good while now - like, 4+ years now - I've been fighting what I assume is depression. I'm not diagnosed or anything, so I don't claim it actually is depression, however it's at the very least very similar. This, combined with my (diagnosed this time) social anxiety has led to some fun experiences such as believing those I love hate me, never letting my guard down, the absolute worst days I could have mentally at work, and the topic of this post: suicidal thoughts.

I want to make this abundantly clear: I have absolutely no intent to kill or even harm myself as of writing this. I have bought a rope and tied it into a noose, I have access to my Dad's gun storage footlocker, and I have enough other ways to go out quickly and relatively painlessly that, should I really want to die, I could. However, I haven't done anything yet. Nothing even remotely close, in fact. Don't worry that I might, because I won't. I can't.

With that out of the way, let's discuss these thoughts. They appear whenever they please, and stay for variable amounts of time. There is no direct cause that I can discern aside from the obvious. They typically take the form of me just shutting down and being unable to do much of anything, and are basically what it says on the tin; I contemplate killing myself. I run through scenarios in which I go through with it, seeing the aftermath of my death, the ways people would react. I run through the outcomes and weigh their likelihood (highest being my whole family being devastated and furious with my parents for sitting idly while they knew this was happening). I even run through the unlikely ones such as nobody caring, or them never finding my body. I run through each one I can think of to some extent. Not all in one go, but I have thought of most outcomes by now. After that, I weigh whether it's truly worth it in the end. The answer is usually yes (I live in mental pain and watch everyone around me live in some level of mental or physical pain, I have no achievable goals or dreams, and I can hardly function as a human being are the top contributors), however there is consistently one thing that stops me: My own fear. All the reasons to die only barely outweigh the reasons to live to begin with (I estimate it being around 45% stay 55% die), however my fear of what comes next and what will happen after my death keep me in check no matter what.

It really is just another way that fear rules my life. I fear trying new things so I settle for the status quo. I fear letting people down so I belittle myself. I fear death so I live. It's all tied together by my own fear and anxiety, and it rules my life with an iron fist comparable to that of Stalin. I'll be free of it when the iron fist's wielder finally dies, and that wielder is myself. It's a cycle. I fear everything so I want death. Fear of death refuses to let me die. Repeat. It's kind of morbidly funny when you stop and think about it; The reason I want to die is the reason I live.

Beyond the suicidal thoughts, there are days when I wake up feeling fine, get out of bed and instantly lose any motivation to exist for the day. I only sometimes grab a bit to eat and then head straight back to bed. I either turn on my Switch and watch YouTube on there, or pull out my laptop for the same reason but with headphones. These days are far more common than the suicidal ones, and are what most of my days are like.

I'm no longer pessimistic, at least. I've embraced optimism and can look at the future brightly. That is, a future where I don't factor in myself. I never include myself because I can never be certain whether tomorrow will be the day I finally crack and kill myself. It could be today, could be tomorrow, could even be 16 years from now. All I know is that I never include myself in any future I think up because I don't know when I'll finally do it.

That's not to say that I plan on doing it, however. I fully plan on having my ways out should it ever come to that, but do not plan on ever using those ways out. I never will do it unless the senate inside my head gains a larger majority in favor of death.

I'll be the first to admit that I don't want to stay alive, but I'll also be the first to tell you that I can't bring myself to kill myself.

Anyways, I'm sorry for rambling and bringing everyone down with me. I hope everyone can forget about this post and enjoy their days as if it was never there. Thank you.

[ravensliterature]

A Life Ransomed

A/N: Got a new request!

pairing: Sebastian Michaelis x Reader

warnings: Some curse words, description of violence and blood

w/c: 1733

Prompt: Sebastian’s mate has been kidnapped. He will do anything to bring her back. 

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Sebastian hadn't seen you for a couple of hours which made him nervous. Sebastian Michaelis was one hell of a butler and this meant that not many things went under his radar.  You were one of them, especially as his mate. You were a maid for Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian was the one to recruit you after you left serving for the queen's guard. He thought that your skills as a soldier would be beneficial for protecting Ciel against his enemies and your training meant you knew how to take orders. You were probably the best employee of Ciel's besides Sebastian, which isn't saying a lot... 

For Sebastian, you were different than any other human. Your mind is so much more complex than he thought possible and it intrigued him to no end. He wanted to understand what thoughts go through your head at all times. Plus, you also had a deep affinity for cats which was a bonus.  And you are beautiful. He never saw an angel as pretty as you, with those locks, your soft skin, and those eyes which sparkle even when they're sad or annoyed. He adored you. You had come to care for him as well and eventually, he made you his mate. According to Sebastian, demons only have one mate for their entire life. Even if they don't fall in love with each other or their mate, they still stay with that person forever. You two were bound and luckily you did love each other.  You two would always do anything for each other. Sebastian would give you the world without hesitation. Ciel did eventually find out about you both.  At first, he didn’t know whether or not he should condone the relationship but Sebastian appeared to have more determination in his duties thanks to you. Ultimately,  Ciel decided to let the two of you keep being together even though he had concerns. 

It was becoming later in the day and you were nowhere to be seen. Sebastian's fears continued to grow and he was beginning to worry that something bad happened to you. He continued his duties but he made sure to look around for you each time he completed a task for the young master.  He walked to the gardens hoping you weren’t hiding from him. He stopped by every place that could be considered a meeting point between you two and there was simply no sight of you. His realization that you weren't at the Phantomhive manner made a pitfall in his stomach. 

He opted to ignore his fears contemplating the possibility that maybe Ciel sent you into town to retrieve something.  No...that couldn't be the case, because you'd be back by now.  The Phantomhive manor was vast with plenty of places where people might hide. Maybe someone kidnapped you? That thought sent chills down Sebastian’s spine. Ciel had many enemies, it was possible.  After thinking for several moments, he realized that there was no evidence of this either. 

One of Sebastian's last tasks for the day was retrieving the mail from the porch. Sebastian opened the long door to see several letters strung about.  He noticed that some were sealed tight with wax but most were addressed to the Ciel and some to other members of the household. Something out of the ordinary is that there is one addressed to him. Sebastian throughout his entire time at the manor had never received a piece of mail.  It must have been delivered earlier today while he was tending to Ciel.  Carefully, Sebastian opened the small envelope and began to read: 

Dear Mr. Michaellis, 

I apologize for contacting you on such short notice but please forgive me for interrupting your work today. I'm afraid my business is not very pleasant but we have a settle to score. My men have taken your partner and will take your life in exchange for hers.  I believe this is a reasonable bargain to prevent unnecessary bloodshed. Come alone or die trying to reach her.  I have hired the strongest men so your little fiasco that happened once won't happen again.

Azzurro Vanel

Sebastian crumpled up the letter in disgust as anger bubbled in his chest and his eyes flashed fuschia.  Azzurro and his men were going to take his mate? How dare they! He would make them pay! Without waiting another moment, he ran towards the kitchen grabbing a handful of knives.  He needed to hunt down these bastards and kill them.

"Hey! What the bloody hell are you doing?!" Someone called out to him. It was Ciel. 

Before Sebastian could say anything, Ciel pulled him aside and started lecturing him furiously. 

"What in heaven's name are you doing with my silverware?"  

Sebastian looked stern as he continued to grab various kitchen items. 

"I was just taking care of some business." Ciel gave him a disapproving glare and shook his head.

"Don't think that I haven't seen your worried expressions all day." Sebastian frowned at Ciel's comment and sighed. "Y/N has been taken by Azzurro Vanel. I plan to return her home." 

Ciel nodded. "Well I can't fault you for wanting to bring home your lover but please be home before 10 PM."

Sebastian nodded before picking up a knife. 

--- 

Sebastian ran through the entrance of the run-down building on the edge of London, throwing a knife at the head of a hired mercenary.  Sebastian felt exhilarated as he watched the man fall to the ground with blood dripping off his temple. There was a slight pause as the mercenaries recovered from the attack but Sebastian took no time killing them as well.  He wasn't about to waste a second. As Sebastian reached the staircase leading towards what appeared to be the office, likely where Azzurro was holding you.  With all the energy he possessed, Sebastian kicked open the door.  Inside, Sebastian found Azzurro sitting behind his desk while two large men held guns at his head. 

You were tied up like cattle to a chair across from Azzurro. His face was emotionless except for his piercing gaze. A few candles illuminated the room allowing Sebastian enough light to see the way your face contorted in pure fear.

"I told you to come in peace," Azzurro said calmly. "So let's begin the fun." 

Azzuro stood from behind the desk and made his way toward your side.  Sebastian glared daggers at him until Azzurro grabbed you roughly by your arm.  Sebastian moved a step forward until a gun was placed to your head.  You whimpered in fear and squeezed your eyes shut. Sebastian froze. He hated seeing you this vulnerable, scared even, especially since he himself was feeling extremely upset.

"Don't try anything," Azzurro threatened.  Sebastian narrowed his eyes at him before glancing over at your scared expression. A shiver traveled down his spine as his heart broke for you. You were so fragile. His mate. 

Sebastian took one more step forward and a gunshot was heard. The smoke left Azzurro's gun but you were not harmed.  In fact, you looked like nothing had happened at all. Sebastian smirked slightly as he turned out to be now behind Azzurro, holding the bullet out to him. 

"I want you to know why you are dying Azzurro," Sebastian spoke quietly. "You tried to harm the woman whom I care deeply for and she didn't need or deserve it, therefore, I'll make sure you get the same fate as your men."

Sebastion removed your mouth gag and gave you a sad smile.  "Don't cry (y/n). Everything will be alright. This bastard will suffer. I promise... " You tried to respond but Sebastian interrupted. "I need you to close your eyes." You smiled back.  Tears began to roll down your cheeks as you closed your eyes. Sebastian took the bullet in his hand before pressing the barrel against Azzurro's forehead.

You heard screams, gunshots, and bodies falling to the ground.  Your ears began ringing loudly as your mind struggled to understand what was happening.  "You can open your eyes, my love,"  Sebastian said softly. Your vision focused and there he was standing right in front of you. Sebastian was alive but Azzurro was dead, bleeding profusely.  "We won't let anyone hurt you ever again," Sebastian stated. He moved behind you and uncuffed your wrists. 

You immediately wrapped your arms around Sebastian, sobbing hysterically. He rubbed circles into your back as he hugged you close to his chest and rested his chin atop your head, whispering sweet nothings into your ear to calm you down. Eventually, your breathing started to regulate and you began calming down a bit. You loosened your grip and Sebastian finally removed your head from his chin. You turned around and looked at the carnage that was in the room. Blood was everywhere. Even you were covered in it. Sebastian lifted your chin up and wiped the tears away with his thumb. "Are you ok?"  He asked.

You nodded slowly and sniffled as tears flowed down your face once more. "Thank you... thank you." You whispered. "For everything." Sebastian chuckled and wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him. 

"Of course, my love."

--- 

Sebastian and you sat together on the bed in the guestroom as the sun slowly disappeared. You were still shaken by what happened. The only thing keeping you sane was Sebastian's presence next to you. Sebastian was rubbing your arm soothingly.   He had insisted upon getting the both of you cleaned up after your encounter with Azzurro which he refused to leave your side for even a moment.  Your clothes and hair were stained red from blood, sweat, and dirt. Sebastian had also cleaned your cuts from their rough handling as best as he could with alcohol.  

"How did you find me?" You asked.

"I followed your scent. I knew you were here somewhere." Sebastian replied. "I was... scared."  You nodded your head and kissed his cheek tenderly.

"It's fine. We're safe now," you reassured him. Sebastian leaned into you as he gently touched his lips against yours. You melted into his embrace as your body relaxed.

 He moved the both of you to lie down so you were resting comfortably against one another. Your eyes grew heavy as exhaustion overcame your system. Before you fell asleep completely, Sebastian slipped his arms under your head causing you to nestle deeper into him.

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